I Mean, They Look Kinda Similar Right?

I hate when i’m reading a fan fic about izuku and they make him such a pussy.like no.

izuku loves to be as close as possible

izuku was always touching you. he always had his hand on you or arms wrapped around you in some way, wanting to be close to you at all times. he especially loved the touch you gave him as well, whether it was a hand rubbing his cheek, your lips touching his, a hug, or something else.

he enjoyed it because it made him feel so loved. he tried to have skin-to-skin contact with you whenever he could, finding comfort in your heartbeat and breathing.

so when the two of you are in your room and getting ready for bed, izuku thinks about a position he should sleep in. should he spoon you? should you spoon him? what was he supposed to do?

but he suddenly had an idea, and hopefully you would be comfortable with it. he took his shirt off with ease and threw it onto your chair. then, he shyly crawled under your shirt, making sure you didn’t have a bra on. he needed to fully feel you, after all.

you mumbled, “what’re you doing, zu?” and felt his chest and head on your chest, he let out a soft laugh.

“just want to feel you. is this okay?”

“it is, baby. don’t worry about it.” you reassured, rubbing his back as both of your chests were touching.

his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your waist, and his head poked out through your neckline. his soft hair tickled your chin and cheeks, but you played with it nonetheless. he mumbled in satisfaction, loving how your hands were all over him.

izuku’s lips eventually found their way to your neck, kissing the soft skin a few times before stopping. in response, you kissed his forehead, feeling his smile on your collarbone.

it didn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep, and he rested with dreams about you.

haii another izuku writing!! sry if this one was boring

Bakugo: No, I’m not trusting Dunce-face.

Izuku: Oh, c’mon Kacchan. I’m sure he’ll be fine-

Bakugo: That idiot made a seductive song that was just a recipe for banana bread.

Izuku: Hey, it was actually a bop. It was like listening to Justin Timberlake sing-host a cooking show.

Bakugo:

3rd years

Sorry for the poor quality 🥺

Animal Volleyball~~

Having the Number One pro hero as your boyfriend is not easy.

Especially when you're a pro hero yourself.

And especially when your relationship is supposed to be a secret.

And even more especially when your boyfriend needs to be around you every second of every day like his life depends on it.

Izuku's a sweet man, he always has been and always will be. But sweet isn't even close to the word someone could use to describe how he treated you. In fact, even infatuated wouldn't be sufficient.

But Izuku's love has a price. He knows you can damn well defend yourself (trust me, he probably knows best after you almost stabbed him by accident when he came home in the middle of the night with no warning)—but still, he worries.

Which is why, much to his chagrin more than your own, you kept your relationship hidden from the public.

But like I said, Izuku's love for you is a force stronger than One for All itself.

So you can imagine this 'secret relationship' thing didn't really work out..

It was after a mission, a big operation in the city - the heroes had won but barely.

You were all exhausted.

And your boyfriend Pro Hero Deku more than most.

You were talking with a reporter, trying to reassure the civilians that everything was now resolved, when Izuku stumbles over and just starts peppering your face with kisses tiredly, the battle taking so much out of him that he forgets where he is.

he just wants his baby :(

All you can really do is stand there and take it, face bright red as a stunned cameraman and civilians start snapping photos and taking videos of the affectionate pro hero.

...Good thing you can defend yourself.

A/N: Deku's not one of my favs heh but he's such a sweetheart we need more loverboys in the world 😔

☀☀.

oh what the fuck

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯⎯ BBVERSE: WHAT’S IT GONNA BE? shoyo’s ipod: chinese satellite ♪ phoebe bridgers

HINATA SHOYO MADE THREE PROMISES, AND HE BROKE ALL THREE OF THEM. on most days, hinata was easy to predict. he wore his heart on his sleeve—never worried too much about what other people thought of him. yet he cared what you did.

during his first two years at karasuno, you would get nothing but radio silence every time he lost a game. no texts, no calls, no warnings. he would just show up to school the next day, back to how he was before. then.. there was that one day. there were red rims around his eyes, all puffy like he’d been crying, and the kind of slump in his shoulders that comes only from regret.

“if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” he had said, told you he didn’t want you to worry. told you he wished he was thicker skinned. always the hypocrite, wasn’t he?

he held a water bottle, the red one he used for volleyball. the lid was missing. he wore those sneakers he bought in middle school—with all of his savings. two sizes too small, worse for wear. there were frays and scuffs that weren’t there when you last saw him.

so you made him promise. “keep whatever you want from me, but when you do tell, never lie.”

you met hinata’s mother at the interhigh prelims, held his younger sister natsu’s hand the entire game; played tic tac toe between sets. by the time the referee blew the whistle, they both called you family.

the same orange haired boy who kept your missing hair-ties on his wrist, who cried when he forgot the candles for your birthday cake, who held you when things fell apart, now held something else: a trophy, a team, and the world. you held his pride.

he sprained his wrist during the match, became left handed that winter. he started calling you more. it’s hard to type with an injured hand, as his excuse. you went away for the new year, spent december in osaka with your family. he called you even more.

hinata always picked up on the first ring, you picked up on the second. you knew something was wrong when you had to call twice before he picked up.

on that day, he told you about brazil.

he told you about his day first. told you about waking up before the sun did, running up the steep road to the school with kageyama to get early practice in for the spring championship. he found a rock that looked like you, brought it home. told you that he tried a new onigiri flavor. apparently, pickled plum is devil spawn.

this whole routine had turned into his everyday ritual—a customary habit, if you will. hinata told you about his day, and you told him yours. yet on that particular call, there was something off.

when you spend enough time with someone, their behavior becomes language. tiny cues carry worlds. the spaces between seconds, subtle pauses between laughs. you could almost imagine him picking at his callouses—the ones that splayed across his palms, decorating his hands. he was nervous.

you asked, and it didn’t take long for him to budge.

“have you ever seen a sunset in rio?” he said, more olive branch than question. kiyoko had mentioned professional volleyball players finding themselves in south america, returning an entirely different person. she mentioned it in passing; in conversation.

turns out, first year hinata held onto that. he sent you a screenshot: a travel blog by a retired athlete, big sparkly letters stuck to the headers. one stood out.

THE FUTURE OF VOLLEYBALL: WHY YOU SHOULD TRAIN IN BRAZIL! Spend a year training on Rio De Janeiro’s famous coasts, learning from local players and seasoned pros who know the game inside and out. Join a welcoming community, and experience the unique blend of culture and sport. Unlock your full potential. Don’t you think.. click to read more

there was that word again. potential. no one worked harder than shoyo did, no one wanted it more than he did. you knew he felt stuck, wanted more space to grow. he told you himself. you could hear him waiting over the speaker, eager to see what you thought.

cue the second, “promise me, that you’ll call. text.”

“I will.” he answered, zero hesitation.

“come home.” you breathed.

he hesitated, then answered. “I will.”

“pinky promise?” you made sure.

“yeah,” he smiled. “with a kiss on the thumb.”

and so you let him go.

airports do business best in april, at the crust of summer. students board last minute flights; graduates clip their wings free. hinata’s mother, glassy eyed, hugged him and threatened to fly over there herself if he didn’t eat well. like she ever had to worry about it.

with you, his arms never withhold. hinata’s never held you harder. but it wasn’t as long as it needed to be. he draped his jacket over you, the black one with ‘fly’ in bold japanese brushstroke on the back.

then he went to brazil—chased his dreams. with his suitcase full of sparks, heart missing you.

on january first, your phone didn’t ring.

BRAZIL BOUND TAGS @gojotech @chososcamgirl @yell0wdreams @bktooo @quikhs @nekozaki @dazzlingakaashi @dazqa @asrichin @primaverx @haezen

A/N not fully proofread, a lazy write to get this out of my drafts, I love you bbverse I promise I still do.. I’ll come home again soon..

PRINCE OF THE COURT! 🎭👑 (kaien plushie PO)🌟