#yandere koutarou | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milaisreading · 1 year

Text

PART 2

Couples:

Yandere!MSBY 4 x Kageyama Twin!Reader

Side couple:

Komori Motoya x Kageyama Twin!Reader

Warnings: Cheating, non-con(not too much), obsessive and possessive behavior, general yandere tendencies. This is my first time writing explicit content like this, sorry if it's boring:/

PS: Send in requests if u have any...

Part 1:

"So how have you been? Everything going ok with Komori-san?" Tobio's voice sounded through (Y/n)'s apartment as she cooked her dinner.

"Yeah! Everything has been great with us, tho the distance is really killing me, but we phone each other every day." (Y/n) answered back, waiting for Tobio to speak up again.

"Well, you did pick pretty far away cities, Shizuoka and Osaka I mean. But as long as you find time to call each other, it should be fine." (Y/n) smiled bitterly, nodding her head Kageyama's words

"Yeah, but enough about my love life, what about you? With how many fangirls and those fansites you have, you must have someone in mind." She teased, already imagining her brother blushing at her words.

"You know I am not interested in that, at least not now. Volleyball is more fun."

"You should honestly think of marrying it at this point." (Y/n) joked, not surprised by his answer.

"Shut it! But anyways, I need to go now. You will be off to Shizuoka this weekend?" Tobio wondered as (Y/n) went to pick up her phone and turn off the speaker.

"Well I was planning to, but Motoya told me he will come. Something about getting away from Shizuoka and all." The med student answered, recalling the conversation she had with the pro athlete a few days a

"Well at least you won't have to travel after the exam then. By the way, did Hinata text you at all in the past 2 weeks? Since the game with Komori-san's team, it's been radio silent from him."

"Hmm? Now that you mention it, I didn't hear anything from him either. Could that loss bumped him out so much?"

"Who knows. He can be off at times, but I am sure he will come around. Anyways, I got to go now. Hoshiumi-san wanted to take Hirugami-san and I out for a drink."

"Have fun! Give them greetings from me!"

With that, they ended the call and (Y/n) went back to making her noodles so that she can return back to studying as soon as possible. Groaning, the med student went through her phone, trying to find the last few notes she needed to revise.

"Just this one more exam and then I will have some time for myself..."

She yawned, looking at the clock on her wall, groaning.

"I will barely catch any sleep these days..." (Y/n) groaned as she put the phone away and went to eat her dinner, her mind going from her exam to the orange haired volleyball player.

'He really has been acting off... ever since graduation to be honest...'

She thought in worry.

With Hinata...

The man tossed and turned in his bed. He was supposed to go to sleep hours ago, but he just couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of (Y/n) and Komori flooded his mind, and he just ends up angry.

"Stupid Komori...is it his height that makes him attractive? His looks are average at best.. or his money? If (Y/n) was in need of financial support, she could have called me-"

Hinata's rambling was cut off by his phone ringing, so he quickly went to answer it.

"Sakusa? Why are you up so late?" The orange haired man wondered.

"I was talking with my aunt over some family meet up later this month, and she let the information about Motoya visiting Osaka slip out... do you know where I am going?"

Sakusa said sternly, clear annoyance lacing his voice as he mentioned his cousin.

"Do...do you think it's the right time?" Hinata wondering, his eyes going wide as he remembered the plan.

"Another time we won't have. We need to break them up... Aunt told me that he plans on proposing to (Y/n) soon."

Hinata's eyes widened and he clenched his fists.

"Ok...did you think of a plan to break them up?"

"Yeah, I will handle that."

"Good, I can't wait till that pest is gone."

"You and I both."

Sakusa sighed from the other side.

With Atsumu...

Atsumu groaned as he kept on stroking his cock as he went through the pictures he saved of (Y/n). The pictures were nothing special, just some from the beach he found on her Ig, but those were enough to rile him up. The image of the young woman underneath him, panting, crying and begging for release kept playing inside his head.

'(Y/n)... please...'

Groaning, the faux blonde as he came all over his hand. Panting, he got up from his bed and went to clean himself up. Once he was done he went back to his bedroom, sighing sadly as the images he had were just pure fantasies, the kind he wanted to be true.

Huffing, he sat down on his bed and scrolled through (Y/n)'s social media, smiling when he saw a new story was posted.

But, that smile faded away as soon as he saw that it was a picture of her books and a cup of coffee.

'Why is she up so late? It's nearly 1 in the morning. Shouldn't that useless boyfriend of hers make sure she is sleeping?!'

"Stupid! I knew that guy was no good! Why did she pick this prick of all?"

Atsumu's stare hardened as he thought of the brown haired libero. Back when he met Komori at the training camp, he thought of him as a possible friend. But now...now that he was with the girl of his dreams, there was no way for him to have that position.

"I wanted to so desperately see him cry that night. Show him and (Y/n) who the better one is...better player and better boyfriend, but..." Atsumu sighed as he rubbed his face, feeling like crying.

"But the whole time (Y/n) kept distracting me. That smile and her cheers, wonder how it would feel like to have her cheer on me, wear my jersey-"

Atsumu stopped his monolog as a message popped up. Quickly opening it, he saw that it was Bokuto.

'Komori is coming to Osaka tomorrow. We need to break them up this weekend. Sakusa said he is planning to propose.'

The message set an already frustrated Atsumu on fire. There was no way he will let that Komori put a ring on her pretty little finger.

"Besides, he can't afford what (Y/n) really deserves, unlike the rest of us. And Komori (Y/n) just sounds wrong."

The next day...

"I honestly don't know if I will pass this one, but the most important part is that it's over!" (Y/n) cheered as she walked out of the building.

"I am sure you will pass. When will the results be?" Miwa asked from the other side of the phone.

"In like...5 days or so. Unless the professor starts grading them today."

The med student yawned, already dreaming of her soft bed.

"Sleepy? Are you off home?" Miwa asked, worried for the youngest sibling.

"Yeah. Motoya will arrive in Osaka later tonight, so that gives me some time to rest."

"Alright. I have to go now since a client arrived. Have fun you two, but not too much~" The older woman teased, causing (Y/n) to blush a little as she said her goodbyes.

'She can be too much at times.' (Y/n) groaned. All of a sudden, the young woman felt someone grab ther shoulder, causing her to jump away and turn around.

"Easy there (Y/n), it's just us!" Sighing in relief, (Y/n) noticed the familiar golden and black eye.

"Bokuto-san, Sakusa-san, what a surprise! What are you two doing here?" (Y/n) asked, smiling as the two athletes took off their masks.

"We were just walking by after practice! Do you live here somewhere?" Sakusa asked flatly, already knowing all the information.

"Oh no, my university is in this location tho! How are you two? Has practice been going well?" (Y/n) asked while smiling, causing Bokuto to blush a little, meanwhile Sakusa hid his by putting his mask back on.

'Adorable...my (Y/n) is so adorable.' The black haired thought as Bokuto spoke up.

"It's been great. Today we were let go a little sooner than usually. The coach and captain were a little easier today, after all the hard training before."

"Yeah, they got a lot stricter after our match with Komori's team." Sakusa explained, getting more annoyed at his cousin than he already was. (Y/n) blinked for a moment, and then remembered what he was talking about.

"Sorry to hear that you two, but you guys were still amazing. I guess it depends on the luck you have that day." She answered back, trying to lighten up their moods. Which seemed to work, as Bokuto stopped pouting, sending her a grin soon after. Sakusa seemed to lose his annoyed demeanor, but his eyes stayed as passive as possible, so she wasn't sure about him.

"Really?! Did you see that service ace I delivered at the beginning?! Worked on it for a while." Bokuto boasted.

"Yeah! That was pretty cool! I am happy that you hard work paid off. Hope the next time you performed it, it will be the winning points."

Bokuto grinned at the praise and continued talking to the younger. Sakusa clenched his fists are the sight, envying how easy the conversation between the two was. How familiar they are to each other. It's not like Sakusa didn't talk to her before, she visited his place often with Komori, but he always had a hard time talking to her.

"Hey uhmm... the two of us, Atsumu and Hinata are free tonight, want to go out for dinner?"

The black haired boy's question surprised not only (Y/n), but Bokuto as well.

"Well that sounds nice Sakusa-san, but Motoya will come over tonight, so I really can't. And I don't think it's that much of a smart idea, I don't want to piss some of your fangirls off."

(Y/n) shuddered, remembering how some of the girls from her class came into her, after pictures of her and Atsumu talking surfaced on social media.

Sakusa and Bokuto ignored the part with Motoya, as they were more concerned over the 2nd part.

"Say...none of the fans caused you any trouble?"

"Ahh...all I can really say is that Atsumu-san's fans love him a little too much." Was all she said, which made alarm bells go off in both of them.

"But nothing to worry about! I already handled it! Anyways, I need to go now, gotta rest a little till Motoya arrives! Bye!" (Y/n) said, walking off quickly, trying to avoid any form of questioning from either of the two.

"What are you doing?" Bokuto wondered, his gaze switching from (Y/n) retreating form to Sakusa's, who was dialing a number on his phone.

"I will call my dear cousin over for a drink... the plan is going in action tonight."

"Alright! Let me go and call Hinata then." The Fukurodani alumni grinned, excited about tonight.

"You are meeting up with Sakusa-san? Why didn't you tell me earlier?" (Y/n) asked the brown haired libero over the phone.

"Sorry, it came out of the blue, I will try not to stay for too long with him... you are not mad?" Komori asked from the other side, gulping as he thought of her reaction.

"Why would I be mad, Sakusa-san is your family after all. Just, tell me sooner next time." She asked softly. There was really no reason for her to be annoyed, aside from him not informing her sooner.

"Sorry, I really am. But I have something for you, which might make it up for my mistake." Komori said sheepishly, causing (Y/n) to grow curious.

"What would that be?"

"You'll see! But I need to hang up now, sorry."

"Ok, have a safe trip! And have fun."

Turning off her phone, (Y/n) sighed and went to her living room, opting to watch a movie or two till Komori arrives.

A few hours had passed and (Y/n) was beginning to get nervous, not only was Komori supposed to arrive at her place an hour ago, but he also wasn't answering his phone.

"Should I call Motoya again? I have been calling him for the past 20 minutes and nothing... Maybe Sakusa-san will answer me." (Y/n) muttered nervously as she dialed the athlete's number.

She didn't have to wait for too long, as he answered his phone quickly.

"Hello? (Y/n)?"

"Sakusa-san! Thank God you answered, is Motoya with you? Why isn't he answering his phone?"

'I probably come off as controlling, but fuck it!' She gulped, waiting for an answer from the man.

"Motoya? Why would he be with me? I am out with Hinata."

(Y/n)'s heart dropped at those words.

'There... But why would he say?'

"Hello? (Y/n), you still on your phone?" Sakusa's voice interrupted her thoughts and she quickly answered him.

"Uhmm...I... Motoya isn't with you 100%? He said you two would meet up for a drink."

"No, we never agreed to that. I have practice tomorrow, so that's out of question-"

"I need to go. Bye, sorry for interrupting you two." (Y/n) didn't let Sakusa finish as she hung up and went to call Komori again, her heart racing and alarm bells ringing.

"Come on...answer please....Motoya..." She desperately begged, thinking of the worst possible scenario.

'He wouldn't... Motoya wouldn't cheat. There is no way, but why else would he lie?'

"Why aren't you answering?!" (Y/n) screamed as she threw her phone on the couch, tears escaping her eyes.

"Please...let this be all a prank, I swear I won't be mad. Please-"

A notification popped up on her phone, and (Y/n) quickly ran to her phone, thinking this might be Komori. Unlocking her phone, (Y/n) read the name of a private Ig account, which sent her a few pictures. With a heavy heart, she opened the message, only, to her horror find pictures of Komori sleeping next to a unfamiliar girl. The sight of the woman smiling next to a seemingly naked Komori made her heart break and she quickly turned of her phone.

Shaking and sobbing, she plopped on the couch and started crying harder, the pathetic feelings of sadness and betrayal taking over her body.

"Motoya...why?"

"Should we go now?" Hinata asked as Sakusa finished his call with Atsumu.

"Yeah, the woman sent those photos to (Y/n) and already left. With how much Motoya drank, it will be a wonder if he remembers anything." Hinata nodded his head as they walked of to Sakusa's car.

"All the better for us, (Y/n) will just think that he is lying and trying to pretend nothing happened."

Sakusa silently nodded his head, grinning like a madman that this years old nightmare is coming to an end.

'Finally she will be mine...tonight is the night.' The black haired man hummed as him and Hinata walked off to the meeting spot.

A few hours passed by and (Y/n) was sound asleep in her bed, all the crying drained her, and she just wanted to shut off everyone. So much so that she didn't even answer her brother or sister's calls. The silent apartment was soon disrupted by the sound of the entrance door being opened, and two figures walked inside.

"Shouldn't we wait for Hinata and Atsumu?" Bokuto whispered as Sakusa nodded his head.

"I really could care less where those two idiots are right now. Besides, we should go and prepre our little princess." The Itachiyama alumni muttered as he walked to (Y/n)'s bedroom, his whole body shaking in excitement along with Bokuto's.

"Finally, I have been dreaming of this moment for so long." Bokuto grinned as Sakusa slowly opened the bedroom door. Breath hitching up, Bokuto walked inside and up to (Y/n)'s bed. The man gulped as he looked at her sleeping face, her puffy, red cheeks and pout causing his cock to harden.

Groaning, Sakusa slowly removed her covers, enjoying the sight of her vulnerable figure. Bokuto let out a a sigh as he sat on the bed and caressed (Y/n)'s hair.

"I can't wait for those two." Sakusa finally said as he hovered over the woman, and slowly grabbed onto her pajama pants, pulling them down.

"Finally." Bokuto grinned as Sakusa pulled off her pants, licking his lips when he saw her panties. Quickly unbottoning her pajama shirt, he was more than pleased to see her bare boobs.

"Naughty girl~" Bokuto giggled as Sakusa started kissing up (Y/n)'s leg, her soft skin turning him more and more on.

'And that bastard Motoya kept all of this to himself?! And with how he is, he probably didn't please her to the fullest.'

Bokuto was meanwhile kneading (Y/n)'s nipples, watching in pleasure as the woman started groaning and moaning, her eyes slowly opening, looking at her surrounding in confusion.

"Looks like my little slut is finally up? Look Omi!"

"Wh-what th?!-" (Y/n) shrieked as she realized what was going on, desperately trying to wiggle her body out of this. But all of this was to no avail as their grips on her body tightened.

"Shh baby, we will take great care of you. Just be compliant."

"Get off of me! What the hell?!" (Y/n) glared up at Bokuto as she tried to push him off. This pissed the white/black haired man off, causing him to grab her arms and pin them down, sending the woman a warning growl.

"Don't make it so unnecessarily hard, baby. We know you want this, you are all wet just from our touch." Sakusa cooed as he inserted a finger inside, enjoying the surprised expression and her attempts to hide her moan.

"Don't hold back baby, I want to hear all of the noises." The black haired man laughed, insisting a 2nd and 3rd finger shortly after.

"Stopp~" (Y/n) moaned out as Bokuto played with one of her nipples and sucked the other, moaning at how soft she felt.

"Good girl, just lay back and enjoy it." Sakusa smirked as he pumped his fingers faster and faster, enjoying how hee moans were getting louder and louder.

"You smell so nice... I have been waiting for so long. We all have." Bokuto muttered in between of kissing her neck, leaving a bite mark or two in the process.

"Wha-what are you t-talking about~" (Y/n) panted as she felt her climax approach her.

"We all have had our eyes set on you since high school, and it really enraged me...us to see you with my cousin of all people. But you will soon learn not to mess with us, baby~" Sakusa chuckled as the younger came onto his finger, enjoying the moan she let out.

"So sensitive... Atsumu and Hinata will sure enjoy this." Bokuto teased as he wiped her tears away, kissing her cheek right after.

"Please...please don't go any further... Sakusa, Motoya will be-"

(Y/n) flinched as both men glared and let out low growls.

"Still thinking of that pest? While two of the most sought after athletes in the country are about to give you the night of your life?" Sakusa said as her got up, signaling to Bokuto to change positions. (Y/n) was about to use the moment her hands were free to get up, but Sakusa stopped her.

"You are not going anywhere. The fun is just starting." Sakusa said as (Y/n) watched in horror as Bokuto started taking off his pants. Then suddenly, the younger heard her bedroom door open, and a familiar voice fill up the room.

"Hey! Why didn't ya wait for us?!" Atsumu growled as Hinata whined at the betrayal. The black haired man rolled his eyes along with Bokuto.

"Next time don't take so long. Now wait till Omi and I are finished."

"Not fair! I know (Y/n) longer than any of you, I should do it first!"

"Deal with it, Hinata." Sakusa said, looking down at (Y/n)'s teary eyes, the sight causing him to grow harder than he already was.

The next day, (Y/n) woke up feeling sick and body aching from all the bruises and bite marks the 4 left on her body. But besides that, a weird form of relief washed over her body as she noted that neither of the men were with her. Perhaps, she thought, they left or something. But, just as she started hoping that, her door opened and revealed Hinata's smiling figure. (Y/n) cringed at how normal he was acting, as if he and his friends didn't force themselves on her last night.

"You are awake! Just in time too, Omi made us breakfast." Hinata said cheerfully as he approached her bed, causing the woman to flinch away as he touched her shoulder.

"Huh? Was I that rough with my marking last night? Sorry baby, I will be gentler next time." (Y/n) looked at the grinning man in horror as he said that.

"N-next time?"

"Of course, did you think this was a one time thing?" Gulping, she felt Hinata grab the back of her head and rest his forehead against hers.

"We all are in love with you for years, and if you thought we would leave after we got a taste of how sweet you are...you are dead wrong." Hinata said, the crazy and lovesick look in his eyes made her realize in just how much trouble she was in.

"Besides...of you don't want Komori's career to end in a cheating scandal, you will play the role of the obedient little kitten." Atsumu said from the doorway. (Y/n) moved to look at him in shock as Hinata started kissing her neck, moaning at the pleasant smell.

"How do you-"

"How do we know? Easy, we set him up. You should have seen how much we had to make him drink to convince him that woman was you." Her eyes widened as Atsumu chuckled and walked up to her bed, patting her head and kissing the top of it.

"Remember, your body and soul belong to us from now on, so better not look at any other man, or else these pictures of Komori are going into the public."

(Y/n) felt tears start rolling down her cheeks as Atsumu showed her those again. She knew there was no way out, if only she knew sooner how crazy these 4 were...maybe she would have been more careful. Maybe she would have stayed in Tokyo or even in Miyagi to study,but with the way they were, (Y/n) doubted this distance would have prevented any of this. Atsumu chuckled at the hopeless look the younger had on her face and leaned in to lick some of the tears away.

'Finally I have you hopeless and desperate, just like I always wanted it.'

@kei-tsuki21 @thebrunetteavenger @sicklyinlove @kittykatiekat @torriblack97 @locogvrl @omi-kunslysol @yuushs

#haikyuu!!#hq!! manga #yandere haikyuu #hinata shoyo #yandere hinata #haikyuu miya atsumu #yandere atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #yandere sakusa x reader #bokuto koutarou #yandere bokuto #yandere msby #msby x reader #kageyama tobio #timeskip haikyuu #haikyuu dark content #yandere x reader

213 notes · View notes

yourofficalgrimreaper600 · 19 days

Text

This is my new account since something is wrong with my other account :')

old: @yourofficalgrimreaper6060

So, if you guys have any requests about danganronpa v1, 2, and 3, haikyuu, welcome home, and MAYBE blush-blush or Mha, then I will answer.

9 notes · View notes

ilylovelyz · 10 months

Text

⍣ ೋ Running

˚ · . bokuto x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ bokuto is a huge baby + lover boy, takes place during the timeskip (like he's 22-24), just a bunch of fluff, kinda angsty wtf, non descriptive sexual details, mentions of a non-descriptive illness, mentions of pregnancy + birth, ermmm mentions of going to the bathroom 😭, this was kinda shit lmaoso

run, running all the time.

it's one of his favorite activities, enjoying the way the breeze feels against his bare skin.

he likes to run at various times a day, usually in the morning or at night to release some steam or to prepare himself for the day.

during these various long runs of his, he would think about various things.

bokuto was always one to fall in love easily.

he fell in love, quickly, and harshly with every single person he ever dated. his mind would always be plagued with thoughts of "this one could be the one," no matter how early in the relationship he might be with them.

he never learned his lesson about falling in love easily, always ending up heartbroken after being dumped for being "too clingy."

eventually, after his third relationship, be began to see himself as the issue, before just giving up on dating all together to focus more on himself and volleyball.

he thought that he'd maybe end up marrying a volleyball or something, destined to be alone for the rest of his life. that thought scared him intensely. like an actual owl, he longed for a lifelong partner, he couldn't see himself living alone as an old man in the future.

just the imagine of him sitting alone at an empty dinner table eating barbecue alone made him want to cry.

boy, did he feel so relieved to meet you during the end of his second year.

just like all of his previous girlfriends, he fell in love quickly, practically head over heels in love with you. but, for some reason, it just felt so.. different with you.

he couldn't quite to put his finger on it, all he knew was that you stuck out like a sore thumb, the atmosphere with you a stark contrast compared to his previous partners.

it was around the third month mark (the usual time his partners dumped him) was when he totally expected you to break up with him, and was actually mentally preparing for it. but, much to his surprise, the third month came and went, and his relationship with you grew and stayed.

while you didn't know why, but he was so overjoyed just at that, the next few months following he was 10x more clingy and happy, just so over the moon that you stayed with him. him, he's the one you chose, out of all the people. he would think that on repeat during his morning runs, just urging him to work harder to impress you, to make you proud.

he didn't even notice it, but eventually a year passed, he was too enamored with you to notice the time passing. he almost grew sad at that, only soothing when you allowed him to cuddle you. "i just want to stay with you forever," he would confess during his sad realizations, not ready for these precious times to fly by.

his burly arms would trap you against him, afraid of letting go. "don't worry, i'm not going anywhere, but i might if you don't let me breathe." you would tease, hand patting his forearm in hopes of him releasing his mighty grip around you. of course, why would you leave him? there's not a single bad flaw about him, not a particular reason for anyone to hate him.

but to bokuto, there just might be many.

fat tears run down his cheeks, nostrils leaking mucus onto the cold ground below him while he grovels at your feet. he's frantic, hysterical almost. he almost lost an important match, and yet he's apologizing to you for some reason.

he's so sorry that he's fallen, embarrassed at the way a silly mistake could've costed him his team, his school, and somehow you. he feels like he's failed his coach, team, school, just everyone. you look down at him bewildered, while he's shown you all of his many emotions, you've never seen him cry like this before, especially before you at your feet.

you're quick to get onto your knees, hands rubbing softly against his broad back. you smile softly at him, wondering where all of these silly thoughts came from. "you're so silly, kou. i'm not going anywhere, i promise," you whisper, placing a much needed kiss against the shell of his ear.

it's during moments like those, does he really just love you for simply existing. it's when you somehow hold his heavy body against your much smaller one, when you treat him so lovingly, is when he knows that you're the only one for him.

he wants the soft moments like those to last forever. he wants to feel the soft blooming feeling of your lips pressing against his skin, like the sun beaming it's warmth on him during a warm sunny day.

he hopes you don't let him fall out of love, though, he doesn't see himself falling out of love with you anytime soon.

he's running, running as fast as he can at the end of his morning run towards his home, towards the home he now shares with his beloved fiancé, you. just seeing his and your name on the house's name plate as his chest bubbling up with excitement.

he almost trips over his own feet while fumbling with the laces of his running shoes before he's impatiently running over to the master-bedroom, eyes gleaming at the sight of his own personal sleeping beauty. "good morning y/n-chan!" he practically yells, climbing onto the bed with haste, not wasting a second to kiss your still sleepy face.

there's dried drool on your chin, lips cracked and dry, hair untamed and messy, and yet he still considers you the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. he holds you close to him, still sweaty, but you don't fight it. he's warm, a nice perk of him being a physical large male athlete.

"hey, are you 'gunna join me on my run later?" he asks impatiently. he loves running with you, even though you have to have plenty of breaks, and considerably slow him down but he still loves your presence and enjoys one-sided races with you. "another one..? you were just on a run weren't ya?" you mumble out, face mushed against his broad chest.

"it's important to stay active, y/n-chan. please! you haven't gone with me for awhile!" he whines, one of his hands coming up to move your hair from your face, unintentionally revealing the leftover love bruises from the previous night on your neck. he thinks back to the night with amusement, remembering happily as he spent it at your whim, practically worshipping you like a goddess at the feel him deep within you.

you scoff teasingly at his dramatics, "i went with you on one like, a few days ago. sigh, gee, i guess i'll go today." he gleaming with that, placing excited kisses all over your face before kissing your chapped lip's happily. you can only grin into the kiss, eyebrow arching with surprise when the kiss is quickly deepened.

later that night, as he planned and begged, you join him on his run. you're much inexperienced compared to his years of running, but he doesn't seem to care, or even notice, as he's encouraging you and praising you when you somehow make it to his breaks.

he looks at you, sweaty and almost about to pass out, with a prideful smirk, thinking to himself how lucky he is to get such a talented women to choose him as your lover.

towards the end of the run, your legs are wobbly as you struggle to keep up with him. he notices, albeit not knowing it's because your mentally and physically struggling to keep up, so he takes your hand within his, fingers squeezing encouragingly around yours.

while the two of you are running, he turns back to look at you with that bright smile of his. "keep holding my hand, so we don't get separated!"

years pass, much against bokuto's will. however, he copes well with it when you soon fall pregnant with him for the first time. when you first told him, he was absolutely beaming, jumping around like a small child and boasting to everyone within ear shot about how he's going to be a father to your child.

however, that excitement soon fades when you come down with a sudden illness towards the end of your pregnancy. he doesn't remember what illness it exactly is, nor does he really want to search it up and look at it's possible grim details. all he knows that for the last few months of your pregnancy, was that he was a total wreck.

you were completely bed ridden, so sick you couldn't even walk on your own feet. he didn't mind accompanying you to the toilet, happily volunteering to carry you and sit on the bath's ledge while you peed just in case. hell, he'll wipe your ass if he has to, if it's for you.

while you slept, all he would do was sit at the bedside, waiting for the minute you woke up. he did nothing in particular then except pray, wishing for you to get better quickly.

he just wants you to be the one he needs, be the one he trusts most. you're his source of determination, happiness and just everything good in life. he doesn't want you to stop inspiring him, he wants you to encourage him and lead him on for the rest of his life.

when you gave birth, it was all but calm. it was entirely chaotic, it left him trembling and almost crying at the way you gave up multiple times due to the excruciating amount of pain you were in.

the day beforehand, he took a much needed run while you were sleeping. yet, during the entire time, what usually was a calming stress reliever for him, almost had him stopping not even halfway into it. he was purged with concerned thoughts, all of which were about your wellbeing. he constantly checked his phone to see if you had texted or called him, only continuing when he saw that you hadn't.

sometimes it's hard to keep on running. the two of you worked so hard to keep it going. he didn't know if he would be able to continue happily with life if something bad happened to you. when he returned to your bedside, still in deep sleep, he couldn't help but shed a tear. his hand cradled your own within his, praying silently, don't make me want to give up.

he really hoped the two of you would make it. eventually after a long 36 hour labor, did you finally give birth to your babygirl. she was somehow healthy and full-term, just everything he had hoped for.

following the birth, your own health had improved as well, and while it took awhile, you were eventually joining him on his morning runs as well.

he looked back at you while running, still taking your still fragile health in mind. his hand holding yours, encouraging you to continue, holding your hand so the two of you wouldn't get separated.

please like and repost with tags :)

895 notes · View notes

narumi-gens · 9 months

Text

Traditional Values

yakuza!Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader

summary: You’ve never known a yakuza to be boring. But what else could they mean when they say that Kita Shinsuke, the head of the most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional?

warnings: 18+, smut, yakuza au, arranged marriage, inherent sexism and misogyny, smoking, mentioned drug and alcohol use, violence (sorry to the oc in this fic lol), blood, spit, oral (f receiving & mentioned m receiving), mild exhibitionism, orgasm control, possessive!kita, hinted yandere-ish behavior, implied dom!kita, fingers crossed he's not too out of character 🤞🏽, reader is a spoiled little yakuza princess, idk if reader is all that likable but I like her and that's all that matters

notes: I feel like I'm starting to specialize in chaos characters bc while Kita is not one in this fic, the reader certainly is. but a different kind of chaos.

words: 5.9k

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact

The one word you hear over and over again when people talk about Kita Shinsuke, the head of the Inarizaki, the largest and most powerful yakuza group in Kansai, is traditional.

Despite his current position, he comes from a long line of traditional rice farmers. Once he took power over the Inarizaki, he put in place a stricter, more traditional code of conduct that all members were expected to adhere to. Instead of partying away his nights in Kobe’s clubs and brothels, he spends his evenings in a traditional house in the Hyogo countryside.

And he has traditional family values, with traditional expectations of what he wants in a wife.

But you know that traditional really just means boring.

Unfortunately, a traditional and boring life seems like all you're destined for because your father, the head of Kanto's largest yakuza syndicate, the Fukurodani, has decided to seal an alliance with the Inarizaki through marriage.

Specifically, your marriage to Kita.

After all, you're a woman and a woman can't lead the yakuza. Your only value comes from how useful you can be as a tool to build alliances and cement power. You had at least just hoped that your father would have chosen someone more exciting for you to spend the rest of your life with.

While he would never stomach seeing you at the head of the organization, he could easily have married you off to his right-hand man and hand-picked heir, the Fukurodani's young and wild wakagashira, Bokuto Koutarou. After all, nothing would ensure an eventual smooth succession better than a marriage to his only child.

And even if he decided you were more useful as a means of building his power rather than ensuring his legacy, there were still other options.

There were plenty of crazy yakuza out there who would have kept your interest piqued if only your father had chosen to further consolidate his power in Tokyo or to look for an alliance up north rather than out west.

But your father has made his choice and Kita has agreed and you have no say in the matter. It's not long before the young yakuza kumicho, along with his most trusted men in the Inarizaki, arrives in Tokyo to negotiate the finer details in person.

And when you finally meet him at dinner with your parents, you can't say that you're impressed.

He's polite. He's soft-spoken. He's respectful. He's so. utterly. boring.

As you sit next to him in a private room at one of Tokyo's finest restaurants, listening to him as he genially answers your mother's questions about his own upbringing and tells her about his close relationship with his grandmother, all you can think is, 'what a waste.'

Regardless of how handsome he is and how much his men seem to respect him and how powerful his position is, he's missing that wildness inherent to every true yakuza.

By the time the plates are cleared and the manager of the restaurant is falling over himself to thank your father for his patronage, you’ve made your assessment of your new fiancé.

Kita is dull.

It’s all you can think as he cordially thanks your father at the end of the evening.

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he humbly accepts your mother’s compliments and adoration.

‘You’re so boring.’

It’s all you can think as he politely bids you goodnight with a bow, telling you softly how nice it was to meet you.

‘You’re so boring.’

You have to bite back the urge to say the words aloud, directly to his face, just to see what he would do. Would he drop his courteous smile? Would he clench his fists? Would he slap you?

‘You’re so boring.’

He would probably just look slightly taken aback before doing his best to laugh off any offense.

“It was nice to meet you too, Kita-san,” you finally reply, your tone suggesting anything but. You feel the disapproval rolling off of your parents in waves and can already hear the lecture that awaits you once you’re alone with them.

Your father will chastise you for the disrespect that you’ve shown to a new ally, and by extension him. He’ll sternly remind you that this is your duty as his daughter. If he’s really feeling irritable then he’ll light up a cigarette and grumble about how he’s spoiled you for too long and hopes that Kita has a firm hand.

Your mother, however, will almost certainly turn so shrill in her anger that you’ll want to cover your ears. She’ll berate you for insulting your husband-to-be. She’ll scold you for your clear disinterest and boredom through every course of dinner. She’ll then blame your father for being too lenient with you over the years, to which your father will respond by simply taking a long drag of his cigarette.

But in the present, Kita simply gives you a polite smile in return and the chorus continues in your head.

‘You’re so boring.’

Just because you’re now technically engaged doesn’t mean that you need to change how you live your life. If anything, you need to savor all the fun you can before you’re shipped off to Hyogo to spend the rest of your days popping out kids and taking care of some big, empty, country house with a man who’s less interesting than the rice his family grows.

It’s not even an hour after you get home from dinner before you’re leaving once again. Only this time, you’re wearing something far more revealing and decisively less conservative than the formal kimono that your mother forced you into for your meeting with Kita — something meant to appeal to his traditional taste.

Your current outfit is one that’s perfectly suited to the high-end clubs of Roppongi. Not that it really matters considering you’re tucked away in a private VIP room, away from the large crowds and deafening music and prying eyes.

Normally, you would be surrounded by a group of your friends. But after being confronted with the man that you’ve been sentenced to marry and seeing the unending boredom in your near future, you've recognized that it also applies to your sex life.

You’ve only spent a couple of hours with Kita, but it was more than enough to know that he probably prefers fucking in missionary with the lights off. The only orgasms that you can expect as a married woman will probably come from your vibrator — unless he decides that a vibrator isn’t traditional enough, in which case you’ll have to rely on your fingers exclusively.

So, instead of the VIP room being filled with your friends, it’s just you and the man whose face is buried between your thighs, Ito Tatsuya. While your feelings towards Tatsuya tend to lie closer to ambivalence than anything else, his skilled tongue is more than enough to make up for it.

With the way his lips are wrapped around your clit, it’s easy to ignore how he acts tougher than he truly is. He talks a big game but has refrained from acting on all of his talk and joining a yakuza group. Ultimately it works in your favor as no yakuza would dare lay a finger on the beloved daughter of the Fukurodani’s feared kumicho, knowing that doing so would bring the wrath of the entire criminal organization down on their heads.

Tatsuya is the closest that you’ll get as he’s only tangentially affiliated with one of the few other powerful yakuza groups in Tokyo, the Nekoma organization. Although their power will never come close to the strength of the Fukurodani, your father has a good relationship with their kumicho, Nekomata Yasufumi. The two yakuza groups have had a strong alliance for decades.

Likewise, Bokuto has his own sense of camaraderie and friendship with Nekomata’s wakagashira, Kuroo Tetsuro, whom you’ve had the pleasure of meeting on multiple occasions as you run in the same circles. Unfortunately, it’s never turned into anything more, despite your best efforts.

Kuroo Tetsuro. That’s a man. That’s a real yakuza.

If your luck was better and if relations with the Nekoma group were worse, you probably would have been married off to him rather than the snoozefest that you’ve ended up with.

It’s easy to slip into the fantasy that it’s Kuroo whose grip feels scorching on your thigh, whose fingers are pumping in and out of your dripping cunt, whose tongue is lapping at your needy clit. The image in your head pushes you closer to the edge as your hips buck in time with his fingers.

But just as you can see your orgasm within reach, your attention is yanked away from your pleasure when the door to the VIP room opens with a BANG! as it’s kicked in. You protest with a whine as Tatsuya lifts his head from between your thighs, pure murder written across his face at having been disturbed.

Unaffected by the interruption, you use your grip on his hair to try and tug him back to his original task, but it’s of no use. He’s already removing his arm from around your thigh to reach back and pull out the gun that’s been tucked in the waistband of his pants.

You're momentarily impressed that he would flaunt the country’s severe firearm restrictions. Although the effect is lost a few moments later when he sits up only to freeze, his features going slack.

When you finally turn your head to see who’s behind the disruption, you frown unhappily.

“Kita-san,” you greet with an irritated sigh. And even you know that you’ll never get Tatsuya’s mouth back on your pussy at this point and you release your hold on his hair with a resigned huff.

Tatsuya scrambles to remove himself entirely from between your legs, carelessly dropping his gun onto the low table before the couch that you’re sprawled out across. He lifts his hands to show that they’re now empty and he’s not a threat, as if anyone would ever believe he was one.

You wonder if his panic stems from knowing exactly who it is that’s found you both in such a compromising position or if it’s solely due to how intimidating Kita and the two men on either side of him look.

For as boring as he is, you’ll give him credit. The sight of him standing in the doorway, the black jacket of the same suit he wore to dinner draped across broad shoulders, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his expression giving nothing away, is impressive. Even if he didn’t have two of his underlings with him — one with grey hair and one with dark hair, both of them wearing similar looks of apathy — it would be more than enough to put the average person on edge.

However, you’ve spent your whole life surrounded by dangerous men, with dangerous men at your beck and call.

So, as Tatsuya begins to babble, making excuses and insisting that he doesn’t want any trouble, you simply roll your eyes and push down your skirt just enough so that your pussy is no longer on display. But even in the low light of the VIP room, the insides of your thighs — and how they shine with the evidence of your rapidly-cooling arousal — are clearly visible.

“Suna,” Kita says, his gaze fixed on you. The dark-haired man needs no further instruction before he’s moving past his oyabun towards Tatsuya.

He easily grabs the cowering man from the couch by the front of his shirt and roughly shoves him to his knees on the floor, keeping him in place with one hand fisted tightly in his hair, just as yours had been only a few minutes earlier.

Kita slips his jacket from his shoulders and in doing so, you catch a glimpse of the blood-red lining on the inside. He passes it to the man still at his side, who carefully folds it over his arm in a way that won’t leave any creases. He then methodically begins to unbutton and roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his forearms and the large swaths of tattooed skin that extend almost to his wrists.

Part of you is surprised. Kita seems too dull to have even the smallest tattoo, let alone full tattooed sleeves. But another part of you knows how much significance tattoos have historically held to the yakuza and he’s nothing if not traditional. Your thighs unconsciously squeeze together as you imagine how far they spread over the rest of his body.

The action doesn’t seem to escape his notice because he raises an eyebrow at you but makes no further comment before he turns to Tatsuya, who continues to plead for mercy.

“Enough.”

Kita doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t put any force behind the single word. Other than ensuring his sleeves are snugly held in place just below his elbows, he doesn’t even move. But there’s a danger to him that Tatsuya is quick to pick up on and his blubbering comes to an immediate halt.

He fearfully waits for the silver-haired yakuza to go on and when he does, it’s probably not in the way he was expecting. Because rather than explaining who he is or why he’s there — which Tatsuya has probably figured out on his own by this point — Kita places a hand on the back of the kneeling man’s head. The other man, Suna, releases Tatsuya altogether, wordlessly deferring to his oyabun and taking a step back to give his boss space.

The tension in the room is thick as Kita looks down at the trembling man on his knees, his face still as blank as it’s been since his sudden arrival. It snaps in an instant when he sharply yanks Tatsuya’s head down and his nose meets Kita’s raised knee with a sickening crunch! that would leave a less seasoned group of onlookers feeling queasy.

As it stands, both Suna and the other Inarizaki man appear to be amused, entertained even. You get the sense that displays of this nature from the yakuza boss aren’t common.

But as you see the blood pouring from Tatsuya’s nose and hear his howling and watch as your fiancé’s fist repeatedly makes contact with the man’s face, you feel none of that same amusement. You also don’t feel afraid or disgusted or concerned.

You’ve long grown desensitized to the violence associated with the yakuza. If anything, you can feel the boredom setting in once again.

You reach out to the table in front of you for the ashtray where your cigarette rests, having set it down when Tatsuya buried his face in your pussy. However, as soon as you pick it up, a long column of ash falls from the end and you realize with a pout that it’s already burned down to the filter.

The little noise of irritation you let out can’t be heard over Tatsuya’s pained cries or the brutal sound of fist meeting flesh again and again. You pull a new cigarette from the open pack on the table and perch it between your lips before grabbing your cheap lighter.

Once it’s lit, you take a deep, contented inhale of smoke before exhaling a large cloud that sits atop the room before dispersing. You glance back to Kita and Tatsuya to find that the scene looks exactly the same as when you looked away — except for Tatsuya’s face is completely bloodied and already swelling, and he seems on the verge of passing out.

“Really, Kita-san?” you finally ask with a yawn as you roll onto your side, your head pillowed by your bicep.

He pauses, his fist raised mid-air, and looks over at you, his eyes roving over your lackadaisical sprawl across the couch. He wordlessly releases the front of Tatsuya’s shirt from his grasp, who then drops to the floor in a bloody mess.

Suna immediately steps in to harshly kick the man over onto his stomach and places a heavy, threatening foot right on his spine. Not that it matters considering Tatsuya seems to be in and out of consciousness by this point.

But your attention isn’t on Tatsuya; it’s on Kita as he approaches you, his pace unhurried. You’re slightly impressed that he’s barely out of breath from the beating he just delivered. He picks up the discarded gun from the table and in one smooth motion, pulls back the slide to look at the chamber before releasing the magazine to check it as well.

“It’s empty,” he notes before tossing it to the man holding his jacket, who easily catches it and claims it for his own. A loud bubble of laughter escapes you at Tatsuya’s expense, finding it hilarious that the only marginally cool thing that you’ve ever seen him do was all for show.

You slip your cigarette to rest between your smiling lips as your gaze flits between the other Inarizaki men and find that they too appear to think it’s funny. Suna even presses his foot harder into Tatsuya’s back with a smirk that only grows wider when he receives a groan in response.

However, the yakuza boss doesn’t seem to share the humor that you and his men are feeling. He grabs the edge of the table and lifts it up just enough to tilt it and send everything on top of it to the floor with a dull crash. You frown at the waste of a barely touched bottle of champagne, a top-shelf bottle of whiskey, and Tatsuya’s small, unopened bag of cocaine.

Kita pays none of the mess any mind as he takes a seat on the edge of the table’s now cleared surface, directly in front of you. With you still laid out on the couch, you’re eye level with his knees.

You look up at him and raise a challenging eyebrow, daring him to make his next move, daring him to keep you interested. You’re sorely disappointed when the first thing that he does is tug down your skirt to protect your modesty, something you find truly pointless considering the three men walked in on you in the middle of having your pussy eaten.

The sensation of the backs of his fingers running along the skin of your thigh as he pulls on the fabric sends a small shiver down your spine and reminds you that you were interrupted before you could cum. You shift your leg to expose your inner thigh to him in a tempting invitation for him to finish what Tatsuya started, but he simply ignores your provocation and gives your skirt one final tug to ensure it’s in place.

With a displeased roll of your eyes, you take another deep drag of your cigarette. But before you’ve finished, Kita plucks it from your lips and holds it aloft. He ignores your cry of protest as he waits half a moment for Suna to take it from him. You sit up in an effort to try and grab it back, but Kita’s fingers suddenly grip your chin hard enough that you think you’ll still feel them tomorrow.

He’s grasping you with the same hand that he used to pummel Tatsuya and you can feel how his fingers are warm and sticky with the man’s blood. It only takes a quick glance down to see that his knuckles are drenched in it.

With his hold keeping you in place, you’re unable to see what Suna does with your cigarette. However, you soon hear Tatsuya let out a low moan of pain and you have an idea.

“That’s a filthy habit,” he says. His tone is rather benign but you’re certain that you’re being scolded. “I won’t have ya keepin’ it up as my wife.”

You let out an unattractive snort and hope your expression conveys just how unimpressed you are.

“They’re my lungs. If I wanna turn them black, that’s my right.” If he didn’t have your chin held so firmly, you would probably have stuck out your tongue and pulled down on your lower eyelid to taunt him.

“Yer rights extend only to the ones that I allow ya to have,” he comments and from any other man, there would be a threatening weight to his words. Kita, however, speaks them so casually that it sounds like he’s making nothing more than an absent observation of an indisputable fact.

You can only pout in return and he releases his grip to give your cheek a gentle, condescending pat. He then lifts his unbloodied hand out at his side with his palm facing up.

“Osamu.”

The Inarizaki man with the grey hair is quick to come forward, his hand slipping inside the jacket that he’s still carrying to pull out something from the inner pocket and place it into Kita’s patiently waiting palm. He then returns to his previous spot near the door, ensuring that there’s a respectful distance between himself and Kita and you once more.

The small, carefully polished wooden box that he’s been given piques your interest. When he opens the lid, your eyes widen at the ring sitting inside of it. It’s elegant and beautiful — a traditional round diamond set atop a thin, pavé diamond band. It manages to avoid being ostentatious while still leaving no doubt about its expensive price tag, and therefore the status of the man who gave it to you.

For such a boring man, he apparently has good taste.

Your left hand moves on its own as you lift it for him expectantly. There’s the briefest flash of amusement in his eyes — the first real emotion that you’ve seen from him. But he wordlessly takes the ring from the box and slips it onto your third finger.

The first instinct you have as soon as you feel the cool metal on your skin is to bring it to your face so that you can examine your new engagement ring more closely. But he grabs your hand so suddenly to keep it in place that it startles you.

You raise your gaze to see that his own is glued to the ring that you’re now wearing. His thumb gently sweeps across the band and the gesture is a sharp contrast to how tightly his fingers are clasped around yours.

“See this?” He nods towards the ring, as if there were anything else that he could be referring to. “It’s not just a beautiful ring on yer pretty finger. It's a symbol of our commitment — yer commitment to me.”

It’s slight, barely even noticeable, but there’s an edge to his tone that’s been missing all night. You can suddenly imagine how it is this young, unassuming man with his calm and collected temperament worked his way to the top of the most powerful yakuza syndicate in Japan.

He takes a long moment to pause thoughtfully and it seems so natural that you wonder if this is a common occurrence when he speaks. You suppose you’ll have the rest of your life to figure it out.

“I have a lot of respect for yer father,” he breaks the silence, confusing you with the direction that he’s chosen to take your conversation. “He’s built one of the most sophisticated operations in the country. He’s a smart man who’s surrounded himself with people he can trust, who would take a bullet or a prison sentence for him without question. I won’t hesitate to say that he’s earned his reputation.”

He sounds sincere, but you still have no idea where he’s going with this. If this were anyone else, in any other situation, you would ask if he was more interested in marrying your father than interested in marrying you. You have enough self-awareness to know that doing so with Kita wouldn’t go well — but only just.

“He’s a man of honor and I don’t mean to insult him.” He pauses again, this one shorter than the previous one. However, something about it feels heavier and when he finally looks back up at you, his eyes are much colder.

“The Fukurodani may be the most powerful syndicate in Kanto, but when it comes down to it, no one can match the power and numbers of the Inarizaki,” he states.

Maybe it’s the matter-of-fact way he says it, maybe it’s how composed his expression is despite the events of that evening, but you’re suddenly incredibly aware of how his grip on your fingers has slowly tightened over the last few minutes, almost bordering on painful.

“I already own everythin’ from Kansai to Kyushu. If I wanted Tokyo, I could come and take it.” You believe him. While your father won’t let you in on his operations, you’re far from clueless about the politics of the criminal underworld, including who has power and how much.

And Kita is right. The Fukurodani are the most powerful group in Kanto, one of the most powerful groups in all of Japan — second only to the Inarizaki. If a war broke out between the two over control of the country’s capital, it would be a hard and bloody conflict but the Inarizaki would undoubtedly be the victors.

This marriage benefits your father more than it does Kita.

“Maybe one day I will. The alliance doesn’t really matter,” he tells you. But while he looks slightly pensive as he speaks, the corners of your lips begin to slowly turn upwards.

“Then what is it you want, Kiiiiitaaa-saaaan?” you ask, playfully stretching out his family name — what will soon be your family name.

The coldness in his demeanor seems to melt, although not into anything that could ever be considered close to warm. If you had to describe it, you would probably call it patronizing.

“Y’know they call ya Tokyo’s yakuza princess?” he replies and your smirk widens. It takes some effort with how tight his grip is, but you manage to wiggle your fingers just loose enough to intertwine them with his.

“Do they?” you ask innocently, as if you haven’t proudly worn the title over the years. You look at him knowingly through your lashes. “Even in the Hyogo countryside?”

“Even in the Hyogo countryside,” he answers mildly, briefly humoring you and you reward him with a pleased grin.

“Oh really?” you muse, bringing your joined hands up to your lips to lightly skim them along his bloody and torn knuckles.

His tolerance seems to have hit its limit because he quickly yanks his hand from yours to grab your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks so roughly that you give a small wince. His hand is large enough that it covers your mouth almost entirely.

If anyone else were in your position, they would most likely be trembling in fear. You can only smile into his palm, the mischief mirrored in your eyes.

Kita doesn’t come across as a man who often — if ever — gives into temptation. But although his patience with you has grown thin, he seems willing to allow himself just one small indulgence.

His hand shifts so that he can slowly run his thumb across your lips, leaving behind a sticky smear of blood in its wake. As his touch reaches your cupid’s bow, you slightly part your lips to press a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb before opening your mouth and catching it between your teeth.

You use just enough pressure so that he can’t simply slip it free. The metallic tang of blood is strong on your tongue as you brush it teasingly against the tip, your gaze meeting his coyly. You close your lips around his thumb and give it a light suck that would have a lesser man on his knees, begging for you to let him between your thighs.

Kita reacts with a thoughtful hum and nothing else, not even the most minute muscle twitch.

“Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess whose father lets her get away with whatever she wants,” he remarks, entirely unbothered even as you continue to suckle on his thumb while he speaks. “I won’t be anywhere near as lenient with ya. And I won’t have ya makin’ a fool outta me just because we’re not married yet.”

Although the danger is there, completely unmistakable, his voice lacks the menacing tone that should accompany his words. Instead, they’re low and soft, caressing your ears like a lover’s would, luring you in seductively.

Impulse control has never been something that you’ve practiced; it’s never been something that you’ve needed to practice. In an act of utter shamelessness, you take his free hand, the one casually hanging from his knee, and place it high on your bare thigh.

When you try to slide it further under the hem of your skirt, which has already begun to ride up since he tugged it down, you find that his hand is immovable. His fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, sinking into your soft skin with the weight of both his grip and his possessiveness.

“Yer mine now,” he tells you, his voice still gentle and entirely at odds with his burning touch and the taste of blood in your mouth. “I don’t need to wait for paperwork or a ceremony to make it official.”

His heavy gaze drops down to look pointedly at how you’re thighs are squeezing together, even as he keeps one of them firmly in place. He then slowly drags it back up to meet yours, leaving a scorching trail in its wake.

“I’m not just gonna give ya whatever it is ya ask for.” The words are a threat, even if he speaks them like a promise. “If ya want somethin’ from me, yer gonna have to earn it.”

Right now, there’s only one thing that you want from him and it's at the forefront of your mind.

“But I didn’t get to cum,” you whine around his thumb, your pitiful complaint slightly muffled.

Osamu and Suna’s matching looks of disbelief go unnoticed by you and Kita, neither man ever having imagined that someone would dare to say something so brazen to their fearsome oyabun.

There’s a flash in Kita’s eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards for a fraction of a second. Both happen so quickly that you only notice because he has your rapt attention and it slowly dawns on you.

He likes it. He likes your audacity. He likes your impertinence. He likes how you sound like the spoiled brat that you are. He likes that he has Tokyo’s spoiled little yakuza princess squeezing his hand between her thighs and sucking on his thumb as she pathetically pleads with him to make her cum.

His thumb is slick with your saliva as he slips it from your mouth despite your efforts to keep it where it is by trying to sink your teeth deeper into it. He leaves a quickly-cooling trail of spit on your skin as he readjusts his hold on your jaw, once again digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. The action only exaggerates the pout that you’re already giving him.

“And ya won’t again ‘til we’re married. I don’t care if it’s with someone else. I don’t care if it’s with yerself. The next time ya do will be on our wedding night.” He pauses, letting the silence hang over the room so that the impact of his next words is truly felt. “If yer good.”

You let out a displeased noise in protest but it goes ignored as he uses his grasp on your jaw to move your head a bit to the side so that you’re looking over his shoulder and directly at the grey-haired Inarizaki man behind him.

“This is Osamu. He’s gonna be stayin’ in Tokyo for a bit.” He gives you a single wave in acknowledgment from where he stands. “Yer father’s already agreed to it.”

The implication is clear: Osamu is to be Kita’s eyes and ears in Tokyo. If you act in any way that’s unbefitting of your new status as the woman set to marry the Inarizaki’s kumicho, he’ll certainly know.

“You’ll be seein’ a lot of him,” he tells you as he returns your focus back to him. He then leans forward, closing the gap between you to tenderly press a light kiss to your forehead, his lips moving against your skin with his next words. “So, be good for me.”

He sits back and meets your gaze expectantly and it’s clear that he wants your assurance that you’ll do as told. You give a childish roll of your eyes and his grip tightens in warning.

“I’ll be good,” you reply, the words feeling foreign on your tongue but they seem to appease him.

However, his eyes soon land on your lips and then narrow. It’s a small movement, but the temperature of the room seems to drop with it. His next question is spoken as softly as everything else he’s said that night, but there’s a new kind of gravity to it, one that promises danger should he receive an answer that he doesn’t like.

“Did ya use yer mouth on him?”

It’s clear that Tatsuya’s life depends on your response. Luckily for him, there’s only one answer that you can give.

“I don’t suck cock,” you say and it’s only because Kita is grasping so tightly onto your jaw that you don’t physically turn your nose up at the suggestion of you getting on your knees.

But then something unexpected happens. The calm and carefully controlled expression on Kita’s face softens into something finally approaching fondness, a faint smile forming on the straight line of his lips.

“You will for me,” he promises and you raise a challenging eyebrow, even as your own grin begins to grow.

“I will?” you ask playfully and he nods.

“You will if ya wanna be good,” he’s kind enough to remind you and there’s a strange fluttering in your stomach that you’ve never experienced before.

“Yes, Shin-kun,” you smile, and despite barely having had any of the champagne that’s now spilled across the floor, you feel drunk.

You hardly wait for Kita to order his men to leave with a firm but impassive, “out,” before sliding from the couch and sinking to the floor between his parted legs. Your knees already ache from the unfamiliar sensation of resting against such a hard surface.

The weight of his hand on the back of your neck burns as you rub your cheek against the expensive fabric of the slacks covering his muscled thigh. As you reach for the buckle of his belt, you look up at him to find him watching you ravenously.

It absently occurs to you that throughout the entire evening, you never once heard him raise his voice. Even when he was brutally assaulting Tatsuya, he never seemed angry or bothered. No matter the situation, he remained unfazed.

But as you slide a hand inside of his pants to grip his half-hard cock through the soft material of his boxers, you can see it. Underneath his composed visage and mild temperament, burning bright in his shining and hungry eyes, is a dangerous flame — one that threatens to consume you and every inch of Tokyo in a devastating and all-consuming blaze.

Maybe Kita Shinsuke isn’t as boring as you thought.

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kita x reader #kita shinsuke fanfic #kita shinsuke fic #kita fic #kita fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fic #mel writes #traditional values

1K notes · View notes

yanderecrazysie · 10 months

Note

this request might be a little weird but yandere!bokuto x quiet!reader x yandere!akaashi where reader like to listen to music, coffee shops (yet proceeds to get tea or hot chocolate there), mangas, and dresses. could there be some fear in this too like the fear of the ocean and easily gets homesick.

also i love your writing its amazing and take as much time w this as you need🤍

- anon🥂💍

This sounds awesome- not weird at all! And thank you so much, you’re so kind to me! >3<

Title: Routine

Pairings: Akaashi Keiji x Reader; Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, reader has thalassophobia

Summary: Akaashi and Bokuto have picked out the perfect place for you to live. Too bad you don’t agree…

routine

/noun/

a sequence of actions regularly followed.

You were a creature of habit.

You went to work and left when your shift was over. You visited a coffee place before and after work, but you never got coffee there. On Saturdays and Sundays, you spent a good chunk of your time there too, sipping away at a hot chocolate while music blared through your earbuds and you settled into your latest manga.

You also spent a lot of time at home, often doing the same things as you did at the coffee shop. Playing music while you cleaned and cooked, and curling up on the couch to read your manga. You were a homebody, but you enjoyed your time outside too.

You went shopping on Sundays and ate out on Saturdays. A little treat for how hard you worked during the week, no doubt. You got gas the moment your car started getting low and you cleaned frequently.

You liked to wear dresses and makeup, but not too much. Your dresses were nothing too fancy, almost casual and your makeup was light and natural.

You were fond of routines and anyone who knew yours could find you easily.

Stalk you easily.

Seriously, you made it way too easy for two people in particular to follow you around and watch you. Learn all the things that made you you. They knew everything mentioned and more.

Akaashi and Bokuto were best friends and shared many of the same interests- the most intense of which included you. They loved you deeply, but they didn’t know how to approach you with an offer like “date both of us, please”. It just wouldn’t work out.

Bokuto would overwhelm you, Akaashi was sure of that. And Akaashi would underwhelm you, as Bokuto liked to say. They were the unlikeliest of friends and even more so, potential romantic partners. There was no way you’d fall for either of them, much less both.

So they followed you.

At first, they had convinced themselves that, if they just got to know you, they could woo you easily. Pretend to have all the same interests and bam! You’d be one happy throuple.

They could claim to like all the mangas they’d seen you read. Claim to love that cozy little coffee shop where they, too, get hot chocolate. Claim to have the same taste in music.

But wouldn’t that be creepy? They realized that too. Akaashi could be subtle, sure, but Bokuto was not a good actor by any means. Too eager to please, they both knew too well.

Their minds turned to kidnapping a little too quickly. But, after all, they were stalking you. It was the logical next step for them both.

It’d be easy to sweep you away, considering how strictly you followed your routine and the fact that you lived alone. But there was the worry that they would have to keep you locked up, constantly worrying about being put behind bars and keeping you from becoming depressed.

They had an idea or, rather, Akaashi had an idea and Bokuto agreed. It was an awful, cruel idea.

But to them, it was a necessary one.

When you next woke up, you’d be in an unfamiliar bedroom in an equally strange house with even stranger men. You’d be frightened, sure, but you’d soon find it was easy to escape. They wouldn’t stand for keeping you locked or chained up, after all.

While escaping their house was easy, escaping their small private island was not.

When you stared at the vast ocean, face drained of all blood, and swaying unsteadily, you end up looking back at the two men who casually followed you outside, wondering if they knew that you were deathly afraid of the ocean. That you’d never dare try to cross it or so much as wade your toes in it.

Only to be met with smug, knowing grins.

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!!#yandere one shot #one shot #yandere x reader #yandere akaashi #yandere bokuto #akaashi keiji #bokuto koutarou

108 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 1 year

Text

Powder Keg

it has been far too long since i've indulged with these three

Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou & Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

w.c 6.1k

tw: implied non-con, yandere, implied violence and bad times all round

Not guilty.

There’s a moment after the verdict’s read, right before the courtroom erupts into noise where time slows. Your heartbeat thunders in your chest, violently – like it’s trying to rip its way free, and it becomes harder to breathe.

For days, you’ve avoided looking at them, treating the left side of the courtroom as though it simply did not exist.

Your head turns without conscious thought, and you watch it happen. In slow motion, you physically witness the verdict hit them.

Not guilty.

Relief. Joy. Bokuto pulls Kuroo into a hug, pounding his fist across his back as he beams.

Not guilty.

Akaashi shaking their lawyer’s hand, head tilted in a polite bow.

Not guilty.

The gavel slams down, a harsh, strangled sort of noise escapes you. Your knees, shaking as they are, suddenly give way. Cameras flash, your lawyer reaching for you as you sink back into your chair, numb – whatever he says to you gets drowned out, nothing but static and haze.

Three days spent trapped at their mercy while they broke your trust, lied to you, hurt you, fucked you. Cases don’t make it to court for trial unless the prosecution’s almost certain of a conviction, everyone knows that. You had the evidence, the rape kit, DNA, all of it. How– how could they–

The skin at the nape of your neck prickles, the tiny hairs standing on end. Lifting your head, you’re met with a cool gunmetal gaze, Akaashi’s expression giving away nothing.

He nods, though. A slow incline of his chin, his eyes never leaving yours. Bokuto and Kuroo are breaking apart, the latter already beginning to follow Akaashi’s line of sight, and you feel the bile rising up your throat.

In a sudden burst of energy, you lurch from your seat, racing out the side doors. The meagre lunch you’d managed to force down comes hurling right back up – the only saving grace being that you barely manage to make it to the bathroom in time.

On your knees, clutching the toilet and sobbing, you vomit until there’s nothing left but bile and pain. How could they– how could they do this to you?

How could they not believe you when you gave them everything?

You don’t glance up when the door swings open, nor at the tentative knock on the stall door – which as you hadn’t had the time or inclination to lock it, creaks open.

Your mother peers in. “Honey?”

“They think I’m a liar,” you croak out, finally lifting your miserable gaze. “They think I’m making it up.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“We believe you, we know you’re telling the truth. I’m sorry those assholes convinced everyone else otherwise,” your cousin murmurs, appearing behind her shoulder.

Together, they help you to your feet, your mother gently wiping away the tears while your cousin places a comforting hand on your back.

“Those bastards. Those fucking bastards! If the lay judges had any sense at all–” her voice, shaking with rage, cracks, a sob threatening to break through. Beyond words, she shakes her head, clamping her lips shut, and your cousin sighs.

“Come on, it’s going to be a circus out there. Better to get it over and done with.”

She isn’t wrong.

By the time you make it to the steps out front, reporters are everywhere, swarming. Their lawyer’s mid-way through a statement, smugness radiating from every slimy pore.

“– justice served today. These three young men have such promising futures ahead of them, and we can only be thankful that the lay judges and judges alike saw their true character amidst the wild accusations and, quite frankly, outright fabrications from this poor, misguided woman.”

And the reporters are pummelling you and your family with questions, demanding a comment, asking how you feel about the verdict passed down.

You can’t bring yourself to answer them, so you keep your mouth shut and focus on the ground in front of you, one step after another. You can’t stop or you’ll break all over again.

Your mother, however, has different ideas. “You let her down,” she spits. “This whole system let my daughter down today. Do you give all rapists a free pass, or just the ones on track to become olympians?!”

Which, naturally, only invites a flurry of rapid fire follow ups.

They’ve all decided that you’re a whore. A liar. A greedy, attention seeking slut who wanted nothing more than a few nights of fun to leverage for your five minutes of fame. They might not admit it outright, but you can hear it in their questions, see it in their looks.

The verdict only cements that belief.

Three days, every waking second spent clinging to the idea that once you got away, once they were done, you’d be free and everything would be fine.

You’d get justice.

The three of them would spend years rotting away behind bars, and it wouldn’t be enough, not ever, not for what they put you through. Somehow, though, you’d find a way to make peace with it.

And now… now they’re walking free like they did nothing wrong and you– you’re the one left standing there in the wake of a shattered reputation while people you’ve never met hurl abuse at you and your family, telling you you deserved what you got. That you wanted it.

The bolder ones tell you to do everyone a favour and just go kill yourself.

You catch one last look as the car pulls away; surrounded by their family, their crack legal team, supporters. The three of them – each with loosened ties, Bokuto having shed his jacket entirely – meet that gaze head on.

And the weight of it, burning and uncomfortable, lingers long after they disappear in the rearview mirror.

—

“Mr. Kuroo, sir, your two o'clock is waiting in conference room three.”

He hums, fingers tapping away across the screen of his phone

“And,” his assistant continues, “I have your coffee.”

At that, she finally grabs his attention. Stowing his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, he smiles, “You’re a lifesaver, have I mentioned that?”

“Once or twice.”

Accepting the cup gratefully, Kuroo laughs, “Yeah, well, remind me ‘bout that when we have your next salary review.”

She brightens at the praise, tucking her hair back behind her ear with a small nod. Kuroo, already halfway down the hall, doesn’t notice, too busy wracking his brain in an attempt to recall what his two o’clock appointment is actually regarding.

There were interviews for one of the junior positions, but those weren’t until next week, he vaguely recalls someone from legal wanting to talk about their upcoming campaign, maybe it’s about that? Usually they want to talk with the whole team, though. Long, drawn out meetings that leave him wanting to repeatedly slam his head against a wall.

Upon reaching the conference room in question, he realises that it’s not legal he’s scheduled to meet with.

Sitting with her legs neatly crossed, pen and paper in hand sits a woman of about thirty, a bottle blonde, with perky tits and a tight black, pencil skirt that clings to shapely thighs. She smiles when he opens the door, sticks out a perfectly manicured hand.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, I presume?”

He takes it, smirks as her eyelashes flutter and they shake hands.

Nope, definitely not someone from legal.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but you are–?”

“Of course, my apologies. My name is Sato Kisumi, I’m a reporter from the Metro Times, we spoke last week…”

A vague memory of a phone call surfaces and Kuroo finds himself nodding. “Right, yeah, I remember. You wanted to talk about an article or something? Sorry, we’re a few weeks from launching our campaign for the new season and it’s been a hell of a day.”

She laughs, a sweet, bell-like sound, “No, no, it’s alright. If anyone understands how crazy it can be working towards a deadline, it’s a reporter.”

He settles himself down across from her, making himself comfortable.

“You don’t mind if I record this, do you?”

Kuroo shakes his head. There’s one already set up on the table, next to the tea his assistant must have procured for her when she arrived. Leaning forward, she clicks it on, “Wonderful.”

“So what’s this article for, anyway?”

“You don’t remember?” her voice carries a teasing lilt. “We did speak about it on the phone.”

“Busy week, like I said.”

“Busy man,” she counters, red lips curling into something like a smile. “To be honest with you, it’s more of an exposé. I’m investigating professional athletes dodging charges for criminal offences. The taking of illegal substances and DUI’s of course, but more serious allegations, too. Spousal abuse, assault, rape, that sort of thing.”

Leaning back in his chair, Kuroo picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip, savouring the bitter, chocolate-y notes of the dark roast his assistant – godsend that she is – knows he favours.

He vaguely recalls the conversation – enough to remember that she neglected to tell him this part whilst she was angling for an interview. Then again, she’d hardly be the first reporter to lie for a chance to get their foot in the door. More than anyone, Kuroo can appreciate that kind of deception.

Now that the truth is laid bare, he’s faced with a choice.

If Kuroo had any sense at all – if he cared about his job and his reputation – he’d politely but firmly tell her to leave before she gets any more comfortable. It’s one thing to ignore and downplay what he’s sure will inevitably turn out to be a scathing indictment of the whole system when it’s published, another entirely to actively participate in it, regardless of intentions.

If he doesn’t tread carefully here, his boss will most certainly have his balls for it.

So he should kick her out. He should.

Instead, Kuroo lets out a light chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “And you decided to start with the VP of JVA promotion? It’s an… interesting approach, I’ll give you that.”

Kisumi mirrors him, lifting the tea to her lips to take a slow sip. She sets the cup back down on the desk, taking a second to adjust it ever so slightly, the tip of her finger running along the edge of the rim. Then, with an air of nonchalance, she shrugs. “Well, what we’re seeing is that these athletes are usually being protected by their teams and management, and in some cases, with certain athletes, that extends all the way up to high ranking officials within their respective governing bodies. Victims and police are paid off, charges mysteriously disappear, negative press gets buried, like magic.”

“It’s a sad story ‘n all, I’m sure there’s some commentary in there about the failings of society, corruption and misplaced hero worship of star athletes or whatever it is you’re after, but I’m failing to see what that has to do with me. I run the promotions division, not public relations.”

“I’m not interested in talking to you because of your job title, Mr. Kuroo, although believe me, that someone like you could rise to an office like this is damning enough,” she says, no trace of her earlier sweetness, the flirtatiousness. No, now her eyes are cold, her smile, while it still adorns her lips, all too sharp. “I’m here because of a court case a few years ago, in which you and two friends – one of whom now plays for the national volleyball team – were accused of the kidnapping and rape of a fellow student.”

Kuroo barks out a laugh, leaning back into his seat. His eyes flicker to the recorder on the desk, the pen she wields, poised over the blank pad of paper, and back to her cool smile. “A very publicised court case that ended with a verdict of not guilty. No one bribed any judges or tampered with evidence, no one made it go away. That’s our justice system, that’s how it works. If you’re looking for something damning,” he throws the word back at her, “you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot better than that.”

“And you think that was a fair trial?”

“I think you’re wasting your time. Mine, too.”

He moves to rise, intent on ushering Kisumi out of his office when she asks, “You don’t remember me, Kuroo, do you?” Not playful anymore, not even angry; she spits his name like it’s poison, as though the very act of uttering his name aloud makes her skin crawl.

And that, more than anything, is enough to really pique his interest.

Kuroo finds himself studying her – really looking at her – beyond the blonde curls and the hateful scowl, beyond all that he’d dismissed earlier. And there is something that rings of familiarity – her eyes, maybe, the shape of her nose – but Kuroo’s short on time, and despite his amusement, what’s left of his good will is dwindling fast.

“Nah, but don’t take it personally, the whole prissy, up-tight bitch thing you’ve got going on isn’t really my thing.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t, you only ever saw her.” Kisumi makes a disgusted noise, “The whole trial, you wouldn’t stop staring. You and your friends ruined her and then you sat there making moon eyes for three days while your asshole of a lawyer tore her apart on the stand.”

The pieces fall together, a memory resurfaces; a blonde woman leaning forward to touch your shoulder, whispering in your ear as you tried in vain to keep your tears at bay.

And it’s a stupid thing, the faint tinge of jealousy that stirs inside of him as he eyes the woman sitting before him. She’s family – has to be, because Kuroo knew all your friends back then.

(Funny, wasn’t it, how none of them had shown up at the trial either.)

Pushing aside the ugly feeling – at least for now – Kuroo rises to his feet, allowing a smirk to curl at his lips. “Like I said, Miss Sato,” and oh, how he relishes the cold fury that sparks across her features. “You’re gonna have to do better than that – but not today. Get the fuck out of my conference room.”

With her lips pursed, she goes to do just that. Makes it all the way to the door, clutching the handle when abruptly she stops, turning to face him once more.

An eyebrow rises, “Something else?”

“She’s missing. She left years ago, which I’m sure you already knew, but now she’s gone-gone. She hasn’t called in weeks, and the cops won’t help. They said that she’s already proven she’s flighty,” Kisumi spits out a humourless laugh. “They won’t open an investigation when we can’t even tell them the last place she was staying. But I know my cousin, and I know the only reason she’d go this long without calling is if there was something physically stopping her from doing so.”

Her voice remains level, her breath on the other hand–

A chink in the armour.

The family resemblance might not be all that strong between you two, that look though – trying to pretend she’s not afraid when everything from the expression on her face to the tremor in her hands is screaming at him otherwise – all he can see is you.

He loves when you look at him like that. More than he should, but guilty pleasures and all that. He doesn’t want you scared, not… necessarily. Not as much as he wants you vulnerable.

Unlike you, who’d burst into tears, crumble and break, she straightens her spine, swallows down that emotion and continues. “I know the kind of man you are. All three of you. It’s because of you that she left in the first place, and I’m willing to stake my career on you being the reason she’s disappeared this time ‘round as well.”

“S’that right? You got any actual proof, or is this whole thing based solely on the fact that you don’t like me?”

Kisumi, rather than dignifying that with an answer, merely spares Kuroo one last disdainful glare and stalks from the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. A minor victory, but one that brings no small sense of satisfaction.

A shame then, that it doesn’t last.

His smirk slips away, vanishing like a slate scrubbed clean.

Pulling the phone from his breast pocket, Kuroo dials the last number he called, lifts the phone up to his ear, and waits.

“What’s up?”

“We’ve got a problem.”

—

Akaashi isn’t one for the spotlight.

He doesn’t hate it per se, he just isn’t all that interested in chasing after it. Better to let everyone be blinded by the other two and let their guards slip around him.

He’s patient – has to be, dealing with Bokuto and Kuroo day in, day out. Calm. Observant enough to realise that the blonde sitting four seats down on the rattling train car has been following him for several days now.

Sato Kisumi.

Akaashi had looked her up after her meeting with Kuroo, begrudgingly having to admit that as an investigative journalist, she was rather impressive.

Kuroo was worried she’d be a problem, and Akaashi’s inclined to agree. Upset relatives were one thing, a well respected journalist with a personal vendetta against the three of them, a separate beast entirely.

One that wouldn’t necessarily be so easy to shake. Or put down.

A polite, feminine voice filters through the P.A system, announcing the imminent arrival of the next station. The train has another four stops before his, yet he rises smoothly when the train slows to a stop beside the platform, exiting amongst the throng of commuters without so much as a backwards glance.

She follows, however, as he knew she would, trailing after him when he makes his way out of the station and onto the busy streets of Shinjuku. There’s a ramen joint he’s particularly fond of a few minutes downtown, only a short walk away.

The quickest route would be to take the main road, lose himself in the throng of people. Akaashi, curious more than anything, decides to instead take the long way round, via the back alleys and narrow laneways, where every footstep echoes, and puddles splash underfoot.

He’s pleased, though not exactly surprised, that Kisumi follows at a distance.

A block away from his destination, he stops on the street corner, turning back to address her.

“Are you hungry?”

The question clearly takes her by surprise, and her answer comes slow. Distant honking from the street ahead, laughter and the rumble of voices tangled together interwoven with music and the shouting of kitchen – closer to the main road, it’s louder here. Easier to mask her presence.

Even so, she had to have realised he’d been toying with her from the start, perfectly aware she’d been tailing him. Why else would he have led her down the rabbit’s warren?

“… What?”

“Dinner,” he elaborates. “Are you hungry? I didn’t have a chance to eat today, and I figured that rather than spending all night following me in the hopes that I’ll – what, lead you to your cousin? – we could sit down and talk over some food. Ramen, actually. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To talk?”

She regards him warily, brows knitting together, considering the proposition. He can’t blame her for the reticence, exactly, but it is somewhat of a pointless exercise considering they both know that she’s going to say yes.

She might hate him. Despise him. She might even be afraid of him, but she went toe to toe with Kuroo and that doesn’t speak to someone meek or spineless. If she wants answers – if she wants you as badly as he thinks she does, she won’t be able to resist.

A heartbeat later, and he’s proven correct. Her jaw tightens, but she nods; a short, sharp jerk of her chin. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

Despite the proclamation, Kisumi remains silent as they’re shown to one of the tables set up beneath the awning outside, shielding them from the drizzling rain, and when Akaashi orders for them both, two bowls of tonkotsu, with a side of gyoza to share. She just sits, shoulders back, arms folded gracefully across her chest, glaring daggers.

All of that fades away when the waitress comes by with their food. In an instant she softens, smiling and politely dipping her head in thanks. Only when the waitress disappears back inside and they’re alone again does Kisumi finally break her silence.

“I don’t suppose you’ll save me the trouble and tell me where my cousin is?”

Akaashi smiles at that, splitting his chopsticks to snatch one of the pot sticker dumplings and take a bite. He savours the mouthful, the rich flavours of garlicky pork, cabbage and chives bursting over his taste buds, chewing thoughtfully before posing another question to the blonde.

“Did she ever talk about how we met?”

Kisumi laughs, shaking her head as she pulls her bowl of ramen close and grabs her chopsticks. “No. No, somehow between all the tears and the breakdowns, her gripping my hand while she lay in that hospital bed and told the cops every detail about how you trapped her in that house, how the three of you touched her, raped her, we didn’t get around to chatting about the meet cute. Weird, right?”

“There was this ramen place on campus,” Akaashi begins, ignoring Kisumi’s dig entirely. “Kind of like this one, except it was open twenty-four seven. Busy as hell during the day, but after ten, eleven at night it got pretty quiet, and she always worked the late shift.”

There’s a quiet wistfulness in his tone that Akaashi doesn’t bother masking.

He remembers the way your face used to brighten when the bell above the door would announce their arrival, the cute little bounce in your step that he never could get out of his head.

When it was dead and you could get away with it, you’d come over and chat, sneaking them drinks, dumplings, an extra egg or slice of pork, even ‘forgetting’ to tally their orders up correctly when it came time to settle their bill. If your boss took notice, he never said anything – or if he did, then you never cared enough to stop.

You could make a few exceptions for your favourites, you’d told him when he’d asked you about it once, smiling that soft, pretty smile of yours. Blind to the way those words, and the image of you beaming so beautifully, would etch their way into his very being, refusing to give him a moment’s peace.

Bokuto and Kuroo would waste hours fighting over who you liked best, only for Akaashi to add fuel to the fire, dryly reminding them that arguing was pointless – you weren’t stupid or blind enough to prefer either one of them.

It was a slow thing, this descent into hell with you… and then it wasn’t.

And he wouldn’t trade what he has now for all the world, but some small part of him will always mourn those early days, the sweet naivety with which you used to treat them.

Kisumi, picking at her ramen rather than eating it, sucks on her teeth and exhales slowly, drawing him from his reminiscing. “So when did it change?” she asks.

“Hm?”

“When did you decide that that wasn’t enough? At what point exactly did the three of you sit down and make the decision to take her to that cabin, keep her there against her will and spend three days systematically abusing her for your own sick fucking pleasure?”

A flash of irritation sparks, and his eyes narrow. “She agreed to come with us, and we didn’t abuse her. We’d never.”

A silence descends between them, thick, wrought with tension and disbelief. And then, like a match struck, the blonde explodes.

“God, you’re so full of shit, you know that, right?!” Kisumi snarls, disgusted. “You might’ve been able to convince the court that it was rough and fun, that whatever damage you left behind was damage she wanted, but I was there for the aftermath. I saw the state you left her in!”

Each word is biting and vitriolic, her voice shaking with barely repressed rage. If she’s hoping for some sign that they’ve struck a chord, wounded him in some way, she’s sorely disappointed. Save for the cold, flat stare he regards her with, the only response Akaashi deigns to give is simply to resume eating, gathering another mouthful of noodles between his chopsticks and slurping them up.

That, it seems, is Kisumi’s breaking point. Shaking her head with a hollow scoff, she shoves her own, largely untouched bowl aside and stands.

“I’m going to find her, and when I do I am going to spend every waking second, every last yen I have making sure that the three of you go down for it.” And with that, she snatches up her purse, yanking it open to dig for her umbrella.

Another mouthful, braised chashu pork and scallions. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

—

Fingers drum restlessly against the leather steering wheel, tapping out an anxious beat.

‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,’ Kuroo had said, clapping him on the back.

The light shines from her bedroom window, the shadow of her figure moving within. Bokuto checks the clock again; 11:27.

He’d been so happy, over the fucking moon to come home. Three weeks away, three and a half hours on the train, he was itching, leg bouncing restlessly as the miles slowly crawled by. And even though all he wanted to do was find Kuroo so they could go home already, he made the effort for the fans that swarmed the second he got off the train.

Took the time to smile and pose for pictures, signed the autographs, laughing and chatting away. He gets it, he does – meeting your idols is pretty fucking awesome, and the last thing he’d ever wanna do would be to ruin that for some poor kid just because he’s in a rush to get home and rip your clothes off.

Still, even at the best of times patience was never his forte, and three weeks might as well have been a lifetime.

Anticipation had him on cloud nine, and nothing – nothing – was gonna bring him down.

At least, that’s what he’d thought.

‘Don’t you have an ounce of shame?’

It’d taken everything he had not to snap there and then. There were kids around, staring up at him with wide, confused eyes – their parents quick to usher them away.

Kuroo’d said she’d be a problem.

Akaashi agreed.

The bedroom light flicks off, and his pulse jumps. Go time.

Adjusting the cap on his head, he flips up the hood of his jacket and exits the car, avoiding the light from the street lamps above to cross the road. Her house is nice enough. Small, with a garden out front spilling with greenery and potted flowers. Her cat, lying on the windowsill between the blinds and the glass, notes his arrival on the doorstep with slow blinking eyes, only to yawn and dismiss him entirely, unbothered.

Faced with a locked door, Bokuto doesn’t bother wasting time or energy trying to pick it. He has no need – two solid, powerful kicks later, the wooden door splinters and cracks, giving way beneath his foot.

Shoving the wreckage of the door aside, Bokuto shoulders his way inside. There’s a sudden yowl – the cat, startled by the noise, launches itself from the window to skitter away to some safe, dark hidey-hole. From somewhere else within he hears a muffled thump, followed by a curse.

Good. He wants her to know he’s coming.

‘You can google it, you know? The rape and the trial, it’s on your wikipedia page – and those kids and their families, they still worship you. That’s your legacy.’

A slow building anger seeps through his veins, blood thrumming in anticipation.

‘Doesn’t it make you sick?’

She’s threatening to take you away. ‘Kaashi said she’s hellbent on it.

Bokuto can shoulder a lot. He dealt with the blow to his image – both during the trial and after it – and when you left last time, disappearing into thin air without so much as a goodbye, it broke something inside of him.

Still, he found a way to get through it. He had to, because he was getting you back.

And the taste of you lingers on his tongue from when it was buried inside of you only hours ago, a honeyed tang he’d swallow down by the mouthful if he could. Back home your hips and ass, the soft sweetness of your thighs, carry mottled imprints of his fingers – that overeager, desperate touch.

Three rounds he’d gone; sinking his cock into your pussy, fucking out all of his frustrations and pent up emotions ‘til he was spent and you were a shaking, shivering, heavenly mess. It was supposed to make things better. Calm him down a little and take the edge off.

It had the opposite effect.

Because he knows now what it’s like to lose a soulmate, he knows just how high the stakes are.

She swung first, Bokuto’s simply returning the favour.

There’s no point masking his footsteps as he stalks through the house, a singular goal in mind. Akaashi made him promise that he wouldn’t take this too far – and he won’t.

He wants to – fuck, he really, really wants to.

But he won’t.

The door to the bedroom’s cracked an inch – it groans in protest when he nudges it wider and crosses the threshold.

The thought of finding her, dragging her kicking and screaming out into the living room was something he’d been looking forward to, but Kisumi – rudely ruining his fun – isn’t hiding.

No, flattened against the wall opposite, shaking like a leaf, she grips her phone like it’s a lifeline. “I-I’ve called the cops. They’re on their way,” she calls out, and he realises that while his eyes have adjusted, hers haven’t. She thinks he’s a burglar, someone she can reason with.

He almost snorts.

Fumbling against the wall, it takes him a second or two to find the light switch and flick it on. Light floods the small bedroom in an instant, and Kisumi flinches, an arm coming up to shield her face from the sudden brightness.

When it falls though, and golden eyes meet her own, Bokuto’s rewarded with a look of shock and recognition, which quickly gives way to something much, much more satisfying.

Fear.

It’s in her eyes, widening horribly, the way her face drains of blood. The audible little hitch in her breathing that sends a delightful tingle down his spine.

And still, she tries to put on a brave face.

“The cops are already on their way,” she repeats, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Whatever you’re after– just… just go, and I swear I won’t say a word. I’ll keep your name out of it. We– we can pretend this never happened, alright?”

Bokuto grins at that. Shifts his weight as he lowers his centre of gravity.

The funny thing is, the stupid bitch doesn’t know just how right she’s about to be.

—

The beeping of the monitors brings back bad memories.

Truth be told, a lot of what happened that day is a blur. You don’t care to pry too deep, trying to pluck and sort through the trauma of what happened. You remember the hospital, though – gowned up, lying on the scratchy sheets, gripping Kisumi’s hand while you walked the detective through every harrowing minute you’d spent at their hands.

And now the situations are reversed, and it’s your cousin lying broken and damaged in the hospital, and you’re the one sitting at her bedside, keeping watch over her like the guardians of old. Holding her hand while you fight back tears.

The doctors say she’ll wake up soon, but they’ve been saying that for hours now.

All you can do is sit there and pray that she’ll wake up soon.

Pray that she’ll listen, and hear you.

You’re there when the doctors come by to check her vitals, when the food cart rolls by. They don’t stop for her, even if she were awake there wouldn’t be much point, what with her jaw wired shut and all.

Her whole body’s a mess. A broken wrist, broken ribs, her jaw shattered and face a bruised, swollen mess.

It’s a miracle she’s still alive.

Your stomach twists, nausea threatening to heave its way up your throat. No – it’s a miracle that he stopped.

The phone in your pocket vibrates, you ignore it for the third time. No doubt you’ll pay for it later, right now you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Please,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut as your vision blurs with unshed tears. “Please.”

But it’s a while yet before she stirs, consciousness slowly pulling her back to you.

It begins with a muffled groan, a whimper when she shifts. Even with all the damage to her face, you can see the signs of distress taking shape – hurt, twisting at her features.

They’ve given her all the drugs they can, and she’s still in pain.

Your heart wrenches. “Sumi? Sumi, can you hear me?” you ask, clutching her hand tightly between both of yours.

She groans again, fighting to get both eyes open. The phone in your pocket buzzes, insistent. It doesn’t stop after one, going off again and again and again, raising your internal panic. But Kisumi’s blinking now, trying desperately to pull the world into focus. Figure out why it hurts to move, why her mouth won’t obey when she tries to talk.

And you see the tears well up in her eyes, the panic and fear, and you swallow down your own emotions because they don’t matter right now.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. I know it hurts, I know you’re scared, but you’re safe now. I promise you, you’re safe.” An echo of the words she’d once spoken to you. Your thumb strokes the back of her uninjured hand. “Don’t try to talk, just… listen to me, I don’t have long.”

Her fingers try to clumsily curl around your own, and she makes another noise – a garbled butchering of your name that breaks off into a frustrated wail – sending a fresh bolt of pain and guilt lancing through your chest. Tears sting in the corner of your eyes, bottom lip quivering.

This is all your fault.

“You can’t talk, your jaw they– they had to wire it shut,” you tell her while she chokes on another sob. You squeeze her hand, “Please, Sumi, I need you to listen to me. Don’t move, just… blink if you understand; once for yes, twice for no.”

A beat passes, and she blinks. Good.

“Do you remember what happened? The man who attacked you?”

… One blink.

You exhale unsteadily, clearing your throat. Kisumi’s eyes are wide as saucers, tracking every move with a laser focus, and your hand is wrapped so tightly around hers that if she wasn’t already drugged to high heaven she’d probably be whimpering. She’s afraid, you realise. Not of the hospital or the damage she’s yet to comprehend the extent of – she’s afraid because she remembers.

She’s afraid because you are.

“Kisumi… you need to stop this. Forget it happened, play dumb for the cops, drop the article and stop interfering. For your own sake as well as mine, I'm begging you. Otherwise… Otherwise–” your voice dies a quiet death as footsteps approach.

There’s no need to turn.

Kisumi’s face tells you everything when it blanches and she begins to tremble like a terrified puppy. Beside her, the heart rate monitor goes haywire, mirroring her pulse as it jumps erratically with the short, sharp gasps she sucks through clenched teeth.

And when a hand falls to your shoulder, both of you flinch.

“Ready to go, babe?”

To Kisumi, you force a tight, watery smile, “Let it go, okay? Promise me.”

You don’t wait for a response, there’s no point. You’ve poked the bear enough by ignoring their calls and texts, there’s no need to push your luck more than you already have.

Letting Kisumi’s hand slip from your grasp, you rise from your seat and turn, nodding. “Yeah.”

Kuroo smirks, coaxing your face up into a short kiss while his fingers entwine with yours, but it’s Bokuto, claiming your other arm, who grumbles like a petulant child, “You were s’posed to be done hours ago.”

“I‘m sorry. We can go home now.”

Neither one of them spare the battered blonde more than a cursory glance on their way out. You, on the other hand, risk a backwards glance in the moments before you’re tugged away.

Kisumi’s sobbing, broken and raw, hunched over as much as her injuries allow. Her bloodshot eyes meet yours, and your heart breaks one last time.

Promise me you’ll stop. They’ll kill you if you don’t.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo tetsurou x reader #yandere boktuo kotarou x reader #yandere akaashi keiji x reader #yandere kuroo #yandere bokuto #yandere akaashi #tw: noncon

1K notes · View notes

depravitycentral · 11 months

Note

ty for making some of these boys virgins 😭 its a peeve when they try to justify characters being these sex gods when majority of these anime boys have never held a girl's hand in canon. Like you can be a virgin and still know how to fuck/dom but soooo many girls dont get that so they keyhole these men into being hedonistic. Like no hate to them but thats so ooc - nyways i really love your work and immersion! <3

Yes yes yes! That's a bit of a pet peeve for me too, though I understand why other authors do it! Especially in the context of yanderes, where they're supposed to be intimidating and all-consuming and suffocating.

That's not to say that there aren't characters out there who are sex gods - they're few and far between but they do exist, through a combination of experience and raw, natural talent. (And, more often than not, a bit of luck, too.)

Plus, the depth of their feelings for you and the intense, pathetic desire to please you certainly doesn't deter them from trying their best every time they get you naked and spread out before them.

Let's discuss!!

Some are simply experienced enough to know what most women like. It's not a matter of raw ability but rather that they've had enough partners to know what to do - and, more importantly, what not to do. Trial and error has led to them having a pretty consistent routine they undergo in order to get their partner off, knowing that they should spend a while with their tongue against your clit or thumbs brushing against your nipples in order to get you fully ready, often even giving you an orgasm before they get to the main event. Fucking you is good, better than any woman they've been with, but your body is more or less the same as theirs's - except, they're trying even harder with you, putting to use every scrap of information they've learned and observed from every sexual encounter they've had. Their ultimate goal is to turn you into a moaning, shaking mess, and they're quick to adapt to whatever seems to get you feeling best.

The biggest concern with this category, however, is that they tend to be a little overconfident - because they feel they have a wealth of experience, they aren't especially open to criticism or advice. They'll adapt to you, sure, but don't tell them they're doing something wrong, or that something other women have loved doesn't actually feel all that good. Don't insult their skills, because while they no longer care if their past partners enjoyed their time together, it still stings their pride. Instead of listening to your advice, they'll choose to keep going - doing the thing you claim to dislike more and more and more, feverishly trying to convince you that it feels good, you're just not opening yourself up for the opportunity to feel good, that's all. Really, you should be more receptive - after all, they know what they're doing, and do you? Do you really?

A few yanderes that come to mind fitting this category include Koutarou Bokuto, who, despite still having some misconceptions about the female body (he gets terminology mixed up mostly, confusing your clit for your vulva and so on, making any moaned directions aimed at him difficult to follow), has always been able to show his partners a good time. Besides, even if he underperforms, those biceps and muscular thighs normally have women overlooking any of his flaws.

Hizashi Yamada, similarly, always leaves his hookups smiling, making sex a generally pleasant, satisfying experience. Though, no matter how good his skill with his tongue or cock is, his incessant talking throughout the process can leave some late nights turning a bit sour. It can ruin the mood, sometimes, and while there are times when you find his excessive praising and moans of fuck baby and love it when you take me so well hot, most of the time they just deter you from truly losing yourself in the moment. (He always sounds too awed - he's not growling these things or saying them with much of a dominant lilt, rather just warbling and genuinely praising you, which can sometimes leave you feeling a bit uncomfortable.)

Shalnark, when he's trying, can be a great lover - he's especially tuned in to his partner's emotions and reactions to his touch, but the trouble with him is his effort level. Of course, he's in love with you, scarily so, but sometimes he can be a bit selfish, and chooses to take the easy way out and just whip out the vibtrator rather than manually finish you off. This tends to happen when you've been putting on an attitude or you haven't been especially receptive to his affection, and it's in moments like these where Shalnark's pettiness shows itself. You won't hug him or snuggle with him in bed? Then why should he fuck you into an orgasm? But when he does care, well, it almost makes up for all those times he taps out after he comes. Almost.

Some have learned that they do one thing particularly well, and are humble enough to recognize that they should focus on that. As much as they wish they were as well rounded and talented at everything between the sheets, they each have one tried and true weapon that they can use in a pinch to make sure the sex ends on a good note. It's very dependent on the yandere, but they have some redeeming trait that always comes in to save the day, something that can normally get you gasping and trembling if they work at it long enough. Unless they're particularly pent up (or particularly desperate to show you how good they can make you feel), they tend to try and utilize other methods of pleasuring you before they fall back and rely on their specialty. It's more of a confidence thing than anything else, because while they're grateful that they have something to offer you, they want to improve their skills in other areas so that they don't need to rely on just eating you out or rubbing at your clit or fucking you senseless. They just want to be good for you, really, but when they get desperate, they'll always transition to the one thing they know will work.

The one thing that deters this category from being desirable is that in-between period when they're trying new things out. Often, it's not super successful; they're really good at only one thing for a reason, and while it's not necessarily bad when they try to mix things up, it's certainly not going to leave you breathless and wanting more. They just don't have the proper experience (or experience where they were aiming for pleasuring their partner rather than just themselves) to really feel confident and sure of themselves when they're trying something new, and it translates into the way they always hesitate just a bit, or the way they go either way too slow or way too fast. Eventually, though, they'll always return to their fail safe, so it doesn't matter too much - just be patient and get through their attempts, and you'll be rewarded.

Tetsurou Kuroo, while certainly not being a sex god, is remarkably quite talented with his tongue. He's got very good control, and is able to make very precise movements, especially when they're preformed against your clit. He actually really loves to eat you out because he really, really likes the way your cunt smells, but he's always wanted to get better at actually fucking you, because all those fantasies he's harbored since the very beginning of his obsession with you almost always involve you coming undone on his cock. His thumb isn't as talented as his tongue, though, and so even if he rubs it while he's pounding into you, he'll always have to finish you off with his mouth. (At least he gets to taste the intoxicating mix of your slick and his cum - a sign that at least he made you feel a little good.)

Enji Todoroki is the opposite of Tetsurou - he's had lots of practice with actually fucking, and his hips and thighs have enough muscle that he can spend hours rutting into you at the same pace, angle and force, effectively battering your poor pussy in the best way possible. He's pretty receptive about following whatever set of those three factors you like best (though he shines best when he's fucking you nice and slow, deeply and meaningfully when he's got you folded up in a mating press), and while he does prefer being inside you over everything else, he desperately, desperately wants to get good at going down on you. He'd never really bothered when he was Rei, but with he actually wants to taste you, and the thought of you creaming all over his face (or, even more, squirting on his face) is enough to get him half hard in an instant, licking his lips and spreading your legs before you can even protest.

Phinks Magcub has thick, sturdy fingers, callouses dotting them and a few scars left from particularly nasty fights. He's got good stamina and can spend long periods of time moving his fingers the exact way you like them, never tiring of feeling how warm and spongy your walls are, always with a flush on his cheeks and the slightest bit of awe in his eye when he looks at you. He likes fingering you, watching you fall apart for him when he grinds the heel of his palm against your sensitive little clit, but he really wants to learn how to make you come on his cock, because there's nothing more intimate to him than the idea of him fucking you well enough to make you flutter around him. He knows most women can't come from penetration alone, but he's nursing the hope that maybe, if he gets good enough, you'll become one of those few.

Some possess natural ability between the sheets, even if they don't have all that much experience. It's like they intuitively know what to do, how to move their bodies in ways that get women moaning and gasping. Part of it is because they're good at observing, diligently watching the expressions of their partners and making note of what gets them grasping at the sheets the hardest, or what makes them clench down the tightest. It's more methodical than anything else, but the end result is the same. They almost always get their partners to orgasm, through sheer determination and attention to detail.

The one unfortunate side to this category is that they're the kind that care most about actually making you feel good - to the point where they will force the sex to continue, not willing to stop eating you out or fingering you until you're making a mess and whimpering their name, for better or for worse. It's almost disturbing, their eagerness and commitment to getting you off, and while you're grateful that they care so much about making sure you enjoy yourself, there's something genuinely unsettling about it. When all is said and done they tend to look worse off than you, their faces bright red and slick smeared all over their lips and chin, a small smile sitting on their lips that feels out of place with how swollen and puffy said lips are. But they're trying, and it's the thought that counts, right? Besides, at least you have something to look forward to when they slowly pull down your pants.

Keiji Akaashi is a wonderful example of this; he loves the way you respond to his fingers, how you bite your lip and keen his name, voice all airy and gaspy as he curls them just right, making you see stars. He's committed to you, and while his skills weren't particularly strong in the beginning of your 'relationship', Keiji is a quick learner and was able to pick up on exactly what you liked pretty fast. He's a little unnerving when he's concentrating, though, because he's deadly silent and just staring at your cunt, a combination that leaves you squirming in more than just pleasure.

Pakunoda is another one who possesses some natural talent in the bedroom - she takes everything slow and really takes her time with you, always making sure to draw out every sensation that she can, just because she wants you feeling the full breadth of pleasure she's offering you. She doesn't mind long, drawn-out session, even preferring them, and so while it takes a long time (sometimes long enough for you to consider just calling it quits), she'll eventually get you off. She just likes to be meticulous about it.

Shouta Aizawa is basically a virgin when he develops his infatuation with you, having only slept with one or two women when Hizashi and Nemuri take him out drinking and he indulges just a little too much. He makes up for it, though, because he's quite talented with his tongue, and he's good at holding back his own pleasure and delaying his orgasm until you've reached yours, elongating the sex and making it so that you have enough time to actually let the pleasure build to the point of spilling over. He refuses to come first, and while sometimes it happens despite his best effort, he's got a strong sense of determination and will get you moaning his name and gushing all over him.

But, quite frankly, managing to qualify as one of the categories listed is not an honor most yanderes get to enjoy. Most are fine, thoroughly average in bed, maybe managing to make you come without the aid of a toy sometimes, but there's not a whole lot of consistency.

Others, however, are especially dismal; sex with them probably isn't something you look forward to too much, because while it can feel good, more often than not it's fun for about five minutes and then you're ready for it to be over. Not that you'd tell them that, though - not if you value whatever semblance of freedom you've managed to ascertain, and especially not if you value your ability to walk normally the next day. (They'll substitute in fucking you hard for fucking you well, which, as expected, doesn't have the results they wish for.)

Some are fully, utterly convinced that they are in fact a sex god - despite their shortcomings. Maybe it's a result of previous partners lying and building their confidence, or based on total delusions, or even a stubborn bit of pride unwilling to let them believe they could fail at something. Regardless, it leaves them in a position where they only sort of understand what they need to do in order to get you feeling good - there's an attempt, most of the time, but they normally don't have the patience or stamina to last long enough to reach your orgasm. They'll just be finding a good rhythm when they're fucking you, rolling their hips just right, before deciding that it might be better to flip you over, or that the angle is starting to kill their back and they need to change it up. Honestly, it's frustrating more than anything else - you're always so close, before it's snatched away from you without a care.

Tomura Shigaraki, unfortunately, is a victim of this mindset. He's watched enough porn to feel like he's got a good, general grip on what should happen during sex, fully believing that while some of what he's watched is obviously fake (he's not stupid - he knows how difficult and unlikely getting a girl to squirt is, even though he'd kill to get you squirting for him), he's picked up tips on the more realistic aspects of porn. (He hasn't, and it doesn't work - jackhammering into you like a rabbit doesn't have the affects he's expecting, because instead of moaning his name and gushing around his cock like all those pornstars do, you just seem to wince and beg him to slow down.)

Nobunaga Hazama, too, can't seem to fully grasp the fact that he isn't the best sexual partner. He tends to get overly excited, always eager to see the way you're responding to his touch, and the moment your expression or voice lulls in any way, he's moving on to the next thing he can do to get you screaming his name, even when the new thing is the exact opposite of what you need to get off. He just doesn't really have the patience to successfully make you come most of the time, and even if you gently correct him, he'll just shush you, telling you with conviction that it'll feel good soon, that he knows what makes you feel good, so you just need to sit back and take it.

Yuuji Terushima is simply too hyperactive and excited when he's in bed with you to stay focused on one thing at a time - similarly to Nobunaga, you'll be constantly changing positions or switching from fucking to grinding to oral and back again to really make any progress towards your orgasm. The one thing Yuuji has going for him, though, is that he actually does possess skills in the bedroom - he is genuinely good at going down on you, that damn tongue piercing always adding an extra layer of stimulation and making your head spin. He's good at aiming when he's fucking you, and it's his only saving grace - if you go at it for long enough, you may end up managing to come, but it's never a guarantee.

Some are just too unsure of their skills, and it's reflected in the way that they can't commit to one single thing. Frankly, they're not even that bad at touching you - they don't suck, often just the opposite, but their lack of experience and confidence between the sheets leads to fleeting touches and lots of unsure, half-hearted attempts at making you feel good. They don't expect you to be able to come from just a few thrusts of their fingers inside your gooey, warm cunt, but when you don't, it still doesn't make them feel any better. They're overwhelmed, frankly, and they feel such intense pressure to make sure that everything is perfect that they end up floundering, too scared to choose one single thing (fingering you, eating you out, fucking you, or even just grinding against you) and see it through to fruition. They're just nervous - it's palpable, really, and with time you can slowly coax them into feeling more confident and comfortable, but they'll never be able to fully shake the feeling that they're not good enough to really satisfy you in bed. It's sad, more than anything, and the longer you let the problem go unaddressed, the harder improving their skills will be.

Machi Komacine is afraid of intimacy, and because she herself relies quite heavily on toys whenever she gets in the mood to get herself off, her own fingers aren't too used to the motions and movements required to properly touch you. She hasn't had to sink her fingers inside herself for years, really, always replacing them with the pink plastic vibrator or dildo, but she's much too embarrassed to admit that to you. (Though, she's even more embarrassed to actually try and learn/practice on you - poor Machi, because she's even too emotionally closed off to properly discuss it with you.)

Kei Tsukishima, in his defense, is scared that he'll hurt you. He's got this unreasonable worry that he's not good enough for you, and while he hides this well in how he interacts with you, it becomes very obvious the moment that either of you are naked and yearning for each other's touch. He's just very unsure, and the weight of knowing that he could displease you or leave you unsatisfied leaves him wanting to just not even bother trying, too pessimistic to see a solution in which he'll actually manage to make you come.

Shuichi Iguchi, similarly to Kei, fears hurting you, but he's more crippled by the knowledge that he's never intimately touched someone before, and the omnipresent paranoia eating at him that wonders how you could ever find him attractive. He's too scared of your rejection to really put himself into a situation where he can put his 100% effort into anything sexual with you, so for now he'll settle with fingering you for a few moments, then kissing you (his fingers having slipped out), then simply pressing his cock against your folds, unmoving, just feeling.

So really, there's a whole variety of bedroom skills - it's more about the combination of your specific likes and dislikes in bed alongside their strengths (or lack thereof) that decides whether the sex is good. But, quite frankly, it doesn't really matter - the likelihood of you being able to escape any of the yanderes listed above is quite low, and gets even lower when you consider whether they'd be able to track you down and snatch you up again. So really, it doesn't matter whether they're a sex god or not - you'll never be sleeping with another person in your life, and they sure as hell won't either.

(Thanks for the ideas anon! This style ask is always fun to answer! I hope this doesn't set off your ick about pigeonholing characters as sex gods - they aren't perfect, I promise!)

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere haikyuu #hxh smut #haikyuu smut #bnha smut #_lee discusses #_hxh #_haikyuu #_bnha #_multi-cast

213 notes · View notes