Some Oikawas I Drew For An Event On Twitter!

designed my own spiderzuku !!

various !

🍮hq! and mha! as kissing tropes i love (various)

mha !

🍮sero hc's bc i'm in love with him (s.h) prt.2 bc i can't get enough of him

🍮omg what ! part 3 of sero hc !?! this time bf edition

🍮my faves and their favorite song off evermore (s.h, i.m, k.b, o.u)

🍮11:10pm (s.h)

🍮how they crush (s.h, i.m, k.b)

🍮sero crushing on his bsf hc's (s.h) +

🍮crushing on bsf ft. Mistletoe (s.h) (prt 2 to ⬆️)

🍮 11:46pm (s.h)

🍮 rating how good of a bf they'd be (s.h, i.m, k.b)

🍮 sero drabbles 1, drabble 2, drabble 3, drabble 4,

🍈 izuku taking care of you while sick (i.m) 

🍈classy (b.k)

🍈 sero brain dump: concert (s.h)

🍈 types of crushees they are (s.h) (i.m) (k.b)

🍈 almost meeting the parents. (s.h) (alt title; keir projecting her inability to commit to anyone as she dreams of sero comforting her)

🍈 when they're down bad (s.h), (i.m), (k.b), (d.k)

🍈sero with a healer / angel s/o (s.h)

🍈how they drive (i.m),(m.a) ,(d.k) ,(k.b)

🍈 ochako as ur gf (o.u) another one some more bc i love her so

🍈 thinking about the bakusquad (b.k), (s.h), (k.d), (k.e),

🍈 when do they get slurpee’s? (multi)

🍈 shouto angst ? idk what to title it (s.t)

🍈 lil drabble abt buying a home w bkg (b.k)

🍈 date gone wrong (s.h)

spider-verse !

To be added …

haikyuu !

🍈matsukawa boyfriend things ! (i.m)

🍈oikawa head canons (o.t)

🍈 Thinking about Hanamaki Takahiro who met the love of his life in high school. (h.t)

🍈 brainrot abt Maki becoming a stand up comedian (h.t)

fluff ⊹ college au

as much as he hates to admit it to himself, osamu is struggling. 

he wants to be strong — someone you could depend on, someone you could run to when life’s wearing you down, someone you could simply feel content and safe with. his thoughts were plagued with the notion that he was anything but that someone to you. 

and that’s why he does everything in his ability to bring that radiant smile — the one he finds himself daydreaming about — to the curve of your lips. 

while his friends go out to dingy frat houses, singing at the top of their lungs as they celebrate their freedom and youth, osamu picks up the night shift at the diner by his apartment. he started working there his first year, hoping to make some extra money so his mom wouldn’t have to worry about him from miles and miles away. the owner was a sweet man, roughly in his 60s, often humming an incomprehensible tune as he chopped vegetables and meat. truthfully, osamu didn’t mind working extra shifts while his friends went out (they’d call him boring and a workaholic, but he didn’t care). in fact, he was happy to make extra money if it meant that he could take you out to a fancy dinner (a local ramen restaurant), buy you dessert afterward (a quick stop to the convenience store with a smile on his face as he watches the light from the freezer section reflect in your eyes), and surprise you with flowers to end the night (hand-picked from the field a couple miles off campus). 

perhaps he should be living like the rest — either catching up on assignments in the library or coming back home stumbling and slurring his words. perhaps he should start saving his money like you always tell him to, but he’s only twenty and feels no reason to. 

he’d much rather be here, at the silver counter at the back of the diner kitchen, experimenting with different sauces while the man next to him hums the same usual love song. this time, the aura’s a bit different. the man has a smile on his face, he’s chopping the green onion at a slow beat as if there’s a metronome playing in his head. 

“son, ya like cookin’, don’t ya?” 

“i do, sir,” osamu continues to add garlic to the simmering sauce in his pan, a sugary sheen glazing over it. 

“why not cook at home? bring that special someone ya keep thinkin’ about,” he jerks his elbow towards osamu’s arm. 

“i like working here. i like the people, and the food, and the sounds.” 

osamu also likes how you visit him every friday when your classes end. without a doubt, rain or shine, you’ll glide into the diner with a soft smile on your lips. he likes how you walk over to the counter and ask him if there’s a ‘samu around. he also likes how you look behind him, checking on the man who’s too busy tapping his wooden spoon against the pot to notice, before placing a gentle kiss to his lips. and in that moment, he lets himself close his eyes, relax a little, melt into it like softened butter. 

and when you pull away, you see the sleepiness in his eyes. you always wonder how he goes to class, comes to work, goes to the library to work on assignments, and then rushes back to the diner after he eats so he can work another shift. bringing your hand up to cradle his cheek, you ask if he’s okay. he leans into the warmth of your skin for a second before giving you a quick nod. 

“i’m almost done with my shift. wanna go out for somethin’ in a bit?” 

“we don’t have to eat out today,” you tell him, tugging on his sleeve like you always do when you insist on staying in. 

“not even ice cream? ya said ya wanted to try that shit-lookin' chocolate one.” 

“if your shit looks like that i’m a bit concerned for you,” you tell him, twirling his sleeve around your fingers. his teeth peek out from his lips in a dimply smile, one that has you swooning. "no shit-lookin' ice cream today."

"then what do ya wanna do? it's friday night, ya should do something fun." you notice the way he excludes himself from his words.

"how about we just chill at my place tonight? watch a movie or something? i still have those chips you like," you insist. "and my roommates aren't home. stay as long as you want?"

oh, how 'samu loves your place — the comfort of your bed, your sheets that smell like you. he can't help but nod a bit too eagerly, catching your hand in his larger ones.

he gets back to work as quick as he can, not wanting you to leave you waiting, but truthfully, you don't mind. you watch his back flex in his black uniform as he wipes down the counter. osamu can feel your eyes on him, and suddenly he has love songs blooming in his mind, wisps of a sweet melody coursing through his veins.

you're too good for him, he thinks. you don't mind his chaste kisses when he's in a rush, or when he decides to nap on your shoulder between classes.

he throws his boss a quick wave before throwing on his jacket, shoving his arm into the sleeve as he stumbles towards the front of the diner to see you again. you look up at him with something like ardor and solace swimming in your eyes. placing a quick kiss to the top of your head, osamu slips his hand into yours.

"sorry, babe, took me longer than usual to check inventory," he apologizes, squeezing your hand a couple times as the brisk air touches your skin.

"'s all good. i like watching you work. you're all focused in there."

"gotta be or that man's gonna throw me out. how else am i gonna pay for your expensive ass drinks?"

"all that for a matcha with sweet cream cold foam," you squeeze his hand back in appreciation.

"yeah, well, don't wan' anyone else buyin' those for ya."

osamu's cute like this — nose all red from the cold, a wrinkle in his brow at the thought of someone else surprising you with your favorite drink every morning. atsumu thinks his brother has it bad for you ("down so fuckin' bad, dude," he'd say), and honestly, osamu agrees. he never thought he'd be excited to wake up at the crack of dawn to pick up your favorite coffee before your 8 am, or watch you get distracted by online shopping when you should've been doing your assignment. if love is seeing you at the end of each day, kissing your lips even when he's covered in condiments and oil, holding your backpack for you after a long day, then osamu wants it all.

because even when he should be worrying about the quiz he has tomorrow and the fact that he hasn't slept properly in the past four weeks, he starts to hum that familiar love song when you unlock the door to your apartment (it's become familiar to you, too, because that tune escapes his lips whenever you're by his side).

reblogs n interactions are appreciated!

Shinsou Hitoshi is the definition of enemies to lovers. Someone write that. (They said as a writer)

i’m curious what’s your sign and would u rather have elf ears or fangs? and why?

i miss my sero hanta.

𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄

➢ sometimes the prettiest stars aren’t in the sky

note: thank you so much to @lilsparkyswife for letting me be apart of her fluffvember!! don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog on every work featured :))

characters: izuku

content: fluff, stargazing through the car roof, flustered izuku, just cuteness all around 

words: 0.7k

He had this all planned out. From the date, to the day, to even the time he would ask. A foolproof plan, one may add. Yet, it seemed that some force, possibly the universe, was having none of this. Laughing in his face at the absurdity of asking such a person out. A person that was none other than you. 

You, the one Midoriya would call a dear friend of his. Well, he would have a few weeks ago. Before the mere mention of your name made his stomach flip and turn his face cherry red. It surprised him how you hadn’t caught on by now, since his behavior was far from ordinary. Yet, you were oblivious or rather knew but wanted to spare his feelings. Either way, Izuku was determined to make his feelings known. 

Keep reading

pretty baby (e-42 miles x black! fem!reader)

— car rides with miles nvr fail to make u queazy

— ⚠️: light cursing, slightly suggestive, slight angst, kinda sensitive reader

"you are unbelievable, y'know that?"

sitting in the car scrunched up with your legs close to your chest, you turned your whole body away from the driver's seat, trying to avoid any and all contact with the driver. after what happened today, you didn't think you could ever face miles again, too embarrassed to talk to him the entire car ride.

"it wasn't even that big a deal baby, i'm sure nobody even cared like that," he chuckled. he thought it was childish how such small moments could affect your mood for such wildly long periods of time.

"I sucked the syrup off your fingers miles, in front of all your friends. i'm humiliated!" you cried, putting your hands over your face and bending down into your lap; anything to avoid eye contact with him.

looking back at the road with a smirk on his face, he said, "if it makes you feel better, I didn't mind it..-"

"MILES!" you whined as you snapped your head in his direction. "how could you say that to me right now?!"

"oh– ok i'm sorry baby, but that doesn't mean you have to act like this-!"

you rolled your head back as you groaned and covered your face with your hands again; he didn't get it. the way you were perceived was extremely important to you, especially in front of people who you deemed important. you didn't want your boyfriends' friends to perceive you as some sort of sex fiend.

"just drive miles. you don't get it."

furrowing his eyebrows, he turned the block and pulled into a mcdonalds parking lot near your house. "then make me understand, hm? why are you letting this stupid shit affect you?"

"oh my god miles just take me home, please I don't wanna talk about it–"

"no, see 'cause now you have my attention, what's the matter?" if there was one thing you knew about miles, it's that he won't let shit go, especially when it comes to you.

"miles, i swear to god if you don't drive me home i'm gonna get out this car and walk," you threatened. you could feel tears begin to form in your eyes and the burning feeling you get in your gut when you're about to cry. miles noticed your chest rising and falling, a telling sign you were about to cry; this only pushed him further.

"you not goin' nowhere. not until you talk to me, so here's what we gon' do; we will sit in this car and we won't move until you start talking," he said as brought his hand up to your face, wiping the tear that escaped your waterline before it could drip and ruin your makeup.

your face scrunched up at the small gesture and you pressed your lips in a tight line. suddenly the burning feeling burned even hotter, and the saliva in your mouth began to increase. more tears slipped from your eyes. in a soft yet pleading voice, you asked, "please, can I just go home?"

he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at your state and it was then he could tell this was a real problem. "ay baby.. eres mi vida. talk to me," he cupped your face with both of his hands as they caught the tears falling. with your face smushed in his hands, he leaned in to give you a smooch, not caring if your lipgloss got all over him– he just wanted to see you smile for him.

"I don't want them to think badly of me miles.. they all looked at me funny and were cheering when I did it. I humiliated myself in front of them," you spilled, not wanting to keep it in anymore. and to be honest, it felt weird crying in your boyfriends' hands and not into your pillow alone in your room.

putting his forehead to yours, he said, "hey, look at me; you don't always have to worry about impressing everybody. everybody don't matter, you understand me? only me and you, ok? ion' wanna see you crying over some pinche pendejos who don't got they own girls and haven't matured since middle school."

you giggled softly as you sniffled your nose.

"there's that pretty smile," he mumbled as he gave a kiss to the top of your head.

"my pretty girl…”

you could feel your face get warmer after what he said, the indication, that big yet subtle word “my” sticking out to you like a sore thumb.

“what, you like that? like when I call you that mi vida?” you knew he would never let you live this down, and this would be one of your many nicknames he would use on you to get you flustered to his own advantage.

“shut up—”

“what, you don’t wanna be my pretty girl?” he inquired whilst leaning back to look at you, feigning disappointment.

“of course I do miles-”

“then lemme hear you say it chiquita— c’mon I wanna hear you say it,” he said sounding very suave. you grew weak in the knees whenever miles deepened his voice while speaking to you, and he definitely used this to his advantage. thank goodness you we’re sitting down because lord knows if you were standing, you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together without bending over backwards for him.

your eyes wandered to anywhere else in the car, not wanting to see the look on miles face when you said what you were about to say, “i’m your pretty girl.”

“yeah, I know that’s right.”

– i wanna be his pretty girl so bad lol

— hq boys as soft, flirty moments

♡ suna r., atsumu m., osamu m., oikawa t. -> hq masterlist

♡ missed writing for them (suna) so much

— suna’s palm flattens itself against your lower back, he brushes past the crowd and bends down to lowly speak into your ear. a compliment can barely be heard over the blaring music but a heat spreads through your body nevertheless at the smirk that’s spread itself on suna’s face.

— atsumu is always asking for simple favors. only for his hands to wrap around yours when you hand him the waterbottle, or the remote, or his phone…he can’t help it, really, he just gets a little nervous around you and forgets how to flirt.

— osamu has made it a habit to bend down and give you a kiss on your cheek every-time you leave a gathering. he’s very slick with it, the action almost unnoticeable to everyone. well, everyone but atsumu, who shoves his twin and whispers, “make a move already, dumbass.”

— oikawa’s gaze meets yours. the group continues to laugh at a joke he’s made and yet the only reaction he really cares about is yours. you give him a small smile, nodding in his way, to which he returns with a wink and a nod. it’s a small gesture, one you know you shouldn’t read too into, but you can’t help the warmth your heart feels.