you feel like home.

“what’s up with you and my nurse, she your girlfriend or somethin’ ?”

shouto stops peeling the mandarin in his hand but does not look up at his older brother. instead, he stiffens only the slightest bit, before resuming. like a robot, touya scoffs.

“no. nothing like that.” shouto responds after a bit, soft and airy. the soft pull of a smile does very little to convince touya but he decides to hold his tongue, for his little brother’s sake.

touya hums, “you like her, then ?” 

shouto does not falter, he hums too, but stays quiet. touya raises a weak arm up to pat his brother’s hand, a weak excuse for a smack but shouto freezes like he’d actually been hurt, eyes wide.

“quit peelin’ that,” touya grunts.

“the doctor says you need the vitamins for—“

“answer my question.” the older man cuts him off, voice hoarse. his lips pulled up in a scowl when he lowers his arms back onto his bed, this minimal motion causing him this much pain makes him hiss. shouto straightens, ready to help but touya waves him off “m’fine.” he grumbles. he’d much rather suffer right now than ask his baby brother to get him some painkillers, he’ll pester you for some later.

granted, it was a bit humiliating for touya, grown as he was, to get lectured about taking his meds from someone who was his brother’s age. but he’d admittedly quickly grown fond of you. you never coddled him in that fake way the other nurses did, and you were always honest and straight forward unlike everyone else who seemed petrified of him. like he could sick his daddy on them like the bastard hadn’t been the reason he was here in the first place.

and maybe he did project onto you in some ways.  his relationship with his siblings had gone to shit because of his behaviour, and the way they still kept him in their hearts only served to make him feel guiltier. and god forbid he talk about his issues, he could feel like he was making it up with you.

“i know you come here to see her. there’s no way you wanna come see me that badly every week,” he jokes cynically. the dual haired boy throws the mandarin peel into the garbage can under the bed.

splitting it in two—one half on a plate for touya and the other for him—shouto places the plate on touya’s chest clumsily and the older man grumbles in disapproval.

“i do like coming to see you,” shouto argues sincerely, eyebrows furrowed.

touya brushes him off smoothly despite the pang in his chest, popping a piece of the fruit into his mouth. it’s sweet, juicy “eh, but you like you some eye candy too, don’t ya, lil’ sho ?” 

“don’t talk about her like that. she’s not,” shouto’s lip curls up in a frown, like just the thought of the word associated with you disgusts him “eye candy.”

“yeah, yeah. whatever, romeo,” touya rolls his eyes, shooing his brother away “go wash your hands, they stink.” 

nodding, shouto stands up to wash his hands in the sink across the room. the silence return. shouto had managed to dodge another one of his questions regarding you guys’ relationship, but he decides to just sit and watch for a little. 

out of all his family members, shouto had made the most time for touya. some days, coming to visit him straight after classes. it shouldn’t have been surprising that he’d come across you, and it wasn’t. what was surprising was how stupidly obvious shouto’s puppy crush was.

frankly, it was almost painful how hard he cringed at his youngest brother’s behaviour towards you, more than any burn he’d ever inflicted on himself, no question. the boy would hang on to your every word and would very obviously try anything to keep you around for just a moment longer. you were always patient with the clumsy boy and with the both of them combined, touya wondered if you had been trained by monks.

he still vividly remembers the way shoto buffered when you’d used his first name for the first time—“calling you both todoroki-san would be kinda confusing, yeah ? touya doesn’t mind, but do you ?” you'd asked sweetly, you were always sweet to shouto compared to him.

(one could argue it was because touya wasn't exactly one to make your job easier, but he's not the one arguing.)

“no, i don’t,” the boy had responded quick, eyes wide and waiting with bated breath.  “all my friends call me by my first name.” 

touya’s lip pulled up. somehow, he doubted that. hard.

it was too obvious how gone he was. too obvious except to your stupid ass. 

“i do.” 

touya hums in question at shouto’s random admission. “huh ?”

“i do like her,” shouto confirms, turning the sink off “a lot.” 

yeah, obviously. touya wants to scoff.

“i getcha. she’s reeeaaal cute, right ?” he jeers instead, smirking.

shouto turns to deadpan at his brother’s grin. he sighs tiredly, tearing a napkin from the roll to dry his hands. 

“i think i should call her in, actually, it’s probably time for your meds.” he sasses. 

“you do that and i’ll spill the beans, you little shit.” touya hisses.

for a little, there’s a sense of normalcy. of a brotherly banter that could’ve been so many years ago.

shouto squints “you wouldn’t.”

“oh, i would.” 

shouto resigns with a sigh. he sits back at touya’s bedside, grabbing the mandarin he’d left on the nightstand to pop a piece into his mouth.

“i was gonna tell her anyway.” he says with a full mouth.

touya’s eyebrows shoot up “s’that right ?”

the younger man nods and that was all there was.  touya leans back in his bed, scoffing in disbelief. “well, wouldja look at that—you’re growin’ up !” he mocks.

“you’re not that much older than me,” shouto claps back without missing a beat, still chewing “you talk like you’re forty.”

touya chuckles—an actual laugh—and he hates the little satisfied smirk shouto hides by tilting his head down. 

“shit, feels like it—my back aches.” he grunts, stretching his arms out, a few series of pops following the motions.

“need me to call the nurse ?” shouto offers quickly, always so damn helpful.

“yeah, bet you’d love to call in the nurse, huh.” 

“i”m serious.” shouto says.

“so am i,” touya groans, laying back in his pillow “i’ll be good. you don’t need to be all over me wipin’ my ass.”

despite the crudeness of his words, shouto smiles.

“you’re always so stubborn. i’d like it if you just let me do for you sometimes,” shouto says, sincerely. he pops another piece of mandarin into his mouth “well, not wipe your ass, but..” he trails off with a chuckle “other stuff. little things.”

touya, in the back of his mind, wishes he could say shouto had always been like this. stupidly honest and caring despite him being the youngest and probably most affected by the piece of shit sperm donor they had in common. but he can’t, because he doesn’t know shouto, he never cared to. hell, he hated him for the longest time. now, he can admit it was unfair and all a reflection of his own insecurities (guess therapy does help out, huh ?) but seeing him like this, despite the ache of years of unjust resentment, the years he’d spent hurting and hating instead of caring and—god forbid—loving, he can see himself, just maybe..learning more about his little brother.

touya speaks again, shoving the rest of the mandarin in his mouth crudely “you better tell her properly how you feel.” he says in between mouthfuls. and after a long moment of chewing and swallowing, turning away. shouto remains quiet, but the air between them freezes to allow him to catch every word.

“and don’t do none of that cringy shit you do,” he warns, chuckling to himself “just—be honest, you’re good at that, at least.” 

there’s a silence, he still feels the aftertaste of the sweet fruit in his mouth. but shouto hums after the pause “okay,” he says. “thank you.” 

“don’t thank me yet. and try not to piss yourself before you get the words out.”

a threat or other almost escapes shouto’s mouth, but the door suddenly opens after a short knock. touya peeks over his shoulder, in walks—you. shouto sits up straighter.

“oh, hey, shouto !” shouto almost vibrates at his name in your mouth, touya’s never seen his robot brother so stupidly giddy while maintaining a straight face. he greets you back politely and touya offers you a grunted greeting when you greet him as well. 

you go through the usual run down; you tell touya you’ll be checking him up to see if everything was alright today as well, shouto offers to help anywhere he can like the annoying little suck up he is, and touya, still with mandarin on his tongue, lays back and lets out a heavy sigh. 

“well,” you pause, brow raised, smile pulling at your face “that was the deepest sigh known to man, i think. what happened while i was gone ?” 

“ah, nothin’ much.” touya smirks lazily, placing his arms behind his head, seeing his younger brother's warning glare. “just gave my little bro some brotherly advice. ain’t that right, sho ?”

a heavy sigh leaves shouto this time. he turns to you “…yes, that’s right. we also had some mandarin and have some left over..would you like some ?” 

you agree happily. touya watches on as shouto gives the rest of what was supposed to be his share to you. clearly, he was always so stupidly caring and corny, but it was a good start. and he got to know a little more about his baby brother today.

gentleman! katsuki, who cooks for you. who acts annoyed when he does it, but who’s heart feels warm when he sees you enjoy it. who insists you lay your head on his chest, his shoulder or his muscular biceps, loving the way your body goes slack with tiredness when you’re against him. who facetimes you every night and makes sure you’re not paused so he can see your face. who tells you he loves you right before drifting off.

gentleman! shouto, who enjoys reading to you. who shares with you little excerpts of poetry and stories that make him think of you. who was never really a fan of love songs of matching accessories until he fell in love with you. who randomly texts you photos of things that make him think of you. who holds your hair back when your sick or drunk. who takes your hand and twirls you around so he can admire how beautiful you are.

gentleman! izuku, who is a sucker for back hugs. who presses kisses all over your neck and underneath your ear, whispering you a good morning and staying glued there. who feels comfortable enough with you to ramble on about what he loves, getting flustered when he realizes how much of a nerd he’s sounding like. who kisses your scars or your birthmarks. who loves to show you off, whether its to his friends, family, students, or anyone he knows. who’s loved ones know about you merely because of how often he brings you up.

gentleman! eijiro, who loves to pick you up, whether thats princess style or throwing you over his shoulder. who is a mountain of a man, but is so gentle and so clingy towards you. who always sends you selfies of him pre and post workout, oblivious to the pink it paints on your face. who loves long drives with you, your feet on the dashboard while you both sing along to whatever’s on the radio. who turns it up when he knows its a song you love. who is such a good driver its actually sexy.

gentleman! denki, who knows your coffee order better than you do. who will pull all-nighters with you, staying up and making sure you’re not alone. who loves to tickle you and acts like a baby when you tickle him back. who likes carrying you on his back and shoulders, doing dumb shit together. who lets you sit between his legs while he plays video games on the floor. who makes you his profile picture on instagram, and who makes his gamertag your birthday. who is really good with younger cousins and siblings, it makes your heart flutter.

The hunter that comes into your shop twice a week is…strange.

Strange is an understatement, you think—strange could describe the winding, glowing plants that curl over every surface of your shop, the jars of monster parts that decorate the shelves, or the sharp sparks that periodically burst out of the cauldron that you have burning in the corner of the decrepit room. To others, you’re sure that these things would be considered strange; after all, you’ve been told as much many times.

So perhaps the hunter isn’t strange, but…odd. Peculiar. Weird.

“Is this edible?” he asks seriously, holding up a jar of unicorn horn dust from the shelf. 

Yes, definitely weird.

You sigh, busying yourself with shelving some new magical tomes on the back shelf. Some appear as normal books, while some come oozing, sparkling, or furry. As in all things related to magic, they can be rather unexpected.

“No, and that would run you about a thousand gold anyway. Unicorn horns don’t come cheap.”

The hunter tilts his head, then nods. “That’s not too much. I can afford it.”

His words give you pause—it’s not the kind of thing that he would usually buy, and you’re honestly not sure how he can afford so much on a hunter’s salary.

The first time you ever saw him, he walked in like a newborn deer taking its first steps. It wasn’t that he seemed scared of your shop, like most would be, but that he was overwhelmed by the novelty of it all. His eyes practically glowed with awe as he asked you about each item in painstaking detail.

Honestly, you were surprised he even opted to enter your shop at all.

With witchcraft and apothecary being seen as a darker, more corrupt magic compared to the elemental magic that the nobles and royals use, the deep forest had been the safest place to open your shop. Typically, you get more rugged adventurer types, not clean pretty boys who look like they’ve never encountered a monster in their lives.

Still, he told you he was a hunter, and you had no reason not to believe him. And, frankly, you don’t care to wonder otherwise—gold is gold, after all, and you’re in dire need of it.

Most visits, he buys potions. Warming and cooling potions, most typically. You assume he hunts in the Permafrost or Pyrewood regions, and someone of his stature isn’t capable of handling such extreme temperatures without magical intervention.

But, again, you don’t care. As long as he walks out with a purchase and you are left with a heavier pocket, the finer details don’t matter as much. 

“We have some new warming potions, if you’re interested,” you call over your shoulder. The hunter perks up at your address, then frowns, as if wrangling his thoughts together.

“No, I won’t be needing any of those today,” he states with an air of finality, more to himself than to you. You raise a brow as you finish arranging the last tome, returning to your place behind the counter.

“Okay, then is there anything else I can help you with today?”

There’s a certain tension in his unfairly beautiful expression that you can’t quite place as he stares down at the various toad parts that you have on display. Finally, he turns to you, grey and blue eyes sharp as he declares:

“I need a remedy that prevents spontaneous combustion.”

AALI!! HELLO!! may i offer you this :3

—izuku x reader. nsfw. izuku has a slapping kink

"slap me."

you vaguely comprehend the words from under you, as your hips grinds onto his in slow and deep circles. you almost think you misheard it, mind unable to focus on anything other than his thick cock that you're sitting on, the tip hitting a spot so deep inside, your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head.

until one of his hands releases your hips, grabbing your own that was braced on his bare chest and dragging it up to palm his cheek.

"slap me," izuku repeats himself, voice tight but encouraging. looking up at you with heated green eyes, flushed cheeks, and sweat dripping down the side of his temples.

your hips slow down as you sputter out a "w-what?" but his hand only grips onto yours harder, a plead spoken with the very scars on his skin. with a roughness that contrasts the sweet smile he throws your away.

"do it," izuku says, eyes gleaming. "it's okay. i want you to."

you don't give yourself time to think before your hand pulls back and smacks him across the face, a sharp crack in the air. and you can feel his cock jolting inside your pussy at the sudden contact, pulsing in the aftermath.

you try your best to ignore the heat crawling in your belly as you observe him closely, unable to see his eyes covered by his tousled hair that flung at the impact.

"no way," you hear him whisper, and your stomach drops.

it wasn't the hardest you could've slapped him, maybe at a 60%? but you can still feel your hand tingling and his face is so red and shit, was he just messing around with you—

izuku laughs. and your eyes widen at the sound, watching as he slowly rolls his head back, peering up at you with glassy, heavy-lidded eyes. you whimper when he suddenly rolls his hips up and god, you don't know how but you can feel him growing. bigger and harder.

"is that all you got, baby?" he says lightly, almost cooing. chuckling through it all. grabbing your hand again and kissing the center of your stinging palm, before raising it to his cheek again.

you gulp when you see the color of his irises. so dark with need and desire, that the color practically borders on obsidian.

"again," izuku urges you sweetly. dare you say it, gently.

and your stomach flips when a smile stretches across his face. a sugary sweet smile paired with hearts practically dancing in his eyes as he says,

normally, he's a stickler for organization. regular laundry because he can't stand the feel of sweat on any clothes that aren't his hero clothes, or doing all the dishes by hand, himself, because "a stupid dishwasher" can't do it any better than he does. part of the reason he even bought it was because he knows you hate dishes.

still, even this is a bit too much. too sterile.

it could also be too much because he's gotten so used to having you around in his apartment. you, who won't burst into flames if there's a sock on the floor or if the shoes aren't put in the cabinet right away. you, who knows where all the groceries are, even if the spices are arranged in 3 different cabinets.

but for the past few weeks, the floors have been empty, and the spices stay in one place.

he shifts his weight to the other leg, waiting to speak with the receptionist. his head stays down, occasionally checking his watch for the time- just trying to seem busy. he doesn't want anyone to notice who he is here. it isn't what he's here for. he can't stand around signing autographs and fake-smiling in photos when he knows you're somewhere inside, waiting for his arrival.

the receptionist calls him up. she asks him who he's here to see.

he clears his throat, keeping the annoyance in his voice (annoyance that came from nervousness) to a minimum. "[y/n] [l/n]."

he wants to add: "how are they doing? are they okay? have they been smiling?" but he refrains, knowing that in a few moments, he'll be able to hear it from you.

the receptionist types some things, checks a few papers, and allows katsuki to stew in trepidation. then, finally, the greenlight.

the moment he moves through the big glass doors, his eyes dart around the room. he's looking for you. he wants to go up to any random person, shake them by the shoulders, and ask if they've seen anyone with you description. then, he remembers his promise not to raise his voice as much. you hate it. and he hates upsetting you.

finally: "glad you came."

he feels a softer, smaller pair of hands cup his calloused one. he meets you halfway, squeezing once his body confirms its you. his eyes meet yours, and a sigh of tension escapes his lips.

he pulls you into his arms.

"you look tired, idiot." he mutters, pressing your shoulder to his lips where he can kiss you. being in a building where everyone talks in low, hush volumes, you missed the nickname. you missed him.

you laugh, a genuine laugh, not the fake noise that escapes you when a nurse recites a joke about eating your vegetables or rollercoasters. your heart flutters when you feel his thumb stroke over the back of your hand. you're quick to clap back: "really? i've been getting tons of sleep."

he believes you, because he wants to. he wants to think you've been sleeping through the nights instead of staying up on your phone, or clutching your chest and crying your eyes out.

"c'mon, lets go for a walk."

he wants to slap himself, feeling how his words are stuck in his throat. he's angry, but he can't pinpoint why. he's relieved, but there's still a pit in his stomach that he can't quite shake. the word he's looking for is worry. but he can't admit when you're here, fighting something he doesn't quite get.

he lets you lead him to a park bench, still in view of the facility. there's drawings and carvings in the wood, probably from past patients. he notices a crude drawing of all might in the corner of corner, carved in with dull scissors and colored in with crayon. he then thinks that whoever drew it probably needed a hero. he wishes he could be one for you.

but he's forced to remember that you, of all people, you who leaves laundry to the last minute and wasn't aware of oven cleaning, is the last person who needs a hero. not when you're sitting across from him, radiant, smiling and telling him about how your mood, though not perfect, has gotten better over the days. or how you've been trying out pottery and origami but how journaling is still your favorite. he makes a mental note to grab you a new one once you're done here. and some new pens to chew on.

you sense he's thinking, that he's sitting on words that won't leave his chest. you pick up his hand, kissing his knuckles, over the scars from training and battle.

"i'm okay." you emphasize the okay. for a second, he acts confused, annoyed even.

"i know." he emphasizes know. but he also knows that he's full of shit.

"do you?" you prod, playing with his fingers.

he roll his eyes at your insistence, but he doesn't pull away his hand.

he bites the inside of his lips responding: "...have you been doing better?"

its a loaded question, one you've been asked since your first few days here. its something you've asked even yourself, at times. he senses its a lot, and quickly salvages: "you don't have to answer that."

but you shake your head, knowing that he deserves to know. that ever since you brought up the very idea of coming here, he's been losing sleep, worrying. that whatever villains or monsters who deals with on some random tuesday or nothing compared to what you've had to fight in your life. he can tell himself over and over that this is your fight, your brain, your life, but that if given the opportunity to? he'd take all of it for himself to let you sleep easier.

theres so much you could say. that the first night, you didn't want to leave your room and spent the whole day with your nose in a book, reading out loud, because sound drowns out thoughts. or how on the second day, you cried from exhaustion while trying to open a pack of crackers. that slowly, you've picked up the pieces of yourself and even though it felt like you were being held together by band aids and string. how some days aren't perfect, some days are awful, but some days are great. how you aren't constantly navigating life through a viscous thunderstorm. and for the days that you do, you've learned to use umbrellas.

"i mean..." you start, sitting up straighter with the shrug of your shoulders. "i still have days."

he nods, knowing what days you're talking about. days where the bed is the only safe place, because it cushions you from everything else.

"sometimes even weeks." you add. "but... it was never about getting rid of those days. just..."

there's a long pause between the two of you. his fingers flex against your hands for a moment before re-tightening.

"living with them." he adds, gruff, but undeniably sweet. you look up from your hands at him.

a shy smile takes over your lips, and god, his chest is warm. you are the strongest person he knows. not because you've ever beaten him in an arm wrestle or a race. because, despite everything, it's you. because you are the one person who makes dynamight weak.

"yeah. and it gets a little easier everyday. that might not sound like a huge win, but-"

"it is." he cuts you off. its in that moment you realize how you've missed his rude interruptions. "don't minimize your success, idiot."

tears prick your eyes. you smile, disarming him once again, before looking down. he hears you sniffle, and as if instinct, he moves to sit next to you. you fit against his body like you had been molded from the same lump of clay. his arms wrap around you, and for a moment, his greatest achievement is getting to say that he's fallen in love with a warrior. and the world spins just a bit slower when he finally has you again. and in the moments between wiping your tears and pressing his lips to yours, he realizes that he's never actually lost you. and he's certainly never needed to save you.

"i love you." he closes his eyes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. oh, if his fans could see him now. a hero, and him sitting next to it.

"i love you too." you look up at him, memorizing the details of his face. "and i'll be home before you know it, okay?"

a huff of laughter leaves his lips. "i know. and you'll fuck up the apartment all over again."

bnha various x reader

nicknames they call you

listened to all of the girls you loved before <3

izuku midoriya

he is the definition of love-struck. he absolutely loves you and everything you do. he sees the parts of yourself you hate and carves out a special place for them in his heart. he’s clingy too, wanting nothing more than to be in your presence. he calls you baby, sweetie, honey, but his favourite is simply your name. he also drags his y’s whenever he’s smitten by you (which is always.)

“babyyy… i have patrol. c’mon, hun, you know i hate leaving you. i’ll make it up to you tonight.”

katsuki bakugou

is an asshole at first. when you first start dating, he’s adamant about how he’s too tough for nicknames and how dumb he thinks they are. the only names he calls people are ones that typically send them away crying, and you’re no exception…. however, you’ve learned to pick up on his signals. he refuses to use the classics, and instead calls you idiot, dumbass, or smartass if you’re lucky. albeit, all with the prefix “my.”

“tch. pet names are lame, dumbass…. yeah? i still love you, though, idiot. i can show it in better ways.”

shouto todoroki

though a true gentleman at heart, his social skills are that of a small puppy in a sea of humans. he tilts his head adorably whenever he overhears couples calling each other baby, or honey, and not fully understanding the baby talk. but when you two start dating, he’s all for it. he calls you love, darling, beautiful, or gorgeous.

“hm? yes gorgeous? here, let me zip that up for you. no, put that wallet down- tonight’s on me, love.”

eijirou kirishima

the very definition of a golden retriever. he cant help that he loves you, and wants to show that love every waking hour of his day. and how can he not? he’s so funny, and handsome, and kind, and he doesn’t even seem to realize just how great of a package he is. he’s always pushing you to your fullest, wiping the sweat off your forehead and giving you a kiss after a workout and holding you close whenever he’s given the chance. he calls you babe, baby, and princess.

“c’mon baby, just one more. you’re doing so well. i’m so proud of you, princess. c’mere, i wanna show you off.”

denki kaminari

possibly the funniest, most charming guy you know, he’s stuck to you like glue. he loves being around you, having you in his lap while he plays games, following you around the house, and being the first person you go to whenever anything happens. he’s a ray of light on your darkest days, somehow always giving you a smile even when you’re lips are curved into a permanent frown. he calls you sunshine, honey, babe, or baby.

“hey sunshine. hm? you’re running errands today? need some company? you just look so cute in my hoodie, babe. don’t wanna let you outta my sight.”

hitoshi shinso

if you could describe hitoshi with one word, it’d be safe place. he’s your refuge, the guy you can curl up with in a blanket and rot for hours when the world seems too real. he’s also the same guy who will pick you back up, help you build yourself back up and send you to face it with a kiss on your forehead. he loves love, though he’d never admit it out loud. he feels like he melts every time he’s around you, wanting to be the jacket on your shoulders and the ring on your finger, just to be close to you. he calls you baby, love, and beautiful.

shinso x reader

thoughts about how shinso would act in a relationship. same premise as the kirishima ver.

inspired by backburner

hitoshi shinso, who’s facetimes with you always run late into the night. you ramble on about your day while he hums in response, knowing that you know he’s not the talkative type. he never asks “how was your day?” he always says “tell me about your day.” because he really, truly wants to hear about your day. you could have cured a disease or simply just gotten out of bed, and he’d still want to hear every single detail simply because its from you.

hitoshi shinso, who loves to cook. only you're aware of it, because he doesn't always like sharing personal details with others, but you never complained- it just means more for you. you're always the first person that gets to try his food, though he claims you're not a very good critic. but you can't help it, everything he makes tastes so good. and with every compliment you shower him in, he'll hit you with a 'yeah, yeah, whatever.' and then next moment, make you more so you can always stay fed during long days at UA and long hours during hero-training. its his silent way of telling you he loves you.

hitoshi shinso, whose cats love you more than they love him. he has three triplets, a black british short hair, a siamese, and a grey ragdoll- pepper, lexi, and mustache- he absolutely hates the last name, but he had just adopted the kitten and you named it for its white streak right below its nose. he'll deny it forever, but he gets pouty and huffs in annoyance whenever he sees the cats run to you, even after he's fed and taken care of them for all of their lives. but he also cant deny the way his heart skips a beat whenever he seems them cuddled up with you on his bed, wearing one of his big t-shirts. it softens his heart in a way that nothing else does- your love fills his heart more strongly and more passionately than anything does.

hitoshi shinso, who is the closed-off, funny but quiet dickhead of his friend group. he's known for his out-of-pocket roasts at the right times and his nonchalant nature that contrasts with the loud, spunkiness of his multicolored-haired friends. but with you, he softens. the few times he's brought you along with him to movie night or training sessions, you've softened his heart enough for the love in him to seep out towards others as well. whenever you crack a joke, make someone else at the table smile, and draw laughs and happiness from their chests, a blush blooms across his cheeks. obviously, he fell for you, how could he not?

hitoshi shinso, who's favorite activity with you is your sunday-ritual. you'll wake up together, either in the same bed or over the phone, and bike down to the coast. you'll bug him about wearing a helmet, but he always complains that it ruins your hair. he'd never admit that its because he thinks you're absolutely adorable when you dote on him. afterwards he'll share a smoothie with you- he hates all the flavors except for mixed berry, which is the one he always insists on getting. he hates the the overpricing for what the product actually is, but loves the smile it puts on your face after a tiring bike-ride. and afterwards, you two will go back to either his of your place. his place if your parents aren't home, and his place when his parents are home, and binge watch a long t.v show of your choosing. he'll always complain that its stupid, poorly written or drawn out, but get pouty whenever you watch an episode without him. it's the one thing he looks forwards to at the end of a long week, drawn out with endless studies, training, and burnout. you're his safe place, and he needs it more than he'll admit.

hitoshi shinso, who somehow remembers every tiny detail about you. his mind works like gears, arranging formulas and deciphering codes, but the intellect of his mind makes you its priority. he remembers the way you pick your nails and cuticles when you have anxiety, and how placing his warm palm over yours soothes some of those thoughts. he remembers how prefer to tie your hair back during training but how you somehow always forget a hair tie- and he knows how you always give him a peck on his cheek once he shows off the one he's been keeping on his wrist for you. he remembers how you can't sleep without your nightly calls, and how he needs to hear your voice before he drifts of too- maybe more than you need it. he remembers the first day you met, the first thing he said to you, the first time he ever felt love for you. he remembers all of it and keeps it embedded in his heart. hitoshi shinso may seem like he hates everyone, but the one exception to that is you. and he'll remember that forever.

hitoshi shinso x reader

some more boyfriend/relationship thoughts, for his birthday!

inspired by snooze

hitoshi shinso, who knows how to repair bikes. if you have a young sibling who keeps getting into accidents, he’ll patch it all up for them- trying to win those boyfriend points to impress you. he secretly likes when you dote on him for not wearing a helmet, but it ruins the hair he knows you love.

hitoshi shinso, who will gladly stay up all night with you finishing that project you put off. he laughs when you realize why they gave you 3 weeks to complete it. he’ll sit on your bed, on his phone, showing you dumb tiktoks every now and then. when he senses your overworking yourself, he’ll lazily drag you to bed before giving you a kiss on the head. in the morning, you’re blessed to find out he’s finished it for you.

hitoshi shinso, who didn’t really care for books until you introduced him to some of your favourites. now, its his favourite activity to do in his rare downtime. he’ll snuggle up with you, probably his 4th cup of hot coffee on the table, and read through one of the books you’ve recommended. even into the wee hours on the night, hair disheveled and the bags under his eyes pronounced, he’ll stay up reading at least one more chapter. and he does it because he adores the way your eyes light up when you two have something fresh to talk about.

hitoshi shinso, who rarely ever sleeps, but knows you can’t without him. at the very least you need him over the phone. he’ll stay up, playing video games with kaminari, reading a good book or studying, while your presence is there next to him. little do you know, its as much of a need for him as it is for you- he’s gotten used to your soft snores and your warm presence on his bedsheets. he may never get a full 8 hours, but just being with you recharges him enough for the day.

kirishima x reader

thoughts on how kirishima acts in a relationship

inspired by so american

eijiro kirishima, who texts you goodmorning and goodnight religiously. you're the first person he wants to talk to in the morning and the last person he wants to hear from before he drifts off. his face turns almost as red as his hair and eyes whenever his phone lights up with a buzz, seeing that you've replied to him. he saves your contact with a <3 right next to your name. your photo is a picture he snapped of you wearing one of his tank tops, sitting loosely on you. normally his sculptured biceps fill out the fabric to the brim, but he prefers the way you wear it. he wants to stare at you every time he picks up the phone in the morning to text you.

eijiro kirishima, who lets you help him dye his hair after the third time you insist on it. he feels a slight hint of embarrassment, thinking its un-manly to need help with a simple task, but after the first couple of rounds he insists on you doing it. he loves the way your fingers weave delicately through his hair, touching up his roots and treating him like he’s a glass sculpture. and afterwards while he waits for it to set he’ll help you with menial tasks in return- like finishing your algebra (not that he’s any better, but he means well) or making you a quick dinner. he’s an expert when it comes to self-care, and knows that working out and eating well isn’t healthy if its not accompanied by nourishing your happiness. he knows what candy’s to bring to pick up for you while he’s purchasing his dye, what movies to play in the background while he’s letting his hair soak, and exactly how to hug you when it’s all done.

eijiro kirishima, who becomes a sucker for sappy love songs once you get him introduced to it. at first, he hums along to your playlist in the car. then he’s following the artists you like on instagram and keeping up with their recent music. then it’s actively going out of his way to listen to them because each line about love and longing is about you. he makes a playlist titled [y/n] <3 and its all the songs that have made you come up in his head. little do his gym friends know that he’s streaming the tortured poets department while he’s lifting weights DOWN BAD CRYING AT THE GYM ANYONE

eijiro kirishima, who absolutely loves anything you create. muffins, bread, brownies- you’ve suddenly tested his willpower when it comes to his rigid diet. but he can’t help himself- everything tastes better when he knows you’ve put the time and effort into it. with so many eyes watching the young hero, he often forgets to properly feed himself- which is when you come in, always reminding him to eat. when he’s not looking, you’ll slip an extra treat or two in his bag, and come home greeted with a hug and kiss of gratitude for keeping his tummy full.

eijiro kirishima, who comes to you seeking refuge from his insecurities. he has quirk envy badly, sometimes just staring at the heroes he sees around him and wonders how he could ever live up to them. he feels as though he pails in comparison, not knowing how to articulate his worries into words. sometimes he’ll simply hug you, resting his chiseled chin on your shoulder while a huff escapes his lips. he doesn’t need to say anything because you know him. you know how he gets in his head. so you kiss his temples and remind him that he is exactly how he should be. that he’s enough. enough to be strong. enough to be a great hero. enough to be the red riot you love so much. he’s enough for you. and thats what plants are smile on his face as he leans in to kiss you. it’s enough for him too.

eijiro kirishima, who loves showing you off at the gym. mostly to his friends, who comment on how he seemingly never shuts up about you- but a part of him finds pride in the jealous stares others give him. he almost wants to give them a look of ‘i know, right?’ while they admire your beauty, the way you look when sweat ripples down your skin and your cheeks are flushed pink. but he feels sorry for them. sorry that they can’t have you they he’s got you. his eyes sparkle when he sees you pushing yourself, feeling inspired that he now has someone to be so proud of. he’s always proud of you.

Primus Tachonis is an all-purpose personal tragedy creator sure to spur your character to adventure specifically so they can get his ass. Whether you need an old money asshole muscling in on an institution beloved to your PC or an evil sorcerer to slaughter their entire family Primus Tachonis has the magic and the social station to create whatever tragedy is required to serve your backstory.

Primus Tachonis is so versatile as a backstory tool he has professional D&D players raving:

Primus Tachonis killed my character's best friend and now she has to figure out who she is without him! -Laura Bailey I wrote a light backstory because I was still feeling out the setting and my dungeon master used Primus Tachonis to turn my brother into a statue! -Travis Willingham Primus Tachonis is trying to take over my character's magic school and endangering her students, and she will not have that! -Marisha Rey I had intended my character to have a tense but ultimately repairable relationship with his father, but then my DM used Primus Tachonis to rip his skull from his head. Now my character is on a quest to kill every member of Primus' noble house! -Matthew Mercer My character was a happy and established local playwright until Primus Tachonis had his little brother executed. Now he's taken up the sword again in his brother's stead! -Liam O'Brian I needed someone to murder my character's wife and daughter and my dungeon master suggested Primus Tachonis, and I couldn't be happier with the result! -Robbie Daymond Even works on members of his own family! -Alexander Ward