heroinepose

[heroinepose]

i’m gonna reblog this over here, because people know me on my main but like, they don’t know the depths of my horny. and i am weak-willed and not ready to unleash that on them yet.

i am also sweating fucking bullets about this because sweet jesus.

the tl;dr here is 1000/10 would commission alison again and so should you but if you want to watch me flail, carry on.

first of all i asked for this, obviously, and got everything i wanted out of it but i was in no way prepared.

“Oh, kitten - “ You moan as he pushes knuckle-deep into your tight heat. “ - You’re all I can think about these days - “

this was where i realized i fucked up and shouldn’t be reading when i’m supposed to be working. 

The sight of Shinsou a hair’s breadth away from your mound breaks your composure. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you blurt out.

He looks up at you, brilliant purple eyes darkened by lust. You reach down to cup his rosy cheeks. “I can’t believe it took this long,” he murmurs, a teasing glint in his gaze. Holding your bleary stare, Shinsou slowly sticks out his tongue and drags the tip through your sensitive folds.

sorry, there’s no funny .gif because my brain literally just made the aol dial-up noise circa 1999 here, and i have nothing more to add except that alison is amazing and also i’m dying. maybe spare my poor mother by not putting this on my headstone, but you all know how i went.

You bury your fingers in his hair and wrench his head back, your cunt clenching at the sound of his low growl and the sight of his darkened expression.

“Fuck me, Shinsou,” you whine -

He sheathes himself inside you in one harsh, shattering thrust.

danger! danger, starling! and yet i persist. and actually start perspiring. like i’m literally and metaphorically hot under the collar at this stage and i do not know how to turn back. it is at this point i realize i have a work thing to do that involves talking to other people after i finish this fic and i have fucked up immeasurably. but it’s not gonna stop me from finishing.

“I wanted you, too,” he quietly breathes, so soft that you barely heard him. He nuzzles your temple, and hot breath fans over your skin as he speaks. “Wanted you so bad, you’re so fucking perfect - nnggh - fuck - I - I love - “

His voice hitches [...]

excuse me, now i’m horny and in my feelings on a thursday? hello?? is that legal?! my heart really said “me and your pussy are about to wreck your whole afternoon.” 🥺

“Come back to my place,” he murmurs, presses a slow kiss to your lips. 

man, fuck work, i’m out. i have pto to burn, sir, let’s gooooooo.

that was ... a ride and a half and honestly thank you so much for writing it!! 1000/10 would commission again and am in danger of doing this probably entire too much so please don’t let me. but like ... whew. 

... i need ice water.

Release. (Shinsou x f!Reader; NSFW)

Commission for @kyberhearts​.

Escape had never tasted so sweet before. You cling to Shinsou for dear life as his capture weapon sends you both into an alleyway, one of many in the twisted maze of factories housing a criminal enterprise. Well, not anymore. The criminals were hot on your tail for a good while before Shinsou disposed of the troublesome quirk users and snatched you straight out of harm’s way. Your strong, capable hero. Always there to save you, always there when you need him most. 

His grip is tight around your waist as he bears the brunt of the landing. You hug each other close for the split second it takes to land on your feet with minimal stumbling, and your arms are still around each other when all is settled and still. Shinsou pants into your hair and your heart hammers wildly in your chest. 

You breathlessly laugh, exhilarated and wide-eyed as Shinsou pulls back to stare at you. “That was unbelievable, you really are incredible - “ 

Your praise dies in your throat with the sudden press of his warm lips to your open mouth. 

Months of pent-up tension uncoils like a violent explosion. Only one thought prevails among the rest - I want you right here, right now. 

Keep reading

#should i have read this in the middle of my work day #ABSOLUTELY NOT #do i regret it? #only inasmuch as this is all my brain focused on for an hour long meeting #yes this is me posting other shit and not writing #SOMEDAY WHEN Y'ALL ARE LESS DRAMATIC #I MAY COME BACK #until then here is some yelling #fic recs

[heroinepose]

Foreplay - Shinsou x Reader

A/N: So i decide to write my first smut for Shinsou, because this purple-haired man gets me hotter than the fourth of July. I hope you enjoy

Synposis: Shinsou watching your monthly self-care routine before deciding to help, it gets a little steamy in that bathroom.

Word count: 5,228

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, bathroom sex, dom/sub play, shaving (is that a warning?), swearing, unprotected sex, a total of one (1) spank.

Tags: @whats-her-quirk thanks for your ecouragement! <3

FOREPLAY - Shinsou x Reader

“Hey, can I watch?”

You froze, fingers hovering above the door handle of the bathroom. Maybe, he’s talking about the tv? Your eyes caught Shinsou’s purple ones peeking over from the back of the couch. Nope, he was talking to you.

“Why?” You quipped, eyebrows raising up at the question from your flatmate. He stood up, shrugging with his hands in his pockets.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m…” he trailed off, looking at the ceiling for answers, “curious. I guess I’m curious about what you do in there.”

“I mean, I’ll be naked.” You state pointedly, a weak excuse but some part of you tingles, hoping he’ll ask again.

Keep reading

#fic rec #good lord this really knocked me for a loop ... #good fucking food

[heroinepose]

a partner exercise

a/n: a not-very-fleshed-out idea i’ve had for a few weeks 

bakugou x reader 

Your heart thrummed as you flew up the steps as quickly as your feet could carry you. The exercise had been simple: locate the flag, and somehow get it to the goal Uraraka had elevated 200 feet into the air. 

Step one: complete. You held the flag in your hand, wrapped around itself so that no one could rip it out of your grasp. 

Step two: find your partner and get both of you to the goal. That should be pretty easy as well, if he had waited outside like you’d asked him to. 

There were only a few more flights to go, but the stairwell you were in felt like it would never end. Your muscles burned but you pushed through, careening your body around as you turned from one flight of stairs to the next. Finally, you saw it. 

The door to the roof. 

“Give it up, there’s no way to get down from there!” Kaminari called out from behind you. More of your peers followed him closely, chasing you up the stairs. 

You paid them no mind as you burst through the door, the fresh fall air hitting your face. You sucked in a few breaths. Your feet thumped against the pavement as you ran across the roof. Nearing the edge, you sucked in one more breath and used all of your energy to scream before your friends saw you leap off of the roof. 

But it wasn’t just anything you screamed; it was his name. And as quick as they saw you fall, they heard a deafening explosion before the saw Bakugou whip past the edge of the roof into the air, you wrapped around him for dear life with one hand, waving the flag at them in the other.

Your courage wavered a bit as the ground got further away from you, and you buried your face into Bakugou’s chest, where you could hear his strong heart beat. Almost imperceptibly, his arm tightened around you. 

You and Bakugou reached the goal, a plat form floating in the air with a small cup in the middle to place the flag in. You threw the flag down and a few seconds later your body came down too. You faced the sky and your chest heaved up and down. “That was…sick…” you managed to gasp out. 

Bakugou smirked and sat down next to you. “It was sick, huh?” he paused before adding, “Unless I hadn’t caught you, and then you’d be screwed.” 

“You always catch me,” you replied, “I can always count on you.” 

“Yeah,” he grinned, before pressing a kiss to your lips, “yeah, you can.” 

#fic recs #this makes my heart grow three sizes s;kjh

[heroinepose]

commencement

Midoriya Izuku x Reader Word Count: 2,130  Warnings: I’m about to rot your teeth out with all this fluff, friends.

Falling in love with your classmate is hard enough when you’re not training to save the public -- or, you know, actively doing it. A hero’s life (even in training) is never easy. You’re more than worth the wait.

I participated in @bnhaclaimedmysoul​‘s springtime event, and after talking to my sweetheart of a match, @gabbygee928​, I decided this was the only springtime story that could ever come out of this (since the Japanese school year ends/begins in spring, after all). Surprise, friend! I hope you love this, and thanks for being patient with me as I live that essential employee life!

Izuku told himself, when he met you during your first year at U.A., that he could do it.

He didn’t know a thing about your exam score or your grades, but as far as he was concerned, you were so smart, and kind, and -- perhaps most important of all -- you never made him that nervous. The first time you’d spoken for any length of time, he’d turned the color of a ripe strawberry and stayed that way nearly the whole time, but you were game to answer as many of his questions about your Quirk as he could fire off. It was easy, then, for the shoulders he’d hunched in borderline terror (So close!, he’d thought at the time) to relax, for you two to become fast friends. It was as if somebody had turned on a light.

You were so determined to become a great hero, to make the most of your three years, that despite the burgeoning crush he’d developed in the spaces between the peculiar concentration of earth-shattering events that had marked your first year together he could never bring himself to say anything. To distract you. He knew how much it meant to him to become a hero, after all. He could never fault you, never wanted to be the reason you lost focus.

Izuku told himself with a single-minded clarity that it would just have to wait. It would be worth it.

So, he waited.

To his credit, he was every bit the caring and considerate friend he would have been whether he’d developed a crush on you or not (although it really only seemed to get worse with time; in fact your romantically-interested roles in the play that 2-A had put on in second year had very nearly broken him). You’d studied together, in groups and by yourselves, when either of you started struggling or when exams were coming up. He had the most vivid memory of sitting next to you in the common room one night, the smell of your shampoo heavy in your still-damp hair as you pored over your work-study options, trying to find the right fit. He’d mostly listened, then, helped you as a sounding board for weighing pros and cons and trying to find a way to set yourself up for success. In the end, you’d said that the decision had really been brought on by him -- how, he didn’t know, but the thought that you’d credited something so serious to his intervention made his face flush and his body burn hot.

For your part, although you didn’t know anything about your classmate’s gargantuan crush, you certainly held him in high regard. He was so good at more or less anticipating what you needed or understanding how to help you that it made you feel … well, loved, even if just platonically. Izuku was probably the most analytical person you knew, so it just seemed natural at first that he knew you best. He probably knew most people best. It felt right to try to keep up with his level of enthusiasm, and for the most part, it was challenging, but doable. You didn’t know about One For All, of course, but you were there as he grew with it, made it his own, without ever really having the full context for his unbridled joy with each milestone he hit. Every achievement, every new step, every contagious, megawatt smile had made your heart lurch, and that was when you realized it. 

You loved Midoriya Izuku a little more than platonically.

But, you’d rationalized, if he’d felt the same way he surely would have said something. He was just sweet to just about everyone, always trying to be a good friend and be helpful. He was probably just treating you the way he would treat anyone who would let him, and as much as that hurt, you reasoned it couldn’t be helped. Not all love was requited, after all, and you didn’t want to make things weird.

You had a job offer six weeks into third year. It was contingent, of course, on your successful completion of U.A.’s Hero Course and obtaining your license within a certain period, but that all just seemed like static as you flew down the stairs two at a time to tell anyone and everyone within earshot. Mina had been the first to intercept you, commotion kicking up in an instant because you’d started yelling, and then she’d started yelling, and then Bakugo had started yelling because the two of you were yelling and getting on his nerves. Izuku had stuck his head around the corner long enough for you to notice, and you beelined for him without really thinking.

“They want me! Izuku, they want to keep me on as a sidekick!” His face was blank for a long moment, trying to keep up with the commotion before splitting into the biggest grin you’d seen on him yet. Your heart swelled, and before you could stop yourself, you’d thrown your arms around him, laughing. Izuku froze for a moment, suddenly aware of the number of eyes in the room, before you spoke again. “Thank you for helping me so much. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Slowly, carefully, he lifted his arms and squeezed back. It was brief, but full of feeling -- at least, he hoped. “You did all the hard stuff,” he managed, patting your back as you pulled away from him. “They would have been crazy not to give you an offer!”

The way your face was lit up with excitement, turning to show Kaminari and Sero the e-mail you’d received and chattering animatedly with Uraraka over their shoulders as she suggested celebrating … his heart almost couldn’t take it. That’s when he decided: this would be the year. He’d have to focus on getting in with an agency of his own, sure. Exams would be harder than ever. There were licensure exams to take, too, but by graduation, all of that would be behind you both. Graduation … he’d tell you then, for sure.

Of course, by the time graduation actually rolls around, he’s just about psyched himself out of saying anything at all. Your agencies aren’t forever away from one another, but what if it’s too complicated? What if you say no anyway, because you want to focus on getting started? Maybe he should wait, just one more year couldn’t --

It almost doesn’t matter, as mobbed as you both are all day. He catches your eyes across the courtyard more than once, but either he or you are awash in a sea of friends, underclassmen and classmates with well-wishes and flowers and requests to stay in touch. (He really has no idea how you’re carrying all of the bouquets, but it’s endearing.) The sun is low in the sky before he finally catches up to you, the near-empty courtyard bathed in yellow-orange light that makes the blossoms on the trees lining U.A.’s long path look almost red. He’s calling your name and taking off at a run before he really knows what he’s doing, the way he always has when it really matters. You stop in your tracks, looking over your shoulder just in time for him to put on the brakes and come to a stop near you. 

“Don’t -- don’t go anywhere just yet,” he pants, as if he doesn’t do this literally all the time. “There’s something I have to say. I-If I don’t tell you now I don’t think I’m ever going to get to tell you.” It’s quite the statement, to be sure, and you can’t help but be a little confused.

“Izuku,” you laugh, turning to look at him fully as he catches his breath. Despite the fact that he’d grown taller, filled out, managed to look just that little bit tougher over the last three years, for some reason you still saw him as the wide-eyed boy who spoke to you that first week and had suddenly decoded everything about your Quirk. “It’s not like I’m dying, I’m still going to be around. You can still text me, and we can still meet up if --”

“Please,” he says again, and it’s with such conviction that it stops you dead. A sort of warmth blooms in your chest, mouth full of cotton and anticipation. Something in you seems to know what’s coming before he says it: “I like you. I’ve always liked you.”

The tiny what that leaves your mouth doesn’t deter him in the least; it wouldn’t be Izuku if it did. “When we met in first year, you were always so on top of things, you worked so hard … I-I didn’t want to distract you. I thought it’d be unfair to do that to you, as much as you talked about your plans and what you wanted to do. Of course then things started getting out of hand and it was pretty easy to act like nothing was wrong, but I always -- I always thought of you as more than a friend. I kept thinking it’d be okay, but I couldn’t wait anymore.” His chest is heaving as if he’s run a marathon, heart slamming against his ribcage. Briefly, he thinks he’d rather be fighting a villain than waiting for your answer, but the chime of the school’s clock signaling the late afternoon hour is all he gets for a long moment. It’s … worrisome.

It strikes you suddenly that you feel like crying. Not because you’re upset -- far from it -- but as the tears start to burn at the edges of your eyelids, you can see the worry bleeding into his face about it, and you wave the hand not holding your bag somewhat frantically to try to get him to stop. The smile you give him is only a little bit watery, a laugh bubbling from the tightness in your throat. He starts to explain in his typical Izuku way, rapid-fire and almost too low to hear, that you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but you cut him off.

“All this time, here I was waiting for you when we could have been together all this time.”

He feels like his heart stops so abruptly he might pass out. He might, actually, pass out. “What?” It’s almost as small as yours had been, and he would be more embarrassed if he wasn’t so shocked.

“Do you just not have eyes?” His face flushes, eyes comically wide, and you can’t help the smile that spreads slow across your face. “Of course I like you too. I thought I couldn’t have been more obvious.”

Izuku is relatively certain he’s kicked the habit of bursting into a torrent of tears when he’s overwhelmed by then, but for a moment, he feels like it might make a comeback. You’re trying to keep yourself composed, laughing at the dumbfounded expression on his face when you feel his arms lock around you and drop your bag full of bouquets and gifts in shock. Your feet aren’t even on the ground anymore -- he’s strong enough after all this time to lift you with ease, you think idly, before your arms are around his neck and he’s burying his face in your shoulder like the scent of your fabric softener is the only thing he needs to breathe for the rest of his life. 

It may very well be. He spins you once, laughing into your blazer as you squeal in delight and squeeze him for security before setting you back on your feet, keeping hold of you until he knows you have your balance. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

“Izuku, you just told me it was three years. If you tell me you’ve been stalking me since middle school, we’re going to have to have a conversation.” Izuku chokes, and you laugh, pulling your hands from his shoulders and straightening yourself out a little where you became disheveled in his grip. For a few moments, you just enjoy each other’s presence, and the fading light reflected in the panes of glass on the facade of the school that brought you together. It’s quite something, now that you think of it, leaving it behind. 

“I wish I wasn’t leaving today,” you breathe, suddenly aware that you’ll be separated by more than a couple of floors for the first time in years. It seems too far -- maybe it’s always seemed too far, although you know you won’t be out of reach, necessarily. What’s a couple of trains between lovers?

You feel Izuku’s hands cupping your jaw, and for a moment, you think he’ll kiss you. If he wanted to, he could, but the nervous energy buzzing under his skin is telling him not yet, not just now. Soon, though. Instead, he smiles, bright as ever. It’s like daylight has come out again. “Let me walk you to the train,” he offers, and you smile back, heart full to bursting in your chest as he lowers a hand to take yours, lace your fingers together. You move to pick up your bag, but he beats you to it, hoisting it over his shoulder and grinning at you the way he always has.

He kisses you goodbye on the platform instead, chaste and sweet, texting you to make plans before you’ve even made it to your stop. You catch your own smile in the window of the train, and you wonder how you ever missed that he felt the same, already looking up activities halfway between your agencies.

#midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #bnha spring time #bnha imagine

[heroinepose]

hi

hello there!

#starling says #dark and delightful #dark-and-delightful

[heroinepose]

oh gosh, i’m honored! i’m so glad i got an entry in on time, and that you enjoyed it! 🌸

— writing contest winners

hi, i have been putting this off for very long and i;m sure that some of you forgot about this, but here i am!! here it is, the long awaited winners of my 500 follower writing contest!

i would like to preface this announcement with thanking everyone who submitted a piece for my contest, this was very, very hard to choose since so many talented writers came out to participate! thank you all so very much!

↠  in first place is @xcherieamorx with their fic ‘beautiful’ featuring katsuki bakugo! 

↠  in second place with their hitoshi shinso x reader fic entitled ‘two a.m.’ is @heroinepose!

↠  the first runner up, with their fic ‘cloud illusions’ with oboro shirakumo is @jojosmilktea! 

↠  and last, but not least, the second runner up with their hawks x reader entitled ‘eat me’ is the wonderful @cottoncharms! 

thank you all so much for your lovely writing! below i have listed the prizes each of you will receive! 

↠ winners [first and second place] will receive:

a custom fic with a maximum of 1’500 words and a minimum of 750 words for a character or ship of their choice.

a moodboard or a phone wallpaper for their favourite character or ship.

a 25 song playlist for their favourite character.

and a custom header for either their blog or a fic.

↠ runner-ups will receive:

a custom drabble (min. 300 words, max. 500 words)  for a character or ship of their choice

a phone wallpaper for their favourite ship or character.

a custom header for a fic of their choice.

please send me a pm within 24 hours to receive your prizes, since they will have to be customised! thank you everyone, once again, for participating!

[heroinepose]

ok so i'm going to say that "two a.m" with shinsou, is probably the best oneshot ive ever read with shinsou!! It was soooooo goooooood. Our sleepy purple haired boi doesn't get enough love at all. Can you do a part two of it? Maybe of them doing that walk to class and what they become of? Thank you!! have a nice day too and stay safe! (^-^)

oh my god this is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. 😭thank you so much, this is so wonderful to hear, especially as someone very new to the fandom and to writing reader insert content. 

and yes, i’ll see what i can do about our favorite insomniac and his new sweetheart. 😜

#starling says #anonymous #is this the part where i tell y'all i've only been a mha fan for like ... a few weeks #alksdjfhasljdfgsf

[heroinepose]

two a.m.

Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader Word Count: 2,316 (Yes, I lost control of this.) Warnings: None. We’re in fluff land again, friends. Someday the porn fairy will visit, but today is not that day.

Finals are stressful, even in your second year, and sleep doesn’t come easy with such a tall order ahead of you. It’s a damn good thing the company is so good.

This was written as an entry to @heroheads​’ 500 follower contest! Congratulations on hitting a milestone -- your work is amazing and you deserve it!

The looming final exams are becoming a menace in more ways than one. Almost all of your spare time has been dedicated to studying, training or sleep in the last three weeks. The challenges your teachers will issue in realtime are less worrisome to you as a second-year than the ones that come on paper, now that you think you know what they’ll be like. They’ll focus more on problem-solving and working on the fly; beyond making sure you’re as physically prepared as possible, you know your time is better spent studying for the written exams and making sure you’re rested.

… which makes it all the more infuriating that you can’t sleep.

The last couple of nights in particular have been rough, but at least last night you’d managed to get a few hours of good rest. Tonight it’s been a fruitless endeavor, and the weariness settles down to your very bones as you shut the door of your dormitory behind you as quietly as possible, stepping out into the faintly humid night air with a mug of tea clutched securely in your hand. Sitting on one of the steps leading up to the entryway, you heave an exhausted sigh as you settle down, lifting your mug to your lips and inhaling the sweet, herbaceous scent of chamomile and honey.

Heights Alliance is peaceful at night. It is the one blessing attached to being up so far into the wee hours: the solitude is truly tranquil out here on the front steps, with little but the humming of the streetlights and the rhythmless chirping of crickets to distract you. With the light pollution from campus and the surrounding area, you can’t see the stars as well, but the moon hangs full and only a little hazy above the treeline, dampening the orange glow from the always-on walkway lighting. Sipping carefully at the hot liquid in your mug, you tip your head back and close your eyes, pulling slow even breaths through your nose to try to lull yourself into some kind of meditative state. If you could just relax, force your body to slow down …

You’re not certain how long you’ve been sitting like that when you hear the telltale crunch-and-slide of someone’s footfalls up the walking path to the building, eyes snapping open to see who else could possibly be up at this hour. It takes a moment for you to refocus, tired eyes struggling to make out the figure from this distance in the dark. It isn’t until he passes directly under one of the lights lining the pathway inside the gate that you can clearly make it out as your classmate, Shinsou Hitoshi, very clearly out past curfew. His hands are jammed in his pockets, eyes low but ahead of him, lost in thought. You’ve watched him for so long -- since that first Sports Festival, naturally, but particularly after he joined the Hero Course -- that it’s a posture you recognize almost as much as you recognize your own tells, and while you’re no stranger to his dark circles, you would never have called seeing him here, now.

It makes your heart swell to aching to cross paths with him alone in daylight, but the lack of sleep and the stillness of the night makes it worse. You’d tried, you really had, to simply be content with a collegial relationship with the boy who didn’t join the program to make friends, but somehow that had twisted itself into the kind of friendship he had been avoiding so adamantly. … and then, on your part at least, it had gotten worse. He's clever, straightforward, and although he's certainly reserved, he’s been a remarkable support in the last year. In hindsight, it seems natural that it would have evolved on its own, out of control. You can’t help your feelings, but you do keep them buried, certain that he’s not at all interested in you.

Rather than call out to him, you choose to wait it out, sipping idly at your tea. He doesn’t appear to notice you as he draws closer to the front steps, hidden as you are near one of the columns. You’re not actually trying to scare him, but with his face tucked penseively into the top folds of his capture weapon, he won’t notice you at all if you don’t say something. Swallowing the tea in your mouth, you manage a smile as his foot hits the second step.

“Someone’s breaking curfew,” you singsong from your perch in the shadow of the dorm, watching his shoulders hitch slightly. His hands remain in his pockets as he turns, and you lift one hand from your mug to wave good-naturedly at him when he registers your presence and inclines his head to glower directly at you. 

“Someone should speak for themselves,” Shinsou mocks, although there’s no venom in it. “Should you be out here?”

“Ah, but I’m still on the front steps! I’m not out anywhere,” you reason, pointing at the remaining stairs that lead to the footpath he’s just taken through the courtyard. “Can’t get in trouble for breaking curfew if I never left, can I?”

You hear him chuckle before he changes direction, walking across the steps to sit next to you and finally removing his hands from his pockets. “I think your Hero Law scores have gone to your head. You’re drunk with power.” The backhanded praise and the grin that lingers on his face makes the heat creep into yours, and you take a long sip of hot tea to cover it.

“If only!” It’s a wistful sigh, head tipping back dramatically as you roll your eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m mostly drunk on lack of sleep.”

“Which is why you’re sitting on the steps at two in the morning,” Shinsou guesses, and you confirm the assumption with a slight shrug, turning your mug around in your hands.

“I’ve tried everything else, so I thought fresh air might help.” You nudge him with your shoulder, jostling him only slightly in his seat next to you. “Now, why are you sitting on the steps at two in the morning?”

He leans in conspiratorially, and you find yourself leaning too, before you can stop yourself. “Because some creepy woman lurking in the shadows startled me.” Your face falls.

“Shinsou,” you scold, and he cracks a smile, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Seriously, you were already gone when I got out here and you’re only just getting back. Where did you go?” A thought occurs to you, a mild tightness in your chest, and you risk asking the question in the form of a joke. “Did you get a secret girlfriend when none of us were looking?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he murmurs, averting his gaze and dropping his hand so both of his elbows rest on his knees. There are a few beats of silence between you.

“... secret boyfriend?”

He moves, as if to stand, with a great sigh. “Okay, I’m going inside --”

“I’m joking!” You’re whisper-shouting, to avoid calling attention to either of you, tugging on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, Shinsou, please. I know, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry I asked.”

The movement stops, and he settles on the step next to you, reaching over to take your mug right out of your hand. You’re so startled that you don’t stop him, watching him lift it slightly. “If that’s what you think, maybe you’re drunk on whatever is in here, not power. When would I have even had the time?” He reaches behind the both of you to set it down as your fingers slip from his sleeve, the dull clink of ceramic against concrete surprisingly loud in the quiet of the night.

“It’s just tea,” you grouse, but you make no move to reclaim it. The brush of his arm against you is comfort enough to replace its warmth -- that and the relief that he isn’t off seeing someone, not that you have any right to feel that way. “Anyway, I’m entitled to be a little worried when my friends wander home so late.”

“Your friends come home after midnight that often?” Shinsou’s tone is light; he knows he’s caught you out. He’ll make you say it, though, because that’s always his game.

“No,” you sigh. “You’re the first. Still ...” 

There’s another lull where he says nothing, considering you as you look out into the empty courtyard. Your brows are furrowed, like you’re thinking much too hard about something. Maybe it’s the late -- early? -- hour, but he seems emboldened slightly by your aversion to looking at him.

“Still …?” He presses. “Why would you worry about me?”

Your breath hitches a little when you draw a breath to respond, cutting your eyes over to him briefly as you choose your words. His dark circles are more pronounced here in the shadows, and maybe it’s the way the fiber of his capture weapon looks like spun silver at night, but it brings up a flood of concern you haven’t voiced since he was accepted to the hero program at the start of the year.

“You worked so hard to get here,” you say, words slow and deliberate. You’re concentrating so hard on being careful that you fail to notice how he stops breathing. “I think you might have worked harder than anyone else I know. Saying it out loud sounds stupid, I guess, but I worry about how you handle it all.” One breath and you’re rambling, mind racing with the effort to dance around what you want to say: that you care for him, that you’re always cheering him on, but how much he worries you. “You deserve to be here, Shinsou. You deserve to become a hero, and you’re -- you’re my friend, and sometimes I worry that if you’re not taking care of yourself --”

It happens so quickly you’re not quite sure how he’s done it, but you’re silenced by the assertive tug of fingers beneath your chin, pulling you to face him. Then all you can feel is his lips on yours, the scent of cedar and something faintly minty overwhelming you, and even the crickets seem to stop. All you can process is the fact that oh, he’s kissing you. Shinsou Hitoshi just kissed you.

You feel as if you might implode. It’s soft, and warm, but unpracticed -- somehow, though, it’s everything you’d imagined it would be, the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours. You didn’t think he’d be the type to really go for it on the first try like others you’ve kissed who were all teeth and tongue right out of the gate, and a private part of you is gratified to be right, a shiver working its way down your spine as he adjusts his fingers against your jaw. 

He pulls away carefully, but the warmth in your chest spurs you on, looping your fingers in the capture weapon draped around his neck to pull him in again, lean in further. You feel him sigh against you, a soft exhale through his nose, and can’t help the twitch of your lips into a smile against his. You hold him there a few long seconds more before you pull away, realizing how warm your face is now that he’s not so close. 

“Finally,” Shinsou breathes, his voice close to a whisper. “Took you long enough.” Your jaw drops immediately, hand still curled in the fabric draped along his shoulders.

“Me?” You say, loud enough to actually get him to shush you quietly, reaching up to grab your hand where it rests against his capture weapon in an attempt to distract you, calm you down. It works, if only because the feel of his fingers wrapped around yours sends something akin to electricity rocketing up your arm. You take a breath, release it in a huff, before lowering your voice. “What about you, Mr. I’m Not Here to Make Friends, and Therefore Not Date People?”

The man in question quirks a brow, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I don’t believe I ever said that last part.”

“Does one not kind of preclude the other?”

“I suppose that depends on your point of view,” he laughs, “but we can argue semantics in a few hours if you’re really that hung up on it.”

“Shinsou!” It’s more of a hiss than anything, trying to regulate your volume as he lets go of your hand, reaching behind you for your long-forgotten mug and standing up at last. You’re pouting up at him when he offers you the other, his grin only a little smug as you take it and allow him to pull you up. He uses the momentum to pull you into just one more kiss, little more than a brief peck against your lips, a way to silence your argument for now. You let him, breathing deeply as he pulls away.

“It’s late. Just sleep on it,” he offers, “and if you still feel that strongly about it in the morning, let me walk you to class so you can yell at me some more.”

That sly bastard. You smile in spite of yourself, watching him as he pulls you up the stairs, closer to the door. Once inside, he keeps hold of your hand as you deposit your mug in the sink -- you can deal with the whining about leaving things there in the morning -- parting ways with you only when you need to split up and head to your respective sides of the building, barely-there whispers of goodnight and seriously, go to bed the last of your affectionate gestures for the moment. The full weight of what’s occurred on the front steps hits you as the elevator doors close, leaning against the interior wall and looking at yourself in the reflection of the metal.The smile stuck on your face widens a little, giddy with the knowledge that he likes you back.

Suddenly, a peaceful few hours’ sleep doesn’t seem so difficult.

#shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #heroheads 500 follower writing contest #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #i still don't know what tags to use aaaaah #anyway i'm glad i could write this!!! #even if i lost all control over it at some point

[heroinepose]

cardioversion

Kaminari Denki x Reader Word Count: 1,035 Warnings: None, really, but your teeth might rot from all this sugary-sweet fluff. 

Sleepovers with your boyfriend might be a primary source of comfort for you after a long week, but your favorite part is definitely the morning after.

Sundays were sacred to you and your live-wire of a boyfriend. You’d been fortunate to get into U.A., and neither of you took it for granted … but the longer you were there, the more grueling the program got. That was before factoring in the imminent threats that seemed to follow you and your classmates around like a bad coin. Recovering from the pressure of that meant deliberately taking time out to care for yourselves and for each other. In turn, that meant a standing Saturday night sleepover, and the aforementioned Sunday sleeping with no alarm to wake you. It’s how you got to where you are now, the line of your body pressed along his in a bed not designed to hold two. This time, you’ve become the little spoon of the operation, although more often than not the small space means you’re half on top of him.

The sun filtering through the gaps in his curtains as the air conditioning stirs them makes you shut your eyes a little tighter, stretching your legs out sleepily where they tangle with his with a quiet groan. The dorm is still quiet -- or at least the third floor is -- and the peace makes you want to go right back to sleep, the siren call of Denki’s quiet, even breathing along your shoulder like a balm for your tired soul. You could stay there all day. You won’t, because you still live in a dorm and there are considerations to be made, but sometimes you catch yourself thinking about what it would be like to do this exact thing to no consequence, in a place of your own.

You have decided that you love that idea, but you’re not ready to share it just yet. It’s a happy thought all to yourself for the next while.

Twisting gently under the weight of the arm slung across your midsection, you make yourself open your eyes at least long enough to make sure you haven’t disturbed him with your movement. You shuffle by increments, until you can splay your fingers against the soft fabric of his t-shirt and feel for the slow, steady heartbeat you know so well by now. It’s gentle, and if you didn’t already know exactly where to look, you might not find it, but it thumps steadily under your palm, backed by the slow expansion of his chest as he continues to dream, hopefully unaware that you’re more or less feeling him up first thing in the morning.

Lifting your tired gaze to Denki’s face, you can’t help the gentle flex of your fingers or the hitch in your pulse. He isn’t the world’s prettiest sleeper -- neither are you, probably, although you reason with a small smile that he would insist you were -- but somehow the sight of his wild blond bedhead and gently parted lips is one of your favorite things in the world. It’s a stark contrast to what he is in most of his waking hours and it feels private, intimate, like it’s only meant for you. Your heart throbs in your chest at the thought, and you can’t help but shift a little more, stretching to press the gentlest of kisses to his forehead. 

He doesn’t react, so you move to the bridge of his nose -- which he scrunches in his sleep, widening your smile slightly as your lips leave his skin. Another is pressed to his cheek, dappled with wavering sunlight from the still-swaying curtains, and you hear him sigh only milliseconds before you feel the arm over you moving, his hand pressing to your back and running up your spine. When you huff a quiet laugh, his fingers twitch against your shoulderblade.

It isn’t until you risk a kiss to his lips, sweet and feather-light, that you realize he’s actually awake. You feel him press harder into you, chasing your lips as they retreat. You let him, and it’s chaste at first -- just a gentle pressure, sleepy affection without aim. Then Denki shifts, using the arm around you as a way to scoop you sideways and under him, caging you with his arms as this kiss deepens. Your head swims as his tongue slides against yours, slow and languid, and his hips slot between your thighs. 

He pulls away to press a warm, slow kiss to the line of your jaw, the side of your neck, the hollow of your throat. It’s not a sexual act, not by any means; this isn’t about that, at least not now. He simply wants to be close to you, as close as possible, and this is the easiest method. He does take advantage of his access to your chest, exposed by the side neck of the sleep shirt you’d chosen, he continues his trail down until he can press a lingering kiss to your sternum, pausing there long enough for you to thread your fingers through his messy hair. 

Denki turns his head, laying a flushed cheek against your chest where he can listen to your heart, feel more than hear the echo of the sleepy laugh you let slip as he makes himself comfortable, sliding his hands around you as much as he can from this angle. Your fingers work gently against his scalp, rubbing and scratching here and there as you do what you can to tame the unruly blond mess he’s managed to make in his sleep. 

“G’morning, gorgeous.” He greets you the same way he always does, and he listens for a change in your heart rate every time. If he has ever detected it, he hasn’t told you, but you like to think he can hear it.

“Good morning,” you sigh in return, letting your eyes slip closed as you feel the telltale press of his smile against your skin. He makes no move to get off of you, and you won’t ask. You’ll simply enjoy the closeness for a while, and neither of you will complain.

Your teachers, your classmates, every villain in Japan can have every other day of the week. This, your Sunday ritual … for as long as you can keep it, you’ll hold that sacred, just for the two of you.

#kaminari denki #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #i am SO SOFT FOR DENKI IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT #i will not explain myself #i also did not edit this because i don't love myself enough #I HAVE HOWEVER HAD TO FIX MY FORMATTING THREE TIMES #come on tumblr throw a girl a bone

[heroinepose]

I have been going here for precisely one whole minute, but I’m here! ✍️

FOR 2020 MHA/BNHA LIST

Please REBLOG and COMMENT down if you are BNHA X READER/OC ! I will be reaching out later on if you wish to be promoted and be added or removed from the list! 

Please follow the direction above especially if you are a new writer for the fandom!

[heroinepose]

Ohhh hellooo lets discuss!! Shinsou, how do we feel about him?

Shinsou Hitoshi, for all that he is somehow simultaneously the black sheep and the dark horse of the first-year General Studies cohort, isn’t on your radar when he upsets the balance at the U.A. Sports Festival your first year. Your memory of it is chaotic, disjointed – the mad dash that was the Obstacle Race had been a blur even on the day, and the Cavalry Battle was the kind of frenzy one expected more from piranhas than people. You have no real recollection of him at all until that first match against 1-A’s Midoriya, when he shocks your entire class (and several others) by effectively hijacking his entire opponent.

You’ve never seen anything like it. Your classmates are impressed, if wary, but you’re still sussing it out. You don’t know how you feel about it. There’s a place for every kind of Hero in the world, certainly, but there is the very practical question of how you put that specific kind of skill to work in a way that serves others. You aren’t bold enough to ask him directly, not just yet, but it spurs a thought or two … of varying propriety, you admit, but only to yourself. There are too many question marks to reconcile, your knowledge is too limited, and the tournament has many matches more to go until the festivities end for the first-years. By the time it’s over, you’ve decided to leave well enough alone.

He’s no longer off your radar, but he is quietly on your periphery rather than a constant flashing signal. You’re sure you won’t know how you feel about him or his ability for quite a while, but it doesn’t seem to matter with everything else U.A. endures in the following months.

It’s a slow change, but you notice it when you notice him – the slight sharpening of his jawline, the lean muscle shifting along his arms (has he always had those guns …?) as he moves when they’re showing. He’s clearly hard at work at something, and the ethic shows as the months roll on into summer. It’s more stark when the preparations for the School Festival are underway, and you can’t help but pass him by as you help tote supplies for your class’s endeavor. The 1-C students are building … well, you don’t really know what, but it’s certainly construction-heavy, and the change in physical strength is more obvious than ever. By the time you realize it’s a haunted house, you’re waist-deep in your own preparations, losing track of him as construction moves inside their structure. You barely have time to acknowledge your own disappointment, at least.

When Shinsou himself – the man, the myth, the cryptid – quite literally drops out of the ceiling and almost onto your head the following week, bloody and pale, your reasonable reaction is to scream along with your friends. It is a haunted house, that is the point, and you clutch each other close and let the drama of the experience run away with you, clamoring in a tight formation to avoid whatever just dropped out of the ceiling. That is, until you get a good look at him in the dim light, shirt riding up his midsection as he dangles menacingly … and sporting the deepest v-line you’ve ever seen on a boy. 

Well, the fear is certainly forgotten. You freeze, knowing the staring is undignified, and you can feel your classmates pulling at your shirt to get you around him, but you’re riveted. It’s the first opportunity you’ve really had to get a long look at him close-up, and you aren’t disappointed. He’s committed to his part, although you can see the chiseled surface of his abs flex with the effort to stay at this angle until you’re done gawking, the quirk of his eyebrow the only indication that he has any idea you’re stuck in a thirst trap of your own design and not just scared out of your wits. As if from outside your own body, you feel someone pull on your hand and yank you around him, and as suddenly as the episode began, it’s over. Your face and neck are warm, your mouth is dry, and your heart is slamming in your ribcage, but luckily all of that is more or less to be expected.

You don’t know how you feel about Shinsou Hitoshi for a very long time, indeed.

… but you know you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha x reader #this post brought to you by starling's 2am thirst #seriously we were blessed by those abs #i don't know what i'm doing but i've had whiskey and i'm GOING FOR IT #hi i'm new here how are you folks