#shinsou drabble

[foxfracture]

shinsou’s definitely into dumbification.

in the day to day, he loves how smart you are. he constantly finds himself in awe of your thoughtfulness, of how you reason through things, of the clever remarks that come naturally. it’s one of the main things that draws him to you.

and honestly, it makes it all the more satisfying to fuck you dumb later.

he loves seeing your eyes get cloudy and your mouth go slack with pleasure as he pounds you into the bed. watching you get less and less self-conscious every second as the buzzing in your body travels to your brain. you’re not even aware of the sounds you’re making anymore, just groaning in time with his hips, the rhythmic “uh-uh-unh” interrupted only by his own shaky gasps.

“so pretty” he pants, and means it. he prefers to have you on your back, facing him so he can see everything- your eyes glassy and half-lidded, your cheeks flushed. on display just for him. “doing so good for me darling.” 

he’ll ask you questions just to see you not be able to form words into an answer. gently clearing your hair out of the way so he can see your pretty face, “you okay baby? you feeling good? should i change anything?” no response- you can’t think straight, totally blissed out. 

it’s okay. he can think for you.

[seumyo]

I WANT TO BE FOREVER YOUNG

PROMPT. How they mourn when you were gone too soon. You did worry about getting old, didn’t you?

FEATURING. Midoriya I., Bakugou K., Todoroki S., Shinsou H.

NOTE. I’m testing the waters with angst content + formatting style for multiple drabbles—so forgive me if it’s not that good!

MIDORIYA IZUKU — Sees you in someone else.

Midoriya Izuku found passion in teaching. It’s a life-changing job that molds each and every student into the person they want to become with the help of people like him.

His students, vibrant and full of life, were so much like his old classmates—and among them was Takashiro Ayane, her laughter light and melodic as she teased one of her friends about their clumsy landing during training.

It reminded him of someone. Someone close.

You.

And the thought always came to him, even when he didn’t mean to. Even at the most random times.

Ayane’s resemblance to you was uncanny. It wasn’t just her kindness or the gentle way she spoke; it was in the way she held herself, her subtle but unwavering resolve. Midoriya could see flashes of you in her—the friend who had once been a constant source of warmth in his turbulent journey at U.A. High.

As Ayane reached up to adjust her headband, smiling brightly, Midoriya felt a pang in his chest. The sight was like a memory brought to life, a reminder of your soft-spoken encouragement and the way you always stood firm despite your fears.

God, it felt like seeing you all over again.

“Sensei!” another student called out, pulling him back to the present. “Did you see that move? I think it might actually work in combat! Or support, if I feel like it.”

Midoriya blinked, shaking off the haze of memories. “Y-Yeah, it looked great!” he replied, mustering enthusiasm. “Your timing’s improving a lot—keep it up!”

He tried to push the thought aside, focusing on the here and now, but it was no use. The resemblance was too striking, and his heart felt heavy with the weight of unspoken grief. You were gone, after all. Gone too soon.

As the students broke into laughter again, something about the carefree sound and the dynamic of his students triggered a reflex. Without thinking, he spoke, his voice soft yet audible enough to be heard.

“[First Name], I—”

Your name left his lips before he realized it, and the world seemed to freeze. The students fell silent, their laughter replaced by curious stares. Ayane tilted her head; confusion could be seen in her face.

Midoriya’s heart sank as he realized his mistake. He quickly forced a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean Takashiro,” he corrected, craning a hand to the back of his neck.

“Sorry about that. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

The students exchanged glances, a few offering polite chuckles before moving on. The moment passed, yet for Midoriya, the weight of it lingered. He stayed behind as the students began their walk back to the main building, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Everything came flooding in his mind. Like a relentless tide that swept him away. Your jokes, your laugh, and the countless little moments that had defined your friendship.

He hadn’t spoken your name aloud in years, not since your passing. Now, saying it felt like reopening an old wound, one he had carefully avoided for so long. But he could only do so much avoidance ‘til he has to come to terms with it.

“Sensei?”

The gentle voice startled him, and he looked up to see Ayane standing a few steps away. Her expression was concerned; her head tilted slightly as she studied him.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. “You seemed... distracted earlier.”

Midoriya hesitated. The words caught in his throat as he wrestled with how to respond. How could he explain to his student that she reminded him of his dead friend?

What kind of teacher would he be if he were to say that? The awful, grieving kind, he bets.

“I’m fine, Takashiro,” he said finally, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired, that’s all. You know how these long training sessions can be.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. “If you ever need to talk, Sensei... we’re here for you too. Fighting!”

“Midoriya, grow a spine! Fighting!”

Her words hit too close to home.

“Thank you,” he could only murmur.

Ayane lingered for a moment before turning to join her classmates. He remained there, rooted to the spot as the sun began to dip lower in the sky. The golden light bathed the empty training grounds, and the silence felt heavier than usual.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve tried to move on, but I see you everywhere. In everything. In everyone.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a mix of regret and longing washing over him. “You were right about so many things,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “I just wish you were here to see it—to see how far we’ve all come.”

But you weren’t here anymore, and that’s the problem.

Bakugou Katsuki — Mourns you longer than he’d known you.

Cemeteries never brought discomfort to Bakugou. Not until you died, that is.

The place stretches out in solemn silence; the faint rustle of leaves in the hedges are the only sounds he heard as he trudged along the familiar gravel path. His boots made dull, deliberate crunches against the fallen leaves, the heaviness of his steps matching the weight in his chest.

In his hands, he carried the usual offerings: a bouquet of red spider lilies tied neatly with a ribbon, a box of your favorite sweet treats—melon pan today—and the incense sticks he always lit with care. It had been years since your passing, but for Bakugou, the loss felt as raw as if it had been yesterday.

He approached your gravestone, its surface polished and pristine, just as he always left it. Your name was etched into the stone with delicate precision, the sight of it both grounding and crushing. As if to remind him that you weren’t coming back because you’re just here, waiting for someone to visit you.

Bakugou knelt, his movements stiff and reluctant, as though even now he couldn’t fully accept your absence. Why can’t he accept it?

“Yo, dummy,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the lilies from their wrapping and placing them carefully at the vase near the gravestone. He adjusted them twice, three times, until they looked just right. His eyes lingered on the name etched into the cold stone, a bitterness creeping into his tone.

“Brought your damn flowers again. Hope you appreciate it.”

The sarcasm in his words was thinly veiled; beneath it lay the unmistakable ache of someone who had loved and lost far too deeply.

He pulled out the incense sticks next, lighting them with a practiced flick beneath his palm. You would’ve loved to see him do it in person; maybe light up a candle or two when the power goes out during your high school dorm days. The smell of sandalwood quickly mingled with the damp earth, and Bakugou leaned back on his heels, staring at the curling smoke.

“Another week down,” he began, his voice quieter now. “Another round of saving people, making headlines, being the ‘Great Dynamight.’ ” He spat the title out like it was poison.

“It’s what you always said I’d do, isn’t it? Go big; make my mark. But, damn it, [Last Name], none of it means anything without you here to see it.”

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as the familiar wave of guilt and frustration washed over him. His head dipped as he let out a long, ragged breath.

“I thought time was supposed to make this easier,” Bakugou admitted, his voice rough. “It’s been... what? Seven years now? And every damn day, it still feels like you’re just gonna show up out of nowhere, like you’re gonna annoy the hell outta me with one of your stupid jokes.”

The thought made his lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, though it was laced with sadness. He could almost hear your voice—that gentle yet persistent tone you’d use whenever you tried to drag him along to something.

“C’mon, Bakugou, I’ll need someone to bail me out of jail! You’ll regret it if you don’t come along.”

And you were right. He regretted it now. Every single refusal, every grumbled excuse, every moment he could’ve spent with you and didn’t.

“You were annoying as hell,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But you were... you were good. Too good.” His fists loosened, his hands falling limply to his sides.

“And you didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to go like that.” Bakugou remembers the time he almost stained his conduct by almost killing the villain that got to you.

It’s unfair, isn’t it? The villain got to live behind bars, while you lost yours.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees above. Bakugou tilted his head back, glaring up at the overcast sky as though it were to blame for everything.

“They don’t tell you how much it fucking hurts,” he said bitterly. “To lose someone like you. They don’t tell you that the longer it’s been, the harder it gets, ‘cause every year just reminds me of how much more I’ve missed. How much quicker I could’ve been.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, weathered notebook. It was yours, something your family had found amongst your belongings after you passed. They wanted him to have it since his name was always frequently mentioned. The edges were frayed, the pages creased from countless readings, but it was his most treasured possession.

Bakugou would rather die than even let a single drop of water meet one of its pages.

Flipping it open, he scanned your handwriting, some neat and some looking as though you couldn’t be bothered with basic penmanship. He stopped on a page that always gutted him.

Life’s short. Spend it with the people who matter. Don’t let moments slip away! :P

His thumb brushed over the words, his jaw tightening.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “You don’t have to keep reminding me, you know. I get it. Too late, but I get it.”

He placed the notebook on the gravestone, letting it rest there for a moment before tucking it back into his pocket. His hand lingered on the cold stone, his fingers tracing the engraved letters of your name.

“You were supposed to stick around,” he said softly. “Supposed to keep bugging me, keep dragging me out of my own damn head. Now I’m stuck here, talking to a rock, and it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same.”

The clouds began to part, a faint beam of sunlight breaking through and casting a soft glow over the gravestone. Bakugou stared at it, his eyes unreadable. He’s thinking.

“I’ll keep coming back,” he finally said, his voice steadier now.

“Every week, every month, every damn year. You’re not gonna be forgotten. Not by me.”

He stood slowly, his body heavy with exhaustion and grief. Adjusting the incense sticks and flowers one last time, he stepped back, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“See you next time, dummy,” he murmured, his voice low. “Don’t forget about me or whatever, wherever you are.”

As Bakugou walked away, the wind carried the faint scent of incense and the quiet promise of a man who would mourn you longer than he’d ever known you.

TODOROKI SHOUTO — Learns things that reminded him of you.

Todoroki knows that he’s been busy. It’s in the way the white camellias he brought you months ago are now wilted, showing their dried-up state. His fingers brush against the wilted petals, lingering as if to apologize for not visiting sooner.

“I still remember the last thing you said to me,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with an ache he couldn’t quite put into words. “It wasn’t even anything serious—just you scolding me for not eating enough during lunch. You were always so good at taking care of me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

He glanced down, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint, bittersweet smile. The image of you—scolding, your hands on your hips as you tried to hide your worry—was etched so vividly into his memory that he could almost hear your voice.

Todoroki’s gaze traveled to the offerings he had brought with him: a fresh bouquet of camellia, a neatly folded scarf he had knitted in one of his new hobbies that he took up classes for, and a small pack of your favorite matcha-flavored sweets. “I know you’d laugh at me for picking up knitting,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But... it’s calming. I think you’d appreciate that. You always said I needed to find something that made me happy outside of being a hero.”

The scarf was simple, a pale green color that reminded him of the shade you loved wearing. He had spent hours perfecting it, thinking of how you might have joked about him for being so precise yet ultimately praised his effort.

“I hope you’d like it,” he whispered, setting it down carefully beside the gravestone. “I thought about giving it to someone else, but it felt wrong. It’s yours.”

Todoroki draws in a breath, closing his eyes, letting the stillness of the place envelop him. Yet in the quiet, his mind raced with so many thoughts all at once.

“I also learned how to cook,” he tells you—he tells your grave. “It’s not as good as yours, but Bakugou’s been helping.”

He thought of your childhood, how you had been his only light during the dark days of his father’s strict training. How you had been this bubbly girl that the teacher often praised, how you had stood by him when he was still new to making friends at the nursery, offering him a hand when he thought he didn’t deserve one.

“You were the best person I knew. And I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve that, [Last Name]. You were my friend when I didn’t know how to be one back.”

The pain of those words hung heavy in the air, and Todoroki’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had spent years replaying your interactions, wishing he had done things differently. If he had done things differently, you would’ve been here, probably teasing him for taking up chopstick-making classes.

“I was so angry back then,” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the gravestone. “At my father, at myself, at the world. And I took it out on you, the one person who never stopped trying to help me. I told myself I didn’t need anyone, but... I needed you.”

Another tear slipped down his cheek, and he hastily wiped it away, frustrated by the way his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He was the Number Two Hero now, a symbol of strength and perseverance. Yet here, in front of you, he felt like the lost, broken little boy that longed for his first friend.

“I need you now, please.”

The sound of a bird chirping nearby pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting, casting a hue that reminded him of your warmth.

You did like sunsets, didn’t you?

“You’d probably scold me for crying,” he said with a faint chuckle, though his voice still wavered. “You always hated seeing me upset. But I think it’s okay this time. You’re worth crying over.”

He knelt down again, his fingers brushing over the engraved letters of your name.

“Shoucchan! You can’t cry! We can be partners—the best partners!”

Yes, partners. The best partners for as long as you’ll have him.

“I’m trying to live the way you wanted me to,” he continued. “To find happiness outside of being a hero. To be someone you’d be proud of. But it’s hard, [Last Name]. It’s hard without you.”

He stayed there for what felt like hours, speaking to you as though you were sitting beside him, as though your gentle presence could somehow reach across the veil of death. He told you about his hero work, about the classes he was taking, about the little moments of joy he tried to find in a life that often felt too heavy.

Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he rose to his feet. His knees ached from kneeling for so long, but he barely noticed.

“I’ll come back,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the tears that still shimmered in his eyes. “And I won’t let you wait so long again. Next time, I’ll bring something better than just a flower. Maybe one of those awful paintings you always said I should make.”

As he turned to leave, he hesitated, glancing back at the gravestone one last time. As if you’d be there with open arms, waiting for him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words carrying a weight that only you could understand.

He walked away slowly, the sound of his footsteps fading into the stillness. The cemetery grew quiet once more, the only reminder of his visit the small offerings left behind—silent testaments to a bond that even death could not sever.

SHINSOU HITOSHI — Avoidance by all means necessary, until he finally caves in.

If you were to ask Shinsou what his prized possession was, he’ll tell you that it’s a shoe box. A shoe box that seemed to hold the world—your world, with remnants of a friendship that had lasted his entire life—a lifetime with you.

Shinsou sat on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands hovering over the box as though touching it might shatter him. He had been avoiding this moment for weeks. The funeral had been a blur, the condolences—a cacophony of words that didn’t mean anything because he knew that they couldn’t possibly understand how it feels. Everyone seemed to know the right things to say, except him.

All he had wanted was for you to be there, to laugh at how awkward he was with the whole ordeal.

Now, it was just silence.

With a deep breath, he finally reached into the box, pulling out the first item: a knitted scarf, a rich shade of violet. It was slightly uneven, the handiwork amateur at best, but it was one of the first gifts you’d ever made for him. He could still remember your smile when you handed it over during your middle school years.

“I thought it’d look good on you,” you had said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Don’t laugh! It’s my first try. Nuh uh, I’m taking this back—Hitoshi!”

He hadn’t laughed. Ok, maybe just a quiet chuckle, but he had worn it every winter since.

He leaned forward again, staring into the box. Inside were the tokens of a life intertwined with his—handmade crafts, small souvenirs, and letters tied with ribbons in colors you knew he liked. Each item was a story, a piece of you you had given him, never expecting you would be taken away so soon.

He gently picked up a small ceramic cat figurine, its paint slightly chipped. It was from one of your family trips abroad.

“I saw this and thought of you!”

Younger Shinsou blinked, confused.

“Me?”

You nodded. “You’re like this cat. All serious, but secretly soft and comforting.”

Shinsou chuckled softly at the memory, though the sound was tinged with sadness. He had teased you for it back then, calling it tacky, but it had ended up on his desk at home. Now, it felt like a sacred relic.

Setting the figurine down, he reached for another item. Shinsou pulled out a small, framed photo of the two of you at a summer festival. He was scowling at the camera while you grinned beside him, holding up two sticks of cotton candy. It was one of the rare times you had dragged him out, insisting he needed to “experience life beyond his walls” when he just wanted to sleep in.

He’d go to every summer festival in the country—even if it meant losing sleep—as long as he gets to do it with you.

The frame trembled slightly in his grip as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He pulls out a well-worn journal. It was yours. He hesitated, knowing that opening it would feel both comforting and unbearably painful. After a moment, he gave in, flipping through the pages.

Inside were your thoughts—notes about school, sketches of the two of them, and half-finished poems you had written during quiet afternoons.

The prince has been so stressed lately.

I wish I could take it all away.

He deserves the world, but he won’t let himself believe it.

Maybe one day he’ll see himself the way I do.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been like that—putting everyone else first, even when you had your own struggles. He closed the journal and held it to his chest, his breath shaky.

“I should’ve told you,” he whispered. “I should’ve told you how much you meant to me.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over, sliding down his cheeks as he sat there in the coming twilight. He thought back to the nights they had spent stargazing, sharing their dreams and fears. You had been his constant, his answer, his light, even when he didn’t know he needed one.

His phone buzzed again, a reminder that the world kept moving even when his had stopped. He glanced at the screen—it was a message from his secretary.

Meeting tomorrow at 9, Sir. You told me to remind you.

Shinsou scoffed bitterly, tossing the phone aside. Work didn’t matter right now. Nothing did.

He looked back into the box and pulled out a small, intricately folded paper crane. He had almost forgotten about it. It was from your high school years, during a particularly tough exam season.

“This is for luck,” you had said, carefully handing it to him with an awed expression. “And if it doesn’t work, at least it’s cute, right?”

He remembered stuffing it into his pocket, too embarrassed to admit how much it meant to him at the time. Now, it felt like a lifeline.

As he unfolded the crane carefully, a note inside revealed itself. The ink was slightly faded, but your handwriting was unmistakable.

You’re going to be amazing. Always.

A choked sob escaped him, and he clenched the note tightly in his fist. You had believed in him, even when he hadn’t believed in himself. He wished he could’ve seen this sooner.

When it got dark, Shinsou didn’t bother turning on the lights. The silence felt appropriate—a space for his grief to exist without judgment.

“I miss you,” he confessed, his voice trembling. ��I don’t even know how to keep going without you.”

He glanced at the small collection of gifts and letters spread out on the table. Each one was a reminder of the life you two had shared—a life you had enriched with your thoughtfulness and love.

Though the pain was overwhelming, Shinsou knew he couldn’t let your memory fade. You had given him so much, and the least he could do was honor you by living the way you would have wanted—fully and without regret.

“I’ll keep going,” he said softly, almost as if speaking to you. “You’d probably get mad if I slept in.”

The room remained quiet, save for the faint sound of the wind outside. But for Shinsou, it felt as though you were still there, your presence lingering in every corner of his heart.

SEUMYO © 2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[lilacgaby]

hiii! i was wondering if you could do “is he proposing or..” with shinsou ?? i lovedddd ur kiri and katsuki ones 🙈🙈

have a lovely day <3

is he proposing or is he sliding his rings on you more often, specifically one you'd never seen before, onto your ring finger?

is he proposing or is paying even more attention to your interests than usual? asking to be added to things like your pinterest boards, seeing your likes on instagram, seeing what softer songs you like, what shoes you prefer, every detail suddenly matters.

is he proposing or is he asking you out more often? you two were homebodies, but he suddenly had gotten the urge to take you out around town.

is he proposing or has he been randomly asking you about what types of venues you like? showing you articles, magazines, and billboards of different places that would be perfect. for what? but he'd never say.

is he proposing or while you were were napping on top of him like you usually would do, you overheard his conversation with his friend, him smilig softly against your skin as he said, "i'm going to marry her soon for sure."

is he proposing or did you two paint each others nails, you'd usually match but this time he opted for you to do a really bad white floral design on his ring fingers, and he did a really cute french tip on you (show off).

is he proposing or is he taking you to the park where you first met, you telling him how cool he was for his performance in the sports festival.

is he proposing or did he plan a picnic, only he chose to get the chinese food from the restaurant you both ate for your first date instead of a normal sandwhiches.

he handed you a fortune cookie as he opened his, he laughed at the thing on his paper. "let me see!"

"no, open yours first." and you did, pulling out the paper that read, 'will you marry me?' "you're joking! stop it--" but he wasn't as he held up a box in his hand, opening it to reveal an intricately designed band that housed a breathtakingly large purple sapphire, accompanied by black diamonds and silver. you noticed it matched the ring you always would compliment on him, saying you'd steal it one day. as you accepted, giving him your first kiss as fiancés, he showed you his paper.

it read,

'new beginnings will spark with your loved one.'

as you looked into his eyes, you knew it was telling your future.

[luvseraphh]

caught in the act.

⊹ synopsis. in which you're making out with your boyfriend when his father walks in and catches you two...

⊹ content warnings. fluff, suggestive but no smut, drabble, gn!reader

⊹ pairing. hitoshi shinso x reader

Five minutes ago you were straddling your purple haired boyfriend's lap. The two of you were in the middle of a passionate make out session when you heard the door to his bedroom open. You pulled away from each other to look and were met with the sight of his father, Aizawa, looking back at the two of you with a frustrated gaze.

Now the two of you were sitting on opposite sides of the bed, Hitoshi's eyes awkwardly fluttering around and your gaze burning holes through the floor out of sheer embarrassment.

"I'm too young to be a grandpa, and you two are too young to be parents. If I catch you two doing this again, you won't be allowed in his room when you're both over. You'll have to hang out in the living room where Hizashi will most definitely be spying on you. Don't disappoint me again," he sighed, getting up from the chair he sat in, leaving the room and leaving the door wide open.

After the two of you sat in silence for a long moment, you both looked over at each other, beginning to snicker as you made eye contact. As you both bask in the awkwardness of the situation what started as soft giggles turned into a full blown laugh attack, faces red and chests burning.

"That was like, painful," you manage out between laughs, barely able to breathe from how hard the two of you were laughing.

Taglist - @justmylvr @lwcedribbons @im0nsaturn @dvartefox @failurewater @f0reverfaded @t0asty1 @iv-vee @mp3nai @straows @grenadehearts @hecate-frenchfries @imagine-all-the-imagines

ⓒ luvseraph 6/11/25

[todorokies]

shinsou could never really wrap his head around the fact that some men don’t find pleasure in eating pussy or completely avoid the act in general.

you mean to tell him that after the day finally quiets down, where the sky soon decorates itself in a pretty flame orange hues intertwined with a dusty faint blue, that one doesn’t seek the sweetened comfort of slick gummy walls fluttering with grace around their tongue?

feeling a pair of pillowy plush thighs squeeze fervently around their head in a desperate manner followed by a rough tug at the hair doesn’t make one eagerly throb in their boxers in anticipation?

and above all else, the most rewarding part of the act in shinsou’s opinion; hearing the most melodic whines and whimpers ripple from your chest like a soft lullaby as you hastily grind yourself against his working mouth.

being a pro hero has its perks but oftentimes the long and demanding hours overshadows the fulfilled purpose of perseverance and noble sacrifice. with most heroes needing to find a grounding anchor to endure with their lives.

you are his anchor.

and he wishes so dearly to tell you how your presence in his life gives him the willpower to continue on, how endearing the ways you showcase your raw and vulnerable self along with your love.

but he can never find the exact words to express this correctly with the way his head gets all mushy with you constantly cycling around in there like a damn looped love song.

so instead, after a long day of crime fighting with ached muscles and an extra set of dark circles under his defined eye-bags, he comes home and assists you with putting on the prettiest lingerie set for him; a deep lilac colour that matches his eyes.

the act itself is intimate, his larger calloused hands delicately roams over your body as he slides the lacy fabric onto your skin with ease as small slurred murmurs of “you’re the prettiest.” and “all for me.” escapes from him.

the final touches include him looking up at you with blown-out lidded eyes as he teasingly pulls at the thighs garters allowing it to snap back against your skin and elicit a small whine from you.

and now he has you situated upon his face, hungrily lapping at your soaked cunt with your juices smearing all over the lower half of his face. and while he enjoys making out with your pussy for his pleasure, you needs always comes first in mind especially when you moan a little louder when he captures your swole clit in his mouth and sucks firmly on the bud.

he allows you use him, to ride his face until you see fit, shamelessly grinding yourself and letting out the cutest squeals when his nose occasionally nudges at your clit.

and hitoshi? he takes it. all of it. as he’s closer than ever to cumming untouched and he can’t help but to lazily smile against your pussy as this method of unwinding knocks the more “ethical” ways of relaxing out the park.

men who don’t eat pussy are definitely missing out.

reblogs and feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[taones]

tw - flirting, good girl x bad boy, school setting but they are vv much 18+, suggestive, swearing

“How’s my favourite girl today?”

Your best friend tensed up from her seat in front of you. She had chosen to hide out in the stuffy school library to avoid exactly this. She had never been a huge fan of him, but his recent attempts to catch your attention had been grating on her nerves. The boy seemed obsessed with you, following you into the cafeteria and hanging around in the shop you frequented on your way home. Nothing but bad news followed him, and she needed to keep him away from her friend. You were a good student, perfect attendance and good grades - the last thing you needed was someone like him bringing you down. 

“Fuck off, she doesn’t want to talk to you” she huffed at the man, “you’re not her type”

He chuckled, placing a hand on the back of your chair. Goosebumps travelled up your body. The musky scent of his aftershave permeated the air around you, settling in your lungs like a cloud. If you could bask in that scent forever you would. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, tie loosely hung around it. Thin fabric did little to hide the muscle definition of his chest, slight but still very visible to you. And you couldn’t help but peer through the gap. His tan skin contrasted the crumpled white shirt beautifully. You felt your mouth go dry. 

“Hmm, I’m not too sure about that one” his voice rang out.

“She seems very interested”

You jumped slightly as his face was far closer to you than you realised. If you were to turn your head slightly, your noses would be just touching. A warm flush flooding your body. You gnawed at your fingernail, peering up at the man next to you through your eyelashes. He dropped his eyelid down in a quick wink and set his sights back on your fuming friend. 

“Why won’t you just leave us alone? She’s trying to study”

He tutted.

Next thing you knew the pressure of a wide hand was resting on your shoulder - making you freeze on your seat. The feeling of his warm, calloused palm on your shoulder did nothing to cool your feverish body and you tried desperately not to gasp. In through your nose, out through your mouth, you tried to remind yourself. You couldn’t let him fluster you - then he would be winning. 

A warm chuckle sounded from above you. The palm on your shoulder travelled towards your face, lithe fingers gripping your chin gently. He curled his index finger and dragged the knuckle up the soft skin of your throat. It was like you were frozen in place but your body was squirming under your uniform. His actions left you breathless and you couldn’t help but feel he knew exactly what he was doing to you. If the way his eyes trailed up your legs, thighs clenched together under your skirt, was any indication. Soft lips stretched into a smirk. 

Leaning forward once again, his eyes met yours under a piercing gaze. He let out a teasing coo in your direction. 

“Oh I'm sorry pretty girl, did I scare you?”

- ATSUMU, tsukki, oikawa, SUNA, tanaka (hear me out), kuroo, gojo, KOJIRO, adam, bakugou, SHINSOU, dabi

[grenadehearts]

authors note: ohhh yeaaa a drunken makeout sesh w shinsou?? while the neighborhood plays.. should i continue this drabble further?

You and Shinsou had staggered up the stairs to some random, crappy bedroom, the purple and blue hue of the LED lights casting over him, making him look even more enticing than he usually did—messy, tousled hair, smudged eyeliner, and that cocky toothy grin that sent you to your knees with his hand fisted in your hair. Your hands tugged at his loose flannel, one buried in his purple curls while he guided you back—one large hand pressing against the small of your back, while the other cradled your face, angling you just right. Crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was all mess, and searing heat with a taste of urgency, the remnants of cheap alcohol lingering on his tongue.

There was nothing gentle nor kind about his actions, they weren't slow or sweet—nor, was their any tenderness in the way he held you, in the way he devoured your mouth like a man drowning trying to grasp any amount of air out of his lungs, even the way his grip tightened against your back sure to be embedded into your skin by sunrise,  as he navigated you up the creaky stairs of some shitty college house party The farther up you went, the needier you both became. The pounding bass from downstairs softened, the muffled lyrics of Sweater Weather fading into the walls, drowned out by the way your breath hitched every time his teeth grazed your bottom lip. its muffled barely coherent lyrics mixing with the tiny gasps of air you and Shinsou stole between fevered kisses, the shuffle of his Docs against the wooden stairs filling the gaps in sound.

When another drunk couple stumbled past—her heels in hand, mini dress riding up to expose a shitty thigh tattoo she probably got to rebel against her parents—giggling against a guy clumsily gripping her waist—Shinsou yanked you flush against his chest, pressing his back to the wall, to avoid any drunken collision.

 His scent hit you like a drug—cigarettes, faded cologne, along with something that was  distinctly him, but there wasn’t nearly enough time to fully take it in before he was on you again, lips crashing against yours, rough and impatient. The cold metal of his chain brushing against your exposed cleavage, sending a delicious chill up your spine. And when he got tired of just your lips, his mouth trailed lower, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down to your collarbone. His breath was hot, each exhale a tease against your skin as he sucked at the delicate flesh, leaving a pale bruise and a sleek trail of saliva.

But when your reaction wasn’t enough—when you weren’t trembling the way he wanted—he bit down, a sharp nip that had your thighs clenching on instinct. A breathy, involuntary whimper slipped past your lips. He heard it. Felt it. The bastard smirked against your neck, lips curving against the sensitive skin as his hand slithered between your thighs, fingers pressing right against that pulse point.

A shudder rolled through you as his breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, his voice low, rough, dripping with satisfaction.

"Atta girl," he murmured, fingers teasing against the heat between your legs. "Give me more of that."

p.s i've never written for shinsou so.. bare w me pls..

[silkysoftie]

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭

hitoshi shinsou x female reader

summary: in which hitoshi unexpectedly finds himself getting off to a photo of his classmate.

↳ warnings: 18+, nsfw, ua college au, established friendship, masturbation, light exhibitionism/voyeurism (aged up characters)

a/n: hope you like this lil’ fic! don’t worry toshi stans, i plan to write more content for him in the future :)

Hitoshi was no stranger to 3am, as is natural for an insomniac. Not only did he find himself to be more productive after 9pm, but he’d also grown to enjoy the stillness that settled over the dorms and the darkness that creeped down the hallway outside his door. He often spent this time catching up on homework, or winding down from the long day of training without worry of being disturbed.

It was an uncommonly quiet night. Usually, he could hear Tokoyami, a fellow night owl, up and clattering about in the common area. Occasionally, the pipes in his walls would creak and groan as someone, likely Midoriya coming back from a late night run, showered, but not tonight. Hitoshi couldn’t even hear Y/N, his classmate and friend whom he shared a wall with, shuffling about. Tonight the dorms were noiseless, leading him to believe that all of his classmates were asleep.

Unfazed by the silence, Histoshi busied himself with little tasks just like he would any other night. He spent an hour or two finishing an essay, mended a tear in his capture scarf, and packed up his book bag before deciding to take a well deserved break.

After carefully placing his favorite vinyl on his record player, he stripped off his shirt, threw on a pair of pajama pants, and settled into bed. As the soft music filled the room, he unplugged his phone, intending to browse instagram for a while.

Humming along to the song, Hitoshi scrolled through countless photos and videos of his friends and classmates. Ashido had posted a dance cover that he liked and left a comment under. A little further down Todoroki had uploaded a family photo with his father’s head cropped out. Hitoshi couldn’t help but cackle at that. And then he came upon a very different photo. It was posted a few hours ago by the very girl that was asleep just on the other side of his wall, Y/N.

The picture was of her, laughing and smiling as she was being smooshed between the girls from Class 1A. But what made this photo unique was that it was taken during the girls trip to the beach last weekend, and Y/N was in a bikini.

Hitoshi’s eyes widened as he drew in an unusually shaky breath. He’d never seen his classmate in anything less than her school uniform or hero costume which, much to his dismay, was not very revealing. He glanced nervously at the wall they shared, as if she’d somehow phase through it at any moment and bear witness to his wandering eyes.

Clearing his throat, Hitoshi scrolled away from the post, but as he half heartedly watched a work out video Midoriya had uploaded, his mind kept wandering back to the photo.

Though he was alone, Hitoshi tilted the screen a bit closer to his chest, a light blush staining his cheeks. One more peak couldn’t hurt… With a quick search, he’d pulled up her account, bikini pic proudly pinned at the top.

Feeling a bit like a pervert, Hitoshi’s eyes wandered over his friend’s half-naked body. She was much… softer than he expected. The serious mask she put on during combat training had somehow led him to believe she was all sharp edges and strength, but the gentle curves of her torso said otherwise.

Not only was he transfixed by the light sheen of sweat shimmering on her smooth skin, but also by the swimsuit she dawned. It seemed to hug her in all the right places, just barely teasing what might be underneath. And though she was surrounded by plenty of scantily clothed women, he just couldn’t pull his gaze away from her.

A low groan escaped his throat as he threw his hand over his eyes, telltale signs of arousal earning a reaction from his body.

Good lord, he was pathetic. As though he’d never seen a woman before, a simple bikini photo had him pitching a tent.

Sighing, Hitoshi peaked through his fingers at his erection. He’d have to take care of that before he could move on with his night.

Maybe he could use the photo?

No… Y/N was his friend and a rather good one at that. She trusted him. They respected one another.

But the thought of getting off to someone else made his brows furrow in dissatisfaction. He couldn’t, not when she had been the source of his excitement. Hitoshi huffed in frustration. This was no good.

Maybe… maybe she wouldn’t mind? Maybe she intended for him to see this photo when she’d posted it!

It was with these feeble justifications that Hitoshi’s resolve easily crumbled. Without another thought, he hurriedly yanked down his pajama pants, red, aching cock springing free.

Just this once.

Humming with relief, he gripped his throbbing member. Setting a slow pace, Hitoshi’s gaze wandered back down to his phone, the screen illuminating his fucked out expression in the dim room.

Hitoshi stroked his cock lazily as he began committing the shape of her to memory. The subtle slope of her hips, the curve of her breasts... even the way her hair, wind-blown and salty, fell over her shoulders.

Had she always been this beautiful?

A whimper caught in Hitoshi’s throat as his thumb caught on the tip. Without the presence of mind to feel guilty, he imagined it was Y/N’s hands running over him instead. In his mind’s eye he could see her, big, round eyes staring longingly up at him, practically begging for him to take her. Hitoshi moaned at the mere thought.

Would she want to blow him? His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as he envisioned her waiting patiently on her knees for him, mouth open and ready to receive.

Groaning, he thought of all the ways in which he might pleasure her. He’d tie her up, eat her out, and leave her gasping for more. Oh, and he just knew she would sound absolutely exquisite. What he wouldn’t give to hear little whines and whimpers rolling off her tongue as she pleaded for release.

By now, grunts and moans fell freely from Hitoshi’s lips as he panted without care of who might hear. His hand began to move quicker, his movements growing sloppier as he approached his high. Throwing down his phone, Hitoshi gripped the base of his cock tightly. With a desperate whine of his friend’s name, sticky, hot ropes of cum shot out, covering his bare, heaving chest.

Hitoshi raked a shaky hand through his mussed, purple hair as he came down from his high. He hadn’t finished that hard in quite some time and boy, had he missed it. Just as he was beginning to catch his breath, a ‘ding’ from his phone caught his attention.

Not even bothering to clean himself up, he picked up his phone, curious to see who might have texted him this late at night.

A jolt of surprise zapped through him as his screen lit up with the notification.

Y/N

‘Whatcha doin over there? Sure sounds like fun ;)’

Caught off guard, Hitoshi‘s eyes flicked between his phone and his wall. She’d heard him? He’d thought she was asleep…

Maybe he could play this off somehow? Licking his lips nervously, he typed out a quick response.

Toshi

‘Wouldn’t you like to know ;)’

Copying her little winky face, he pressed send, hopeful it implied his volume had been intentional even if it hadn’t.

Y/N

‘Why don’t you come over here and show me?’

Hitoshi had never moved so fast in his life.

tags:

[bloomness]

⋆˚࿔ morning hues

waking up with the mha boys !

— includes : kirishima, kaminari, sero & shinsou (in that order)

contains: f!reader implied, around 0.3k words each,fluff, established relationship (sorry i’m a sucker for romance) suggestive if you squint, usage baby + babe used, light swearing

authors note: my first drabbles ever guys how are we feeling ! can you guys tell who’s my favorite lolol

also here’s a link to the pose kirishimas is cus idk if i described it well enough haha

⋆˚࿔ e.kirishima

eijiro is a light sleeper. so whenever you begin to shuffle in your sleep, your eyes slowly fluttering open, so does he.

when he finally does find himself fully conscious he immediately pulls you closer to him, yearning for your warmth. his big arms wrapped around your neck and his body pressed flush against yours.

“goodmorning baby.” his voice is rugged, eyes still closed as he places a delicate kiss on the outer shell of your ear.

you maneuver your head up so you can whisper out a small “morning.” before placing a kiss on his forearm. he flexes, pretending to choke you with his muscle. you giggle as your hand moves up to caress his biceps, a sign of appreciation.

he’s smiling, though you can’t see it, you just know. “how’d my girl sleep?” he asks, like he has been every single morning since you’ve gotten together. you’ll never get bored of it.

this is how you spend most early mornings. in bed together, waiting for the sunlight to stream through the bedroom window.

eijiro releases you from his grip, moving to gently rubbing your back as you recall the dream you had that night. you boldly explain the actions from your dream as he passionately listens, making additional comments along the way.

“hmm, yeah? that’s nice baby.” he coos into your ear as his hands rub up and down your shoulder, kisses being periodically planted on your skin.

when the words “i have to get ready.” would eventually escape your lips eijiro would insist you stay in bed a bit longer, he’d even ‘fight’ you for it.

his arms are propped up on either side of your face as he peppers kisses over your giggling face. “eiji, please,” you say between short breaths “i have to get ready for work!”

“i don’t want you to go,” he’d whine, only promising to let you go if you give him another kiss 🩷

⋆˚࿔ d.kaminari

“denki.” you complain for the fifth time. the golden haired boy, whose head is resting on your upper chest, remains still. you watch as his chest rises and falls with every breath, his brows occasionally furrowing. you sigh.

denki is a deep sleeper. usually he wakes up in the early afternoon (though if you two had a long night he could sleep until the late afternoon!!) he’s doesn’t like to admit it but you both know that his sleep schedule is so ass.

“babeee.” you groan. though you really enjoyed the view you also really had to get to work.

finally, he moves. “hmmm?” a low groan escapes his lips. he turns, attempting to bury himself into the crook of your neck.

you take time to drink in the image of your sleeping boyfriend as he nuzzles himself into you. you let out another sigh, this one holding less tension than the first. “kami.” you say, sweetly. your hands find their way to the base of his neck and your fingers slowly climbing up to play with his hair. his grip on you tightens, fingers digging into the side of your waist.

“i have to get up now, okay?” you place a soft kiss onto his sun dyed hair.

you wait a few seconds for a verbal reply and to your surprise (not really) you began to feel a wet patch forming on your neck. “denki.” you dead pan.

“yes y/n?” his eyes are sparking as he looks up at you, feigning innocence.

“that’s not going to work on me again dumbass.” you sit up and ruffle his hair, laughing sweetly at his attempt to keep you in bed.

“but baby-“ he starts to whine as he sits up as well.

when you get off your shared bed you finally see how disheveled he is. his shirt is a wrinkled mess, not to mention it’s slightly riding up his stomach. he’s blinking his eyes, very clearly trying to wake himself up. you bask in his beauty, a smile creeping up on your face.

“i have to get ready, really denks,” you try to put on a stern voice, but it’s hard to leave your boy.

“can you at least turn around before you go?” he ask as with a pout.

your brow cocks at the question. though it is a weird request, it’s your boyfriend request. so you oblige. “happy?” you ask, glancing back from your shoulder to examine the expression on his face.

his eyes are lit up and locked onto your body. “yeah,” his says, a dorky smile on his face as he lays back down. “so happy” he giggles, his voice dreamy.

he falls back asleep not too long after that, his dreams full of you.

⋆˚࿔ h.sero

when you sleep with your boyfriend, hanta, you often find yourself waking up comfortably tucked into the corner of his elbow.

surprisingly, hanta is an early bird and is up with the sun on most days. he likes to spend mornings getting ready together so he usually finds himself staying in bed scrolling on his phone while waiting for you to wake up.

when he sees your sleeping figure finally rise to life he can’t help but tease you a bit.

you attempt to rub the sleep away from your eyes as you turn over on your boyfriend's arm. when you finally open your eyes you’re met with a big grin plastered on the raven haired boy's face.

“look who’s finally awake,” he sings, his tone is teasing, but holding no real sting to it. he tucks his arm in, bringing you closer.

“goodmorning to you too hanta,” you say in a low voice, not being awake enough to play along with his playful attitude.

his face tilts to your reaction, noticing your low energy. he lets out a low hum before leaning to bite your cheek “sorry ma,” he mutters as he pulls away. “i meant to say, goodmorning beautiful,” he corrects.

you can’t help it as a smile creeps up on your face. he always knew exactly how to cheer you up. you bite the inside of your cheek as the outside burns a crimson color.

“such a tease,” you pout as your body moves to hover over his. you tilt your head up to kiss along his jawline, ready to get payback. he lets out a satisfied hum as his hand makes his way to your lower back, possessively laying there.

“y/n,” he starts, his voice is soft. he closes his eyes as his eyebrows knit together. you travel from his jawline down to his neck. he shutters when your soft lips touch his skin, as if you put him under a lovestruck spell.

“hmm?” you mumble from his neck. he opens his eyes to see yours locked onto his, their reflections toying with innocence.

he bites back the smile on his lips as his head falls back onto his pillow, his eyes falling closed once more.

when you pull away from his neck he lets out an airy laugh. “evil,” he says, peeking down at you as you laugh at him.

“that’s what you get,” you giggle.

his hands quickly find their way to you. he’s now holding your face in his hands, “you’re cute,” he breathes out as he squeezes your face, finally leaning in for a proper kiss.

“ready to get up now?”

⋆˚࿔ h.shinsou

hitoshi knows the tell-tale signs of you waking up. he’s seen it so many times before. the way your face scrunches when the sunlight hits your eye. the way your lips fall open while intelligible mutters slip from your mouth.

so hitoshi waits. he doesn’t mind waiting anymore. not when you're lying on his chest, practically on display just for him. it’s all finally worth it when your muttering comes to a stop and your eyes slowly open.

you tilt your head up, your sleepy eyes meeting hitoshis. your boyfriends typically weary eyes are soft and tender as his gaze dances down your body.

“goodmorning,” he says in that deep voice that makes you feel so weak. he rubs your arm as you let out a relieved sigh.

“morning toshi,” you reply with a small smile. “switch?” you offer him.

hitoshi was quick to nods so you switch positions; toshi now sprawled out across your chest as you laid on your back underneath him. your hands raced to his hair, pushing his lavender locs back and massaging his scalp. the soft mewl of contentment he lets out makes your skin feel hot. “you sleep at all?” you ask, mostly to calm yourself down.

“like three, maybe four hours?” he said with shrug as if he was trying to downplay the situation. he dipped his head low, not knowing you could see the tip of his ears color themselves pink.

“not bad,” you say, placing a kiss to the crown of his head.

okay, maybe he hadn’t told you how he’s been sleeping way better because you're by his side. maybe he couldn’t handle hearing you say how proud of him while you kiss him all over. maybe he couldn’t handle how cute you’d look with a smile that big on your face.

yeah, he definitely couldn’t handle that. not yet.

he’s not new to your shared morning routine, but for some reason seeing you tousled up next to him in bed, early in the morning, still manages to make his heart race.

[peachesvault]

★I can be romantic okay?

———————-

D.Kaminari & H.Shinsou smau

telling the boys the literal name of their pet names (eg sweetie pie = sugar pastry)

A/n: MY SHAYLAA I LOVE MY SILLY BOYS ESP DENKI IM GOING TO EAT HIM

DO NOT COPY OR POST ELSEWHERE. REBLOGS AND LIKES APPRECIATED

[foxfracture]

shinsou’s a smart guy. and he is chill too, genuinely. it’s not just an act, though he does like that people think he doesn’t really give a fuck.

unfortunately all that goes out the window when he realizes he likes you. the boy is distraught like he HAAATES getting crushes and it happens so infrequently that he keeps not seeing it coming.

he hates being nervous and stuttery and unsure around someone he wants to impress, and he gets really pessimistic about his chances with you. all things considered he doesn’t have terrible self esteem, but he’s definitely too self critical and Will see you as out of his league.

you’ve got him pacing his room sick to his stomach at 3am please release him

[seumyo]

You never thought much about it.

Not when you set down the container of cookies right in front of Shinsou in home economics class, even though your friends had been eyeing them first. They had asked, but you had offered them to him—who hadn’t even spoken a word about wanting one.

(The utter betrayal.)

“Try it,” you had said, nudging the container slightly closer to him.

Shinsou blinked at you before taking a cookie, chewing thoughtfully. The corner of his lips quirked up. “Not bad,” he admitted quietly.

You smiled.

Your friends exchanged glances, but neither you nor Shinsou noticed.

It was casual.

Just like how it was casual when you would practically light up about a new show you thought he would like. You’d excitedly explain the entire premise, detailing why Shinsou—of all people—would appreciate the clever writing and the slow-burn tension between the characters.

Shinsou, for his part, would hum in acknowledgment, only half-listening. Not because he wasn’t interested, but because he kept getting lost in your eyes. They sparkled when you spoke, brimming with excitement and warmth, and he found himself nodding along just to keep you talking.

Casual.

Just like how you sometimes—only sometimes—waited for Shinsou at the train station in the mornings. Your house wasn’t even that far from the school, maybe one station or two in distance, but you still took the train some days. On those days, you never told him you were waiting. You’d just “casually” be there, pretending like it was a coincidence when he spotted you.

“Oh, hi,” you’d greet, rocking back and forth on your heel.

Shinsou would raise a brow but never questioned it. “Morning.” He yawned, nodding to you as he fixed the scarf around his neck. A cold morning today. “Did you forget yours, or are you immune to the cold?”

“Nope!” you answered, reaching for your bag. “Ta-da!” you waved the material in front of him. “How could I forget?” He even had the courtesy to fix it for you without you having to tell him. How sweet of him.

And then you’d walk together, matching steps, as if you both had planned it all along.

Casual.

Like what friends do.

Just like when Shinsou noticed a crumb of biscuit at the corner of your lips during lunch. Without thinking, he lifted his thumb, swiping it away.

You froze.

So did he.

But instead of acknowledging the moment, Shinsou, ever so casually, licked the crumb off his thumb like it was nothing.

You felt your entire soul leave your body.

Her friends at the table gawked, barely containing their squeals, but Shinsou just took another bite of his food, unfazed.

Casual.

So painfully, frustratingly, and stupidly casual.

Or maybe he was just too nonchalant.

And yet—

When you walked home together that afternoon, there was something lingering in the air between you two.

Shinsou noticed the way you kept sneaking glances at him. You noticed the way his fingers twitched slightly at his sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for you—or maybe your delusions have finally caught up to you.

Neither of you said anything.

Neither of you acknowledged the way your hearts raced just a little faster when your arms brushed.

Neither of you admitted that, maybe—just maybe—none of it had ever been casual at all.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[lilacgaby]

can I request shinsou with cold hands?? Kind of based on show me how by men I trust?

Thank you!

title: i'll love you, even from afar.

pairing: shinsou x fem!reader

summary: shinsou couldn't feel your love anymore, but it didn't mean you'd stop loving him.

note: i made this kinda an unrequited love thing bc that's how i interpreted the song, lmk if you'd like a happier ask love <3

as you grabbed onto his hands, they were freezing. hitoshi had not even the ghost of a smile on his lips left, staring at you blankly. "what are you doing?" he said, moving his frosted hands away from yours.

"nothing." you said, putting your hands back onto your lap, nicely folded.

you don't take his words to heart, you knew not to anymore. he assured you before that he'd cared for you, so why would that have changed?

you hope to see your old friend in him, you've realized.

you love someone who doesn't exist anymore, the friend who'd hold you closely when you were scared. who'd congratulate you when you passed a hard test you crammed for.

who'd hold your hands in the haunted houses your school forcefully made you go through. who'd take you to cat cafes and bookstores after school just to hang out with you a bit longer.

your first love was dead. this is the thought you pondered as you looked down at your lap.

when was the last time he'd taken you anywhere besides the dorms? excuses piled up and he was here now only out of pure obligation. there was no hug for you at the door, no handholding on the couch, not even a word of content uttered from his straight lined mouth.

he looked beyond you, even when faced directly to yours it was like you weren't really there.

you wanted to yell at him. beg at him to just do something. show you that he cared, that he was here with you, that he even liked you.

he made the room feel cold, the book in your lap now a block of ice as he disregarded your every move. every attempt at a conversation was met with a disgruntled sigh, a wave of a hand the only gesture you'd managed to squeeze out of him.

he finally grew bored of you. a hand on your shoulder as he announced his departure, he collected his bags, and without looking back, walked out.

you felt sick to your stomach.

because you felt happy at the slightest bit of recognition.

you felt sick to your stomach because as the moonlight settled into your room from your windowsill, your heart was full of thoughts of him.

you clutched your burning hands close to your rapid heart, as you looked around the room to see the past memories of him.

of him lounging on your bed, of him sitting on your windowsill to sneak in, of him painting your nails on the desk beside you,

of him taking your first kiss by your door.

those thoughts lulled you to sleep that night, as they have been for the past month that hitoshi had been acting strangely.

you understood your first love was long gone,

that he couldn't feel the admiration you held in your soul openly for him because he was far in a place you'd never reach.

he'd never feel or welcome the love that weighed over you constantly,

but the feeling would never leave you.

and you accepted that.

[luvseraphh]

the babysitter h. shinso

In which Hitoshi comes home a bit earlier than usual and meets his little sister, Eri's, babysitter, who appears to be about his age.

Hitoshi entered his house, his backpack falling off his shoulder and onto the ground. He could overhear the sound of My Little Pony playing on the TV and his little sister giggling softly.

He went into the living room, thinking he was about to greet one of his parents, but instead he was greeted by the pretty face of his sister's babysitter. His jaw dropped as he wracked his mind to think of something to say, but instead he just looked like a fish out of water.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you introduce yourself, trying to save both of you from the embarrassment. Despite your casual demeanor, you had on a princess tiara and stickers Eri had dotted all over your face.

"I'm Hitoshi, I'm Eri's brother," he says, pupils still blown as he takes in your appearance.

"Oh, sorry about... everything, I let Eri have some fun. I'm gonna get this off and then get headed home. My parents will get worried if I'm out too late," you explain with a smile and a soft laugh. The angelic sound that fell from your lips was enough to make the world stop spinning in Hitoshi's mind, and he wished he could hear it every day.

"No worries. Do you have a ride or are you walking home?" he asks as you pull the previously discarded hoodie over your body and hand the tiara back to Eri.

"Oh, I'm walking, I only live a few blocks away," you respond, peeling the stickers from your face.

"Me and Eri could walk you home if you want. It's no trouble," he offers, half wanting to spend more time with you and half not wanting to subject you to the dangers of walking home alone at night.

"That would be great," you say with a soft smile, accepting his sweet offer.

Taglist - @justmylvr @lwcedribbons @im0nsaturn @dvartefox @failurewater @f0reverfaded @t0asty1 @iv-vee @mp3nai @straows @grenadehearts @hecate-frenchfries

ⓒ luvseraph 4/17/25

[sanipoyo]

“USE YOUR QUIRK ON ME, HITOSHI”

note - this is edited! i changed some of it :3, shinso drabble, enjoy cuties!

SHINSO kneeled, trying to catch his breath after sparring with his mentor. “when you’re ready, let’s go again. i want you to use your quirk this time”, mr. aizawa instructed and shinso nodded.

a minute later, shinso leaped towards aizawa in attempt to sneak attack him. the old man dodged to no surprise and continued dodging all of shinso’s attempted punches and kicks.

“i’m surprised your still so agile, guessing your age hasn’t caught up to you yet, huh?” hitoshi taunts, trying to get a verbal reaction out of aizawa. instead, he got tied up with mr. aizawa’s binds.

“you’re pretty stubborn, erasure”, hitoshi huffed, chest heaving while he stood in front of mr. aizawa, immobilized and trying to buy time so he could think of a plan. “these villains aren’t gonna be any better, you know.” eraserhead replied and shinso sighed.

“ya think so?” hitsohi asked, causing aizawa to shoot a glare at him. was shinso doubting his teacher? a pro hero? “i know s-“ mr. aizawa began to say getting cut off by shinso’s brainwashing. the binds loosened, freeing him from being unable to move. shinso couldn’t believe it at first, he commanded mr. aizawa to surrender the binding cloth as a whole and he did it. shinso approached his teacher, pushing his shoulder slightly and he snapped out of the brainwashing.

“i won this time.”

Ⓒ all published work belongs to sanipoyo! do not copy/plagiarize.

[runaarinn]

✦ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲

› 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

› 𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐲: everything is all good here, feel free to indulge as much as you'd like!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it’s 3 in the morning and sleep just won’t come easily to you. between milk, cookies, and warm sheets, you and shinso find comfort in one another. even during quietest times of the night.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: I actually quite literally decided to write this at 3:10 in the morning so please excuse any grammatical errors that you see, I promise I’ll clean it up much more. that aside, i hope you enjoy<3.

sleep never came easily to you. it also never seemed to come easily to your purple haired boyfriend either, it was like a match made in heaven.

during your college years, you and shinso decided to move into a shared apartment to save money, rather than the two of you living on your own. not only would you be able to wake up next to your favorite person every single morning — but, you’d also have someone to keep your bed warm at night, and to possibly help you sleep.

blinking a couple times, you glanced at your electric clock sitting atop your nightstand and read the clock. it hasn’t even been a full two hours since you closed your eyes, and not even an entirely full two hours of sleep.

you frowned to yourself and allowed your gaze to shift over to shinso’s, scarily still silhouette in the bed. you debated for a moment on whether or not you wanted to test if he was awake or not — but you decided not to. he already had troubles sleeping, or even sleeping through the night — and on the off chance that he actually managed to be asleep, you didn’t want to risk waking him.

hmm, maybe if I got a glass of water and had a little snack, it could help me try and go back to sleep.

a soft smile danced on your lips just thinking about the cookies you and shinso had baked together earlier today, you almost couldn’t contain your excitement.

you quietly removed shinso’s arms from around your waist, and held your breath for a moment as you watched him stir. thankfully, he didn’t wake up, but you couldn’t help but to sit there and watch him for a moment — not in a creepy way, more like softly admiring him like you always did. his hair was messily sprawled out on the pillow, his muscles and biceps could easily be spotted in his silhouette, and if you were to reach out and touch them, you’d know exactly where each scar he had was — every inched was mapped out in your memory.

after a couple moments passed, you realized that it was starting to get weird that you were simply staring at him in his sleep. sheepishly, you rose from the bed, slipped on your slippers and made your way to the kitchen with ease, despite how dimly lit your apartment was at night.

in a practiced routine, you grabbed a glass and filled it up with milk and grabbed a couple cookies and sat comfortably at your kitchen island. you stared out the window and allowed your gaze to soak in the skylines of the city, and eventually your mind began to wander.

not too much time had gone by before shinso peeled away from your shared bed, and dragged his way to the kitchen. he rested his chin on the crook of your shoulder startling you a little bit.

“hitoshi, why are you up? I hope I didn’t wake you.” you asked softly.

“why am I up— why are you up sweetheart?” shinso murmured back to you, peppering soft kisses along your jawline. “and no you didn’t wake me, it got cold out of no where, and I was trying to adjust the thermostat.”

a small snort escaped your lips at his response. “I just couldn’t sleep, I thought a sweet treat would help.” you said gesturing toward the cookie in your hand — and almost instinctively shinso immediately took a bite of it.

“these are actually really good sweetheart, you did good making them.” shinso let out a low chuckle while you swatted him away. he pulled out the seat next to you. “shouldn’t you be trying to go back to sleep now? I thought you had an early morning class.”

“please don’t even remind me about that.” you groaned out. you glanced at the digital clock on the stove and let out an even more exasperated sigh. “baby it’s 3:10 and I have class at 8 in the morning, I might as well just not go at this point. you know I never have an easy time getting out of bed in the morning.”

shinso immediately hooked his finger underneath your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “you will be going to that class one, and I’ll even wake up to drive you so you can sleep in a little longer.”

“right but— I still can’t even-“ you pursed your lips and tried to rebuttal, but was cut off abruptly when he pressed his lips against yours.

“I know you’re going to have trouble trying to get back to sleep, but we can still try.” shinso yawned out as he stood from his seat and grabbed your glass and plate and placed them in the sink. he decided that the dishes could wait until the morning.

without allowing you to even get a word in, he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you from your seat as he made his way back to your shared bedroom.

you couldn’t help but to let out a little laugh as shinso tugged you back into bed with him. despite him saying that the room was cold, the sheets remained warm as if the two of you had never left them. as you two slipped back into the warm embrace of the sheets and your comforter, shinso instantly wrapped his arms around you once more.

“think you can sleep now?” he murmured against your neck, his voice growing low and lazy and his hands slithered around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“only if you stay right here.” you hummed, pressing your back into his chest.

“good thing I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” he replied back gently, you could almost hear the smile on his lips through his words.

and for the first time in a long while, sleep came easier than you thought.

© all pastries (aka content) belong to runaarinn — do not repost, steal, or scrape without permission.