Stoooop Ushijima In The Coming Home Post Killed Me 😭😭 I Love Big Stoic Guys Who Are Actually Teddy

Hiya can you do Tsukishima crushing on Sugawara younger sister who is in the same year and class as him and Sugawara is super protective of his younger sister? ❤❤❤❤❤ five hearts for the best rating of an awesome writer

This is like three years old but I'm trying to clean out my inbox and I came up with ideas for this years ago so here they are:

“Awww, you loveeee me,” yn coos. 

“No,” he rolls his eyes and turns away, “I don’t.”

“Tsukki fell in love with meeee,” she sang, rocking from side to side with a teasing grin. 

I feel like Suga is mostly resistant to letting Tsukishima date his sister bc he knows how mean and rash Tsukki can be. 

Tsukishima one time just walks up behind yn and drops his forehead onto her shoulder. A muffled groan escapes from him while she pats his cheek and snorts. “Why is everyone so stupid?”

In the distance, Sugawara sees this and malfunctions. This is the first time he’s seen them together. 

For the first time in tsukishima’s life, he actually wanted human contact. He wanted to hold someone, maybe their hand. Or hug someone, even for just a second. He wanted to run his hands down their sides and brush the stray hairs from their face.

It was you. That “someone” was you.

yn sugawara. 

Across the Hall (Oikawa x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Across the hall lived Oikawa, a smug womanizer who never knew how to confront his one-night stands after their five minutes of fame. To avoid confrontation, he repeatedly seeks refuge in your apartment, or in his case, in your bed. But what happens when you start to grow feelings for this amorous neighbor of yours?

A/N: (It’s not five am! Yay me!) This is an au prompt called “You live across the hall and you hide in my apartment when you want to avoid your one-night stands” I got from this list. My god, I wanted this to be so much better than it actually was. If even a single person likes this, I will be eternally grateful. I sincerely hope you guys like this one! 

Word count: 5678

        Your apartment complex was filled with… a different kind of people. The tenants below you, one ginger and one blunet, bickered like no other. Meanwhile, the renters above you, one with a buzzcut and one with black hair and a bleached tuft, constantly watched and fawned over Next Top Model. It was all weird, but the most curious one of all was the man who lived across from you. 

        He was a womanizer with no sense of personal space, and constantly holed up in your apartment to wait out his one-night stands. Over the months, you two became friends, and while you repeatedly offered to let him hide and rest in your spare bedroom, he never seemed to appreciate the offer. Instead, he had a tenacious habit of crawling into your bed space and wrapping his arms around you with the claim that he couldn’t sleep without cuddling something. No matter how many pillows you chucked at him, you seemed to be his most favorite teddy bear.

        Tonight was no different, and your heart fluttered when he pulled you tighter into his chest. He had woken you up instantly, and he was lucky that you were too tired to be pissed off by the act. 

        “Oikawa,” you mumble lazily, rubbing the tiredness away from your eyes, “you know I only gave you that key for emergencies, right?”

        “But this is an emergency, YN. The girls never leave unless I’m not there when they wake up.”

        “Then maybe you should stop hooking up with random women.”

        “I don’t see the issue.”

        “Mhm,” you hum, rolling over in his embrace and yawning in his face. He gags at the smell and you smirk. “You know there’s a perfectly good couch for you to sleep on, right?”

        “It’s extremely uncomfortable, I can’t stand that thing. I don’t know why you bought it.”

        “Okay, then what about my spare room?” 

        “I’ve slept in there too! And trust me, nothing is more comfortable than this bed right-” Oikawa’s ranting is cut off by a frantic knock on your door. With a sigh, you nod your head towards the hall of your apartment and raise a brow. 

        “Is that tonight’s expedition?” He gives you a bashful smile.

        “Possibly.” Rolling your eyes, you scramble out of your bed and trudge out of your room. The banging is about to rip your door right off its hinges. As it shivers from the force, Oikawa trails timidly behind you and peeks over your shoulder at the sight. 

        “What, did you bang a pro-wrestler or something?” You’re judging him so hard right now. 

        “Ugh, YN. So unfeminine. I don’t ‘bang,’ I make love.” 

        “To a rhino?” You watch with wide eyes as your front door trembles before approaching it slowly. 

        “Maybe.” Oikawa opts to cower behind the island in your kitchen, which is adjacent to the entrance of your apartment and in a perfect position for him to not be spotted. 

        “Wonderful,” you mutter, hesitantly placing a hand on the knob and opening the barricade to the beast. “Can I help you?” you ask, plastering on a fake smile.

        Your neighbor’s one-night stand looks like she just stepped out of a magazine. With wavy blonde hair and long, tan legs, she seemed like the type to squash men under her designer stilettos and not bat an eye. Exactly his type.

        “Yes, I’m looking for my… boyfriend Tooru,” she glances inside your apartment suspiciously, getting a little too close for comfort. “Have you seen him?”

        “Umm, nope. Haven’t seen him.” You boredly blink at her and keep a hand on the door just in case she tries to barge inside. 

        “Well, if you do, could you tell him Sakura is looking for him?” She flashes you a dazzling smile that almost burns your irises.

        “Sure.”

        “Thanks! I’ll see you around!” Waving goodbye, she disappears inside the apartment across from yours, presumably to relocate her clothes from the night before. 

        “Not likely,” you mumble gruffly, slamming the door. You step into your kitchen only to find Oikawa casually eating a bowl of cereal on a stool at your counter. He shoots you an incredulous look.

        “She didn’t see me, right?!”

        “Oh no, of course not.” You snatch the breakfast away and munch on a bite of Cheerios. “Your girlfriend didn’t notice you stealing my food out in the open like a buttnugget.”

        “I am not a ‘buttnugget’! And I’d prefer you not speak with your mouth full.” You stick your tongue out at him and he grimaces at the bits of chewed food still visible. “Nasty. Anyways, she’s not my girlfriend.” 

        “I guess you’re right,” you shrug, plopping onto a stool next to his, “she’s more like the love of your life.” You waggle your eyebrows at him and he scoffs while pushing your shoulder playfully. 

        “Not in a million years.” He rises from his seat and smoothly presses his ear to the door before checking the peephole. “Coast is clear. You should probably go back to bed, YN. Get some more of that beauty rest you so desperately need.”

        “Bite me,” you grumble around a mouthful of cereal. 

        “I just might.” With a wink, he disappears out into the hall and back into his own home. The feeling of disappointment when he left wasn’t unknown to you, but you didn’t want to mull over it right now. Instead, you purse your lips and stand to wash the now-empty bowl, catching a glimpse of your clock on the way. 

        “Three a.m! What the fuck?!” Now that you know, the darkness outside your windows makes a lot more sense. Fortunately, it’s a Saturday, and it’s also not the first time Oikawa has required your help in fending off his nighttime companions. You’re used to it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t ream his ass about it every time you’re a little more conscious and awake. 

        “Goddamnit Oikawa.”

                                ***

It happens again, and again, and again. And every time it does, your feelings for him grow just a bit more, weirdly enough. On those early mornings that you wake up to him sliding into your bed and winding himself around you, you can’t help but wish it was for an entirely different reason. Sadly, reality was that he was just trying to escape his nightly mistakes. 

        Some days, you rouse to the smell of bacon wafting into the room. Others, he slips in and out before you even stir, leaving only a couple pancakes and a thank you note in his wake. 

        It’s been more than a year of this. A year of your apartment being used as a hideout, and of you being used as snuggly aftercare. Finally, you’ve decided you’ve had enough. You made a plan to confess at Christmas while you exchange gifts. 

        “Oh wow!” You hold up the hand-written slip of paper with an amused smile. It had been packaged in several wrapped cardboard boxes, and you had spent twenty minutes removing and ripping open one after the other while Oikawa busted a gut. “A limited time coupon for one free booty call!” You shake your head with a small chortle while he snickers at the gift. 

        “I even laminated it.”

        “Yes, yes you did,” you snort, flapping the “coupon” in the air. Holiday music plays softly in the background and you're both wrapped in blankets. A televised campfire crackles on the screen behind Oikawa, and the only thing brightening up your living room is the medium-sized, ornamented tree near the two of you, tinging the air with the scent of spruce and cinnamon. 

        “All right, I suppose I’ll save this for later.” You slip his gift under your thigh and hand him your own, in a red and green bag with tissue paper sticking out the top. “Now open mine!” 

        He smiles and digs his hand inside, crinkling around while he guesses, “Is it… a blanket?”

        “Nope.”

        “Is it… a t-shirt that says ‘I’m with stupid’?”

        “No, you jerk!” You laugh and smack his knee. “Just open it!”

        “If it’s worse than my gift, you totally owe me.” 

        “That’s literally not possible.” He gasps dramatically at you and finally pulls out the clothing. It’s a sweatshirt you had made especially for him. On the front was the logo for Boys’ Volleyball Nationals, and his eyes gleam in delight. Then he flips it around and reads the back. 

        “‘Number One Spectator’?!” He gawks at you in offense and you can’t hold back your giggles. While you crack up, he repeatedly glances between you and the sweatshirt with a pout. 

        “You totally owe me for this, YN!” 

        “I can’t! Oh, this is too good!” you guffaw, wiping tears away from your eyes. Suddenly, Oikawa tackles you to the floor, both hands beginning to attack your sides in a flurry of tickles. 

        “Oh shit!” you screech, twisting back and forth to try and escape. Your attempts are futile. 

        “Say you’re sorry!” One of his hands capture both of your wrists and hold them above your head so you couldn’t fight him. 

        “Never!” Your flabs ache while you wheeze out the occasional laugh. 

        “You’re so mean, YN!” He scolds with a wagging finger before instantly assaulting your exposed sides once more. “Just say your sorry!”

        “Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” you cry out with a giggle, gulping in large amounts of air when he finally stops. 

        “You’re forgiven,” he nods with a lopsided grin, still holding your hands hostage. A long moment passes as you relax and catch your breath, his gaze never leaving your flushed face, but when you can finally think properly again, you realize the compromising position you both are in. 

        He’s straddling your hips, one pressed against each side while his face leers over your own. Never before have you noticed just how dark his brown eyes are, and you can’t help but spot the occasional gold fleck while you lose yourself in them. With a gulp, you rub your thighs together and lick your lips. The action instantly grabs his attention, and Oikawa tightens his grip on your wrists before slowly lowering himself closer to you. A small part of you wants to wait, wants to let your relationship grow stronger, but the rest of you yearns to live in the moment and enjoy it while you have the chance. You pick your side, and clasp your eyes shut to brace yourself. Then it happens.

        There’s no explosions or fireworks like the books, but every single one of your nerves twinge with sparks. His lips are soft as they gently caress your own, taking their time to memorize the feeling. His brunet locks brush against your forehead and he carefully releases his hold on you, trailing his hands down to cup your cheeks while his tongue begs for entrance. Losing yourself in the moment, you allow it access, teasing and battling him for dominance with your own while you tenderly dig your fingers into his hair, combing and tugging on the strands as the kiss grows more heated. You separate for just a split second and Oikawa doesn’t stray far. In an instant, he’s biting and sucking on the smooth skin along your chin, using one arm to support himself over you while the other angles your head perfectly for his lips. Pain mingles with pleasure as his teeth graze and nip your delicate flesh. 

        “Tooru,” you whimper, and he grunts deeply in response. You yank on his tangled tufts harder, mewling his name repeatedly while he moves lower to leave love bites up and down your neck. He pecks the bruises soothingly and groans at the feeling of your hands pulling harshly in reaction to the sting. 

        “What do you want, YN?” He coos, words whispered against your skin. The sensation leaves you writhing beneath him. 

        “You.” 

                                ***

        That night, the coupon was left forgotten on the floor, but its offer had been used.

        The next day, you picked it up with a sniffle and dumped it into the trash while you gathered your clothes from around the living room. Like every other girl he had been with, he left during the middle of the night. 

        Unlike the mornings where you were shaken awake by him holding you close, you were all alone while viewing the sunrise through your blinds this time. 

        With puffy cheeks, you made yourself some instant coffee and downed it, ignoring the burn and the fresh numbness of your tongue now. You breathe out shakily and set the empty mug in the sink before preparing to take a shower. Every one of your movements was passively lifeless. Each footstep dragged against the floor, and every heartbeat in your chest pained you. 

        Under the scalding water, you scrubbed away the memory as best as you could, leaving your skin raw and aching, but you could still feel a semblance of his touch.

        In the mirror, purple blemishes littered every inch of your body from your chin to your calves. The sight of them reminded you of what exactly had scared him off. 

        His head was buried in the back of your neck as he nibbled on the skin there. You sighed happily, reveling in the afterglow of your love-making while relaxing further into the bed. Ever so slowly, you trail a hand down to your hips and interlock your fingers with his own, leading him to peck your nape gently. 

        “I love you,” you confess quietly. It was the heat of the moment, and you couldn’t help yourself. His body tenses behind you and his hand squeezes yours tightly for just a second. 

        “Oh.” The word, if that’s what it was, doesn’t sink in, and you fall asleep with a small smile on your face, pressing your back against his chest comfortingly. 

        At the time, you didn’t know. You had finally been with the man you loved, and he didn’t return your feelings. You wanted to be angry, enraged, or vengeful, but you were just sad. Ashamed of yourself and what you had done the night before. 

        In the past, you thought you meant more to Oikawa than his one night stands. You had seen the fake smiles he put up around them, and they never compared to the authentic grins he gave you. He joked with you, opened up to you, spent time with you and always seemed to want you around. Oh, how wrong you were to believe he would feel the same. 

                                ***

        Your employers weren't exactly okay with the fact that you had skipped about a month of work to wallow in self-pity, so they fired you. This unfortunate fact led you to search for a roommate, someone who could help you pay the rent while you job-hunted. You got an offer, and today he was moving in. 

        “YN?!” A familiar voice echoed from your apartment’s hallway, followed by a knocking on wood. “YN?!”

        “Oikawa?” You hesitantly make eye contact with him while hauling your groceries up the stairs. He’s in front of your door surrounded by cardboard boxes, and his face looks flushed with distress. 

        “YN, are you moving out?!” It’s the first time he’s talked to you since he left, and you want to beat the crap out of him with the hope that it would quell the pain. It won’t work, you know that, but you figure it’d be worth a shot.

        “No,” you clench your jaw and avoid his panicked gaze, “I got a new roommate.” 

        “Oh.” The look on his face falls, but so does every other emotion he had been displaying. Crossing his arms, he nods in understanding while observing the boxes of personal belongings around him. “That makes sense.”

        “Yeah, so uh… I guess I don’t really have to tell you this, but you can’t really hide out in my spare room anymore,” you shift on your feet, “You know, if you wanted to.”

        “Oh,” he repeats, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. “Okay.” 

        Awkward silence falls in the hallway, and you gulp while shifting awkwardly on the final stair to your apartment level. 

        “S-so,” he stutters before clearing his throat, “who’s your roommate?” 

        “Oh, his name is-” With perfect timing, your new roomie whips open the door to your home and grabs another cardboard box, completely dismissing the existence of the brunet across from him. 

        “Ushiwaka?!”

                                ***

        Your new roommate wasn’t exactly a bundle of fun. And for some reason, whenever he was caught in the hall with Oikawa, the latter would verbally attack him like a rat on a Cheeto. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had a distant memory of your neighbor complaining about a man like Ushijima. You had both been on your couch, drinking wine and just talking about life when he suddenly grew angry at the memory of a man who “pissed him off like no other.” 

        In a way, you understood why; they were complete opposites. One was smug and social, while the other was more laid-back and reserved. Fate must have been on your side. Of course your new roommate would be the mortal enemy of the man who had broken your heart. Things were looking up, and it felt good to see Oikawa jealous, no matter how petty it sounded. You were heart-broken. Screw playing nice.

        “Hey YN?” Ushijima’s deep voice boomed from within his bedroom. The sudden holler made you jump from where you had been reclining on your couch, binging a new Netflix series. 

        “Yeah?” 

        “Can you take out the trash today? I have to get to practice.”

        “Sure, I got it.” After hopping off your sofa with a deep sigh, you plugged your nose with one hand and grabbed the trash bag in the kitchen with the other, kicking your way outside and into the hall. 

        “I’ll see you later snookums!” A feminine tone chimed from behind you. 

        “Heh, wonderful.” Oikawa. He must have a new lady friend. “Can’t wait, okay byeee!” His words were desperate and rushed as you pivoted to see him ushering a girl with her heels in her hands down the stairs. Wasn’t that… oh what’s her name… Sakura! When she disappears from his sight, he face palms and groans loudly. 

        “Still having trouble kicking ‘em to the curb?” you snort, rolling your eyes. While you throw your trash down the chute in the hall, Oikawa sighs. 

        “Umm sort of, actually. I just… I don’t know.” He sounds confused and broken. For some odd reason, you almost want to comfort him. “YN.” A hand drops on your shoulder and urges you to turn around. You do, and regrettably so. 

        His body language doesn’t show it, but deep in his eyes, there’s an emotion you desired from him weeks ago. No. “Things aren’t the same anymore. And I think I’ve figured out why.”

        “No.”

        “YN, please just let me explain.”

        “No, Tooru!” His name slips from your lips before you can stop it. “You don’t get to do that!” Your heart is racing in an instant and his nostrils flare. 

        “YN, I love you!”

        “I don’t care!” 

        A painfully long silence follows after your shout. The three words you’ve always wanted to hear from him echo in your head. He loves me. He loves me. Yes, but it didn’t matter. What he’s done… it was unforgivable. Leaving you like every other woman he’s been with. You thought you two were friends, that he wouldn’t treat you like that. But he did, and no matter how he felt now, he had to feel your pain. 

        “You… don’t care?” His lower lip trembles and his voice cracks. You quirk your mouth nervously and shake your head. 

        “Oikawa,” you mutter, “if you really loved me, why did you treat me like the rest?” 

        He stares at you for a while, frozen in shock. The hall grows ten times colder and suddenly it’s hard for you to breathe. You had to get out of there. 

        Spinning on your heel, you hurry back into your apartment, closing and locking the door just as you felt his fingertips reach and brush your elbow. 

        “YN! Wait!” 

        “YN? Are you okay?” Ushijima towers over your form, which had slumped to the ground against the wall. Tears prick your eyes, and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked you that question. He meant it too, there was a concern in his gaze you yearned for. 

        “No,” you croak out, using the door to help you stand with wobbling knees. The wood shivers beneath your hand from the pressure of Oikawa’s knocks. “No, I’m not.”

        Desperately, your neighbor's voice still pleads outside, and Ushijima nods. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.” It’s the most words he’s said to you in a day, and they pang your heart. 

        “Thank you,” you mumble, trudging away from the door and collapsing back onto your couch. 

        “Of course.” 

        The door opens behind you, and the lock clicks after it whooshes shut. You hug your knees into your chest and let the tears fall. 

        He loves me.

        “YN please!”

        He loves me.

        “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Please respect her wishes.”

        He loves me.

        “Oh, shut up you big oaf. I’m not gonna let you keep her from me! I won’t let you stop me again!”

        He loves me. 

        You breathe out a shaky sigh as the voices finally quiet. Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you fall into a dreamless sleep on the couch, stained cheeks and all. 

                                ***

        Another week passes. Ushijima has been talking you through the pain, but he’s also made you see reason. 

        “YN, he can be a pain, but I don’t think you should give up like this.” Was that really what happened? Did you give up? 

        “Doesn’t he deserve it?” 

        “Maybe, but I think he might be a person like me. I need time to sort my feelings out about things. Maybe he did too.” 

        His words shock you to the core. In all the time you’ve been thinking about your own feelings over what happened, Oikawa might’ve only started to understand his own. Okay, you got that. But then why did he sleep with more women afterwards?

        “You might be right, but I still need time.”

        “Okay.”

        In a million years, you never thought a stoic man like Ushijima would become the one to help you understand other people’s minds. He himself seemed aloof, especially when you tried to thank him. “For what?” he would say, “I’m just proposing a theory.” The man didn’t have a single touchy-feely bone in his body, and you began to respect that. It didn’t mean you would confront Oikawa yet, but at least you were getting somewhere. 

        While you stew over what Ushijima had told you, you hear a racket from in the hall. Ushijima is at practice, so you have to leave the apartment for the first time since last Thursday. 

        “Hey Shittykawa! Open up!” 

        There’s a beefy man furiously smacking Oikawa’s door that intimidates the shit out of you. However, you’re obviously not his target, so you lightly set the baseball bat down that you had grabbed for self-defense. 

        “C’mon Loserkawa! Tell me what’s going on!”

        “Umm,” you hesitantly pipe up. “Is everything okay?” While even though it involved your neighbor… you think, you still wondered if something bad was going on. Did something happen to Oikawa? Guilt struck your heart at the thought. Oh God, what if you never got to see him again?

        “Yeah, I guess,” Beefcake replies gravely and gestures a thumb at your neighbor’s door. “My friend just hasn’t left his house in a while. Sorry if I disturbed you.” 

        “It’s okay.” You figure the muscle man has it handled and plan to return to your daily activities of job-searching and wallowing in misery, but he grabs your shoulder suddenly, causing you to flinch. 

        “Wait!” He looks over his shoulder at Oikawa’s door, then back to you and your apartment. A deduction has been formed. “Are you YN?” Uh oh.

        “Umm, yeah? Who’s asking?”

        “Well son of a bitch,” he grumbles with a snarl, brandishing a key from his pocket. After sticking it in the lock and shouldering open the door, the man drags you into Oikawa’s apartment, which looks like ground zero. Pillows and clothing are strewn everywhere. There’s a table flipped on its side and empty food containers are littered on the ground here and there. In the middle of it all, curled up in a ball and covered in a blanket is a tear-stained Oikawa. His eyes resemble that of a raccoon as he peels them away from the TV he had been watching from his perch on the couch. 

        It’s a soap opera… about two roommates falling in love. Holy shit, he’s broken.

        “Goddamn, Shittykawa, it smells like someone died in here!” The man who tugged you in here waves his hand to disperse the aromatic funk, only to waft it into your face. You hold back a gag.

        “Something did, Iwa.” He makes eye contact with you for a split second before glancing away. “My happiness.” 

        You can hear your heart break at the jab, but “Iwa” only scoffs. 

        “You big sissy,” he folds his arms and raises an unimpressed brow. “Just talk to her and fucking get over it. We’ve needed you at practice for a week now.” Iwa places a hand on your back and shoves you forward through the mess. It’s not a hard push, but it’s enough for you to get the idea. 

        “Call me when you’re done so I can let the team know you’re okay.” Beefcake begins to exit but halts himself with a hand on the door. “Don’t go dark like that ever again, okay Shittykawa? People worry about you, not just your love life. Let us know what’s going on,” he mumbles over his shoulder before disappearing into the hall. 

        When you turn back around, Oikawa is sniffling and wiping his nose while avoiding your gaze. 

        “So…” you trail off awkwardly, standing in the middle of his apartment like a clean lighthouse amongst a beach of crap. 

        “YN, I’m sorry.” Oikawa takes the initiative, but still refuses to look at you. “God, I’m so sorry for what I did. I knew it was a bad idea from the moment I left your bed.” His voice is absolutely ruined. It sounds like every word scrapes past his throat and rubs it raw. He sounds… broken.

        You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you struggle to breathe at a normal volume. 

        “I just,” he pauses to hide his face in his hands. “I just didn’t know what else to do. With you, yeah it felt different. God, of course it did. It felt amazing. But leaving after was the only thing I knew how to do, no matter what I felt.” 

        His words raise the hair on your arms, and you slowly walk around the random objects, taking your sweet time before you slump down onto the couch beside him.

        “Okay,” you breathe out shakily, eyes also locking on the television. “I get that.” As you chew on the inside of your cheek, you can’t help your gaze straying to his hand. It’s twitching closer and closer to you and you grasp it slowly, interlocking your fingers like long before. His are cold, and in your peripheral vision you can see him smiling at you while you try to warm it up with both hands. 

        “But look,” you pull your legs up onto the couch and swivel to face him, grabbing his other hand and rubbing it in the process, “I’m gonna need a little time to trust you.”

        “That’s okay!” He nods his head frantically and turns to face you as well, copying your position. “I can give you time!” 

        Your lips twitch at his excitement and you shyly glance down at your hands, but your eyes catch on something. The sweatshirt you got him for Christmas. He’s wearing it. Your breath hitches at the sight and Oikawa grows confused, following your gaze down to his clothing choice as well. 

        “Oh. Right.” He forces on a smug smirk. “It’s not that bad now that I’ve tried it on- oof.” You don’t hesitate to yank him into a hug across the couch. To be honest, you were surprised he had kept it. You had expected him to toss it just like you had done to his coupon. Although, to be fair, your gift had already been utilized. 

        With a sigh, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and drag a hand up into his hair, combing through the tangled strands. Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around your back, then seems to gain a little courage as he suddenly squeezes you ten times harder than your ribs can handle. You don’t mind though.

        “I’m sorry for what I said, too,” you whisper against his neck, pressing a kiss against his skin simply because of the convenience. “I love you.” 

        Oikawa freezes in your hold and digs his fingers into your back. “... I love you too.” You sigh happily into his collarbone, pecking his skin more and more as his breathing grows labored. 

        “YN.” He pulls away just enough that there is a minimal amount of space between your noses. His eyes bore into your own with utter seriousness as he rubs his hands up and down your back calmingly. “I need you to know that after that night, I haven’t been with anyone since.” 

        Abruptly, you pull away and snap your brows together. “Really?”

        “Yes.”

        “What about Sakura?” 

        “Who?” You roll your eyes. 

        “Sakura! The girl you pushed out of your apartment?” His eyes widen in realization and he leans back slightly. 

        “Oh crap, you’re right. She was a nutjob!” You scoff.

        “So you did have sex with her.” 

        “No,” he shakes his head and stares deeply into your eyes so you knew he meant it. “I didn’t. She got ahold of me weeks after I stupidly gave her my number in the first place and I had to kick her out of my house after she barged in.” 

        “Oh really, snookums?” You sneer at him and he only chuckles. 

        “Yeah, buttnugget,” he smirks and bounces his forehead against yours lightly. “I mean it. She was an absolute whacknut, and I blocked her right after she left.” 

        “She was carrying her shoes.”

        “You think I’m gonna let her track mud into my apartment?” You glance around with a disbelieving look and nod your head. 

        “Uh yeah.” Oikawa scoffs and gestures around the living room. 

        “Ok, this,” he points his fingers in emphasis, “was all your doing, sweetheart. Congratulations, you're the second person in the world to break me.” 

        “Second? Aw man, who beat me?” You snicker as he smacks your thigh, offended. Then his face darkens and your smirk falters at the sight. 

        “Is something going on between you and Ushiwaka?” The smirk regains its rightful place and you tug on Oikawa’s cheek teasingly. 

        “Aww, Tooru, are you jealous?” He bats your hand away and pouts at you. 

        “Of course! That emotionless bastard told me to stay away from you. Also, everybody knows roommates always fall for each other!” Your face scrunches up at the thought.

        “Okay, who told you that?” He huffs and points at the TV.

        “Sofia and George fell in love after like two weeks of knowing each other! I mean, yeah, he did put her mother in a coma, but that bitch deserved it!” Your eyes grow to the size of saucers at his theory and you don’t hesitate to click the television off before grabbing his hand and tugging him out of the apartment faster than he can say “telenovela.”

        “What are you doing?”

        “Bringing you back out into the real world, where stepmoms don’t poison their daughter-in-laws over a lost diamond.”  

        “They don’t?!”

                                ***

        The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and once again, thankfully, Oikawa is right by your- oh shit, he’s gone! 

        “Tooru?!” you call out in a panic, feeling around the empty mattress for any sign of where he may have gone. “Tooru?! You son of a bitch, I swear if you left again, I will kick your ass!”

        “YN?” Oikawa peeks his head inside your bedroom, throwing you a confused look. “What are you yelling about?” Oops.

        “I thought your bitch-ass left again.” Your husband rolls his eyes at you.

        “Seriously, YN? It’s been five years, give it a rest will you?” You only stick out your tongue and roll out of bed before waddling over to him. 

        “Never.” You smile sweetly and kiss his cheek while he rubs circles on your stomach. With a shake of his head, he lazily returns your grin and lands a large smooch on your forehead before directing you into the kitchen. 

        “I was making you breakfast by the way.” He sets the plate down in front of you, and it’s a pleasant surprise to notice he’s shirtless and only wearing a “kiss the chef” apron over his glorious six pack. “Pancakes and hot sauce, just like your nasty, pregnancy-craving ass requested.”

        “Mmm, delicious.” You rub your pregnant belly and lick your lips hungrily. “Just like baby Ushiwaka wanted.”

        “I told you that joke isn't funny, YN!”

Is oreo your kitty??? THEY'RE so pretty... I think I'm in love

Yes🥺 he is my floofy little chonker and I love him with all my heart😊💖

Sorry I can’t add another pic of him tho, scared of online creepers and all that😔 but I promise he loved your praise🥰🥰

Lapse In Judgement hurt me so much 🥺 I just want to give Osamu and y/n a big hug. Do you plan on making a part 2?

Well, I didn’t originally plan on making a second part, and I’m not quite sure what I could do. I’m glad you enjoyed it, though!

If you would like a part two, I would love to hear any ideas you might have for it, as I’m kinda clueless on where to go with it😐

Again, requests are still “closed,” but honestly, that just means I’m taking a looooong time to work through the requests I have rn. If you really want to send smth in now, I will write it, but I probably won’t get it out for like a few weeks to a month.

(I’m the anon who requested a part 2 of the Michael grey fic) I have some ideas :) if Michael grey is in the process of healing but still isn’t strong enough, what if his darling began missing home more than she loved him, and tried to escape to go home? Or maybe it could be when he’s healing he becomes very clingy and his darling is there for him to cling to? Have a good day/night!

Lost and Found (Yandere Michael Gray x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Michael is weak and desperate for you after being bedridden with his gunshot wounds in the hospital, but after weeks of caring for him, you know your feelings for your former kidnapper have grown into something you don’t dare confess. One night, when you almost let your feelings slip, you decide to flee. Michael won’t let you go so easily.

Part 1

A/N: not exactly what was requested, but it was an idea I had rattling around in the ol' hat rack for a while. Can be read as a standalone, but it is part 2 of "Gray Chains," so either way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ enjoy!

Word count: 2664

You can see him approaching you now. Through the crowds of swaying people, of hazy smoke and jazz hanging in the air of the dark, gilded nightclub, dressed in a tuxedo of white with a red bowtie at his throat. 

There’s a hungry look in his gaze, but that’s only because he’s been starved of you for hours. Five weeks of sitting in that hospital room with him, catering to his every need, his every desire. All because you’d accidentally fallen for the man that had left you tied to his bed for days on end.

In that white, suffocating room full of antiseptic and nurses filtering in and out, you’d sat there one night in a chair, pulled up next to his bed. Your bottom was numb and hot from the sheer number of times you’d been in that same position by his side.

His hand had been curled around yours, and according to the dimmed lights around the room and the darkness creeping in from the window, it was around ten or so at night. On his hospital bed, he lay flat on his back, still wrapped in surgical tape and stitches. The blue patches of skin under and around his eyes had begun to fade paler, almost matching the yellowed, stitched skin on his chest. His eyes drooped, the gunmetal blue in them tainted with exhaustion.

Still, somehow though, he found it in himself to smile at you, pulling your hand up to his lips with a doting sigh and peppering kisses along the back of your hand. His hair fell into his eyes during the act, and you brushed it back from his forehead into alignment with the other, freshly dampened strands. 

He paused his ministrations. Pressing his lips one final time against your knuckles, his gaze found yours. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm on your skin. 

He said it every night. He said it every morning too, and at least twice during each midday. 

You’d never said it back. You never felt the need to; to you, he was just supposed to be the kidnapper you’d found yourself forced to take care of. You’ve had the deplorable feelings and thoughts that came with you being around his loving self every day, but you’d never dared to give in to the words. 

Now, you’d felt them ghosting your lips. You’d felt your resolve break, and you’d actually told yourself there was no harm in returning the sentiment. He had won you over.

A panic struck your chest at your realization, and you fumbled back into your chair, mind frantic. 

Michael was completely unaware. Like usual, his brows twitched and furrowed at your lack of response, and he released your hand, settling himself carefully underneath the blanket and watching as you did the same in the chair beside him. Dutifully, he waited until your eyes fell closed and your breath steadied before giving into his own exhaustion. 

“Goodnight, love.”

And when his soft snores began to fill the room, you fled. With a pocketful of the stack of cash Tommy had delivered earlier to pay for Michael’s hospital bills, you walked, carefully blank-faced, through the quiet, marble halls and out the door before hailing a cab to London.

Eden Club. 

The pub the cab driver had recommended to you after the look on your face and your voiced need for a drink. You’d nodded absentmindedly, and now you found yourself in the heart of the thumping room, chandeliers twinkling on the ceiling and gold laced throughout the alabaster floor. At one of the few tables surrounding the group of dancers, you sipped on a red wine, the strong, thick flavor intoxicating your senses until you couldn’t understand why you were in the pub at all. 

But you knew it was Michael. It had to be. Who else would approach you in this pandemonium of sweaty, inebriated bodies? Saxophones wailed as a singer of sorts crooned into his microphone so many feet behind you, and you flinched as someone bumped into the back of your chair while making their way to the party floor. 

No, it wasn’t Michael, you realized now. The waiter in the all-white suit approached you now, a sommelier, in all actuality. The wine cloth over his arm was stained from many former visits, and you realize now that the bottle in his hand is of the same kind as the drink in your glass. 

The sommelier catches your eye, and before he can open his mouth to offer another glass, you shake your head, waving away the bottle. 

Not Michael. 

You watch as he nods, approaching the other tables around you in turn, the same offer filling their ears. 

No, you think to yourself, cupping your wine glass with both hands and losing yourself deeper in the crimson liquid. No more tonight. Your hands tighten, the one around the stem feeling so close to cracking the glass. 

A breath, not quite relieving after the fright you’d just had, escapes you. You’re not quite sure how long it’s been since you’d left, but it must be somewhere close to two a.m. by now. Michael will have awakened at least once or twice in the span of time you’d left, and certainly now he’s asking around about your whereabouts--presumably impolitely. 

Presumably with threats and torture, if his cousins had received a call. 

You try to care about the people who may have been hurt in your wake, but the fog that’s come to muddle your mind is making sympathy difficult. The rich, sweet taste is still on your tongue, and you wonder vaguely if your mouth is stained red at all.

Jewelry clutters and chimes on the dance floor, women’s bracelets and earrings and even men’s stopwatches jingling around the room. Some men, few and far between in the effervescent club, idle about with their canes, abrupt claps of solid wood against marble floor interrupting the beat of the song.

Behind you, that same clinking piques your ear in a steady rhythm, the pace surprisingly uninterrupted by the large number of people bumbling about. Though you haven’t seen the waiter with the cane before, his presence is uncomfortably close behind your back now. His hand reaches around, grasping the pair of yours in his own before his wine bottle comes into view. 

“No--sorry,” you stutter, watching a bit flustered as the glass fills substantially, “I told the other waiter I don’t need any more.”

“Believe me, love, you’ll need another drink.”

You snap your mouth shut, eyes locked on the glass as Michael keeps pouring until the wine is level with the rim. He slams the bottle onto the table, trembling the surface so hard liquid sloshes out and onto the tan tablecloth. 

He comes into view from behind you, and you draw a line from the clinking to the cane in his hand. You suppose you should have figured. Prior to leaving, one of the doctors seeing Michael had decided that he would soon be ready to walk, though with aid.

He sets the cane’s handle against the table before settling into the seat across from you. The lines in his forehead are angry and deep, especially in the dim lighting of the pub. Out of the pocket of his black overcoat, he pulls a pack of cigarettes, not bothering to offer one to you as he lights it with a match and adjusts himself. His mouth twists into a frown, and he hisses under his breath in pain. 

One cloud of smoke floats from his mouth through his nostrils and then escapes in one long stream. Then he draws his eyes up, and the second his gaze locks on yours, you know you can’t run any longer. 

You swallow. His eyes follow the movement, and when a flush crawls up onto your face, he inhales again. 

“You found me.”

“I did.”

You fall silent, and an air of sobriety seems to clean out the fog in your mind. You can feel it now, the pounding heartbeat in your ears down through your fingertips. Despite the implications of his presence, you can’t help the comfort that buzzes underneath your skin. 

Michael found you like he always did. 

That was supposed to be a bad thing. 

“Didn’t take you long.”

“You didn’t cover your tracks well.” He exhaled, two streams of smoke filling the air as he watched you. “The second you were mine, you were a Peaky Blinder. You left as a Peaky Blinder, so all eyes were on you.” His jaw tightened. “Perhaps you should have thought your escape through better.”

You pause, lips screwing shut as you traced with the rim of your wine glass. The room seems to have grown hotter, and for a second you feel like your breathing is far too audible. Underneath the table, a pressure against your knee causes you to flinch.

Michael crosses one knee over the other, a brow raised as his eyes bore into you. His stare crawls over your skin, claiming your face, your bare collar bones, down to the arms and then the fingers you can’t seem to keep steady. He’s unimpressed on the surface, especially with your performance tonight. Beneath all of that, though, you know he has some plan formulating in his mind. Perhaps it’s already in motion.

The look in his eyes is calculating, critical. As always, you feel as though he controls your next move. He was always so good at predicting you. That was how he got you in the first place. 

He takes another drag and taps the ashes out in the tray set on the table, waiting expectantly.

“It wasn’t planned,” you look away when Michael scoffs, “if that… makes you feel any better.”

“Do you think it does?” he jeered, leaning back into his seat with a curled lip.

You shook your head. “You don’t even know why I left.”

“I have a few guesses, love, but please, enlighten me.”

“Do you remember what happened? Before I left?”

“Only the usual things.” He huffed. “You fell asleep, or at least pretended to, and when I did, you bolted.”

“Before that.”

His jaw twitched, and he dropped his crossed leg to the ground, leaning forward and smothering his cigarette out with a slam of his hand, every movement quick and violent. “When I told you I fucking loved you, was that it? Was that why you did it?” He reached out and tore the glass from your grasp, throwing it against the floor. “You think I’m some fucking monster for loving you, for wanting you for myself.” His eyes flashed with rage, and with his teeth bared, he spat, “You left because I love you.” 

“I left because I love you,” you hissed.

Michael’s eyes widened just as yours did. His lips fell open, and all anger on his face softened and disappeared. 

“W-what?” he whispered breathlessly.

While a breath caught in your throat, you felt a tightness in your chest fade away. The fog that seemed to swim around inside your head for the last hour had finally dissipated, and you could clearly feel the regret clawing at your heart while battling another emotion. 

“It’s not right—it’s wrong. So fucking wrong.” Tears begin to prick at your eyes, and you try to fight them away with the pressure of your palms. 

“That’s why you left.” Michael sounded in a daze. “Because you love me.”

You stayed silent, battling a headache as the tears finally fell. It was hard to breathe, but at the same time it was as though you’d caught the first breath of fresh air in weeks. 

Fingertips grazed your wrists, peeled your hands from your eyes. 

“You really love me?” he asked quietly, almost desperately. 

You fell back into an old habit, the words I hate you grazing your lips, but even the thought of letting them fly pained you as much as you knew they would hurt him. 

God, you didn’t even want to hurt him. You loved him. 

“This is so fucking wrong,” you muttered again, a sob almost following. 

All it took was a smile on that fateful day. 

You saw the cute boy—man—on the street, the one whose eyes were watching you with fascination, and you’d smiled back.

The next time you saw him, he was breaking the glass of your bedroom window, fumbling to get inside and barely snagging your ankle when you’d tried to flee. 

It’s all so wrong.

Until recently, you could still feel it, that chain around your wrist, like a phantom that haunted you every other day you’d fallen asleep in the chair at his hospital bedside. The one he used to keep you in his bed, his home, the one that stopped you from fleeing and made it so that all you’d known for months was Michael and his overbearing, delusional love for you.

You couldn’t even feel that anymore. He’d finally gotten through. He won. 

So, so wrong.

Michael caressed the skin of your wrists, pulling your hands closer and littering kisses along your palms. “Love, you’re perfect, do you know that?” His lips ran along your fingertips. “Just perfect,” he hummed.

He rose to his feet, releasing one of your hands to grab his cane before rounding the table toward you. Beneath his shoes, broken glass crackled.

Using the hand in his grip, he lifted you to your feet. 

“Let’s get out of here, love. Come on,” he released you and instead placed a hand on the small of your back. “I have a cab waiting outside. Let’s get home.”

Michael ushered you past the swaying, sweaty crowd, out from underneath the smoke that hung in the air of the club, and into the clean, cold atmosphere of the outside. You barely registered the nodding of the club bouncers at Michael, nor the familiarity of your cab driver’s face as he led you into the back seat, his long coat draped over your bare shoulders. 

On the way back to Birmingham, Michael never stopped touching you. Either his hand held yours, or his arm was wrapped around your waist or shoulders. One of his knees always pressed against one of yours, and when you dropped your head onto his shoulder, his head leaned atop yours. 

When exhaustion began to nip at your fluttering eyelids and softened your mind, you lifted your head to look at Michael. He stared back, blue eyes wandering adoringly over your face. “What’s wrong, love?”

You bit your tongue, wanting to restrain the gentle pulsing in your chest in some way, but you couldn’t help it. You can’t stop how it slowly overtakes your senses, especially when Michael raises a hand to cradle your cheek, thumb caressing your bottom lip. 

“I love you.”

His hand begins to tremble against your skin, and his lips twitch into a smile as pure reverence floods his vision. “I love you too,” he breathes.

And when he rushes forward to press his lips to yours, you wrap your arms around him openly, hold him lovingly. He accepts everything you give him, every whine, moan, and whimper, and in return he worships your body with his hands, petting and stroking and clutching onto you with every fiber of his being. 

“I won’t let you go again,” he murmurs against your lips, and his arms tighten around you. “I can’t lose you anymore.”

“It’s okay,” you cup his face, pulling him impossibly closer. “You found me.”

Are there any good x reader authors out there, or is everyone still being sold as a sex slave to one direction?

Maid for Him (Oikawa x Reader/Slight Yandere)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You were his maid. His lover. His life. He simply couldn’t let that sleazy visiting prince anywhere near you.

A/N: Hey guys. I know it’s been a while, and I’m really sorry. Life has really been kicking my ass lately, and I don’t want to let y’all down, but I just need a little more time between posts. Again, I am really sorry I haven’t been as active. But hey, thank you so much for 700 followers while I was gone! I hope you enjoy this Yandere Oikawa imagine to celebrate!

Word count: 1764

        Everything seemed dustier than usual. The sun shone brightly through the stained glass windows, and fell upon the grimy, priceless tables. Artifacts from all over the world, vases, paintings, weaponry and more, were all covered in the fine particles. 

        Oikawa brushed a finger over an especially neglected sword and smirked at the gray filth left on the tip. 

        Oh, my little YN, are you neglecting your duties again? I suppose I’ll just have to punish you.

        A snicker left him at the thought, and he continued down the halls to find you, dressed in that cute little maid uniform you wore. He was clothed just the way you liked him; in his riding gear and fresh from the showers, preparing to go to the stables. But he just had to see you first. 

        “Where are you, love?” he muttered under his breath, brown orbs darting back and forth through the velvet-lined corridors. An occasional ray of warmth brushed over his form with every confident stride past the windows. It was silent for ages, and the residual scent of this morning’s breakfast still hung in the air. Sweet-berry covered pancakes combined with the freshest maple syrup accepted as a gift from the visiting kingdom. 

        It had been almost as delicious as you. 

        Oikawa tsked at every empty room he passed, a sneer growing larger and larger on his face. All of them were filled with at least one servant, but not a single one was you. 

        “Where the hell are you?” he seethed through gritted teeth. 

        His bedroom. Nothing. 

        The dining room. Nothing. 

        The throne room. Nothing. 

        Even the library was vacant of your presence. A nauseating pressure welled up in his throat. You didn’t… leave, did you? 

        No. You would never. You loved him too much. 

        Just as he loved you. 

        So where the hell were you?

        After rubbing his temples, Oikawa shook his head to clear his thoughts. Surely you were somewhere nearby. 

        “Please don’t.”

        Like right there.

        Your nervous tone echoed from within a guest room of the castle. He rushed toward the familiarity like a cat after a mouse, leather boots stomping against the floor rapidly. 

        “Oh come on, sweetheart. I saw the way you were looking at me this morning.” A slimy, greasy, disgusting voice responded to you. The prince from the neighboring kingdom. Oikawa charged faster to the door, until he was practically sprinting throughout the castle. Arriving at the cracked door, he paused only to peer inside at the sight. 

        You, in that horribly revealing uniform, with a feather duster in your hand. Your face was flushed, your eyes were wide, and your body seemed to be trembling with fear. Every few seconds, you shifted your weight from side to side, gripping the bottom of your short, black and white skirt with white knuckles. 

        The good-for-nothing bastard who towered over you sniggered at your nervousness. He stood in the center of the room, his arms itching to reach out for you as he slowly backed you closer and closer to his four-poster bed. The so-called prince was trying to make a move on you. 

        That would not be tolerated. 

        “I was only offering you orange juice,” you stuttered. Dread painted your face, and every word you spoke accompanied a frantic tremble of your delicate lips. Oikawa’s nostrils flared, but he stayed hidden, ready to pounce when the moment called. 

        “I know you were offering so much more than that.” The foreign prince stepped closer and stretched out a hand, snagging a strand of your hair and rolling it between his finger tips. You flinched as he did, and cringed at the feeling of his alarming proximity. You weren’t moving, or even breathing, and you looked about ready to faint. The prince, standing a good head taller than you, took this as a go-ahead however. 

        His black, curly hair lowered over his blazing eyes, and you clenched your own tightly shut at the feeling of his hot breath falling over your face. The finger twirling your strands stopped, only to drag down the side of your paled cheek.

        “I’ll show you a good time.”

        “Please don’t.” His body drew closer to yours. 

        “Just let me-” 

        Slam!

        With a ferocious kick to his gut, the prince went flying into his decorative bookshelf, causing the first two rows of novels and other decorations to topple onto his head. If looks could kill, the man would already be six feet under as Oikawa lowered his leg, grinding his jaw and heaving his chest up and down. Running a swift hand through his brown locks, your savior let a relaxed smile fall onto his face at the sight of the prince’s gashed forehead.

        “That’s no way to treat our workers,” the brunet spat, reaching blindly for you while delivering the offender a paralyzing glower. “Don’t ever let me see you around YN again.” When his hand met yours, he snatched your wrist and dragged you out of the room, leading you outside and away from the scene. 

        After you tugged on his hand in effort to get him to slow, Oikawa dug his heels into the rich carpet of the halls and swiveled back to you. His endless brown orbs searched you up and down for any signs of disturbance or corruption, and only found tears swimming in your eyes. You bit your bottom lip, but bowed your head respectfully nonetheless. 

        “Thank you so much, your majesty. I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened if you hadn’t been there to save me.” 

        The prince rolls his eyes and scoffs, tugging you into a bone-crushing hug and forcing your head into his shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you to drop the stupid titles?” After a long moment, you giggle softly against his skin and wrap your arms around him, relaxing into his hold. 

        “Sorry, Tooru,” he felt you grin when he sighed in relief, and the act made him giddy, “I was worried someone would hear.” 

        “I don’t care. Maybe I want them to hear.” You pulled back and smacked his chest at the thought, but Oikawa didn’t care. You gave him your signature raised brow and opened your mouth to lecture him about “keeping your relationship under wraps” as per usual, only to be stopped by him pressing a finger to your lips. The feeling of you, no matter how small, almost made him groan in pleasure, but he held back, knowing you both needed to discuss what had happened. 

        The playful glow in his eyes darkened into a more serious tone, and one of his hands reached up, brushing your hair out of your face before cupping your red cheek. The other interlocked his fingers with your own, and he ran a thumb along the skin of your knuckles. You had dropped your feather duster a long while ago back in the room, so you were free to press your other hand over the one against your face. 

        “Are you okay?” he mumbles tightly, his gaze scanning over your body carefully once more. He doesn’t know what he would do if that man had hurt you. Actually….

        “I’m fine, but you’re about to break my fingers, so could you…” you trailed off and raised his grip into his view, displaying his suffocating grip. Oikawa let go in an instant, and his heart panged at the thought of hurting you. God, what was I thinking? Oikawa grimaced, digging his fingernails into the soft flesh of his palm. 

        “I’m so sorry.”

        While blood oozed from his wounds, you smiled gently at him and shook your head, dismissing his apology. “It doesn’t matter,” his chest fluttered at the words, “I’m just glad you were there, Tooru.” He almost whimpered at the name. 

        Oikawa’s body shivered in excitement as you drew closer, at last pressing your lips against his in a swift, loving kiss. 

        His muscles ached to trap you against him, keep you there for longer than the five seconds you had allowed, but he knew better than that. Anything more that barely-there touches in the halls, and he would frighten you away. 

        He couldn’t risk it.

        You pulled away just barely, letting your breaths brush his lips in the most intimate way as you let your eyes close, presumably to relish in the sensation. You felt the sparks of true love just as he did. He just knew it.

        He couldn’t lose you. He won’t lose you.

                                ~~~

        The door to his chambers clicked open, and Oikawa snarled at the interruption. He couldn’t stay mad for too long though. You were passed out with your head on his lap, sleeping contentedly. You were obviously worn out from the day’s events, and what better person to take care of you than the love of your life? The prince simpered at the thought, brushing his hands through your wild locks and leaning his back against his headboard.

        “Your majesty-”

        “Be quiet,” he hissed, hurling both knights a glare. When his gaze returned to you, it filled with adoration as he ran the pad of his index finger down the bridge of your nose faintly. You mewled under your breath and snuggled closer into his lap, still not waking. Oikawa cooed at the sight, and scratched your scalp with the tips of his fingernails. You always loved the feeling in your sleep; it was one of many things he knew about you.

        “Your majesty,” the first knight whispered, quieter this round. His gaze stayed locked on his liege, knowing that if it strayed south even once, the consequences would be dire. “What do you want us to do with the prince?”

        Oikawa’s lips quirk up and his expression softens. Ever so fondly, he strokes your supple cheeks with the back of his hand and leans down to peck your smooth forehead. As he drifts away a few inches from your undisturbed face, he hums serenely, enjoying the content atmosphere of the room.

        “Kill him.”

bakugo when the reader is like in that cheerleader outfit from the sports festival 😳😳🤯🤯

Bakugou’s S/O in Sport’s Festival Cheer Outfit (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: Bruhhhh this was such a good idea, but I’m not gonna lie, I got a lil thirsty😳 Like seriously, this shit gets 🥵, so read with caution?? In all honesty, I hope you like it! Please enjoy!

Word count: 637

Oof, now this is a concept

When you do this, you’re playing a dangerous game, poking the bear, riling up a cobra preparing to strike. 

While the other girls dressed up for sake of competition, you did it to play with fire. 

You’re standing on the field, thighs and midriff bare for all the viewers to see like fresh meat on a platter. 

Then finally-- finally-- Bakugou steps out with his other classmates and confronts the sight. 

His eyes are just… roaming.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the sight as the atmosphere grows harder to breathe. The tension finally snaps when he- umm what?

Explodey boy charges at you with a sneer, his hands outstretched and sparking. 

He’s livid.

“YN! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING?!” 

His tone is scolding and accusatory, almost like a father chastising a child. 

You weren’t exactly one to drool over being chided. In fact, your boyfriend just lit a fire under your ass. 

“Excuse me?”

“Take it off right now!” 

Oh-ho no, that’s NOT happening. 

Bakugou couldn’t believe you, testing him by going out in front of others by wearing that.

Rage pumped through his bloodstream at the sight, but not only that. His pants were growing tighter as well. 

He knew you were peeved at his tone, but the last thing he wanted on you was other people’s wandering eyes.

You were his, and as much as he didn’t wanna be that guy… he was totally gonna be that guy. 

Bakugou steps closer to you and ignores how you try to back away determinedly. His hand latches onto yours and drags you away, tugging you off the field and away from prying eyes. 

You struggle to keep up with his vigorous strides and huff in anger when he finally stops, pulling you into a room and locking the door. 

The room is silent as his back faces you. Not one part of you is afraid, all of your limbs held tight in preparation for an attack. 

“YN,” uh oh, “do you have any idea how fucking unbearable you are right now?” 

Ah, such a way with words. 

Anyways…

His voice is strained and dripping with lust, and when he finally turns around you understand why. 

Bakugou’s nostrils are flaring, and he takes deliberate steps closer to you. Try all you want, you can’t stop the harsh thumping of your heart at this moment. 

When he’s finally close enough, his hand grasps your wrists and walks you back, back, back until you make contact with a cold wall. 

“You made this mess, sweetheart,” he trails his lips down your throat. “Now fix it.” 

An hour later, Bakugou is called out to fight. He swaggers into the arena, disheveled hair barely noticeable from this distance. Thankfully, the high neck of his jacket covers a few hickeys as well. 

 You, however, scramble back into the stands, hair ruffled and clothes oversized. 

“Aww YN, where’d the cheerleading outfit go?” Toru pouts, waggling her pom poms.

Nervously giggling, you collapse into a seat next to her, ignoring the shakiness of your legs as you try to sit in a comfortable position. Ouch. 

“I, uh, I had to change. I was getting a little cold.” 

Not really. But Bakugou’s sweatshirt combined with leggings hides his lovebites better than that outfit ever would. 

It is definitely still tucked in the back of your closet for… future occasions, though.

Standing down in the arena, Bakugou spots you in the stands and throws you a devilish smirk that has you squeezing your legs together.

I just cached up with the one punch manga and ahhhhhh spoiler alert I can't get enough of garou I feel like they made him purposefully more and more hotter each chapter and his teamwork x rivalry with metal bat ahhhhh and so my brain rot for the two them just won't stop so I'm here to request more of that yandere metal bat and garou x reader please 🙏🙏😭😩❤️✋

Ayo any fics with that pairing being yandere is honestly such a gold mine istg. absolutely love the dynamic between those two and how they both have soft spots for children.

no ideas for a full hc of that, but now I can only think my next logical step for this group would be babies??? On God, can you imagine how protective they would be if you were pregnant with one of theirs? they would literally orbit around you whenever you left the house.

plus garou's totally the one that would like stick headphones on your stomach and then try and talk through a connected microphone to the baby. not even like reading children's books or anything but literally ranting about his day and how annoying heroes can be.

metal bat's in the other room like "i shoulda killed this mf when i had the chance" but he's got his own dibs on feeling your stomach for kicks first.

Oh Jesus this one just came to me but can you imagine the staring contest that would happen when you're giving birth and you're squeezing both of their hands so hard and they're just combatting to see which one will pussy out and cry from the pain first. legendary.

no cap but when both garou and metal bat are trying to learn how to wrap a diaper they would like squat in the corner of the house hovering menacingly over like a freshly unswaddled watermelon. then they're just mystified on what to do first bc they both wanna act like they know what they're doing but they're not gonna swoop in until the other one tries it. So they're both just squatting there staring at a watermelon half in a diaper, grumbling creepily to themselves about what to do first.

Eventually (of course) Uncle Tareo and Auntie Zenko are invited over to see the baby. cue entirely unnecessary christmas-card photos in February.

Yandere Zuko Headcanons

*GIF not mine*

A/N: Short little thing for the night bc why tf not. So I finally finished ATLA and holy shit it’s fucking amazing. I definitely recommend. Sadly, there’s a severe lack of Yandere Avatar imagines, so I hope this’ll encourage better yandere authors to get somethin’ goin’. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 886

Let’s get one thing straight before we start. This mf is possessive.

We all saw the beach episode (yah, that’s some anime shit right there), and we all saw how he went nuts over Mai.

With you, it’s more.

As the Fire Lord, you bet he’s gonna use his authority to kick out any guards of his who stare at you for a second too long. 

He has his most trusted adversaries follow you whenever you travel into town, or just straight up follows you himself (he got them Blue Spirit skillz)

Craves your attention 24/7 like a true momma’s boy

“YN, come here!”

Emotionally Unstable™

He always, always throws fits whenever you talk to someone

Like he’ll get angry and his hands light aflame without him even trying

Then he’ll walk up behind you and just stand there glaring at the other person.

You can feel the heat against your back, but you dismiss it. Meanwhile the other person is about to shit themselves. 

It’s not surprising that they run away mid-sentence

Moving on, lemme just say Zuko is never controlling of you. 

No, not of you. But the people around you... now that’s a different story. 

He may be awkward as hell, but he also knows how to threaten people (let it be known that this fucker was only an official good guy in the last five episodes)

Let’s hop into a lil story, shall we?

Okay, so first of all, you were part of the Gaang, and you were very accepting of him from the beginning. After all, your past wasn’t that squeaky clean either

Anyway, he meets you and you’re all snarky with him but kind when it counts and it’s all like bu-BAM. Obsessive mode engaged.

Any encounters you guys have with enemies like Fire Nation soldiers or the Dai Li or smth, Zuko always shoves you behind his back and protects you at all costs. 

You bitch him out about it afterwards, but he just zones out and nods along, admiring every inch of your face and body.

After Fire Lord Ozai is defeated, you’re helping Zuko prepare for his ceremony, exchanging the occasional kiss while helping him slip on the robe and tie up his hair. 

You leave to finish up getting ready yourself (even though he would prefer if you stayed in your bra and panties forever, holed up in his room) and that’s when Mai returns. 

“Mai!” Zuko is surprised (and lowkey pissed) at the feeling of her cold hands on his body. 

She’s all up in his face, ready to slap a smooch on his kisser, and of course that’s when you return to ask whether you should wear jewelry that matches his eyes or not (ofc, y would u even ask?🤦‍♀️)

He pushes Mai to the ground in an instant, but it’s too late. You’ve already stopped in your tracks, the contentedness on your face long gone.

“YN IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!” 

It’s really not, but the fact that he said that makes it look like it is.

Your eyes tear up but you force on a smile and shake your head. 

“No, no, I understand. I was just a replacement.” Your voice cracks along with Zuko’s heart. “I-I’ll leave you two alone now.”

You run out and of course Zuko’s gonna chase after you. He would track you to the ends of the Earth bc you know he’s got experience in that area

He tackles you in the middle of the hallway and just hugs you so tightly you can’t even breathe. Just the idea of losing you almost drove him mad in an instant. 

You struggle in his arms and tense up when you hear him begin to cry. 

“Don’t leave me. Please please don’t leave me.” 

He’s pressing kisses across your bare skin, up your neck and on the apples of your cheeks while his own tears begin to paint your skin. 

“Mai means nothing to me now. YN, you’re the love of my life. I won’t lose you.” 

The tone rattles you a little, but you still hug him back and nod. 

“Okay. I won’t leave.” 

“You’re my Queen.”

“Okay.”

“I love you so much.”

“...” It was a little too soon for you. “...o-okay.”

Just your agreement was enough for him, and soon he drags you all the way back to his bedroom, asking you to continue helping him get ready with a serene smile on his face like nothing ever happened wtfff

Mai’s disappeared, and little did you know that would be the last day anyone would ever see her again. You always try to ask Zuko, but he brushes it off with an insistence that it was “pointless to worry about” or that it was a “private, sensitive matter”

Overall, he loves you and would never hurt you. But the second your eyes aren’t on him or you’re not attached to his hip, you best believe someone’s gonna pay.