Hello 👋 😊 I Want To Let You Know That I Love Your Work. I Mean I Absolutely Love It! Hearts All

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. 

Can I just say - I just found your blog and I'm already in love with your writing. You're so talented

🥺Thank you so much, this just made my day! I’m glad you like my writing💜💜💖

Hi ! can you make general headcanons on amai mask yandere please ? (Onepunchman)

hahahahahaha wow i gotta be honest that is not a character I have ever cared for bc of garou's HOTNESS but also remembering his background story and how every girl wants him bc he's like a hot hero or whatver the idea of him being a yandere for yn sounds fucking amazing???

no full hcs but i can give u what's swirling around in my brain for a moment. I'm sure u don't mind, considering this req has gathered more dust than a let's get it on cassette tape, and u probably don't even follow me anymore. yay

this could totally be one of the "starstruck movie" tropes where your friend is in love with amai mask but u dont rly get it so ur not a fan

and he loves this bc u know fanfic bs means that he wants u and only u (explain this in whatever way u so desire) let's just say u were built different for now

so amai mask is like head over heels and ur just like, hehehe he's like rly hot but also eh i could go without

but he can't go without

cue him paying villains and low level criminals to try and like rob u or smth so that he can save you and look rly hot while doing it--ya know, kinda like how birds do mating dances in the wild, this mf will try to have u killed and then gloriously kill your attacker while flipping his lustrous locks.

one day the villain actually goes to far and freaks u tf out so that you're shaking and amai mask just gets uncomfortable bc oh shit he paid for that to happen. he kills the guy (bc this is yandere welcome to yandere bullshit 101) and then he runs over and cradles u in his arms and whispers feather-soft in your ears that he won't let you get hurt again and to "let go, let me take care of you. You're safe with me"

and he guides u back to his apartment and buh-bam u in love he's in love yayy they lived happily ever after.

totally the type of guy to wake u up or bother the shit out of you whenever he wants hugs n kisses btw

bc ur built different

Love Me Through the Phone (Bokuto x Reader) (NSFW)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After Bokuto leaves for an away game on Valentine’s Day weekend, you’re left to handle the day’s pleasures all on your own. There’s just one little problem--nothing comes close to what Bokuto could give you. Luckily, he offers a solution, and though it’s completely out of your wheelhouse, you find yourself desperate enough to give in.

Warnings: smut, phone sex, mutual/guided masturbation, dirty talk, slight praise kink, slight dumbification, edging (if you squint), (gentle) dom!Bokuto

A/N: Happy belated Valentine’s Day! Here’s a lil gift from me to u that I’ve had stuck on my mind for a while. Yes, yes, I know, I ain’t great at writing smut, so if someone else wrote this prompt w/ Best Boi Bokuto™ uhh… *cough cough* sendittomeplsnthx. Enjoy!

Word count: 2731

        “So… what are you wearing?”

        “Jesus Christ,” you break off into a laugh, picking up the phone. 

        “Nah, nah, c’mon, I’m serious. We gotta start somewhere.”

        Still shaking your head, you lean back on the bed once more, propped up on a few pillows but otherwise completely reclined. “Fine, fine, but anything else like that and I’m gonna have to leave you to your hand.”

        “I promise, now c’mon. Tell me.”

        “Seriously?”

        “One-hundred percent.”

        You purse your lips, debating a little. You can feel how much you want it--want him--and when you shift your hips, you can almost feel it soaking uncomfortably against your clothing. He’d texted you minutes ago with a proposition after learning of your predicament last night. 

        You’d wanted him so bad, but that alone wasn’t enough. Bokuto was off at an away game, and the distance--plus it being Valentine’s Day--only made things worse. You’d tried so hard, even trying to imagine his hand in your own’s place, even his tongue. It was just not enough. 

        Though, Bokuto didn’t seem to know how to handle the situation either. 

        “Fine, fine. I’m, uh, I’m wearing that little dress you like-”

        “Yeah?”

        “-and those silk panties you almost tore that one time.”

        “Really?”

        “Fuck no. It’s a Monday--I’m wearing sweats and a tank top, and I’m pretty sure there’s at least two rats making babies in my hair.”

        “Well at least someone’s getting some.”

        “Kou!”

        “Sorry, YN!” Bokuto whines, his voice crackling through the line. “But come on! Take this seriously.” He pauses, silence flooding your room.

        “Just… let me help you.”

        Your thighs subconsciously clench at the tone. It’s so familiar it’s like they’re preparing to be spread apart. 

        The place between your thighs is soaked by now, far more stirred than you’re letting on. The fact that your voice is still steady surprises even you at this point. 

        “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

        “Don’t be, baby. Just lay back for me, will you?”

        “Okay.” Gnawing at your cheek, you make the choice to place Bokuto on speaker, setting him down just beside your shoulder so you can hear his every word. At this point, you’re on your back, head lain on a pillow and hands dancing along the strings of your sweats.

        “Comfy?”

        “Yeah.”

        “Good.” There’s a few shuffles over the phone, and when Bokuto’s voice returns he sounds a little out of breath, a little strained. “Good. Okay.”

        “Okay,” you nervously parrot, not really sure what else to do with yourself. Slowly, you’re beginning to gather that neither of you have done this before. Despite Bokuto sounding so confident earlier, he now seems reduced to the same anxious, aroused mess that you are. 

        “All right, now just…just follow my lead, okay?” 

        “Mhmm.”

        “I want you to go slow, no matter what I tell you. Don’t speed up until I say.” His orders, simply the thought of their implications, leave your fingers twitching closer to your arousal. The need to touch yourself was beginning to leave a yearning that ran rampant through your veins. A single spark filled your stomach with heat. 

        “Okay.”

        “Good,” he exhaled. “Now touch yourself.”

        You almost choked on your spit. “Wh-uh, I mean,” your gaze traced along the ceiling frantically, desperately trying to distract yourself from the burning in your cheeks. “Like, where?” 

        Your question had slipped out without a second thought, and when Bokuto chuckled, the flush spread to your chest. 

        “Maybe you’re right,” he pondered. “Let’s go slower than that.” A huff, then his voice returned, excited. “All right, I got it. Think of me, all right?”

        “Kou, I already tried that.”

        “I know, baby, I know. But now you can actually hear me, and you don’t have to imagine a thing. Leave it to me.”

        You were grateful he accepted your timid silence as approval. 

        “Okay, so… think of me touching you, right? Like I’m right there in front of you, baby, and I’m just running my hands all over you-”

        “Kou?” you cut him off, blindly picking at your fingernails. 

        “What’s up? You wanna stop?”

        “Can you touch yourself too?” And it’s when he falls silent that you realize how awkward that sounded. “Ah shit, I-I mean, like, I just kinda felt awkward doing it alone and like I felt like if you were doing it too I’d feel better about it and-”

        “God, YN, you thought I wasn’t doing that already?”

        “What?” 

        He scoffs, and shame begins to sour your anticipation. 

        “The second you said you were touching yourself to the thought of me, babe, I was at it. You seriously thought I was gonna sit here and just let you play with yourself while I’m over here just listening?”

        “I mean, a little…”

        “Shit, YN. I let you tie me up once and suddenly you think I like being blue-balled.”

        “Well…”

        “It was one time!”

        “Whatever, Kou! Can we just…get back to what we were doing?”

        “Fine, fine. But we’re discussing this later.”

        “Okay, okay. Just get on with it, will you? Please, Kou, I…” you pause, body once more growing aware of the situation between your legs. “I need your help.”

        “I know, babe.” Bokuto gulps, taking a second to relax himself once more. You’re busying yourself with fiddling with the bottom of your tank top now, tempted to just lift off the damned thing along with the rest of your clothes. 

        But you’re a little curious if Bokuto would mind that.

        “All right, sweetheart. Like I said, follow my lead.”

        You hum. 

        “I want you to imagine me there, right on top of you, baby. Think of how I’d push your shirt up, how I’d run my hands up your sides. Do that to yourself for me, will you, sweetheart?”

        You listen and copy his words, running your hands underneath the cotton hem and brushing your fingertips along your hips, just as Bokuto had done so many times. 

        Well, it wasn’t perfect. But his voice certainly helped. 

        “Go up higher, baby. I want you to hold those pretty tits of yours.

        “God, I can almost feel ‘em in my hands. So soft, always wanna keep my hands there. So fuckin’ pretty.”

        “Kou…” You do as he asks, but it’s not enough. You want more, now.

        “I know, I know. But remember, sweetheart, I said we’re taking things slow tonight.”

        “But-”

        “Now touch yourself. Imagine my hands playing with those cute little nipples of yours, baby. Make ‘em all tight and perky for me.” Hesitantly, you follow his lead. Your fingers draw circles, tug and caress like how you remember he would after long days. How his hands would yank off your shirt before palming and squeezing and stroking. Some days he was really mean, and your hips shifted at the thought of the dark marks he would leave scattered along your chest. 

        “Feel good?” His voice is breathless, and you’re a little uncertain of whether that means your soft moans had somehow passed through the phone line despite how much you’d suppressed them. Though, Bokuto did like you loud. 

        “So good,” you pant, hands still toying almost torturously. “But I want more, Kou, please.”

        “Fuck, baby, I ever tell you how cute you are when you beg?”

        “Kou…”

        “Fine, fine. But you know I’d play with your pretty tits longer than that. From now on, let’s go at my pace.”

        Fuck. You knew Bokuto had a pace, but when it came to nights like these, it was slower than you’d expect. Though most nights Bokuto jumped you and kept at it like a rabbit, there were just some days where he dragged things out, usually just to hear you beg for him. An ego boost, or whatever. Like he needed it. 

        “Slowly, sweetheart, bring your hands down to your thighs and spread ‘em, nice and gentle--you know how I’d peel ‘em apart.” He broke off into a grunt. “And t-then stroke the insides of your thighs, baby.”

        “Kou?”

        “What’s up?”

        “Do,” you clench your jaw, telling yourself to get over the embarrassment by now. “-Do you want me to take my clothes off?”

        “Fuck, you still have any on? Why?”

        “Oh.” You took that as a cue to tear off your tank top and sweatpants, a little ashamed by the eagerness with which you did it. That feeling only grew when you squirmed out of your panties, catching a glimpse of the glistening stain left on them. 

        An idea hit you, and though you knew it would only make you flush more, you wanted to hear his reaction.

        “Kou?”

        “Are they off?”

        “My panties are soaked.” 

        The reaction was instant. 

        “Jesus–fuck,” Bokuto hissed under his breath. You heard something akin to skin on skin as his cursing hitched, and a strangled groan filled your ears. 

        “Fucking tease,” he rasped when he finally seemed to stop himself from going too far. There was a tension in his voice that warned you he wanted revenge. “Put both hands on that wet little pussy, sweetheart. For that, I wanna hear it.”

        Finally. The second your dominant hand made contact with your swollen clit, your hips jerked up without volition. “Sh-it.”

        “Nu-uh, YN. Keep them there. Two inside, one on your clit. Nice and slow.”

        It was hard to keep a steady, controlled pace. Your hips kept bucking, your back kept arching, and the two fingers Bokuto had ordered deep inside you weren’t reaching that little spot he seemed to have memorized like the back of his hand. 

        The lone index finger you kept circling your clit wasn’t doing your sanity any favors. The muscles of your thighs began to tremble in sheer desire of some actual force, a little muscle behind the action. 

        “YN,” Bokuto’s tone was low, warning. The second you’d sped up your hands to meet your needs, Bokuto could hear your closed-mouth whimpers growing higher. 

        “Kou, please.”

        “Hands off, baby. Completely.”

        “Wha…” you opened your mouth in protest, reluctantly pulling two soaked fingers out of your weeping hole and forcing your hand away from your clit. 

        “I told you to listen, baby. And now that’s all you get to do.”

        “Kou, what-”

        “Ahh, shit.” You slam your mouth shut, biting your lip at the delicious moans echoing through the phone. “Fuck, so good.”

        Bokuto’s strained groans come quick and in between pants. You’re positive there’s a sheen of sweat covering his forehead now, his arm flexed and taut as he strokes himself. 

        “YN, baby. ‘F-Feels so good.”

        “Kou,” you plead, gaze a little unfocused as you listen to his moans while forcing your hands to stay at your sides. You feel yourself twitching, clenching around nothing. 

        “Fuck, wish I was inside you right now.” Throaty moans now filter through the crackling line, so loud you wonder if the neighboring apartment can hear--not that they shouldn’t be used to it by now. “You’re always so fucking tight, sweetheart. Always so wet and tight on my cock.”

        “Kou please, let me-”

        “Hold on. Just a little more, baby--fffuck. Know you wanna touch yourself. Spread your legs for me, but don’t touch.”

        You peel your knees apart once more, frustrated to no longer have any friction to work with. Your hips roll desperately, but it accomplishes nothing but making you more desperate. You can feel your arousal dripping down, now, soaking into the sheets. 

        “You remember before I left, sweetheart? Remember how I fucked your pretty little brains out? Never seen you like that before, so pretty and crying over how good my cock felt inside you.”

        “Yes, Kou, yes! Please, just let me-”

        “Said you couldn’t walk the next day. Said I fucked you so good you couldn’t feel your legs, baby. You feel ‘em now? All spread apart and just fucking shaking? If I fucked you right now, sweetheart, you think you could even think straight?”

        “No, Kou, fuck I need you so bad.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the other digging into the sheets as you waited and waited for permission. 

        “You only got your fingers, and you can’t even use ‘em. All you got is me, the thought of me fucking into you, turning your pretty little brain into mush. Making you feel so good all you can do is cry. Baby, I still got those scratch marks on my back.”

        “Kou-”

        “Just a few more days, sweetheart, and I’ll have you making new ones. For now though, I suppose I could let you play with yourself.”

        You almost cried out in relief, hands darting down to your aching, sopping hole, feeling as it drenched each fingertip with ease. 

        “Three fingers inside. I know you can take it. Pretend it’s me warming you up for my cock, baby, stretching you out and having you dripping all over my fucking hand.”

        He’s right, it is a stretch, and you almost whimper when you press your fingers up and against the little pleasure center deep inside you, fingertips just barely brushing. 

        “Your little clit hurts so good, doesn’t it, baby? You’re being so mean to it aren’t you, rubbing hard circles into it.”

        He pauses, breaking off into a drawn-out groan of your name. 

        “I don’t care. Go faster.”

        And you do, and he’s right, and you just can’t bring yourself to care as you press harsh patterns into your clit, struggling to pump your fingers at the same time without losing pace completely and frustrating yourself. 

        “That’s it. Say my name, baby. Scream my name while you play with yourself. Couldn’t do that by yourself, could you?”

        “Kou--fuck!” You clench your eyes shut, arching your back harder as you speed up your desperate ministrations. Heat gathers at your clit from the friction, and your slick is practically gushing now, loud and pornographic.

        Bokuto certainly got what he wished--there was no way he couldn’t hear how wet you were. 

        “You can only touch yourself with my help, can’t you? So fucking good to me, baby. So pretty playing with your tight little hole like that. Dirty little thing.”

        “God, fffuck,” you whimper, back arching when your gushing finally reaches its peak. 

        “You coming?”

        “Y-es!”

        “I wanna hear who made you feel this good. Who made you play with your own little pussy so good, baby?”

        “Kou! Yes, Kou!”

        “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” Bokuto moans one last time, loud and guttural, and the slick of your fingers brushing and kneading your clit becomes too much. Your legs, spread wide and strained, shake with the effort as your back arches against the pillows behind you, head tossed back and mouth open in a silent gasp. 

        Bokuto soothes you on your way down, small “I love yous” and “so good for mes” traveling over the line. When your body finally stops twitching, you lean over and snag your phone, turning it off speaker and pressing it to your ear. 

        “Thank you, Kou,” you hum softly, lethargic and exhausted. “That was so much better than last night’s shit show.”

        “I’m so relieved, baby.” He pauses, humming. “And glad to know you can’t seem to come without me.”

        “Yeah, well, good thing you’re coming back soon. This was good, but…” You sit up, staring at his side of the bed, a little unkempt from you rolling over to it in your sleep night after night. “I wish you were here.”

        “I know, baby. I wish you were with me too.”

        “It’s so lonely without you.”

        “I know. I miss you.”

        “Plus I finally found out where you hid those handcuffs after that night.”

        “Goddamnit, YN, just throw those fucking things out! I’m not getting blue-balled again!”

I loved your atla and lok stuff and I was wondering if you still write for them and if you do are you taking requests RN? Have a good day!

Hmmm, I haven’t written for that fandom for a while, but I wouldn’t mind writing a nice Zuko or Sokka fanfiction here or there👀👀

We can totally discuss any ideas you have! I’d love to see ‘em

More Than a Name (Ban x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: While escaping from the Holy Knights who are chasing after not her, but the name on her wrist, YN runs into the last person she expected to see so soon: Ban, her soulmate. 

Author’s Note: This is my first x reader/overall fanfiction that I have ever written, so please be nice:) (and I wrote it at 3:00 am using speech-to-text cuz I’m lazy so…) I do realize it is a little, you know, terrible, so I apologize, but I just wanted to finally write something for once in my life that wasn’t for a class. Anyways, onto the story!

Word count: 1884

        People were lined up and down the main street of the town like a bunch of impatient ants waiting for food. YN knew this was a waste of their time, and nervously scratched the skin just below the leather bracelet on her wrist. Ashamed, she watched as her neighbors were grabbed harshly by their right arms, inspected, then shoved away with unnecessary force as the Holy Knights reached for the townspeople next in line. YN knew what they were looking for too; it was people like her. Those with one of the names of the Seven Deadly Sins gracing their flesh.

       Months ago, Great Holy Knights Dreyfus and Hendrickson had asked that the soulmates of the Sins give themselves up for the greater good of Liones. The Knights wanted to use the Sins own perfect partners against them, use them as human bait. When no one had admitted their affiliations, the Knights decided to invade towns one by one, searching for leverage on the Sins in soulmate-form to goad them to surrender their lives up for capture.

       Now, as YN lay in wait inside her small home near the town square for a Holy Knight to knock down her door and kidnap her, she decided to return to packing and not give up hope. She had been distracted by the small glimpse of her fellow townspeople waiting in a line for nothing, and finally realized that if she had made eye contact with any one of them, she would be done for. Shoving the last of her shirts into her heavily-packed satchel, she laced up her brown boots and headed for the back door. Her pants sagged slightly, so the girl removed the decorative string from the V of her blouse and wrapped it tightly around her waist through the loops of her pants, constricting her airways slightly but ensuring her clothing security. YN knew that she would have to move swiftly, so there would be no time to fiddle with the loose riding pants she had stolen from her neighbor. Sure, thievery was bad, but YN’s survival depended on it, and her strict wardrobe of work skirts and flowy blouses would not make for quick travel.

       Just as she slinked out of her home's second exit, the young woman heard the last thing she wanted to hear shouted across the square. Over the top of her house and through the alleys of the buildings beside it, a Holy Knight declared, “We are looking for a YN YLN.” Like a deer in headlights she froze while observing her clean escape, the forest behind her home, with wide, fearful eyes. Deciding hastily, YN took a chance and made a run for it, loudly shouldering through branches and stomping on twigs as she rushed past the trees. She had no idea where the blurs of brown and green around her led, or even if they ended, but the girl decided she would rather be eaten by a rabid bear than be endlessly tortured and waiting for her outlaw of a soulmate to save her from the clutches of the dastardly Holy Knights. The racket she was making in the woods could have never been quieted by the mumbling lines of people in the town, and YN knew that, so she sprinted harder than her legs could take, muscles burning from the taxing movements. Just when the young woman could no longer hear the steps of her pursuers over her own heaving pants, she burst into a clearing and screamed at the sight of a giant and it’s ginormous, green pet pig, adorned with a building for a hat. YN screeches in fright once more when she tries to backtrack herself, only to notice the Holy Knights once again, directly on her tail. Suddenly, her feet are dangling in the air as YN is enclosed in the gentle, almost tender grasp of the female giant behind her.

       Giving YN a calming smile, the human colossus states, “Hi, there, I’m Diane.” She gestures to herself before pointing to YN’s followers and asking, “Why are you being chased?” YN’s eyes widen in recognition at the name before glancing to the side at Diane’s pet pig, only to see three more curious pairs of eyes blinking from atop the animal along with a second, smaller pink boar.

       However, YN is no idiot, so when she makes eye contact with her fated lover, the first words out of her mouth is “Shit,” muttered under her breath. Fighting her urge to struggle within the giant’s grasp, YN looks at Diane once more before stuttering out, “Please help me.”

       During all of this, Ban’s ruby eyes grow in offense at YN’s first word, asking, “Should I be insulted? ‘Cause I feel insulted.” YN cannot hold back an eye roll at his dramatic statement during her personal crisis. Shocked at her brazen action, Ban goes rigid and drops his jaw. Meliodas, YN assumes, smacks Ban on the arm to bring him back to the matter at hand, which is chasing off YN’s pursuers. Meanwhile, the young girl fights off her newfangled urge to throw up after discovering her fear of heights in Diane’s grip.

                               ~Timeskip~

       After Ban and his blonde companion accomplish their job of beating Knights into submission and fear, the last soldier that had followed YN limps away while shouting, “We will kidnap every last one of you Sins’ soulmates, just you wait!” before rushing back into the forest faster than lightning. This act causes YN to ponder if that was some special ability of his, or if it was just his inner-wuss taking control in fear of retaliation on the Sins’ behalf. The gray-haired female, who YN has learned was named Elizabeth and was also a princess of Liones (all while boredly waiting for the Sins’ return), gasped in fear at the Knight’s bold declaration.

       Gowther, the last Sin to leave the Boar Hut at the sounds of the battle’s ruckus outside, gave a resounding “Hm” while inspecting YN after the statement. The remaining Sins all shared a conjoined moment of understanding, their mouths forming ‘oh’ shapes as they turned their gazes to the young girl, eyes tracking as they watched Diane finally, finally, return her to the forest floor.

       YN clenched her teeth as she awkwardly stood in the spotlight of the group’s scrutiny. Chuckling nervously, YN slowly backs away as she spouts, “I don’t want anything to do with you guys, I swear. I don’t even know why they were after me, they had the wrong girl.” Her eyes quickly moved from person to person, warily watching to see if she had convinced them. 

       Ban easily noticed that she was lying and joked, “Wow, if you really don’t like your Sin of a soulmate so much, you must be Gowther’s!” He laughs over dramatically at his wisecrack to ease the tension, but when YN swallows and laughs anxiously once more, Ban has another epiphany and declares, “Holy shit, I was right!” YN’s eyebrows raise at his obliviousness, but quickly lower when Ban approaches her. His plan soon becomes evident, as the albino wants the pair of lovebirds to meet via him dragging YN to her impassive “soulmate.” This idea, however, is quickly shut down when YN flinches away from Ban just as he is about to grasp her wrist. The Sin of Greed is surprised and worried by her actions, concerned he has hurt her in some way. Meliodas, ever the gentleman, hurriedly reduces the thick atmosphere by ordering the large, green pig to burrow into the ground. YN has no time to be startled, as she is quickly ushered inside the building on top of the hog. Diane remains outside, talking quickly and silently with the Sin of Sloth, occasionally glancing through a window at the gang inside. As YN steps through the doors of the cozy bar and gazes around in pleasant surprise, she gives her attention to the Sin next to her, Gowther, who opens his mouth to state something.

       Before the pink haired man can speak, however, Meliodas shouts, “Gowther, Elizabeth and I need to talk to you!” before dragging his soulmate and his fellow Sin out of the room, winking at YN and slamming the door. Flinching at the loud bang before rolling her eyes in exasperation, YN acknowledges what she must do. She takes a seat on a stool of the bar and gestures for Ban to do the same.

       While slowly lowering himself into his seat, Ban decides to exercise basic human decency by asking, “So, what’s your name?” YN shuts him down immediately, shaking her head.

       Pursing her lips, she vaguely proclaims, “I don’t want to say until I see.” She adds quietly, “Can you show me your wrist...please?” Her eyes are almost sad as she watches him confusedly flash his wrist to her, and YN presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth to prevent her gasp. There it is, her own scrappy handwriting gracing his pale skin in harsh, permanent ink. The young girl inhales slowly, but she knows it is not enough oxygen as her lungs burn and she begins to feel lightheaded. Still, she decides against the act of loudly inhaling for fear of drawing his eyes to her, unknown to YN, pleased-looking face.

       Slowly, the young woman gently hovers her fingertips over the marking of her name, just far enough away that neither of them could feel the promised “sparks” of first soulmate-contact. Almost unwillingly, YN pulls back and finally makes eye contact with Ban again. She wants to commit his beautiful, red orbs to memory, and attempts to do so as she slowly unlaces her leather bracelet, smiling faintly when the act draws his eyes. She wants to remember them, and she knows that for a fact.

        ‘At least if he doesn’t like me, I could still remember something beautiful from this moment,’ she tells herself, admiring his white lashes as well. Tearing away the bracelet like a Band-Aid, she uncovers his own name on her wrist, written softly in cursive. It’s perfectly imperfect, as it’s his complete opposite; while he’s often erratic and wild, YN finds his name on her wrist comforting.

        Ban becomes still the sight, but YN scrutinizes his reaction even more, preparing to book it out of there if need be. Slowly, Ban reaches out to touch his own name, almost in disbelief of the view before him. Sparks flow up YN’s arm and throughout her whole body after he makes contact, and a warm, tingling feeling follows. It’s like a combination of adrenaline and anticipation, she notes, and it finally settles in the pit of her stomach. This time around, YN cannot withhold her gasp, and Ban’s face slowly raises to reveal a smile. Not a cocky, irritating smirk like the ones she had seen printed on his wanted posters, an expression he normally wears, but a genuinely happy, almost teary-eyed grin. 

        With her eyes on him, he whispers softly, “I found you,” while tenderly rubbing his thumb back and forth across his own name. No longer fearing rejection, YN is ecstatic as she returns his smile full-force.

Oh goodness I briefly couldn’t find you in tumblr’s search bar and was so worried you were gone 😭 but lo and behold here you are, and with hq posts I’ve never read yet!! I’m so excited, but first - I hope you’ve been well, that you had some nice times over the holidays, and that the new year is off to a good start for you!! 💖

Aagkcndkk this is so sweet! I’ve been great—I hope you’ve been well too, anon!!

I know it’s been a while, but I gotta admit it’s been nice to tackle writing again. I hope you like what you’re reading!💜💜

Hey! It’s the anon that requested for the yandere!garou headcanons, I just want to say that I’m so happy that you took time to write my request and I really love it, it’s so cute my heart just went 💓💖. But I was wondering if you could do something a little darker for him because I kinda wanna see how he is when he is a little more darker.

The Gift-Giver (Yandere Garou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Belts, tank tops, even a metal bat. All these “gifts” from the Hero Hunter’s fights on the news keep showing up at your doorstep. Today, you expected no different, except it is; an empty suitcase is there, and the white-haired man in your bedroom wants you to pack up for your new home. 

A/N: Aight my dude. Here’s the request you actually ordered lol. I’m such a freaking simp for this guy that I can’t hold back my uwus, but I rly hope this one is better suited for what you wanted. Enjoy! (Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna rename the other one now 😐) (Also: Thanks for 1.1k followers!)

Word count: 2941

        The first was a black belt.

       Laid peacefully upon your doorstep, it stunk of drying sweat and metallic blood. It was the first gift of many that you hid inside a closet of your house on the outskirts of City S.

        That’s what you liked to call them-- gifts. The name was much more appealing than what they actually were. And they never stopped coming either. 

        Tank tops, a magician’s hat, even a slingshot. The most recent? A metal bat. Each and every one of them greeted you on your return home from work like a message. 

        “I was here.”

        You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly who these objects belonged to. Reports on the news had clued you in that your biweekly Santa Claus was the Hero Hunter. But what could you do, call the police? Yeah, how innocent you would look with armloads of beaten-up heroes’ possessions. 

        Tonight was the night marked on your mental calendar. A new gift would arrive on your doorstep like every other Monday and Friday. 

        An oncoming headache took full-force as you jerked your car into park. 

        Here we go.

        With a deep breath and a massage of your temples, you pushed out of your car and slammed the door shut. Eyes were watching you, watching every step you took as you approached your doorway. The feeling wasn’t new and it didn’t shock you either. 

        No. What did shock you was tonight’s gift. You had gotten off work late today, so in the darkness of what was eight o’clock at night, you could only see the outline. 

        It was huge.

        It wasn’t a sword or another tank top. It wasn’t a fake dog tail or even a hero’s cape. No, not at all, because today’s offering to you was a suitcase. 

        Right off the bat, you expected a body. It wasn’t long ago that your stalker had apparently fought a hero without a signature outfit and had settled for gifting you with his disembodied limb. 

        You buried the hand in your backyard and prayed to God that no dogs would go sniffing. 

        So as your heels clicked up your home’s steps, you plugged your nose and held back tears as you opened your door. “No, no, no, please no.”

        What truly surprised you was that the suitcase was empty. No bodies or body parts, no fingers hidden in zipper pockets, no nothing. 

        Clicking on your living room light, you set down your bag and keys on the side table before locking the door behind you and continuing your inspection alone. Even in the artificial glow of the TV you always turned on to make your house feel more alive, you couldn’t see anything but the slippery, plastic material of its interior. 

        Part of you was suspicious, but the rest of you just wanted to thank God that your stalker hadn’t been as barbaric tonight. 

        “Thank fuck,” you hissed as you lugged the suitcase upstairs. Of course, you would still hide it in the closet across from your bedroom, but you were just glad it would seem less suspicious compared to the rest of the paraphernalia you had gathered. 

        After making your way up the stairs, you glanced into your bedroom on your way to the closet. A small glance, simple and unexpecting. 

        You should have expected it.

        There, standing in your bedroom with your ceiling light on was a man. Muscles you didn’t even know existed were defined through his tight, black long sleeve shirt while the rest remained hidden in loose-fitted sweatpants. White hair stood up at attention on his head, parted in two directions with a split in the middle while his eyes were half-lidded as he fiddled with something on your bed. The spheres of gold weren’t even watching you and their piercing gaze made you want to curl in on yourself and disappear. 

        “Welcome home, Angel. How was work?” His voice was deep and much too casual for a stranger, especially one that had broken in to your house. 

        You were speechless. Nothing, not even a whimper could escape your closed-up throat. Your whole body had frozen in fear while you watched him, suitcase still sat on the floor of the hall with the handle in your palm. 

        “Wha…” Your mouth moved, but really nothing worth hearing was coming out of it. 

        The man, the Hero Hunter, only trailed his gaze up to you for a second before dragging it back down to the bed, a single eyebrow raising. The corner of his thin lips curled up into a smirk. 

        “Speechless, huh? I’m not surprised, though I am disappointed in how naughty you dress when I’m not around.” His tone dipped in disgust as his long fingers finally stopped picking at the colors on your mattress. Then he lifted a hand, your panties dangling off a single index finger while he growled. 

        “Red lace. Who were you planning on showing these to, Angel?” 

        Fear spiked through your heart at his dangerous lilt. His tongue had spat the words at you like poison, but you still felt glued to the floor. 

        Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t move. Surely this couldn’t be real. 

        When he made his way for you, though, you knew it was only wishful thinking. Hand outstretched, you were almost certain he was going to strangle the life out of you thanks to the look in his glowing eyes, but he only used one abnormally sharp nail to lift your chin. 

        “The only one you’ll be wearing these for is me now, understood?” 

        “Who are you?” you finally choked out, lungs practically gasping for air as you held your breath in fear. “W-what do you want?”

        Evidently, the second question was much more hilarious than the first, as he let out a chiding snicker. “Oh, my sweet angel,” he shook his head. “My name is Garou, and I want you.” 

        Apparently he could see your eyes widen in horror, as he tsked while thumbing over your cheek. “You don’t need to be afraid, YN. I’ll take care of you now. All I ask of you is that you listen.” The word is partnered with a squeeze of the skin below your chin, daringly close to your throat. 

        “O-okay.” What else could you do but stutteringly agree? This man had a strength in his body that flimsily held back a wrath you received the after-effects of, and you had a whole closet to prove it. 

        Your submission makes him grin, leaving your stomach churning. “Good,” he pressed a searing kiss to your forehead that makes you want to rub away the skin. “Now start packing. I got you a suitcase and everything, my Angel. You’re gonna love your new home.” 

        You don’t respond this time, only settling for a nod as he pats your head like a good little pet and leaves the room. 

        He was gone. Garou had finally left you alone, but you still felt the scorching burn of his touch. The look in his eyes had been so greedy you weren’t surprised he didn’t take advantage of your panicked silence to explore. 

        It seemed, though, that he had already done some exploring of the sort, as your room was an absolute mess. Clothing was strewn everywhere, the more revealing of which had been clawed to shreds, no doubt from Garou’s razor-edged talons. With a small look in the mirror on your wall, you could see his own pricking under your chin had sprouted a dribble of blood. 

        Oh God.

        It was only now that you had a moment alone that the realization settled in. 

        Oh God.

        Oh shit! Oh fuck! FUCK FUCK FUCK!

        How could you get out of this?!

        Your bedroom window? 

        No, YN, what are you, insane?! This isn’t a movie, and you couldn’t run away from a man like that after a second story fall. 

        Maybe you could slip past him downstairs? Escape through the back door? 

        No. Once again, you didn’t have the speed or the stamina to outrun him. What you needed was a distraction. 

        Maybe you could start a fire. But your lighter for your living room chimney was downstairs. Overflow the tub? No, that would take ages and would not even phase him. 

        Then the perfect idea hit you. Your phone.

        It was still in your pocket from when you had checked it while walking into your house with the suitcase and used it’s flashlight for the inspection. 

        And now you could use it as the best distraction of all. 

        Calling the cops and telling them the Hero Hunter was here. That could bring on so much trouble for Garou while you slipped away and hid until he would finally be taken into custody. It was perfect! 

        Your fingers still trembled from the shock of it all. A man just a floor below you was trying to kidnap you and do God knows what else after that task was accomplished. 

        The beeps from every button you dialed almost echoed throughout the room. You were certain Garou could hear them, but by the time you tried to silence it more, the call picked up. 

        The same line as usual sounded, then “what is your emergency?”

        “Please help me, someone broke into my house and is trying to kidnap me.” A rather lame explanation, but in the heat of the moment, there was really no other way to put it. 

        After giving them your address, you hung up and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pounding in your heart. 

        I’ll be okay. They can save me. I just have to stall for a few minutes.

        It had completely slipped your mind that you never told them it was the Hero Hunter in your home. 

                                ***

        The suitcase was packed. 

        Your door had creaked a few minutes ago, signalling Garou had returned from snooping around your house to inspect your progress. His light footsteps trailed in and it had only taken one small look for him to deduce that you were too slow. 

        “I’ll help you pack, Angel. Obviously, you’re concerned about what I want you to wear, but trust me when I say I only want you to feel comfortable in your new home.” That was the least of all your worries. “You don’t need to try and impress me, I love how you look in everything.”

        Truly, it wasn’t what he said, it was the way Garou said it that made your skin crawl. Like he had literally seen you in anything, so there was no point in showing him what he had already seen. Though it was true that you had felt like someone has been watching you for weeks now, you never really noticed that the gaze was real until this moment. 

        Oh God, this could be my life now.

        No, you couldn’t think like that yet. The cops and hopefully some Class S heroes were on their way. All you had to do was keep Garou here just a bit longer. 

        Silence falls after his words and you resume folding your clothes and dropping them into the suitcase. Time to time, you hear Garou digging around in your dresser behind you before dropping a pair of your more scandalous undergarments into the case. The remainder of the moments spent in your room with you, he stands directly behind you with his bulky arms wrapped around your waist, solid as concrete. Sometimes, his chin sits on your shoulder and he watches you work. Others, he presses his lips to your bare skin, barely covered from your t-shirt, and runs his mouth up to your ear and down to your collarbone. 

        Of the two evils, you preferred the former. 

        You bite your tongue to stop from gagging at his wandering fingers. They’ve trailed up into your shirt, leaving your breath hitched, and now they’re making a move lower and lower. Just as the tips of his nails brush the zipper of your jeans, you start a conversation in effort to stop him. 

        “Garou.” 

        It works, and you almost cry out in relief when his hands draw back to your hips once more. “Hmm?”

        Now that you’ve halted his movements, you’ve almost forgotten how you planned on keeping him preoccupied. Then the perfect question hits you. 

        “...Why me?” 

        Killing two birds with one stone, you were genuinely curious as to why the Hero Hunter had chosen you to be the object of his affection. 

        Though, apparently your question was hilariously easy to answer, as he lets out a deep chuckle after your words. 

        “Because, YN, you were made for me. I can tell. And I can’t let this world hurt someone so pure like you. I promise I’ll take care of you for the rest of-” 

        Police sirens in the distance cut off his declaration of love, approaching faster and faster. Garou mutters a curse under his breath, separating from you to open the blinds of your window. 

        Flashing red and blue lights grow brighter before he cuts them off completely with a flick of his wrist. When he turns around, his eyes are darting, searching for some clue as to how they knew- oh shit.

        At last, his gaze lands on your phone, still sitting on the bed, face down. Your entire form stiffens and you berate yourself for not hiding it earlier. 

        Son of a bitch.

        “YN,” he seethes, voice low enough to make you flinch. Your heart beats hard enough to climb up your throat as his eyes burn a hole into your forehead. “I sincerely hope you’re not that stupid.” You gulp but keep your head low, hands still fiddling with a pair of folded jeans. You don’t dare reply to him. 

        “Oh Angel, you’re about to learn who exactly you’re dealing with.” With one last glare in your direction, he strides out of the room. His gait is no longer light and disguised. 

        No, he’s no longer patient and sleek. Instead, his stomps echo all the way to your front door. You can almost hear the wind blow through your house as he whips the entrance open and steps out to greet what you hope are your saviors. 

        The sirens’ screeches have finally stopped but their lights still flash through the cracks of your blinds. From what you can see, there are only two squad cars. 

        Judging by Garou’s well-built yet lithe physique, you’d say those officers are more than screwed. 

        Not even two seconds later, the horror begins. The door to your bedroom is open, but God how you wish it was closed. Maybe it would muffle the pained screams. 

        Gunshots sound, rattling your ears as you stay put, praying that they’ve hit their target. 

        No man can escape a bullet. You hoped that philosophy would apply to this moment as well. 

        For a single second, silence hangs in the air enough to hear a pin drop. 

        Then you’re placed into real-time horror movie audio. 

        Broken cries of “Oh God,” and “No, please, I have a family!” slam through your body like tidal waves. 

       You wanted to run, but you felt frozen in place. The godawful sounds floating in from outside kept you locked in your spot over the suitcase.

        Finally, your knees aren’t strong enough to hold you as they falter under the weight. With only your bed to support you, you wilt to the ground like a browning flower petal, collapsing in on yourself and whimpering into your kneecaps. 

        “Please,” you whisper.

        Crack. 

        “Not me,” you rock back and forth.

        Gurgle.

        “I don’t want this.”

        Shing.

        “I never wanted this.”

        Splash.

        “Why?”

        Slump.

        By the time the sounds are over, you’ve smashed your palms against your ears hard enough to leave bruises. The taste of copper in your mouth reveals that you’ve been gnawing on your lip too. 

        Large, rough hands tug you off the ground and into a hulking embrace. Not a single indent or raise in Garou’s form is soft enough to give you comfort. You feel trapped against a brick wall, sobbing and shivering at all the screams, shouts, and snaps you had just heard. 

        One of his hands digs into your hair, yanking your head close enough that it’s ducked into his chest while the other uses its nails to pierce the soft skin of your lower back. 

        “You made me do this, YN.” 

        You can feel it against your face, the blood soaked into his shirt. Deep down, you know it’s not his. 

        “I need you in my life.” 

        This was your life now. Cops couldn’t save you. The heroes whose possessions you hid in your closet couldn’t save you. This man-

        “And nobody’s ever going to take you away from me.” 

        This monster was unstoppable. Garou, the Hero Hunter, the Human Monster, had taken you as his own personal possession. 

        After gifting you with the trophies of his own wins, he would finally accept you as the ultimate prize. 

       “Now let’s go home, Angel.”

ur writing is so GOOD i had a cut ahoge the rest living rent free in my head so much i took a nap and had a dream about sugawara

Thank you! And Oop😳

Honestly tho, ain’t dreams about anime boys just the best? I can’t remember the last time I had one, but God do I miss em😔

hi um so two of my fav writers on this platform literally reblogged another of these drabbles as i was writing this one so?? I'm buggin.

It’s the long-drawn snapping of neurons that prickle at you, eyes closed and forearm thrown over your face. A slow peel of eyelid after eyelid, foggy thoughts wisping away at a moment’s notice in the blackness of the bedroom; the ceiling is more a theory of shapes inferred from moon-coerced shadows than its usual cragginess, and you unhook your arm from the dip between your nose and forehead to reach up. Comb your fingertips through the air. 

Was it the breeze through your ever-closed window? Open now, a new development, but surely one that would rouse you like a bear from slumber. You feel large enough to be a bear, warm enough to feel tarped in fur, lethargic enough to clamber off your mattress and land on all fours and grunt like an animal. 

Maybe it was the slice of light underneath your bedroom door. You never forget to turn off the switches in your living room, the LED bulbs too glowy and insistent to sleep the way you do, curled up on one side and facing the doorway. 

Or maybe it’s because you’re not sleeping the way you always do. Not at the moment. Right now, you’re tipped onto your back, each limb swallowed up by an inch of cushion, flat like a slab of carbonite. Your body and the bed are inseparable—each pore on your skin is looped through with a stitch that dips into the sheets, rises back out and finishes with a double knot. 

All you can do is lay there. Willingly, you suppose, despite the spasms. 

A new ozone layer has settled around you, consistency of molasses, and hot to inhale. It stinks of past activity, like breaths that have been used up and tossed out. All of it cloys against your skin, maintaining a sheen of sweat to add to the discomfort. 

You’re awake now, though. 

Unhappy, but no longer unconscious. A bit bitter that you’re all alone. 

But a sharp trill pierces the air, and it hits you—that’s it.

That’s what had awoken you. 

Roused this grumpy, sticky, sore form of you that’s polyfoam-bound, torn too quick from a fundamental repose period. You’re too exhausted to moan, gripe, curse like you should. 

Even as the lights under the door flicker out, and something pushes it’s way inside with various scuffling movements. The room returns to stagnancy with a soft click, save for the lone gust of wind invading and receding at an unsteady tempo. 

Your next breath is a roiling mix of oxygen saturated with sodium and garlic. You hum aloud, a vague attempt to dissuade the bile crawling up your throat. Each time your tongue scrapes past your teeth, the morning grime collects and taints your tastebuds. 

You need water, and a toothbrush, and two tablespoons of toothpaste. Five minutes for an alcoholic rinse, too. 

Definitely don’t need the robust wafting of a pepperoni Hot Pocket up your nostrils at the ass-crack of dawn, as the mattress dips with a bulky outline. 

“Sorry, Bonnie,” a Scottish voice that is not apologetic in the slightest mumbles beside you. “Didnae mean to wake ye. Fuckin’ makes me ’bit peckish.”