Hi So I Never Saw Anyone Correcting Viggo's Age So Im Sorry If Im Wrong On Him Being 30, I Was Making

everyone always talking about how hot hiccup is in httyd 2 and 3 which like i agree but BROOO HE'S SUCH A CUTIE IN THE FIRST MOVIE

LIKE IF I SAW THAT DUDE ON THE STREET, I WOULD IMMEDIATELY BE IN LOVE‼️‼️ HE'S SO POOKIE WOOKIE AND I JUST WANNA HOLD HIM

i miss his annoying ass

"She was awesome and cute, and Leo had a weakness for awesome and cute girls."

LEO I HAVE A WEAKNESS FOR YOU😭

Just wanted to put this out there.

Izuku, loves chubby girls.

🌸

Masterlist

Entering middle school, Izuku would always be teasingly askwd what his type was, where the assholes in question would say things like “he’s definitely gay.” And “he’s into blind girls cause they’re the only ones who’d date him!”

He always just rolled his eyes at these comments and questions, but as he got a little older, and his hormones started to shift him from a boy to a young man, he started to actually wonder what his type was.

Izuku would often find himself on the internet, scrolling through different modeling sites, looking at the different girls showing off hero merch or other clothing. He knew it was a bit perverted, but he blamed it on his curiosity.

However, none of them ever caught his eye.

It wasn’t that they were ugly, they were gorgeous women, but none of them really set him off.

Fast forward to UA, and our green eyes king is meeting some new people, making friends, busting his ass to become a hero.

About one semester of school in, and Aizawa announces the school’s transfer student program.

Awesome! Another student to add to the amazinf list of quirks and personalities? Izuku can’t wait to meet them!

The day eventually rolls around when this mystery student is supposed to be moving into the dorms; the class had made dinner and set up some fun games to get to know each other. It was going to be fun!

Izuku and the rest of the class had waited, Izuku excitedly rambling to Iida and Uraraka about potential quirks, nationalities and really anything he could think of.

However, when he sees you walking next to Aizawa with a few bags, his heart drops.

You were..gorgeous.

His eyes were instantly drawn to your thick thighs, with no gap between them as they filled out your jeans, the slight pudge of your stomach that made you look so soft and warm, how your arms filled out your sleeves, and your round, baby face with chubby cheeks.

Izuku had no idea what to say as the rest of the students welcomed you to their class. He felt a bit bad for blatantly staring at your plush body, but god-damn he couldn’t help it.

He managed to choke out a greeting after everyone else, making your eyes land on him.

You noticed his eyes stuck on your body, and you smiled a bit, his bright red blush not lost on you.

Fast forward to graduation, you’d gotten pretty close with Izuku.

He was the boy you’d consider your best friend, sweet, affectionate, shy, and everything you could ask for in a friend; you trusted him, and he trusted you.

At the graduation party, Kaminari and Mineta had spiked the drinks there, a cliche thing do to, especially for fresh out of high school graduates.

You had a single cup from the start of the party, but after Mina had a few cups and ended up getting drunk, you decided to stick to water instead.

Poor Izuku on the other hand, was probably a few cups deep himself, and he was wasted.

When you found him, he was drunkenly crying, clinging onto Bakugou and whining about how much he loved you.

When you finally got over your shock, you walked over to Izuku, who lit up when he saw you.

“Baby!” He slurred out as he stumbled over to you, hugging you tightly “h-how is my gorgeous girl?” He mumbled into your neck as his hands rested on the rolls of your back.

You flushed bright red, stammering out some syllables.

Izuku giggled and cupped your cheeks with his calloused and scarred hands “look at your cute face~” he slurred out with a dopey grin, “s-so prettyy..”

You melted into his touch and looked up at him with hooded eyes..damn him and his stupidly adorable features. Damn him.

You don’t even know how you got here, laying in your bed with Izuku on top of you. Your shirt was nowhere to be found, and his hands were traveling your torso so softly and slowly as he pressed little kisses to your soft stomach.

You gently combed your fingers through his hair, watching as he gently kneaded the soft, warm pudge of your stomach, the way he smiled and rested his cheek on your chubby belly making you both vulnerable and incredibly shy feeling.

“Y-you’re so..pretty..” he said as he placed a kiss on one of the stretch marks on your stomach. “These are so c-cool..like..like lightning..”

You laughed a little at his dopey grin, seeing him so enamored with something you’d previously been insecure about, and he was lavishing your body with kisses.

When Izuku eventually did fall asleep, his cheek on your stomach and hands holding your sides, you simply pulled up the blanket over his shoulders and looked up at your ceiling, smiling a little and feeling weirdly appreciated by your drunken best friend.

My point is, Izuku has a thing for chubby girls. He loves the cellulite covering your thighs, your stretch marks over your stomach and thighs and arms, the way your cheeks rounded when you smiled- he couldn’t get enough of your soft body.

Izuku loves you for who you are, but it helps that you happen to be his ideal body type.

~~

Felt like writing this randomly, I started it yesterday when my mom and I were watching MHA word Heroes’ mission, but finally finished it today. Wanted to write some fluff for all of my fellow chubby girls out there. <3

— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島

summary: red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight. pairing: f!reader / pro hero!red riot word count: 3.7k tags: mutual pining, fluff/comfort, humor, very gentlemanly make-out, reader is a fan of red riot, mention of ingenium thirst (truth) a/n: kiri might be a twenty-seven year old pro hero in this fic but he is an absolute lovesick virgin who gets all his romantic cues from k-dramas. you cannot force me to think otherwise.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

The television, low and quiet, drones on as a deep-dive video on terrariums plays. Your apartment is clean — dishes done, laundry folded and trash taken out. There's a new candle burning on the coffee table, and a Dynamight-themed, cucumber-melon eye mask plastered to your delightedly thoughtless expression.

It's supposed to be good for dark circles. It kinda burns. You wonder if maybe that's, like, part of the gimmick. Y'know. Burns. Dynamight. 

Whatever.

No thoughts. Only the pleasure of turning everything off — brain included — for a perfect Friday night, complete with a mediocre glass of wine and no pants. 

The oversized Red Riot t-shirt clinging to your frame is your favorite. You've had it since college — it's a simple red tee with REAL MEN RIOT blazoned across the front, complete with your favorite hero popping a cheeky, shark-like grin and a double bicep. It's faded, stretched out, and broken in but it's also clean, and it smells like fabric softener and comfort.

This is the life. 

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight. 

You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

You thought those guys were out of town for the week. 

You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.

There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once. 

Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone. 

Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly. 

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy." 

Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.

The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying. 

And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger. 

You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.

Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage. 

The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table. 

That's when the shouting really starts.

And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.

The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven. 

It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters". 

All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of. 

The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers. 

It's perfect.

It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot. 

The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?

Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can. 

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really. 

There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks. 

...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"

"...Hi...?"

Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered. 

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony. 

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony. 

Abort mission, abort mission.

Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.

"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?" 

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"

It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute. 

Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.

Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony. 

He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan. 

He's trying to figure out the best way up. 

How he even got up here is news to you. 

(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge. 

Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it — but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!

A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second. 

Then, he settles on his plan. 

"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is. 

Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...

"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"

Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution. 

It's... comical.

You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"

You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought. 

Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin. 

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot. 

"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."

Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks. 

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up. 

"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."

Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony. 

It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.

You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.

You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.

"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"

You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight. 

Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail. 

As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers. 

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.

red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?

You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you. 

You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.

"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."

You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"

You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat. 

Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."

"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."

"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."

Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"

You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.

"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."

His words drift off.

He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating. 

"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"

You're laughing.

Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.

"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"

"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.

Are you dead?

Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?

There's no fucking way this is happening. 

Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy. 

You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.

Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony. 

Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.

"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?" 

Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.

You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.

"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"

You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge. 

"And if I took you to dinner?" 

Another nod.

"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."

"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact. 

Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot. 

Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."

He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle. 

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"

You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong." 

Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?

Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his. 

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

Or, try. 

As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this. 

Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn. 

He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello. 

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"

Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony. 

When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan. 

He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner." 

All you can do is nod.

Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

gang i need help, i vividly remember an audio where a lady says "then why didn't you? why didn't you?" and I literally cant find it anywhere please tell me someone knows what I'm talking abt

"hiccup and astrid dating" this "hiccup and astrid dating" that, but lets talk about BEFORE they were together

im currently rewatching rtte and im noticing a bunch of details people DONT TALK ABOUT!!! hiccup and astrid always standing or sitting next to each other, hiccup being the only one to comfort astrid when heather leaves, hiccup and astrid just being the bestest of buds and always hanging out, astrid talking about hiccup when he's not there, even just the smallest of details like just glancing at each other. the twins are doing something stupid? astrid turns to give hiccup a raise of the brow, and hiccup just shrugs.

AND LETS NOT FORGET IN LIKE THE FIRST EPISODE, HICCUP AND ASTRID SIT NEXT TO EACHOTHER ON THE BEACH WHILE EVERYONE ELSE IS ASLEEP, JUST TALKING WHILE GAZING AT THE MOON!!!! these are the purest details never mentioned and it makes me sad :(

edit: "i can't imagine a world without you in it" BEING SAID BETWEEN THEM, WITH NO ROMANTIC FEELINGS BEING SAID YET? I ACTUALLY CAN'T THEY'RE EVERYTHING😭❤️

Hii!! If you can, can you write Katsuki x fem reader where reader is scared of being intimate with Katsuki because she's very insecure about her body and Katsuki reassures her? It can be both comfort and smut!! XOXO

To Worship

Katsuki wasn’t stupid. He could tell when something was off, especially when it came to you.

He noticed it in the way your body stiffened whenever his hands wandered beneath your shirt. The way your breath hitched, not from pleasure, but hesitation. The way you pulled back just before things went too far.

It pissed him off—not because you weren’t giving in, but because you were holding yourself back. From him.

Tonight was no different. You were straddling his lap, lips swollen from his kisses, body warm and trembling in his arms, but the moment his fingers slipped beneath your top, you tensed.

"Oi," he muttered, pulling back to look you in the eye. "The fuck’s goin’ on?"

You shook your head quickly. "Nothing."

"That’s bullshit." His crimson eyes burned into yours, sharp but not unkind. "Talk to me."

You swallowed hard, trying to look away, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Y/N."

Your chest ached at how soft he said your name.

"I just…" You exhaled shakily. "I don’t want to disappoint you."

His brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. "What the hell does that mean?"

You bit your lip. "I’m not… perfect, Katsuki. My body isn’t—"

"Don’t you dare finish that sentence." His voice was rough, but his touch was gentle as his hands moved to your waist. "You think I give a fuck about that?"

Your vision blurred with unshed tears. "I don’t want you to see me and—"

"Tch." Katsuki scoffed, then leaned in, brushing his lips over yours. "You’re fuckin’ perfect to me."

You gasped softly as he kissed you again, slower this time. His fingers traced over your skin with a reverence that made your heart ache.

"You don’t gotta hide from me, baby," he murmured against your lips. "Lemme show you how much I love every damn part of you."

Your breath stuttered as he guided you onto your back, his body hovering over yours. His hands, usually rough and calloused, worshipped your curves, tracing over every dip, every scar, every so-called imperfection like they were something sacred.

"God, you’re beautiful," he muttered, voice thick with want. "Can’t believe you ever doubted that."

Heat pooled in your stomach as he kissed his way down your body, worshipping every inch of you with lips and tongue. The tenderness in his touch made your insecurities feel so small, so insignificant.

And when he finally pressed into you, stretching you so perfectly, he held you close, his forehead resting against yours.

"You feel that?" he groaned, voice shaking. "That’s how much I fuckin’ love you, baby."

A soft whimper escaped your lips as he moved, slow and deep, his hands gripping yours as he made love to you like he had all the time in the world.

No rush. No shame. Just him showing you, over and over again, just how beautiful you were in his eyes.

And for the first time, you believed it.

Katsuki moved with a kind of intensity that left you breathless—not the usual rough, explosive passion he carried in everything he did, but something deeper. Something unshakably devoted.

His hands never stopped moving, mapping out every part of your body with deliberate care. When your breath hitched as his fingers traced a soft curve or a spot you weren’t fond of, he lingered there, pressing firm, open-mouthed kisses to your skin as if to tell you, I love this. I love you.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pushed deeper, hips rolling slow and deliberate. “So tight… fuck, baby.”

Your legs trembled around his waist, pleasure sparking through every nerve as he kept you close—chest to chest, fingers tangled with yours. His pace never faltered, never rushed, stretching the moment between you like something precious.

A whimper slipped from your lips, and Katsuki was on you immediately, capturing the sound with a kiss, swallowing it down like he needed it to breathe.

“S’okay, baby,” he whispered, thumb brushing over your cheek as he kissed you again, softer this time. “You don’t gotta hide from me. Ever.”

You let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you—like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and Katsuki’s expression softened, his thrusts slowing to a near stop as he cupped your face.

“Shit, baby,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your eyelids, kissing away the tears that slipped free. “Didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, it’s… it’s not bad.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned in, his voice dropping into something rough and tender all at once.

“You believe me now?” he asked, hips shifting just enough to make you shudder.

You gasped, fingers tightening against his as heat coiled deep in your stomach.

“Katsuki—”

“Say it,” he rasped, his other hand slipping down your waist, pressing into the flesh there like he was grounding himself in you. “Say you believe me.”

You swallowed hard, body trembling beneath him, pleasure crackling through your veins like wildfire.

“I—” You gasped as he pushed deeper, hitting the spot that made you see stars. “I believe you.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest, his grip tightening. “Damn right, you do.”

His pace picked up just enough to steal your breath, his lips never leaving yours as he guided you to the edge with slow, deep strokes that left you unraveling beneath him.

“Let go, baby,” he murmured against your mouth. “I got you.”

And with one last roll of his hips, you shattered, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Katsuki followed right after, burying himself deep with a groan, his grip unrelenting as he spilled into you.

For a long moment, all you could hear was your own heartbeat, the slow, steady rise and fall of your breaths mingling with his.

Then, Katsuki shifted, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

“You ain’t ever gotta doubt yourself again,” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and something softer.

You curled into him, chest aching in the best way, and whispered,

“I won’t.”

Hiccstrid Valentine Event day 12:

Miraculous AU

I use to watch the heck out of this show in middle school. I stopped watching it around season 2 tho but i've seen spoilers for season 5 and i'm obviously confused since i haven't watch Miraculous ladybug since high school 😅 i hope i'll have time to watch it again soon.

Fun fact i started watching MLB because i've seen a lot of crossover edits of adrientte and hiccstrid so i got curious and started watching MLB. I was obsessed with HTTYD and MLB in middle school so today's promt is dedicated to that.

Hiccup and Astrid are 15 here since Adrien and Marinette are also around that age. I had fun designing their costume ❤

EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS!!!

EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS!!!

finally opening these because i now have nowhere to live!!!!!! commissioning will mean helping me fund hotel & food expenses for 2 people as well as my dog!! please consider commissioning or donating if at all possible. or a simple reblog would be awesome too. thank you! :)

- i take half of the payment before the process starts and half after completion for larger commissions!

- my kofi !!!

- email: isabugs7@gmail.com

- discord: cotardsangel

any questions don’t hesitate to ask!!