I’m Just A Huge Fan Of The Sport.

Toshinori/All Might headcanons: hands.

Fandom: My Hero Academia

As All Might:

His skin gets a little darker in this form.

His hands look abnormally big compared to yours and he always worries he’s going to hurt you by accident.

He tries to be as gentle as he can while in his hero form, especially when he has to quickly move you somewhere.

Enjoys petting your head. The height difference becomes even more apparent in this form. Besides, he knows it irritates you - but since he is in his hero form, you can’t do him any real harm even when you get truly mad.

Will often make fun of how he can pick you up with one hand.

can actually do that

As Toshinori:

His skin is rough and dry. He sometimes uses moisturizing creams, but often forgets to do so.

Has got a lot of scars - big and smaller ones.

He loves to hold hands and will melt if you start tracing over his knuckles or veins. He finds the gesture soothing and calming his nerves.

He always has neat and short nails, because they irritate him.

His hands are always warm.

Toshinori enjoys touching your bare skin, be it on your hands or cheeks or anywhere else. There is something pure to be so close to someone.

[Masterlist]

🥺🥺❤️

When Tony finished seeing the video of Bucky killing his parents, and he turns to Steve like:

the first time you give in and let shanks into your bed—after months and months of very persistent dashing grins and cloying sweet-talk—you don’t realize until he has you pressed against your bedroom door, with his singular hand tucked beneath your skirts to grasp the back of your knee and hook your leg around him, that the vest you’ve chosen today is held together by a row of small buttons at the front.

it’s an issue it seems he’s only just realized too, as he pulls away from your lips and stares down at your bust.

“buttons,” he says with a pout, thumb tapping pensively against the side of your knee. “is this a test?”

“an accident,” you laugh. “i’ll help—“

“no.” shanks nips at your finger playfully before you can touch your neckline. “not proper to make a lady undress herself.”

it shouldn’t be a surprise, you suppose, but he’s more skilled than you anticipate. with teeth and tongue he manages to undo three before the steady unveiling of your cleavage distracts him. letting go of your leg, he reaches up to work at the fourth even as his tongue runs hot over the newly exposed skin of your chest.

then you feel him pause. he blinks; his eyes are dark and stormy, so deep red they might as well be black. though you often find it difficult to parse out what he’s thinking, it hardly takes a genius to gauge the way that big hand catches hold of the side of your vest, teeth grazing the other; preparing to forego any more delay and simply tear the damn thing apart.

“pop them,” you sigh out, somehow unwilling to speak more than a murmur, “rip it off. i won’t stop you. but—“

you pause just as shanks does the same, eyes darting up to meet yours over the heaving swell of your chest and fingers freezing where he’s gripped the fabric of your bodice.

“you won’t do much more than touching tonight,” you finish.

those eyes sharpen. a thrill goes through you, as his fingers flex for half a moment—and then he’s surging up to kiss you again, hard and heavy and biting, drawing a heady giggle from your tongue. his arm slips around your thighs, tightening to lift you from the solid wood you’ve been pressed against before he turns to take a scant few strides and deposit you onto your bed, not once parting from your lips.

only when you’ve settled does he pull back, just slightly, pressing his forehead to yours as he moves his arm to brace himself on his elbow and then giving a surprisingly chaste peck to the tip of your nose as he begins a descent.

he lingers at the edge of your neckline, sucks at your skin, then kisses down your stomach over the fabric that still covers you; his hand is eager but gentle as it slides beneath the hem of your dress again, rough calluses brushing against your foot and ankle and calf until he’s palming your knee and pushing the fabric up over your thighs.

“well.” that look in his eye is more of a glint now, accompanied by a grin and a wink that has you rolling your eyes as shanks disappears from sight. “suppose i’ll find something we can do without taking that damn thing off, eh?”

CLINGY MUCH? | ONE SHOT

Shanks x GN!Reader

Zoro x GN!Reader

Mihawk x GN!Reader

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

tags: sfw, fluff, soft, ooc(?)

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

You were many things aboard the Red Force—calm, sharp-tongued, and painfully unbothered by Shanks’ endless antics.

You were also completely unaware of the fact that the most feared (and flirted-with) captain in the New World couldn’t seem to stop touching you.

Not in a creepy way. Not even in a romantic way… at least, not that you noticed.

He’d toss an arm around your shoulders like it was a habit. Rest his hand on your waist when laughing. Tug you into his side when something “dangerous” happened, like a slightly aggressive breeze or a seagull flying too low.

You just chalked it up to him being Shanks.

Until, one bright morning, the crew decided enough was enough.

It started with Benn Beckman sighing dramatically as he walked onto the deck.

“Do you two need a room or something?”

You blinked from where you stood, arms crossed. “We’re not even doing anything.”

Benn pointed. “His hand has been on your lower back for ten minutes.”

Shanks blinked down at his own hand like it betrayed him. “Huh. Didn’t even notice.”

You raised a brow. “Are you okay? Do you have tactile issues?”

Lucky Roux snorted as he passed by with a turkey leg. “Yeah, it’s called ‘falling for someone and not knowing what to do with your hands.’”

Shanks turned red. You remained… utterly unaffected.

“Touch-starved pirate disease,” Lime Juice muttered, jotting fake notes like a doctor. “Tragic. Symptoms include: prolonged physical contact, excessive grinning, and spontaneous cuddling in public.”

Hongo popped his head out of the crow’s nest. “I saw him brush your hair behind your ear during the storm last week.”

“That was because it got in their face,” Shanks defended.

You nodded. “He didn’t want me to get stabbed by my own bangs. Very heroic.”

“You’re wearing a braid,” Yasopp called from the helm.

A long pause.

“…Okay, I’m not good with excuses,” Shanks muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His hand bumped yours in the process.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “Captain.”

“Yes?”

“You’re touching me again.”

“...I genuinely didn’t notice DAHAHAHA.”

The crew erupted into laughter.

You blinked slowly and glanced down at your joined hands, then back up at him. “You’ve been holding my hand for a minute now. You good?”

“Maybe.”

You stared.

He stared.

“…You’re kinda warm,” he added, grinning.

“I’m wearing gloves.”

“Exactly. Impressive.”

You didn’t smile, but your voice was flat with dry humor. “You wanna marry me, too? Get it over with?”

Shanks choked. “Whoa—what?”

“You’re already touching me like I’m your lover. Might as well commit.”

The crew howled.

“I’m starting to like them more than you, Cap,” Benn said, lighting a cigar.

“They’ve got more bite,” Lime Juice grinned.

Lucky Roux offered you a celebratory turkey leg like a sword. “You just proposed better than he ever could.”

You calmly took it, giving a single nod. “Thanks. I accept my own proposal.”

Shanks was still frozen. “Wait, are we actually engaged now?”

You took a slow bite of the turkey leg, deadpan. “Keep touching me like that, and you’ll owe me alimony.”

ZORO

You were minding your own business—arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, back leaned slightly against the Sunny’s railing—when a familiar weight thunked into your side.

Again.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t glance, didn’t even blink. Just spoke.

“Zoro.”

“What.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what.”

“Treating me like a living chair.”

He grunted. “You’re stable. And not annoying.”

“That’s a compliment?” you asked, still deadpan.

“Take it or leave it.”

The crew had noticed. Of course they had. This was the sixth day in a row Zoro had casually latched onto you like a sleepy barnacle.

“Oi, mosshead!” Sanji snapped, appearing from the galley with smoke swirling and a righteous fury in his eyes. “Get off them, you clingy cucumber!”

Zoro cracked open an eye. “Make me.”

“Oh, I will!” Sanji stomped over dramatically. “Y/N-chwaann shouldn’t have to carry your freeloading swordsman body weight! If anyone deserves to be close to them, it’s me!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You literally tripped into my lap yesterday trying to ‘tie your shoe.’ You were barefoot.”

“It was a metaphor!” Sanji cried. “For falling head over heels!”

Zoro scoffed. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Says the mossy limpet glued to their side like a touchy fungus!”

Zoro didn’t move. “Jealousy’s not a good look, curly.”

“You—!!”

“Guys,” Nami sighed, “can’t we go one day without turning affection into a shouting match?”

Brook leaned on his cane, chuckling. “Yohohoho! Young love… or something!”

Usopp squinted. “Wait. Has Zoro always been this clingy with Y/N?”

Robin smiled mysteriously. “Since thriller bark, at least.”

Franky nodded solemnly. “Saw him fall asleep on their shoulder mid-battle once. SUPER unconscious.”

“I thought he was dead,” Chopper added, horrified. “Turns out he was just really comfy.”

Zoro’s grip on your shoulder tightened very slightly, and you finally glanced sideways at him.

“Do you know you’re this touchy?” you asked.

He looked like he wanted to evaporate into the deck. “I… just don’t mind you being close.”

You blinked slowly. “Is that samurai code for ‘I like you’?”

Sanji audibly gagged. “Oi! Don’t flirt in front of me!”

“We’re not flirting,” you said.

Zoro mumbled, “Might be.”

Sanji died inside.

“Y/N-chwann” he said gravely, dropping to one knee. “I beg of you—pick me instead! I would never lean on you like a sweaty tree log!”

Zoro growled. “Because you’d faint from being close.”

“AT LEAST I’D DIE HANDSOME!”

You looked between the two of them and sighed.

“I just want to drink my tea without being fought over,” you muttered, walking off—Zoro immediately following, like a shadow with swords.

“You’re still touching me,” you noted.

“Didn’t say I’d stop,” he replied casually.

You stopped walking, turned, and looked him square in the eye.

“You’re aware this is very couple-coded, right?”

He blinked, then grunted. “Guess we should make it official then.”

You blinked right back. “That was fast.”

“Why waste time.”

You smirked just a little. “Romantic.”

He shrugged. “You’re warm. And you don’t talk too much.”

“That’s your idea of a proposal?”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

From behind you, Sanji dramatically screamed into the ocean.

MIHAWK

Kuraigana Island was a wasteland of stone, wind, and uncomfortable silences. You didn’t mind. You were the type to thrive in eerie places — quiet, observant, and allergic to nonsense.

Which is probably why Mihawk didn’t bother with small talk.

Or... so you thought.

Lately, the world’s greatest swordsman had developed a habit of materializing wherever you were. You’d be cleaning a blade — and there he was, pouring tea. You’d sit on the crumbling stone wall for some air — and there he’d be, suddenly trimming the overgrown vines right next to you.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

Until today.

“...You know you don’t have to sharpen every one of my knives,” you said flatly, watching him work silently at the bench beside you.

“I didn’t,” Mihawk replied, still honing the blade. “Only the dull ones.”

You blinked. “That was my butter knife.”

“Then it was very dull.”

From the far side of the ruins, Zoro grunted as he finished a set of squats. “He refilled their canteen twice this morning.”

“Once,” Mihawk corrected, still not looking up.

“Twice,” Zoro insisted. “Once after breakfast. Then again after they just looked at the sink.”

Perona floated down with a snort. “He also folded their coat. While they were still wearing it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Is that why my sleeves were shorter for a second?”

“You had a wrinkle.”

“I always have a wrinkle.”

Mihawk looked up with that unreadable expression. “And now you don’t.”

Zoro huffed. “What even is this? He acts like a butler. But like, a scary one.”

Mihawk narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m not a butler.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Perona muttered, arms crossed. “You fixed the strap on their satchel too.”

Mihawk didn’t respond to that.

Perona raised a brow. “You gonna deny it?”

“No,” Mihawk said coolly, “because it was crooked.”

Zoro leaned against a stone pillar, towel around his neck. “He also moved your seat at the dining table.”

“That was my seat,” you said.

Mihawk finally gave you a long, side glance. “You’ve sat on the left for the past four mornings. I simply ensured it remained consistent.”

You deadpanned. “You rearranged the furniture.”

“Briefly.”

Zoro stared. “And when they tripped over that vine—”

“I cut the vine before they fell,” Mihawk snapped with a tone just shy of defensive.

“Bro. You lunged across the courtyard.”

Mihawk sipped his wine calmly. “It was in the way.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And when you pulled me by the hood into the shade the other day?”

“You were overheating.”

“I wasn’t sweating.”

“You were blinking slowly.”

You stared. “That’s just how I blink.”

There was a long pause.

Then Perona gasped. “Wait, wait — you also fixed the strap on their scabbard!”

“I adjusted it. The weight distribution was uneven.”

Zoro clapped once, grinning. “So you are clingy.”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed, the glint in them sharp and dangerous. “I am not.”

You leaned your chin on your hand, amused. “Then what would you call this?”

He paused. “Awareness.”

Perona lost it. “You mean hyper-awareness. Of one (1) person.”

Mihawk ignored her. “It’s strategic. I simply ensure you're at your most efficient.”

“That’s not efficiency,” Zoro said, wiping his forehead. “That’s doting.”

Mihawk arched a brow. “You think a swordsman cannot be observant?”

“You folded their laundry in order of fabric weight.”

“They prefer it that way.”

You blinked. “I never said that.”

He side-eyed you, expression cool. “You didn’t need to.”

You blinked again.

Zoro grunted. “You see? He’s acting like we’re all weird for noticing.”

Perona jabbed a finger toward him. “He's totally doing the ‘if I act calm, no one will notice I'm obsessed’ thing.”

Mihawk finally gave a soft, tired sigh — the kind that said you people are exhausting.

Then, turning to you, he asked, “Would you like tea?”

“I haven’t said I was thirsty.”

He didn’t blink. “You will be.”

You stared. “Are you psychic?”

“No,” he said simply. “You’re predictable.”

You squinted. “...That sounds like flirting.”

Mihawk blinked slowly. “I don’t flirt.”

Perona groaned. “OH MY GOD—”

Mihawk stood up, cloak sweeping behind him, expression unreadable as always. He held out the canteen like he’d already won this conversation.

You took it with narrowed eyes, muttering, “Thanks... I guess.”

He nodded, calm as ever. “You’re welcome.”

Zoro crossed his arms. “Still denying it?”

Mihawk looked at all of them — then at you — and with perfect poise said,

“I’m just efficient.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.

You stared after him, took a sip from the canteen, and sighed.

“…Efficiently annoying.”

I can be shaped by more than the things that hurt me

When a fanfic gets to the smut too fast

i feel like zoro needs to be spoiled after training.. poor man all sweaty and tired and the only thing he needs is you kissing his hairy chest and his pubes :3 fighting between the brick of falling asleep or fucking u dumb

warnings: oral (m and f receiving), deepthroating, a smidge of size kink

zoro thinks he might fall asleep like this. sitting propped up with his back on the headboard of your shared bed, body sore after hours and hours of brutal training and the tip of his cock brushing against the back of your throat. you’re sprawled out all pretty between his spread legs, doing your best to breath around the thick intrusion you swore up and down you could take without issue. his large hand, rough and callused over the years from the hilt of his swords, cradles your cheek gently as you try to swallow around him.

the deep groans that rumble out of his chest echo behind the obscene sound of you gagging. he’s grateful for the bone deep exhaustion that weighs him down. without it, he’s sure he’d be fucking up into the sinful heat of your mouth and apologizing come morning when the rest of the crew asks what’s wrong with your voice.

his hand shifts upwards when you try to pull back, resting on the back of your neck and forcing you down until your nose is tickled by soft hair. it’s a struggle for you to lift your gaze up high enough to look up at him and the sight of your watery eyes and swollen lips stretched around his cock feels like a punch to the gut.

“don’t look at me like that.” he says, throwing his head back with a thump against the headboard. “you wanted this so you’re gonna fucking take it.”

no one should look so blissful, so content with their mouth stuffed full but you somehow manage it, reaching up to massage his balls in the palm of your hand. zoro’s never been the best at letting you spoil him like this. maybe that’s why you ambushed him with hot, heavy kisses that trailed down his neck the second he stepped foot in the bedroom. you knew he’d be tired enough to follow your lead and accept the affection he still didn’t think he truly deserved even after all this time you’ve been together.

almost as though you can sense his thoughts begging to drift away, your free hand reaches out for his. delicate fingers lace through brutish ones and a familiar swell of love-tinged lust swirls inside him. he’s been staving off his orgasm since you first lapped at his weeping tip and he cums with a choked off cry of your name, hips bucking as he spills down your throat.

as soon as his vision clears, zoro forces his aching muscles to move. he pulls you up towards him, holding you close as he shifts downwards until you’re laying flat on top of him and crashing your mouths together to lick the bitter taste of himself off your tongue.

“you’re too good to me, baby. such a good fucking girl.”

your giggle turns into a startled gasp when grips your hips and lifts you up until your clothed cunt is hovering over his face. he smirks at the startled look you give him before he pulls you down, mouthing at your clit over your panties.

“don’t start something you can’t finish it, sweetheart. we’re not done till i say we are.”

I love zoro how I love my men, fictional 😂