hiyori-ii

[hiyori-ii]

ngl i kinda fuckin hate the “i’m in love with you so you have to acknowledge and reciprocate my feelings even though you’ve already rejected me” trope in manga / anime

pisses me off

[hiyori-ii]

neighbor deku who rents the apartment next to yours, who leaves early in the morning to go teach and comes home late, slumping against his door as he futzes with the key in the lock

neighbor deku who feeds your cat when you're away for the weekend and who nearly tears up when you knock on his door and bring him a warm plate when you made too much for dinner

neighbor deku who definitely hears you and your date fooling around through the shared wall and who furiously fights back a flush to his cheeks when he greets you in the hall the next morning

neighbor deku who checks on you in the middle of the night when the heat goes out in the entire building with a soft tap to your door, and who agrees, surprised, when you ask if you can share his bed so you don't freeze over night

neighbor deku who presses himself up against the wall side of his bed to be respectful and give you space but who wakes up with his entire body wrapped around yours, blissfully warm from the heat that kicked back on, his face buried in your hair as he snores lightly away

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lord. the thought of meeting sensei deku at a bar after hours. and you don’t know him or the fact he used to be a hero and you chat over drinks. at one point he genuinely casually mentions how much he benches and completely brushes over it.

and you’re like. no what. you’re lying. and you bicker back and forth before you goad him by being like. fine then let me see your biceps.

so he undoes his button sleeves and rolls them up and pushes them. and you can’t tell from under his clothes but he is fucking jacked. he flexes and you can see the muscles strain, all sinew and vein. he even brings your hand to touch him so you can be sure.

when you look-up with your jaw dropped he gives you a sweet little flushed giggle and goes “see? told you.”

[hiyori-ii]

thinking i could just vanish in the night and that might do the trick

gotta figure out how i can kill myself without killing myself

ya feel?

[hiyori-ii]

gotta figure out how i can kill myself without killing myself

ya feel?

[hiyori-ii]

deku promises he can behave. you begrudgingly agree, knowing him he probably won't be able to keep his hands to himself, but you're willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. he lures you to bed, doe eyed with a face dusted with freckles, under the guise of just wanting to take a nap with you.

but somewhere among the sheets your bodies tangle together, skin seeking skin, even in sleep and the way you press against him seems to be enough to rouse deku from his sleep. he blinks, bringing your own hazy figure into view and his throat feels thick when he realizes you've slung a leg over his hip, your sleep shorts ridden high enough to give him a glimpse of miles of creamy skin.

his hands move before he can stop them, mapping out curves and dips he had come to love so much, a scarred palm curling around your hip, hiking your leg up higher. you're half asleep, half awake, eyes bleary when you glance up at him, your body moving with his guidance until he's got your leg hooked over his hip and he can shift his cock forward to nudge right against your cute little shorts. his boxers do little to nothing to conceal his ache for you.

your lashes flutter, your eyes still heavy lidded and you whimper, lazily pressing a kiss to his chest. "mhm, you said we-"

"i know," deku shushes, dipping his head down to capture your lips in a searing kiss as he grinds against you, blunt fingertips digging into your skin, nudging you closer till the hard outline of his cock manages to catch your already sticky clit for a moment. "f-fuck, i just can't help it. you feel so fuckin' good, baby. can't keep my hands off you."

you should've known it would end like this, but he looks so good like this — hair tousled, cheeks pink and lips parted to let out the prettiest moans. they're hitch pitched and breathy, some of them getting stuck in his throat the harder he grinds against you. there's a sticky feeling building between your thighs and you can't tell if it's from his arousal or yours.

"you're so needy."

his brows pinch together tightly when you start to mouth at his neck, and with one easy swoop he pulls you on top of him, calloused hands dipping underneath your shirt to take hold of your bare hips, dragging you back and forth against his stained boxers, hard and slow. "less talking, a lot more touching, yeah?"

[hiyori-ii]

Continuation.

Bakugo Katsuki swore that he would die before he let you have Izuku's number.

And yet, somehow, the three of you have ended up together for drinks.

He thinks it's a fair compromise; Izuku can ask his million questions, Bakugo can kill the rumors that the two of you are together, you can-

He's not sure what your goal is, but he can see it shining in your eyes.

Izuku is still in his teaching clothes, a pristine button up rolled up to the elbows and a pressed pair of pants. There's an extra shine and coil to his curly hair, and it smells like sandalwood; he put effort into his appearance and Bakugo knows it isn't for him.

Your words echo in the back of his mind: people always want what they can't have.

"You worked for the commission? As a hero?" Izuku asks you.

You never give direct answers- just these convenient truths delivered with a pretty smile.

"I'm retired."

Lipstick clings to the rim of your drink. It makes your lips looks soft and round, even when you run your tongue across your teeth.

"Retired?" Izuku asks. "Wow, I'm kind of jealous."

"She's my social media manager." Bakugo cuts in. "And a tiktok person."

Not his girlfriend, he wants to add, but he refrains.

"Kacchan says you have a cool quirk." Izuku talks without pause, rambling mostly to himself in that way Katsuku has taught himself to find endearing. His attention never wanes away from you, but you don't blush or squirm. You sit and endure with that damn smile on your face. "What is it called? How does it work? I tried to Google it, but nothing comes up. You are so young to be retired, I just-"

You lean forward and place a hand on Izuku's upper thigh, cutting him off midsentence.

"You have very beautiful eyes," you say, slow, stepping gently over every word. "Wide, wet: like a rabbit's."

Izuku snaps silent. Each one of your nails taps against his thigh, one by one. Bakugo watches how your thumb swipes side to side, how your lips part with your exhale, how your smile creeps up all on its own as you lean even closer-

"You twitch like one too."

"Oh, wow, uh-" Izuku stutters, his whole face flushing a dark pink, so strong it eats his freckles. Finally, someone else understands your goddammit issues. Bakugo swallows down the strange feeling in his chest with the last dregs of his beer.

"I'm going to get a drink, I think." Izuku stands, pulling away from your touch.

"Grab me a beer?" Katsuki shakes his empty can. Izuku nods, then looks at you.

"Soda water with lime."

"No alcohol?"

"I like to keep my wits about me."

The man nods, then practically scurries off to the bar. You huff, content, like a dog that's bought it's master their hunt.

"You scared the fuck outta him."

"He liked it." You pick a piece of lint off of your skirt. "They always do. Watch: he'll come back and sit even closer to me."

Bakugo throws himself back into his seat, arms crossed. "You're so damn cocky."

"Look who's talking, Kacchan." You tilt your head, pouting your lips with fake sincerity. "I can call you that, right? As your girlfriend?"

He sinks even lower in his chair. "You aren't my girlfriend."

"I could be." You mimic him. You lean back and let your knees spread just a bit, just enough that he could see what under if he tried- "The sex would be phenomenal."

That hits him like a shot. It's not that he wants to have sex with you, but he can't deny that the thought crosses his mind every now and again. He thinks about it when he's alone, when the bed feels too big, when he's-

"You don't fucking know that!" He's too angry already, especially compared to your nonplussed response.

"I do.'

"You don't even fucking know me." He points a finger back at you. "And I don't know anything about you."

"It's better if you don't know."

Bakugo sneers. Another nonanswer. He looks back towards Izuku, who's locked in conversation with the bartender. Why would you even bother with him? Someone like you would rip through him like tissue paper. You're right- he is a rabbit, and you're a dog, waiting with your sharp teeth to-

A hand cups his ear. Bakugo watches as you lean in over the table, bringing your lips to his ear.

"I grew up in the commission. One of their little project kids," you whisper. Sometimes, your lips make contact with cartilage and his skin sparks with heat. "I did things for them. Bad things. Illegal things."

"You kill people?" he whispers back.

"You know the answer to that." With every word, you creep closer, until your hands are on his thighs now. "They forced me to retire when Hawks took over. No more need for girls with bloody hands."

It's the truth. Your voice is painfully sincere for once, a strange change from your usual composed self. You're just giving him what he wants, but it's working. It's working. He almost puts his hand around your waist.

If Izuku is a rabbit, he's a fox, and you've lured him out of his fucking burrow. At this point, he'd welcome your teeth in his neck.

"What else should I tell you? My favorite color's red, I love the beach. You're not allowed to pull my hair, I never sleep over after sex," you continue. "I have a scar on my chest. So, you're not surprised when you see it later."

"Stop assuming that I'm going to fuck you."

"Oh, you're going to." You slink back over to your seat. Hands folded over your lap- a snake ready to strike. "I'm going to flirt with Izuku until you break-"

You turn your attention away from him, waving towards the approaching Izuku. "And then you're gonna fuck my brains out, Kacchan."

There's no time to respond before Izuku teeters back, blaming three drinks with a little difficulty. He hands then out, then sits back down-

So close to you that his thigh brushes yours.

"Thank you, little rabbit," you tease, eyes flicking back to Bakugo with a knowing, smug smile.

Fuck, Bakugo thinks. Fuck.

[hiyori-ii]

[hiyori-ii]

Bakugo hears you talk about a long term situationship you're in and it takes all of his will power not to active die in front of you

[hiyori-ii]

chat, pls send me your fav bnha x reader fics !!

extra credit if you share something about aizawa or bakugo <33

[hiyori-ii]

clingy

[hiyori-ii]

here’s your sign to stop doomscrolling and do literally anything else

[hiyori-ii]

I'm certain this is on Tumblr somewhere, but I haven't seen it around, so I'm sharing it myself

[hiyori-ii]

Interview with An Underground Hero Pt. 1

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,561

Tags: fem!reader, pseudo!chikan, some grinding, public indecency, post-canon, aizawa is horny and he hates it, slight age gap, reader is in her last year of uni

Author's Note: I have NOT been able to keep Shouta off my mind. He haunts me day and night. In an effort to take back my sanity, I give you this.

a03 link

Shouta’s fingers are stiff as he shoves them into his pockets, the air icy despite the bright sun overhead. The platform is crowded with early morning commuters and he can’t help but curse his luck.

“Ah! Aizawa-san! Good morning!”

Your hand is raised high above the crowd, waving excitedly to catch his attention. Your student I.D. swings back and forth in your grip and he instinctually sinks further into his scarf, desperate to get away from the attention.

You’re out of breath as you slip between two salary-men, “Ha! Made it! Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me here this morning Aizawa-san.”

“I’m so honoured to be interviewing you today!”

————————

When he had first been asked to participate in an interview, the phone was halfway back on the cradle with a firm, ‘No thank you, I don’t do press,’ before you could blink. 

‘W-wait! Wait! This isn’t for the press! W-well, sort of. It’s for school! My school! I’m writing a paper for my final project on heroics and ethics and you’re the perfect person to speak to!” 

The threat of a headache is brewing behind his good eye, begging him to just hang up and get back to grading papers. 

‘Fine. Meet me next Friday at 6:45am on the central line at Tatooin Station. Bring your student I.D. or I’m leaving you behind.” 

He barely hears your squeal of joy before the line cuts, his head already throbbing. 

————————

His acknowledging grunt is barely audible over the sound of the train pulling into the station, people eager to find a spot for the commute ahead already beginning to shuffle closer to the yellow line.

Despite his chilly demeanour, your smile never slips; if anything, his lack of enthusiasm makes your eyes light up even brighter, “Do you always take the train into work, Aizawa-san?”

The two of you have shifted closer to the train doors, and when they finally open you’re both ushered in quickly by the wave of people pressing in behind you.

Without much thought, Shouta guides you across the car and toward the opposite door, eager to get as far away from everyone else as possible.

“Not usually, no. I live on campus but I was on patrol in the neighbourhood last night.”

You’ve both settled up against the sliding doors and Shouta’s thankful for the moment of reprieve. His eye burns from overuse and his right knee is screaming at him to take it easy.

You’re quiet for a moment too long and he risks catching your next wave of questioning to study your face. You’re obviously younger than him but the dark circles under your eyes tell him a thousand tales of sleepless nights spent pouring over research papers and mandatory readings. He wonders how old you really are, noting the claw-machine bag charm dangling from your study bag before taking in your attempt at business casual - a too tight blouse peaking out from under your knit sweater and a skirt that probably fit right a few years ago but now sits high on your waist to accommodate the zip closure. At least you’ve elected to wear dark nylons to make up for the short hemline.

“If you’re too tired to meet today, I’d be happy to reschedule to some other time.”

Your hushed tone pulls him from his thoughts and he can feel his neck flush in embarrassment. ‘Get it together, Shouta, what the hell is wrong with you?!’ 

“N-”, he clears his throat, “No, that’s alright. I’m fine.”

Your lips purse and you look at him like you don’t believe him. Observant. That journalism degree suits you well.

Before you can say anything else, the train is slowing to a stop and the doors open to a flood of even more passengers.

You’re barely able to voice your surprise before you’re being crushed up against the car door by a drowsy middle-aged man with a too large briefcase. Your eyes flicker over to Shouta and despite the bemused grin on your face, he can tell you’re uncomfortable.

Without thinking twice, he’s already making a spot for himself between you and the man, placing his palms above you on the glass window to gently press backwards and open up just enough room for you two to breathe.

When he looks down to ask if you’re alright, you’re already staring up at him, eyes wide and ears brightly flushed.

Ah. Right. Now he’s got you cornered.

He clears his throat again, more aggressively this time, and you snap out of your stupor. “Ha, thank you Aizawa-san. I was totally about to be crushed there!” Your voice has pitched higher and you’re actively avoiding his gaze.

He uses one hand to pull at his scarf, desperate to cool the flush threatening to crawl up his neck, “Don’t mention it.”

The train jolts forward as it accelerates and you both sway with the sudden lurch. You stumble, feet staggering to keep your balance and you quickly reach up to grab onto the loose fabric of Shouta’s jumpsuit.

Your neck is stretched to the side as far as you can manage to avoid eye contact. The apples of your cheeks are stained with a deep flush and your heart is thundering against your ribs; you’re worried he can feel the heat radiating off your thighs from where they’re spread around his right leg.

Meanwhile, alarm bells are blaring in Shouta’s head. Every single moment of irrational lenience over the last week has led him here; he should have never agreed to this interview, should have never gotten on this crowded train, should have never gotten between you and that man ‘cause now all he can focus on is the smell of your hair and the heat of your pretty thighs spread over his bad leg.

Another sudden lurch as the train switches tracks and his knee finally gives out.

He stumbles, not expecting to loose his balance and finds his thigh wedged tightly between your own. Your surprised squeak sends a shock of electricity down his spine and he can feel the press of your tits against his ribs, your laboured breath fanning the gap of skin peaking out from beneath his scarf.

“Shit, sorry, give me a second, my leg- ”

The half-awake business man behind Shouta sways in his comatose state and that ridiculous bag knocks his hips directly into yours.

“Ah!”

The pretty little gasp that slips past your lips has Shouta snapping his head down to look at you, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth screws up into a tight line.

Oh fuck.

He’s such a pervert.

He knows you can feel the press of his cock against your hip, knows you know he’s hard because of you. And as if he couldn’t get any more pathetic, the whine you let slip is like a phantom pull, drawing him forward to grind into the heat of your body.

He expects you to slap him. To call him a pervert. Call off the interview and report him for sexual harassment.

He doesn’t expect you to let your weight settle down against his thigh. Doesn’t expect you to finally look over at him out of the corner of your eye with tears swimming in your lashline and let your mouth fall open on a silent moan. Couldn’t have dreamed of you reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to that pretty mouth of yours.

“Please don’t stop.” 

Your voice comes out in a whisper, lust dripping from each syllable and he caves. He blames the pain behind his eye, his shitty knee, the lack of sleep, he blames it all for the way he buries his face into your neck and bites the tendon there. Blames it for the way he reaches down to grab at the meat of your hips and pull you higher up against his cock.

You’re so caught up in the feeling of him rocking against you that you don’t even register the doors opening behind you.

Suddenly you’re tripping backwards and Aizawa is stumbling forward with you, his legs tangled with yours as you’re forced onto the platform by the passengers getting off. You finally catch yourself, back bent and your free leg pushed behind you to balance your weight. When you look up Shouta is there above you, handsome face bright with embarrassment and shock.

You hear a few people complain about the two of you just standing there and you pull away from him, standing straight and frantically trying to fix your clothes in an attempt to ignore the tension settling.

Shouta is left blinking at you completely speechless. What the fuck just happened. 

He opens his mouth to apologize, to say something, anything to acknowledge what he did to you but you beat him to it, smile tight on your pretty face, “So, uhm, would you like to walk the rest of the way?”

He stares for a moment in complete disbelief, his cock twitching in a desperate attempt to keep going, to pull you back toward him and finish what you two started.

“Yeah. Let’s walk.”

You pointedly ignore the dark wet patch just above his bad knee.

[hiyori-ii]

y’all are gonna fuckin kill me but i have a new fic idea that i want to post for kinktober

i ain’t making any promises cause i’m burntout asf but !!! it’s about aizawa 😖✨

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