Do You Or Do You Not Feel Bonita?

they're so grown now

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Meu Bem Hinata Shoyo (crack, fluff, post high school, mutual pining)

Small droplets of sweat trickled down your forehead as you stood at the front of the classroom, your teacher attempting to hush the students.

“We’ve got a new student in the class..” Losing focus on her voice, all you could think of were how many pairs of eyes were glued to you; what were they thinking?

“..Are you fine with that? It won’t take you more than ten minutes.” She seemed to be questioning someone.

“But I have practice after school..!” He whined.

She turned to you with a smile, “You can take the open seat next to Hinata - he’s right down there.”

Walking down the rows, some students smiled, while others prepared their notebooks and pens. The boy you’d be sitting next to however, didn’t seem to be in the best mood; his brows slightly furrowed as he mumbled under his breath.

The day progressed, students swarming your table during the first break in an attempt to get to know you. Though despite how frustrated as he seemed, the boy didn’t leave your side even once.

“Okay everybody!” He said, breaking through the crowd and standing next to you, “We have something to do!”

He tugged at your wrist, guiding you outside the classroom where he proceeded to give you what you decided to call a ‘speed-run’ tour of the school. You both practically dashed through the hallway, avoiding the gazes of teachers who’d tell you off if they caught on - it would take too much time and spoil his plan to free up his afternoon for practice. It almost felt like he wanted to get away from you as soon as he could, but it probably wasn’t anything personal.

Remembering how it all played out really makes you laugh. It’s funny how much some people are able to change. The same person who used up his break to tour you around the school only so he wouldn’t have to do so later on in the day, was now the same person who stuck to you like glue whenever you were around him.

Third year hit, and plans for post-graduation were shared by you, who struggled to explain your choice to pursue further studies through a flurry of tears, after learning that he’d chosen to leave for a few years to train overseas. He promised to never leave you behind, and that just because you weren’t physically by his side, you were still in his thoughts. You couldn’t help laugh a little - he wasn’t exactly the best with words, but he always seemed to know how to bring you out of an overwhelming situation.

And now that he was halfway across the world, you found yourself feeling somewhat alone. Someone who you’d spent 3 years with suddenly disappearing so quickly - you didn’t know what you’d do. When so many parts of your day include him; it’s difficult to fill in the gaps where he once was. Having dinner at his place, hanging out with him after an exam, calling him when you couldn’t fall asleep; so many things changed faster than you were able to keep up with.

Though, despite being hours apart, you wouldn’t go a single day without hearing each other’s voices - whether it was over an audio or video call. You’d schedule your college classes and leave a gap in the early afternoon - around the time that he’d be heading to bed. He’d send you postcards sometimes, including small gifts and trinkets that he’d bought with the money he’d been saving up from his part time job. You noticed a shift in his handwriting as he explained he’d been learning to speak Portuguese, you couldn’t help but wonder what it’d sound like to hear him speak it.

Over call, he’d tell you about his matches, the things he does to train, his voice jittery with excitement - you’d need to warn him not to raise his voice otherwise he’d risk waking up his roommate.

Recently, the two of you spoke over the phone as you slipped under your covers, exhausted after a long day. You heard foreign voices in the background as he explained that he was at the gym. You recounted what you went through that day, telling him about all the things you’d learnt. Though you noticed that he’d been almost completely silent, save for an occasional ‘Really?’ or his typical ‘Huh?!’. When you asked if he really was listening, he promised he was - wryly confessing that he simply wanted to hear your voice.

“You’ll hear it in person soon enough.” You chuckled, warmth dressing your cheeks.

“I know, but it's just been so long!”

You weren’t sure how else to respond other than with a small laugh. Given how much time had passed, you couldn’t say you didn’t often wonder whether he really did miss you or not.

And in his typical fashion of leaving things until the last second, a message from him lit up your phone during a lecture. Tapping on it, you wondered if he’d had trouble sleeping - it’d be late night for him right now, wouldn’t it?

Wrong. His message stated that his plane would be landing in Japan in about an hour. He'd told you he was coming soon but he didn't say it would be this soon! Attached to his message was picture of a plane ticket that had only been delivered a few minutes ago due to his layover in a nearby country. As soon as you responded, he answered right back, telling you he wasn’t too far away. ‘You’ll need to find me!’ He typed.

‘Find me..’

It struck a chord with you for whatever reason. The lecture was now an afterthought as you stuffed your notebook into your backpack, rushing out of class and towards the subway station. You didn’t even worry about changing your outfit or applying any makeup.

All this time, you thought about how you’d been feeling lonely, and ever since he slipped from your grasp, things had felt a little.. different, and you had a hunch that he'd been feeling the same. All this time, you didn’t consider how isolated he was, living in an entirely different place, learning a new language, memorising the streets on his own; hours away from all the familiarities he grew up around. Hours away from you.

Small droplets of sweat trickled down your forehead as you stood at the arrivals terminal, voices that weren't his gathering around you. Rushing through the crowds, some families laughed, while others held each other tightly.

You stopped in the midst of your tracks as soon as you noticed a head of ginger hair scurrying through the different groups of people amidst all the chaos, his suitcase dragging behind him, his brows slightly furrowed as his eyes scanned the surroundings.

Breaking through the crowds, you managed to inch closer to him as he stopped in the midst of his tracks, his back facing yours as he fiddled with his phone.

You tugged at his wrist, your gaze shifting towards his head as he turned around, facing you with wide eyes.

"Found you.." You exhaled.

Within seconds, his arms were tightly wrapped around you, twirling you around. His laughter drowned out any background noise; or maybe it was just that you were simply only focused on him and his voice, and the way his arms held you so close - how much larger they were, how you never imagined they'd embrace you.

Your feet planted back onto the floor, hands still slung around his neck with your face nuzzled into his shoulder as gently rocked you back and fourth. "How long did you wait?".

"Not long. I was going to ring you," He replied, showing you his phone screen, "But you showed up all of a sudden!"

Reading the name on his phone, you wondered who he was talking about. "Meu.. Bem? Who's that?".

The chat logs under the name matched the ones you'd shared earlier that day - had he changed your contact name to something different? He sighed, dipping his head over your shoulder in an attempt to hide the growing redness in his face.

"It's you.."

I mean, they look kinda similar right?

karasuno third years

July 2020 - August 2020

•••

These two pieces are very near and dear to my heart. I made them when the manga was just closing up and it was pretty emotional for me since I felt like I grew up with these characters.

•••

It's been a while since I've posted here, and I really think it's time I fill out my portfolio with a lot of art I've done in the past that I'm proud of.

All of the artwork that's in my queue for the next little bit is either old pieces from my archives or art I've been posting on my Instagram (@/miffiyie). The posts will be in chronological order from when they were made.

જ⁀♡⊹｡° stains where you should be

( hinata shoyo x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — back in my haikyuu writing era ;)

♡ word count — 1.1k

♡ content — hinata shoyo x fem! reader, brazil! hinata, pro beach volleyball player! reader, slight nsfw, 18+, no explicit nsfw but it is mentioned, manga spoilers ig? even though i'm sure that many people know how it ends, established relationship, messy relationship, yearning, lmk if i missed anything!

♡ synopsis — after half a year in Brazil, the only time hinata feels like he is home...is when he's with you.

The first time Hinata sees you, you’re standing in the sand like you were born there.

The wind howls around you, but you don’t waver. The sand shifts beneath your feet, but you don’t stumble. Every movement is precise, every step purposeful.

You’re not just playing beach volleyball—you are the game, completely in sync with the rhythm of the court, the rush of the ocean breeze, the pulse of competition.

Hinata watches, entranced.

He came to Brazil to train, to push himself beyond his limits, to become more than just the player he was. But here, on the beach, everything is different.

The sand swallows his steps, the wind steals his control, and suddenly, the court he knew so well has transformed into something untamed.

He’s never played like this before, never had to adjust for an environment that fights back.

But you? You make it look effortless.

The match ends, and he’s already moving toward you before he fully realizes it. His shirt sticks to his skin, damp from his own practice, but all he can think about is you.

“How do you do it?” he blurts out, still catching his breath.

You turn, blinking at him with an unreadable expression. Up close, you’re even more intimidating—not in size, but in presence. Like you know exactly who you are, like the world doesn’t shake you.

“Do what?” you ask, tilting your head.

Hinata gestures vaguely to the sand, the wind, everything. “That! The way you move, the way you—like the wind doesn’t even touch you. How do you jump like that?”

A slow smile tugs at your lips. “I guess I just got used to it.”

“Teach me,” he says immediately, voice alight with determination. “Please.”

You exhale, watching him for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. Hope you’re ready to eat a lot of sand.”

It starts as training.

Late-night sessions on the sand, long after the sun has dipped below the horizon. The two of you meet when the rest of the world has gone quiet, when the only sounds left are the crash of waves and the occasional distant laughter from a nearby beach bar.

At first, he struggles. A lot.

The sand betrays him. The wind mocks him. The game he thought he understood has changed, and he stumbles over his own feet more times than he can count.

You laugh every time.

“Did you just trip over the air?” you tease as he groans, face-first in the sand.

“It moved!” Hinata protests, spitting out a mouthful of grit. “I swear the sand moved!”

You roll your eyes, offering him a hand. He takes it without hesitation.

The nights blur together—long hours spent chasing the ball, learning the subtle shifts of the wind, adjusting his jumps. He gets better. He learns fast. And as the training stretches on, something else changes, too.

One night, after an exhausting session, you tilt your head at him. “My place is closer than yours,” you say. “You can crash there if you want.”

Hinata hesitates for only a second before nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

Your home is small but warm. The kind of place that feels lived in, filled with little pieces of you—a shelf lined with trophies, photos pinned up on a board, the lingering scent of something citrusy in the air.

You toss him a towel and some clean clothes. “These should fit you.”

Hinata looks down at the oversized towel wrapped around his waist. “What? You don’t like my new look?”

You snort. “Not unless you plan on making it a fashion statement.”

He grins but takes the clothes, disappearing into the bathroom. When he emerges, you’re already settled on the couch, a movie playing in the background.

Hinata isn’t really watching.

His gaze drifts to you—the way you’re curled up, comfortable, the way the screen flickers across your face. He doesn’t know why, but he wants to be closer.

The movie ends. You stretch, turning to him with a sleepy smile. “Goodnight, Hinata.”

Before he can stop himself, he leans in and kisses you.

Your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away. You kiss him back, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer, and before either of you fully register what’s happening, you’re tangled together—breathless, desperate, lost in each other.

By the time you make it to your room, he’s memorizing the way your skin feels under his hands, the way your laughter gets caught in your throat. You sigh his name.

And for the first time since coming to Brazil, Hinata feels like he’s home.

You are happy. Really happy.

Days spent playing, nights spent wrapped up in each other, whispered confessions between laughter. You make promises in the dark, in the spaces between his dreams.

And then—he leaves.

Hinata tells you he’ll come back. Of course he will. How could he not? Brazil changed him. You changed him. He says it with so much conviction that you believe him.

But then the months pass. And pass.

You call. No answer. You text. No response.

Then one day, you see the headline.

“Hinata Shoyo Signs with MSBY Black Jackals”

The picture shows him back in Japan, grinning, surrounded by everything he once dreamed of.

Your hands tremble as you set your phone down. You wait for a message, for anything.

But nothing comes.

And for the first time, you wonder if he ever planned to come back at all.

It happens at a match.

You’re focused on the game, locked in, until you feel it—eyes on you.

When you glance to the side of the court, he’s there.

Hinata, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you like he did that first time.

Your chest tightens.

After the game, he approaches, hesitant but there.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You exhale. “Hey.”

For a long moment, neither of you speak. Then, he swallows. “Can we talk?”

You hesitate before nodding.

The restaurant is quiet. The food is untouched.

Hinata had requested a private room for the two of you, the empty room almost seeming as if it was mocking you. You'd rather be playing volleyball naked, you think.

Anything would be better than this strange form of torture Hinata has put you through.

You stare at your glass, and then the words slip out before you can stop them.

“I waited for you.”

Hinata’s breath catches. His grip tightens around his drink. “I know.”

Your voice wavers. “I waited, and you didn’t come back.”

When you finally look at him, tears are welling in your eyes.

Hinata feels something in his chest break, and before he can think—he’s kissing you.

Between kisses, he mumbles

I missed you.

Missed Brazil.

Missed us.

I love you.

When you pull away, your voice is quiet. “Then prove it.”

And this time—he will.

He swears by it.

trying to get back into multi-fandom writing :) hope this was good!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

amoreco

shoyo hinata x fem!reader

warnings smut, mdni, fic under the cut, brazil!hinata, thigh riding, semi-exhibitionism, poorly written smut, please do not perceive me, dom!hinata, did i mention semi-exhibitionism?, reader wears a skirt

the night air was thick–humid, sticky, and humming with the restless energy of the city. below them, rio pulsed with life. a distant beat of funk music thumped from a bar down the street, voices rising and falling in drunk laughter. the golden glow of streetlights flickered and touched it’s surroundings–creeping and crawling up to find anything to grab a hold up; however, up here, they were untouchable.

or at least they should’ve been.

he sat on the cushioned lounge chair, legs spread wide and shorts riding up his toned, tanned thighs. his skin was still warm from the days sun; the familiar mix of salt, sweat, and cinnamon lingered on him, spicy and addictive. it was so undeniably him.

“you sure about this, amoreco?” he teased, hands placed strategically against her waist, fingers gently tracing shapes into the soft fabric of her skirt as he stared up at her. there was a playful glint in his eyes, but the heat behind his gaze was unmistakable.

the heat between them was palpable, a charge in the air that was only growing stronger the longer they stayed like this. her heart pounded in her chest, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep control, but it was hard when he looked at her like that.

before she could react, he shifted, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he pulled her down, guiding her firmly onto his thigh. the motion was smooth, and as she settled herself onto him, the night air left traces of goosebumps on her bare skin.

she should have said no. the balcony wasn’t exactly hidden—anyone in the apartments across the way could look out at the right moment and see everything. but that was the problem. the risk of it, the heat curling in her belly at the thought of being almost caught.

and then there was him.

the way he looked at her, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed from more than just the warm night air. his fingers flexed against her waist, impatient.

she gasped at the touch, feeling the warmth of his leg beneath her, the friction as she instinctively shifted, her core brushing against him. the sudden pressure was almost overwhelming, and her body reacted before her mind could catch up—tightening, craving more.

there was nothing between them but heat—bare skin against his shorts, damp lace pressing against solid muscle.

his gaze was locked on her, intense, tracing every subtle shift of her body. he could feel the damp heat between her legs, could sense how much she needed him, and it only made him tighten his hold on her, pulling her down just a little more firmly.

“you’re already soaked,” he murmured, spreading his legs wider, making sure she felt every inch of his thigh pressing against her.

she whimpered, fingers clutching his shoulders, but he didn’t let her move just yet.

“i didn’t even do anything,” he teased, his tone light, but there was a rough edge to it now, something deeper. his hands slid lower, slipping beneath her skirt, palms warm against the curve of her ass.

“hina—”

“nah.” his grip tightened, cutting her off, forcing her hips down until she gasped. the pressure—god.

“shoyo,” he corrected, voice dark, dangerous in a way that made her shiver.

then he moved her. slow, controlled, dragging her exactly where he wanted.

“that’s it,” he praised, watching her the whole time, watching her fall apart. his eyes—sharp, locked onto hers, completely focused on the way she trembled in his hands.

he was watching her, and she could see the desire burning in his eyes. the way his lips parted slightly as he drew in a breath, the shaky exhale of a groan every time she moved.

the air between them was heavy, thick with anticipation. she could feel every tiny movement, the slow drag of his hands, the way her body was reacting to him—like she was coming apart at the seams, but he was the only thing keeping her together.

“shoyo…” she whispered, her voice trembling, but he silenced her with a look, his gaze intense. she felt lost, like she could fall into him completely.

“i know,” he whispered back, his voice low, like he was savoring every moment. “just a little longer.”

she shuddered at his words, her body betraying her. she wanted more, to find some release, but his hands held her in place, rocking her slow against his thigh, making her feel the tension stretch tighter. every moment, every touch, pushed her closer to the edge without giving her relief.

“please” she whispered, not sure if it was a plea for him to move or to stop. her body, however, knew better. the instinct to press against him, to seek out that friction, was too strong to fight.

“shh,” he murmured, his voice deep and playful, yet edged with something darker. he tightened his grip around her waist and moved her just slightly, deliberately, forcing her to feel the hardness of his thigh against her aching clit, the pressure making everything intensify. his gaze never left hers.

“you’re so eager,” he whispered, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. his hand moved from her waist to trace along her inner thigh, his touch light, teasing. “but you can’t rush this.”

her body responded before her mind could—her breath quickened, her pulse raced, and a heat blossomed low in her belly, spreading across her entire body. the subtle, teasing movements of his leg under her, making her grind just enough to feel it, only heightened the tension.

she tried to muffle a sound, biting her lip, but he wasn’t having that.

without warning, shoyo rocked his leg under her again, this time faster, more deliberate. his hands gripped her hips firmly, guiding her, pushing her down onto him with the slightest pressure, making it impossible for her to hold back.

“don’t hold back. let me hear you,” he murmured, flexing his thigh, forcing more friction, more pressure.

her breath hitched as she moved against him, the pressure building with each deliberate thrust of his leg beneath her. his control was undeniable, the way he forced her to feel every inch of him, making her pulse race faster, the heat in her body so intense now it was almost unbearable.

his grip tightened on her waist, his movements growing faster, pushing her deeper, and she couldn’t help but gasp as her body shuddered against him, her mind clouded by nothing but him, his touch, the undeniable force of his presence.

below them, someone laughed in the street. a door opened in the apartment across from them. a light flicked on.

she froze.

but he didn’t.

“don’t stop now,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, dragging her hips down again, making her grind against him even harder.

her fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate.

“shoyo—someone—”

“then you better be quiet, baby.” his lips brushed her jaw, his grin nothing but trouble. “unless you want them to know what you’re doing out here.”

her stomach clenched, heat coiling low, thighs shaking against his. her grip on his shoulder never let go as she rode his thigh through her high; soft gaps and grunts fell from her lips, just fueling his own desire.

and when a shadow moved in a window across the way, a flicker of light catching someone’s silhouette, shoyo smirked.

“told you it was risky.”

hdonistic, 2025 -> please do not copy or repost my works without permission

I think if given the opportunity Mitsuki would snap up the wonder duo for the fashion world

and I would thank her for it

you two just had a harsh divorce (you didn't cuddle with him) because you abandoned him (you left for work) he will take the kids (your dog and cat) and now he's cold and lonely (he's warped in your blanket eating ice cream while sobbing) with the rain going down to smooth his pain (he was playing Lonely by Akon) and swore to never forgive you (he jumped on you suffocating you into his arms as soon as you entered the house) and he'll live in pain forever (you gave him a kiss and he forgot all about it)

bachira, ness, reo, nagi, rin, gojo, itadori, inumaki, choso, hinata, oikawa, chifuyu,

𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍

pairing: deaf!katsuki x gn!reader

warning: collage au, swearing, softsuki, pure fluff, all words italicized are meant to be spoken in sign language

notes: this might be my fave thing ive written so far

632 | Bakugou’s never needed words to tell you how he feels. The only problem?You never understand what he’s been saying.

Bakugou signs alot.

At first, you thought it was just muscle memory, like how someone might talk to themselves under their breath. He’d move his hands with sharp, purposeful flicks, his fingers quick and angry, like he was arguing with the air.

But he always signed to you.

You noticed it when he’d glance your way mid-conversation, hands spelling out something with too much intention for it to be coincident. You didn’t understand a word, of course, and he never explained himself. He’d roll his eyes or scoff when you asked. Saying something like figure it out if you’re so interested, but even with his dismissal— he kept doing it.

When he was annoyed with you, his fingers moved fast.

On the rare chance you made him chuckle, he’d sign something slow and subtle, hidden behind his dumb smirk and eye roll.

When he looked at you too long, he’d blink, sign, and look away.

It wasn’t until weeks later, when you finally decided to take a crash course in ASL at your campus library that the words finally started to come together.

“Thanks for saving my seat,” you said softly, placing your bag down beside him. He hums, nodding, red eyes never leaving your own and it’s enough to make your face heat. You’d always thought Bakugou was good looking, but for the longest time, you kept your distance. That is, until he showed up to the lecture one day reading one of your favorite books, and something about that felt like an opening. Since then, sitting next to him became a habit you looked forward to more than you’d admit.

Your other friends liked to joke that you’d worn him down. That you annoyed him into a friendship.

But every time you walked in and found his bag already nudged off the chair beside him, saving the seat just for you, it felt like the smallest kind of miracle.

He never said much about it. Never made a show of saving your space, but he did it every time.

Bakugou shrugged, his hands move fast. You look… tired?

You blinked. “Wait, I— did you say I looked tired?”

He froze. His brows furrow, eyes narrowed. A tiny break in the confidence that was so Bakugou it practically had its own gravitational pull.

“What the fuck," you heard him mumble. It makes you laugh.

He’s quick to sign again. You understood that?

You bit your lip, suppressing a grin. “A little. I’ve been uh—“ You cut yourself off, your own hands coming forward. Learning.

Bakugou scowled, but his ears were tinged red. He signs again, how? you stalking me now?

“No,” you said, laughing. “I took some classes in the library. Besides you're the one who’s been talking at me this whole time. I finally decided to catch up.”

His hands lifted. It is then that the piece start clicking. If you had learned what he was saying than that means... his eyes narrowed.

What else have you seen?

You pause. Beautiful, he had signed once. You’re beautiful.

Another time: I like your laugh. It sounds like wind chimes. The words 'Wind chimes' was a hard one to figure out for sure.

Once: I wish I could kiss you without making things weird.

You shook your head gently. “Beautiful a couple times... but that's all I remember."

Bakugou exhaled sharply. That's all you remembered!? He's going to fucking explode, dear god. He can feel the heat traveling down his neck. His fingers twitched like he wanted to deny it, like he wanted to scream just to redirect the attention.

Instead, he groaned. Looking away before signing something slowly— hands pausing just enough to make sure you’d catch it.

I can help you remember the rest.

You smiled. Yes. I'd love that