Okay Yall, Hear Me Out:

i love your writing! if it's ok can i request something nsfw with yandere zuko (your hc for him were really good)

Hot With Envy (Yandere Zuko x Reader) (NSFW)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After seeing you laugh with another man at his five-year reign celebration, Zuko must show you who you belong to. 

A/N: Hey, so I finally got part of my life in order. Woohoo. Thankfully, that allowed me to finally finish this request. I’m sorry it took me a while, and I can’t promise that the others won’t end up the same way, but I hope this at least tickles ur fancy. Enjoy!

Warnings: Possessive sex, dirty talk, vaginal sex

Word count: 2916

        “God, YN. I can’t fucking believe you.” 

        Zuko was pissed. More than pissed, he was infuriated. Steam blew out of his nose every step he took as he led you out of the ballroom. 

        The fifth anniversary of Zuko’s reign as the new fire lord, and he had only lasted twenty minutes. 

        “What did I even do?!” The more you tried to pull out of his straining grip, the more bruising it became. You’ve seen Zuko jealous, possessive, hell, even straight up obsessive, but never have you seen him so green-eyed as tonight. If he grew any angrier, your hand would fall clean off. 

        “What did you do? What did you do?! Are you trying to piss me off?” 

        By the looks of it, he was dragging you towards his bedroom. The maroon halls of the Fire Nation Royal Palace were like no other; decked out in vases and other artworks of the past millennium, you didn’t dare look into the eyes of a royal painting for fear that it would fall and you would have to pay for damages. 

        “Zuko, come on. Just tell me what I did!”         His bitter laugh makes your teeth grind. “You really wanna know?”

        “Yes!”

        “You wore that stupid dress. Then you walked into that stupid party looking stupidly beautiful. Then you talked to that stupid guy!”

        “...And?”

        His storming down the halls slowed to a halt. 

        “‘And’? Fuck, YN. You’re absolutely clueless, and that’s coming from me.”

        It took you only a second to realize he had stopped directly in front of his bedroom. You weren’t an idiot; you knew where this was going. 

        “Zuko, stop. That’s your party out there. We can’t just abandon it while guests are still in attendance.” 

        “Why do you want to go back there so bad, YN?” You still hadn’t gotten a chance to see his face, but judging by the tightness in his tone, he was just as agitated as when you both left, if not more. 

        “I-I don’t-”

        “Do you want to see that man again?” The doors to his bedroom swing open hard enough to slam against the walls, leaving a harsh bang to echo around the room. When he turned back to you, there was a glint in his eyes you had never seen before. “Because trust me, my love, after tonight, the only person you’ll be able to think of is me.”

        His chambers were dark and spacious, with the ruby drapes drawn to cover the raised moon in the sky. The black carpet softened every step you took as Zuko dragged you to the center of the room, just where the bed sat. 

        It was large and lonely. The silk, crimson covers of the bed were pulled so taut over the mattress it looked as if nobody has slept there in ages. Two pillows stood at the beadboard, one too many for just Zuko. Four marble bed posts framed each corner, all leading up to connect with the high ceilings. Curtains hung between each, casting shadows over the bed from the candlelight in the corner. Zuko must have lit them while you were distracted with observing. 

        Otherwise, the room was filled with darkness, the one light barely enough to help your straining eyes. Before you could even see him coming, Zuko latched his hand back over your wrist and tugged you hard enough to have you stumbling into the bed, tripping and falling into the cozy blankets that swallowed you easily. 

        “Zuko.” You weren’t quite sure what you wanted to say. Maybe “stop,” or “let’s slow down.” You didn’t get a chance to decide.

        Seconds after you fell, he followed, his legs encompassing only one of your thighs. 

        After he dug his knee into your mound, you figured out why. 

        A moan slipped from your lips, causing Zuko to give you a smirk. Only when your hands came up to press against his chest did he capture them in his own, gathering them in a single grip and forcing them above your head. With his free hand, he trailed a finger down your cheek before cupping your jaw. 

        “Don’t worry, my love. There’s plenty more to come.” 

        At the words, his eyes darted down your body, tongue sweeping out over his lips before he slammed his mouth onto yours. 

        “Mmm,” you could only hum as he kissed you with a fevered passion. Body pressing yours deeper into the bed, he dug his knee harder against your clothed core, the pure heat radiating from his body making it seem like there were no barriers at all. 

        “Zuko.” His name escaped your lips in a breathy moan, and left him panting as he leaned his forehead against yours. 

        “That’s right, YN. Let everyone know who’s doing this to you.” Before you could respond, he sunk his teeth into the juncture of your neck, forcing you to mewl and jerk against his knee. His tongue peeked out to soothe the reddened skin, lapping up the growing sweat on your neck at the same time. 

        More, more, more. That’s all you could think of, and soon enough, you were practically humping Zuko’s leg like a bitch in heat. Though, he didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

        “Look at you, fucking yourself against me. I don’t even have to touch you to get you off.” A rip cut through the otherwise silent room like a hot knife through butter, and it took you a minute to realize what had truly happened. 

        Your dress slid off with ease, and when Zuko tossed it aside, you could see the torn threads spanning along the back of the fabric. With only a wrap over your breasts and-- albeit soaked-- panties to cover your twitching core, you couldn’t help but suddenly grow embarrassed at the situation. 

        “Wait, Zuko, maybe we should slow-” his lips recapture yours before you can finish, and his free hand begins to slide from your chin down to your collarbone. His fingertips, like little brushes of a feather, travel lower and lower until they meet the top of your white breast cloth. They dip inside, just into the space formed by the valley of your chest, and just as viciously as your dress, they rip the material away and toss it aside. 

        A burn was left behind at the harsh rip against your skin, but it’s quickly forgotten in exchange for Zuko massaging your mounds in his hand. Pleasure shoots through your core when he pinches the peaks, grinning against your lips at the whine you give off. 

        “Do you want someone else to touch you like this, YN?” Heavy-lidded eyes burn into your own, waiting with impatience for your answer. 

        “No, Zuko, only you- ah!” Your voice breaks off into a squeal when he pinches them once again before sliding off the bed to undress himself. Your chest heaves while you wait for him to return, and in that time, a thought flits through your mind-- you could touch yourself to relieve some of the ache. 

        The man seems to read your mind, and he tsks. “Don’t even think about it, love. You don’t want more punishments, do you?”

        The spanks, the hot touches, the rough bites. You couldn’t lie; the repercussions didn’t seem too terrible considering you would at least find release, but before your hand reaches down fast enough, Zuko’s already snagged it in a tight grip. 

        “Shit, you’re really that horny, love? Well fuck, let’s make this quick then, shall we?”

        In an instant, he drops your hand in exchange for your ankles, dragging you to the edge of the bed before forcing your legs apart. His thick length stands at attention by his stomach, leaving your juices to drip down your thighs in clear droplets. 

        Sightseeing doesn’t last long, and soon Zuko’s flipped you onto your stomach, propping up your knees and dragging a finger up the slick of your wet panties. 

        “This,” he growls, pulling aside the black lace enough to leave your throbbing core bare for him to see, “belongs to me.” Hands push your knees further apart, enough that your wetness can only drip down onto the sheets instead of trailing down your thighs. 

        Slap! A hand collides with the skin of your left cheek hard enough to have you cry out. “Say it, YN.” 

        “It belongs to you!”

        Slap! Another hit to the other cheek and you bury your face into the blankets, pleasure mingling with pain as Zuko less-than-gently rubs the abused flesh of your backside. 

        “You got that fucking right.”

        Then, before you acknowledge what’s happening, Zuko’s pushing himself deep inside you, faster than you can adjust and leaving behind a feeling no different than tearing your body in half. 

        “UNGH!” Instinctively, your back straightens and you try to crawl away, but another spank and Zuko’s bottomed out inside you. His member stretches your fluttering walls enough to the point of an unbearable burn, but luckily, he has enough mercy to allow you to adjust. 

        Tears prick your eyes and your fingers curl into the sheets, trying to bear the sudden intrusion as best as possible. And soon enough, you feel the ache begin to fade. 

        Zuko’s had enough sense to stop, hearing the way you cried under his first thrust, but he can’t bring himself to feel bad anymore when you begin pushing back against him. “Fuck,” he hisses when you purposefully clench around him. 

        Before you know it, he’s become feral. 

        The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the dark room in a frantic pattern as Zuko thrusts into you at a bruising pace. 

        “Ngh. Harder, Zuko!”

        He doesn’t disappoint, and soon, he’s driving you into the mattress with every thrust, one hand holding you in place on your hips while the other digs into your hair and yanks your head back. 

        “Shit, you’re so tight. So tight just for me, YN.”

        Mouth forming an “o” shape, you can’t even respond aas your eyes roll back from the pleasure. Your moans almost drown out the loud cracking of the headboard against the wall, and distantly, you know it could draw some curious eyes--

        “Look at your naughty little hole. Taking me so well.” 

        But you just couldn’t bring yourself to care. The feeling of his shaft dragging against your g-spot, pulling out just far enough to caress your swollen bud before plunging back inside has a coil tightening in your stomach. 

        “Fuckkkk. Zuko, I’m close!”

        “Already, love?” 

        The hand in your hair tugs hard enough to strain your scalp as Zuko pulls you up onto your knees, his chest flush to your back. With the new angle, Zuko rams into the special spot deep in your hole with every single-- holy fuck-- thrust. 

        “Who fucks you this good?” His hand untangles from your strands and reaches up around your throat. 

        “Zuko!” You throw your head back onto his shoulder and dig a hand into his sweaty hair, pulling his face down to your neck. At your silent command, his lips run up and down the skin, sucking on the skin between breaths and grunts. He follows dutifully as your body jolts back and forth, shaken violently with each drive of his hips. 

        “Who’s the only one that makes you feel like this?” 

        “Noooo- ah shit!” You can barely hold yourself up when Zuko’s hand, hot by his own command, rubs furious circles into your swollen bud. The act has you grinding into his hand while it throws you into a tailspin of pleasure, head growing foggy as you only chase a release. 

        “Nuh-uh,” he groans out, hand slowing just enough to have you whine, “say my name, love.”

        “Zuko, please! Keep going!” You have to choke out the words, the hand around your neck just tight enough to keep your breathing quick but loose so that you can speak. Your fingers tighten in his hair and around his wrist, one tugging his lips closer to your hot skin while the other keeps his hand assaulting your clit. 

        It’s too much, and you know it’s too much, but his hold on you from every end is stronger than iron. Your back arches at a particularly deep thrust that has the head of his member brushing your cervix. “Oh GOD! Zuko, I’m so close!”

        The constant clenching of your core around his length has already revealed this to him, and he keeps the fast pace that has you oh-so willing to beg.

        “Oh yeah, love? Tell me then, who owns you?”

        “More!”

        “Nope.” He pinches your clit hard enough that you spasm, but not enough to trigger your release. 

        “AGH!”

        “Say it, YN,” he captures your earlobe between his teeth. “Who owns you?”

        You can’t speak, too lost in pleasure to comprehend a word he was grunting into your ear. Each time he sinks into your dripping hole, he rubs your bud in tandem. You couldn’t even open your mouth at this point without drool dribbling down your chin. 

        “One more chance, love. Who owns you?” His teeth grit with impatience, and by now, he’s lost all rhythm. Erratically, he drives into you from behind, hips now leaving your backside red with fresh bruises. Then finally, finally, the bubble bursts.

        “ZUKO!” The scream of his name ripped through your throat just as harshly as your orgasm, liquid running down your thighs and soaking into the bed like spilled water. During this, you clench so tightly around him, Zuko almost blacks out from the feeling, releasing inside you just as fast. 

        As you fall from your high, your body begins to come back down, instantly feeling the side effects of staying in one position for too long. Your thighs whine and shiver before going just numb enough that you fall forward, Zuko having no other option than to collapse on top of you.

        His body is hot and sweaty, overheating you enough that you squirm and wiggle underneath him until he gets the hint. 

        “Oh, sorry.” 

        The phase of confidence is over as he slips out of you, allowing both of your juices to flood out of you in a delicious mixture Zuko eyes up proudly. Not long after does he fall into the space beside you, still panting and heaving in breaths while he wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

        “Come here.” 

        He doesn’t have to ask twice. Cuddles with Zuko after sex were silent and peaceful, usually followed by a shared nap for rest. 

        You settle your head onto his chest, ear right over his racing heartbeat as you lay a hand on his flexing stomach. 

        “That was…” you couldn’t even answer, instead shaking your head and settling for a grin in Zuko’s direction. 

        Though his face grows red, he nods in agreement, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Yeah,” he whispers, “it was.”

        The dim room falls into a silence not uncommon nor uncomfortable. Though sweaty, you both stuck to each other on purpose, wanting to be close after such a time. 

        When your breathing begins to slow is when Zuko speaks up again. 

        “Hey, YN?” 

        “Yeah?” It’s more of a yawn than a question.

        “You meant what you said, right?” 

        “What do you mean?” You peer up at him, a little flustered to see such an intense look in Zuko’s normally shy gaze.

        “When you said you belonged to me. You meant it, right?”

        Oh yeah, that did happen. In the heat of the moment, you would honestly say anything for such euphoria. Now, though, you wondered if that would one day be your downfall. 

        “Umm… well….” You wanted the conversation to die out and never be brought up again, but Zuko’s emboldened gaze was insistent. 

        “Well?”

        “Y-yes,” you drop your ear back to his heart and nod your head. “I meant it.” Anything to get out of this awkward situation. 

        “Good, my love. I’m glad. Now that I own you, no man will ever touch you again. I promise.” 

        Oh God, what trap have you just fallen into?

        With that, he rolled over and draped both an arm and a leg over your body, effectively trapping you to the mattress. 

        “Good night, my queen.”

        “Good n-night, Zuko.”

                                ~~~

        “Fire Lord Zuko.” 

        His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was you. Your beautiful face, serene and peaceful in your slumber, framed by the sunshine peeking through the drapes behind your head. Ever so carefully, he untangled himself from around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead before ushering the guard to the hall. 

        “Did you manage to find him?”

        “Yes, my lord.” The soldier averted his gaze as Zuko tightened his robe and shoved on a pair of sandals. Once he appeared modest enough for the rest of the castle, the guard began to lead him through the corridors to a dank stairway. “We’ve left him in cell seven for you.” 

        “Good. Now I can show him what happens when you try to go after my love.”

Home Alone (Hinata x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You should never leave Hinata alone with the responsibility of the chores in the house. Especially when your next-door neighbor is a dick. 

A/N: Fuck shitty wifi, fuck fuck fuckkkkkk. Like seriously, someone please tell me I’m not the only one struggling with editing the fucking tags on posts, pleaseeee. Anyways, I was desperate for an idea, and I didn’t like this one at first, but I swear it’s good. Enjoy!

Word count: 944

        Ah, home sweet home. You were back from a business trip that required you to leave home for a week. Yes, it was only seven days, but a week of your husband home alone without supervision was seven days too many. Although, when you arrived back at your house and saw it wasn’t burned down, you were relieved to know you were worried for nothing. 

       “Shoyo, I’m back!” You closed the front door and kicked off your shoes, only to crash into the wall behind you from the force of a hug. 

       “I’m so glad you’re home, YN! I missed you so much!” His voice wavered with excitement as he smiled into your collarbone. 

       “I missed you too.” You pull away and smile at him brightly, giving a small peck to his lips. He whines at its duration before pouting.

       “YN, I need cuddles, it’s been too long.” Shoyo snatches your arm and leads you toward the bedroom, only to groan when you wriggle out of his grip. 

       “I know, I know,” you laugh, “but I’m thirsty. I’ll just get a drink real quick then I’ll join you.” His reaction worries you.

       “No!” he shouts anxiously, brown eyes wider than dinner plates.

       “Excuse me?” Your eyebrows furrow in utter confusion.

       “I’ll get it for you! You just go up to the room, I’m sure you’re tired!” He nods his head affirmatively at his own statement and places his hands on your shoulders, driving you towards your shared room. You plant your feet and stop his movements, all while giggling at his abnormal actions. 

       “Shoyo, don’t worry. I’m not that worn out.” You step into the kitchen while your husband seems to choke on air behind you. “Trust me, I’m awake enough to get myself a glass of water.” He stays suspiciously silent behind you while you peer into the empty sink on your way to the cupboards.

       “Aww, babe, thanks for doing the dishes before I came home!” 

       “Yeah sure, of course.” His voice is higher than normal, but you don’t mention it. Looking into the cupboards, you’re puzzled to find them completely empty. 

       “They’re in the washer.” 

       “Oh.” You step over to said appliance. “Well, just so you know in case I have to leave again, you can’t put too many dishes in here, otherwise it’ll-”

       Suds. Everywhere. The opening was overflowing with blue and white bubbles as soon as you pulled on the handle, and now your kitchen floor was soaked and stunk of bittersweet dish soap. Your lips draw into a firm line and you turn around to look at your ashamed husband, who avoids your gaze and rocks back and forth on his heels. He’s innocently whistling a tune with his hands held behind his back. Wonderful. 

       “It’ll do that,” you finish, chest tight with stifled frustration. Shoyo halts his actions and stares at you with shame.

       “Should I-”

       “Yeah, mop’s in the closet.” You nod your head towards the hallway. He follows your orders, until….

       “On the left,” you remind him impatiently. Your jaw aches from the constant clench.

       “Right, right.”

       Your mouth is still dry as a desert and you peer into the leaking dishwasher for any usable cup, only to smack your palm against your forehead at the sight. 

       “Shoyo, is this the laundry?” 

       “Umm, sort of?”

       “Sort of?” You reach in and retrieve his favorite shorts, waving them around in his face with a raised brow. 

       “Yes.” You huff and toss the clothing at him before rubbing your temples. A terrible, awful idea decides to smack you in the face at that moment, causing you to pause and slowly glance up at your husband. The veins in your forehead are having a field day while the rest of your body remains still.

       “Honey, if these are our clothes, where are our dishes?” Your voice is soft and patient. It’s a lure, and he knows it. 

       “W-well, they’re not in the clothes’ washer if that’s what you’re asking!” Shoyo laughs uproariously and you sigh in relief. 

       “Thank God,” you giggle softly, “‘cause for a second there I was like ‘Please tell me I didn’t marry an idiot.’” After you give him a small smile, your husband’s eyes widen and he squeaks out an “mhm!”

       You shake your head with a relieved chuckle and give him a small peck on the cheek.

       “I’m just gonna go hang up my coat, I’ll be right back.” 

       “O-okay.” He dashes into the kitchen with his requested mop and you make your way into the laundry room, dropping your jacket on the coat rack.

       Clink clink.

       What.

       The smile falls off your face instantly. Your eyes squint, and you’re not exactly sure what you’re hearing, but you know for a fact you don’t like it. 

       Clink clink.

       Oh God, please don’t tell me. Your shoulders tense as you step closer to your dryer, pausing the machine and whipping it open with tightly-shut eyes. The clanging has stopped, so you hesitantly take a peek.

       “Shoyo!”

       Silence.

       “Shoyo Hinata, why the fuck are there glass shards in the dryer?!”

       Your house rattles with the force of a slammed front door. Son of a bitch.

       Distantly, you hear a muffled, panicked shout from your husband followed by the devious cackles of your neighbor.

       “Kageyama, you lying bastard! You told me the dishes needed to dry!”

Bokuto for me is an obssesive and unstable yandere. I feel like he would force his darling to play the doting housewife for him. And he sees her not paying him enough attention, he will flip and either (1) beat her up or (2) fuck her until she's a blabbering mess 😌

You right, you right😤 he’s definitely fallen so far over the edge that he thinks you’re okay with what he does to you.

When he comes home from volleyball games, I can totally see him having you obey a strict daily routine of a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and then you bring him dinner and cuddle.

Honestly tho, there is solid evidence that this boy would love to see you covered in marks from his hands, sexual or otherwise.

(Can you imagine the smirk when he’s pounding into you? “Fuck yeah, YN, keep saying my name. Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this, baby?”)

"Red String if nothingness" has me in a bittersweet mood. Kenma is in love with someone else but you never know what the future holds? And maybe in the future the two of them would eventually find each other again, because at the end of that red string you'll always find each other and knowing my dumb ass (speaking from irl experience) even though it hurts if I love that person I'd wait for them even if it takes a long time. It's fine with me as long as he's happy (I'm dumb) even if it hurts me

🤯Spittin facts my dude😤 I’m glad ur seeing the bright side of it, cuz I just hate those angsty soulmate aus where they just dont end up together😔 at the end of the stories I’m always like “tf is this 💩??”

if that did not send on anon i will be logging OUT

Agsjdjskjdd you’re clear!

Yandere bokuto the one that will look at you with puppy eyes everytime you need to go out to get something begging you to stay and cuddle

“Bokuto, let me uppp.”

“No,” he tightens his hold around your waist, burying his face deeper into your neck, “not happening.”

When you finally slip off the couch, he gives you the saddest puppy dog eyes, lips pouting. “Babyyyyy, please stay?”

“I-” you sigh, “fine.” He doesn’t say another word, only whooping and tugging you back onto the cushions. He plops himself on top of you this time so there’s really no point in trying to escape, every limb of his trapping your own smaller version to the couch. The hair on his head tickles your chin as he shoves his face against your throat.

“This is where you belong, YN.”

My Hero Academia Masterlist

☔ = Angst

🌦️ = Angst to Fluff

💥 = Crack

☀️ = Fluff

💋 = Smut

🖤 = Yandere

🔔 = Request

🟪Imagines🟪

Bakugou Katsuki:

■  Dance With Me Tonight 🔔 🌦️

Bakugou is pissed after he’s assigned to be a bodyguard along with the rest of the class for one of the richest families in Japan. He didn’t even want to go since you, his crush, weren’t gonna be there! But wait… surely that’s not you on the dance floor with another guy?

■  Hurts to Forget 🌦️

After getting into a scuffle with a villain, you get knocked unconscious and retain minor injuries. At least you thought they were minor. But according to the destructive blond who had blasted his way into your hospital room, your brain might be a little more damaged than you first thought.

■  Ignorance is Bliss 💥☀️

Confessing to you has turned into quite the hassle for Bakugou, as you seem to be totally oblivious to every single one of his ideas. From notes to jewelry, you don’t notice a single thing he tries to anonymously give you. Surely you weren’t that ignorant, were you?

■  The Luna Hunt (ABO AU) 💥

You don’t need a mate right now; you’ve got more important things, like revenge, on your mind. But the Alpha King needs a mate to take his throne, and now he’s come to town to take you. 

■  Nail Polish and Peer Pressure 💥

You just wanted to paint your nails in his room, but Bakugou always had to throw a hissy fit. No matter; revenge can take many forms.

■  One Sorry Idiot in a Tree 💥 (slight 🌦️)

After Bakugou saw you “flirt” with Kirishima, he wasn’t very happy with you. Gee, I wonder what you could do to make him forgive you. On a completely unrelated note, did you know there was a tree outside his window?

■  Operation Breakup Backfires 🌦️

What’s the harm of a little breakup prank? It doesn’t even work anyway….

Shigaraki Tomura:

■  The Mushroom Cloud 🔔 ☔

Shigaraki promised to come back for you in that warehouse. Promised to save you, pinned under exploded debris that crushed your legs to nothingness. The ambush wasn’t supposed to happen, but neither was the explosion that occurred after. “Fine, you can come. But if your ass gets blown up, don’t come cryin’ to me.”

Todoroki Shouto:

■  Guppy Love 💥

Fish don’t survive in coffee. You find that out the hard way.

■  Just Playing Twister 💥

You guys were just playing a game of Twister. Midoriya knew that. They’re always just playing a game of Twister… right?

■  Kidnappers and Keepers (Soulmate AU) 💥☀️

You get kidnapped by a douchebag named “Clarence.” Nothing tops that. Well, except for your dreamboat of a soulmate. Now, he’s a keeper right there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🟣Headcanons🟣

After the Breakup (Bakugou, Kirishima) 🌦️(slight 💋)

Crush with a Thirst Trap TikTok (Bakugou) 🔔 (slight 💋)

An Enemy Hypnotizes Him and He Hurts You (Bakugou) 🌦️

He Gets You a Dog but You’re Afraid of Dogs (Shigaraki, Bakugou, Kaminari) 🔔 🖤☀️

He Tells You to Run and You Get Lost (Shigaraki, Dabi) (Bakugou, Shinsou, Todoroki) 🔔 🖤

He Wants You to Sit on His Lap (Kirishima, Kaminari, Todoroki, Midoriya) (slight 🌦️)☀️ (slight 💋)

Kidnapping Fan Darling (Bakugou, Todoroki, Midoriya) 🔔 🖤

League of Villains Reactions to Their Children (Dabi, Shigaraki) 🔔💥

S/O in Sports Festival Cheer Outfit (Bakugou) 🔔(slight 💋)

S/O with a Heart Condition (Todoroki, Bakugou, Tokoyami, Shigaraki, Dabi) 🔔☀️

When He’s Your Fellow Actor (Bakugou, Todoroki, Kirishima)☀️

You Come Home Injured (Bakugou, Todoroki, Kirishima) 🖤

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts. 

Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance. 

And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes. 

All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet. 

You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting. 

But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle. 

“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.” 

You suck in a breath. 

“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”

His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.

“I want you back.” 

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead. 

“I need you back.” 

More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing. 

You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek. 

Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was. 

“I didn’t know…” 

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return. 

“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”

He swallows thickly. 

“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.

“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”

He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache. 

Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time. 

“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”

“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow. 

Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.

He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?

“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull. 

Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears. 

But it’s him and he was yours and you were his. 

Were. 

You were his. 

You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb. 

Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it. 

“I need to see you.” 

He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face. 

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.” 

He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.

You should probably think he’s wrong.

You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do. 

Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.

“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”

Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys. 

Then the sound of a door slamming. 

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving. 

“I need to see you.” 

And the voicemail ends. 

_________________________

Satori Tendou: 

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief. 

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond. 

“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”

A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it. 

“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”

He sighs. 

“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker. 

“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”

Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg. 

And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something. 

When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months. 

You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day. 

Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went. 

He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done. 

“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke. 

You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon. 

No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking. 

“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”

He breathes a ghost of a laugh. 

“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”

You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time. 

“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue. 

“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”

You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself. 

“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled. 

“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”

Tendou soughs.

“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”

I just read the guppy love (shouto) oh my it was just so cute sfsedfergdidridtjr anyways are you planning to make a continuation? *silently egging author-chan to qwq* anyways your writing is phenomenal as always!! Please take care of your health and stay safe ily uwu)/❤❤✨

Akfjfjidkd I’m so glad you like that one🥰 definitely one of my favorites and though I don’t exactly have any ideas for a sequel, it’s definitely near the top of my lists for fics I need to write a part 2 for!

I’m so happy you like my writing🥺🥺 and u stay safe too💖💜

so osamu x reader angst au where osamu is deeply in love with the reader and decided to dye his hair blonde so reader can cope with tsumu's death but didn't like this idea anymore, he wanted her to love him for who he truly is,,, 👉👈

Lapse in Judgement (Osamu x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: A car crash has taken Osamu’s brother away, the boy you liked so dearly. Osamu was dull to the pain, his crush on you blinding him from reality. But when he dyes his hair in hopes that he could make you feel the same, he realizes he may have gone too far. 

A/N: Sorry it took me a while. As per request, we got some major angst, but I gotta be honest, I don’t think Osamu’s evil enough to focus on a girl rather than his brother, so I focused more on his desperation to replace what he had lost than anything else. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1412

        Maybe it was a mistake. A screw up of the royal kind. 

        But at most, it was a lapse in judgement. 

        High school boy found dead in a car accident. That’s what the newspapers said, but it didn’t account for the total grief of it all. 

        Boy, dead. Drunk driver, critical condition. The navy blue truck totalled the small SUV at eight o’ clock at night after running a red light. Witnesses called for help, and that was it. 

        Except it wasn’t. 

        The journalists didn’t talk about the empty bedroom across from Osamu’s. They didn’t talk about the abandoned desk in Class 4b, the bare seat at the lunch table, the still-full locker in the hallway. 

        Atsumu was gone, with only an indifferent news article to his name. 

        Practice was never quite the same. Each time Osamu went, he couldn’t help but stare at the floor where his brother once stood. Deep down, he knew he should have cried by now. Bawled tears at the funeral, or maybe let one slip when he saw the first layer of dust settle onto his brother’s dresser. 

        But the truth was that he hadn’t. Yeah, it hurt, but he couldn’t… feel it. Every sense in his body was numb as he got through each passing day like turning the pages of a book without reading them. Things were happening, he just didn’t care enough to listen. 

        Osamu guessed the one who was visibly taking it the hardest was you, who won by a landslide. 

        The night he died, you had texted the quieter twin with wide-eyed innocence, revealing that the next day at school, you were going to give Atsumu a letter telling him how you feel. 

        I can do it! Just watch me, Samu!

        The chance never came, and when Osamu informed you of what had happened, you had broken down in his arms. 

        And he felt sick for the first time. 

        Disgust at himself for actually being happy that he was the one to hold you now, it was horrifying. The bile that had risen up his throat lost out to the joy. 

        Him, Osamu, he was the one you talked to now, each day asking him if he was okay, hugging him and confiding in him with your deepest thoughts. 

        You and Atsumu had been close in a way Osamu had always been envious of. Teasing and flirting, all of it turned him into a green-eyed monster.

        So maybe that was what forced away his ache of loss. Around him, you were almost as happy, almost as teasing and playful, but you had lost that glint in your eyes. You didn’t have that with Osamu.

        He knew that was what had sent him over the edge. 

        Two weeks after his brother’s death, still not a tear spilt. Instead, he spent all his time thinking about you. Your smile, less forced than before. The shine in your hair had returned, and your cheeks finally began to flush again. 

        Osamu entered the school and made a beeline for the classroom, praying that you had attended school today so he could see you. So you could validate what he had done. 

        And there you were, slipping into the classroom with the same dark circles under your eyes. They were no longer only from long nights of doing schoolwork. 

        “YN.” 

        Your head snapped up and your eyes met his in a split second. Then your gaze rose to his hair. Your lips separated to let out a single, quick breath of air while your brow twitched. 

        “At- Osamu?” 

        He nodded, the newly-blond hair shifting to hang in front of his eyes.

        “Your… you changed your hair.” 

        “Yeah, I did.”

        And that was that.

                                ~~~

        Having you by his side, Osamu could ignore all the stares he received. He never cared for attention, especially not now. Throughout the halls of school, people’s brows rose to their hairlines as they watched you both walk around, hand in hand and smile together. 

        It never seemed weird, and Osamu had never felt happier. 

        He wasn’t… he wasn’t alone anymore. 

        The bedroom across from his never bothered him when you stayed over at night. He hadn’t even travelled into it since the last time. 

        “Do you want to come over tonight?” Osamu didn’t really say it as a question, mostly because you were guaranteed to say yes anyways. 

        “Again? I think someone likes having me around.” 

        He did. God, he loved that adoring look on your face whenever he said he wanted you. Those puppy dog eyes of yours that you never seemed to notice you were giving him made his heart thump in a frantic pattern. 

        Volleyball wasn’t really a concern anymore. The new setter pissed him off, so he didn’t bother attending practice. His jerseys hung in his closet, unworn for what might’ve been a month now. 

        It was maybe… two months? Three? Osamu wasn’t sure, but Atsumu had left a while ago. 

        So he never bothered with the sport, meaning you could come over right after school, or he could even walk with you there. 

        You both had a tradition now. Homework, then a movie or show, then a nap together. Then Osamu either walked you home or, if it was too late, let you sleep in his bed for the night. 

        He found that your warmth fended off the nightmares that leered in on him at all hours in a day. 

        Today was a day that you stayed the night. The moon was already falling from the sky by the time you two finished eating a dinner of box mac and cheese, and thus it was decided that you shouldn’t bother going home. 

        Osamu’s blond head rested on your chest, and one leg was intertwined with both of your own. His arm was strewn across your stomach, heavy enough to keep you in place for the night. 

        You had two hands in his hair, head propped up on a pillow so you could make out the shape of the tufts in the black room. It was three am, and Osamu’s breathing had finally slowed and leveled.

        “Atsumu,” you whispered, your own voice not even loud enough to hit your own ears. “Fuck, I miss you so much.” 

        Osamu shifted and your hands stilled, breath held in anticipation. Then he stopped and nuzzled his face back into your chest. 

        After waiting a couple more minutes just in case, you let out a sigh and combed through the long tufts again. “I’ll never stop loving you, Atsumu. I wish I could’ve told you that three months ago.” 

        Your eyelids grew heavy with sleep and you let out a yawn. 

        “I love you, Atsumu.” 

        And then you slipped into unconsciousness. 

        Atsumu was gone forever. 

        His bedroom was still empty, and a few spiders had probably claimed the corners of the room by now. Dust must have caked over every single picture and piece of furniture the boy had ever owned. 

        His bed was probably unmade, and would never be made again. 

        He was dead, and nobody could fill the holes his absence had left. 

        You couldn’t fix Osamu’s loneliness, no matter how much you latched onto him. 

        Osamu couldn’t replace his brother for you. He wasn’t really the boy you would love, no matter how hard he tried to be. Your words had confirmed that.

        Dying his hair was a lapse of judgement. A last ditch effort for both of you to keep his memory alive. 

        But that effort was futile. 

        And so, for the first time since he had lost his setter in volleyball, his friend in school, his rival in love, and his twin for life, Osamu let reality sink in. 

        Against your chest, in the hold of the woman he loved unrequitedly, Osamu cried.