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depravitycentral · 10 months

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Haikyuu Dick Headcannons Pt. 3

Ft. the Seijoh men (Tooru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Issei Matsukawa, Takahiro Hanamaki, Kentarou Kyoutani, Yuutarou Kindaichi, Akira Kunimi)

Tw: implied yandere, implications of stalking, lots of talk about cum, masturbation, oral, praise, a sprinkle of degradation, PSA Oikawa cries during sex, very slight misogyny in Kunimi's, fem reader, MDNI

Tooru’s cock is, just like the rest of him, pretty. It’s pale, slender, rigidly straight with a perfectly shaped bulbous tip that always makes this lewd schmuck noise when he pulls out of you. As he gets closer to coming his tip gets a little pink, but it’s nothing compared to the flush sitting high on his cheeks, or the rosy red of his lips. He’s got a single vein that runs along his underside, so it doesn’t marr the smooth appearance but still gives you that extra bit of stimulation when he’s fucking you. It’s just an overall outstanding cock, and he knows it, too - he’s confident in his body in general, but this is particularly true in the context of his penis. He takes good care of himself, shaving and making sure to use expensive oils and lotions to minimize any ingrown hairs or razor burns. He even uses a special genital cologne, just to make sure he smells good too. (The scent is one he thinks you’d like - he’d brought you to a perfumery one time as a joke because he thought seeing you scrunch your nose at some of the smellier ones was entertaining, but he’d been keeping note of which ones you’d found agreeable when he shoved them at you.) He’s not terribly sensitive - particularly when you’re sucking him off, because while it feels amazing to have your lips wrapped around him, he’s gotten enough head through his life that he’s just jaded and too used to it to find it especially pleasurable. But being inside you? That’s a different story - he hasn’t actually fucked that many women, and as a result the moment he slips inside you for the first time he’s gasping, his eyes blowing wide and this strangled, vulnerable little noise coming from his throat. He still takes a while to come, but he’ll gasp and murmur praise in your ear the entire time he’s thrusting into you, because you just feel so good and warm and tight.

He’s a shooter, and it makes this perfect, porn-worthy little arc as he throws his head back and moans your name. He doesn’t produce much in terms of volume, but it’s pretty runny, so it’ll often feel like there’s more there than there really is. His cum is very smooth; there’s no lumps or globs, and when he rubs it against your skin (because he likes seeing you covered in it, and he claims it’s good for your skin - rich in nutrients and makes you glow) it almost feels like a thin lotion. When he comes his whole body freezes up, every muscle going taut and tensing up as the pleasure overwhelms him. He’s still for a moment, but after the first initial wave he’s suddenly moving like a madman, his hips bobbing and thrusting wildly and unpredictably, desperate to get any last bit of pleasure they possibly can. He’s always clutching onto you, too, like he needs to ground himself or else he’ll get carried away by the pleasure. (This often leads to finger shaped bruises appearing on your hips and ass, sometimes even your breasts, and while he’s apologetic about it, he doesn’t feel bad.) He makes this high, airy sort of moan when he’s coming, and his eyes always shut tightly, his thin brows scrunching together and his mouth morphing into a sort of grimace. He looks like he’s in pain, but he’s not - it feels so, so very good, and he’s just trying to stop himself from moaning something stupid or crying. (He does cry sometimes, if the sex is particularly emotionally charged - the first time you tell him you love him gets him sobbing as he bends your knees up to your chin, plugging you full with his cock, and kissing you the whole time, whispering to you in a strained, broken moan I love you I love you I love you, fuck tell me you love me again-)

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re simply good for him, taking his cock and letting him do as he pleases with you. He likes when you’re receptive to his touches, and ideally you’d be spread out before him on the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist and your fingers alternating between running through his brown locks and scratching down his back when you’re getting close. He likes the way your cunt flutters around him, your walls rubbing him and massaging his length in a way that makes him breathless, and sometimes his arms even go a bit weak and he nearly falls down on top of you because you just feel too damn good. He likes when you thrust your hips in time with his, trying to get him in deeper and feel him to a much fuller extent. It makes him feel wanted, like he’s doing a good job of pleasuring you, and if you moan? Tooru’s gone, burying his face into your neck and moving from the languid, sensual pace he’d been fucking you at to a more purposeful, calculated one, aiming for that spot he knows you love with every snap of his hips. He especially likes it when you come on his cock - the way you clench down on him makes him light headed, and sometimes - when your orgasm is powerful enough - you squeeze him hard enough to force him out of your cunt, his cock still swollen and throbbing, your slick coating him while he watches you fall apart below him. He likes the way you spasm around him, and more often than not it lulls him into his own orgasm, spurting cum into you and gasping your name with his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple. He just really, really likes when you willingly pull him closer and encourage him to fuck you deeper; it’s a surefire way to get him breathless and crying out your name.

He’s solidly five and a half inches, with dark hairs framing his base and naval. It’s the perfect shape, with a slight curve upwards that hits you just right when he’s got you spread out on your back, bulbous tip ramming into that spot over and over again. It’s incredibly easy to arouse him - his cock’s got a mind of its own, and often there’s blood rushing south from the slightest things, like you licking your lips (he can’t not imagine how they’d look around his length) or mindlessly playing with your fingers (they’d look so small against him, running along his chest and gripping around his cock; he bets you couldn’t even touch your fingers when you grip him). He gets hard embarrassingly quickly, and stays hard, even if he desperately tries to get rid of it. This causes quite a few awkward moments when he’s around you, and he tries to wear baggier pants whenever there’s a chance you might be present - just because every encounter with you more often than not leads to him popping a boner at least twice. He’s moderately sensitive, and particularly likes when you give his tip and base attention at the same time. He likes when you suckle at the head and lap your tongue up and down his slit, all while your fingers massage and grope at the juncture between his shaft and his pelvis. It makes him shudder, eyebrows drawing together, and gets his hips bucking forward slightly. Especially if you rub at the spot right above where his balls and shaft meet - it makes him actually growl.

His cum is thick and pretty bitter, landing on your tongue and leaving a residue like thick oil. The taste is hard to get out of your mouth, unfortunately, and when you tell Hajime this he’ll immediately feel guilty for how much he likes to finish down your throat. After that, every time you suck him off he’ll come on your face - he justifies it as being less invasive of your wishes, and because it seems to actually be good for your skin. (One time you’d had a nasty pimple, and after a spurt of his cum landed on it, the next morning it disappeared.) It’s okay, though, because his favorite place to come is actually on you, specifically on your pussy. He likes pulling out at the last minute and finishing himself off, watching as cum dribbles onto your pretty lips, making an absolute mess out of you and leaving you all sticky and warm. He’ll run his fingers through it sometimes, staring with this look of awe, intensely enough that you’ll get embarrassed. His ultimate, though, is when your spread your lips for him, exposing your quivering, swollen little hole, and he comes all over that - it’s dirty, taboo, and it makes his possessive urges towards you calm down a bit because now you’re marked as his, and anyone else can see the globs of his cum that are pressed up right against your most sensitive, intimate area. Of course, though, if you want him to come inside, he’ll never say no. He’s a gasper, his breath always getting caught when he’s fucking you. When he first shoves himself inside, he’s gasping lowly and biting his lip, trying to control himself and hold back the orgasm that’s already dangerously close. He’s not too terribly vocal for the most part, but when he gets close to coming he’s stuttering out your name, each syllable punctuated with a grunt and a gasp, until eventually he’s coming, his eyes blowing wide and a strained slur of your name falling from his lips. He stares the whole time, unwilling to look away, and it’s not until the oversensitivity overwhelms him that he lets the moment end.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s giving himself a pussy job, using - of course - you. In general, he’s utterly fascinated by your cunt - he’s always staring at it, and although he’s certainly no virgin, there’s something about your folds, specifically, that makes him salivate. He’s always trying to rut his cock against you, obsessed with the feeling of the most intimate part of you touching the most intimate part of him, and he wants nothing more than to have you spread out before him, your eyes blown wide and legs spread for him, pretty body on display for him as he fists his cock. He wants to run his tip through your folds, to collect all your slick and wetness at his head, watching the way it mixes with his own pre, leaving him a sticky, wet mess that shines and gleans in the light. He’ll grip himself at the base, harshly exhaling as he runs himself slowly, so damn slowly, up and up, letting himself dip deeper inside every few centimeters, just enough to tease both him and you. He’ll run himself all the up to your clit, muttering out a curse as his tip draws circles against your little nub, his slit feeling so sensitive and needy that it makes him crazy. When he’s doing this, he tends to murmur your name a lot, growls of how pretty you look, amazed comments of how you’re already so wet for him, and curses of how fucking tiny your little pussy are always slipping past his lips. He’s amazed by how he can possibly fit inside you - you look so small and tight, and his cock looks much too big in comparison, and the idea of stretching you out gets him gulping, his cock visibly throbbing. Eventually he’ll cave and shove himself in, apologizing through grunts that he just can’t hold himself back anymore, that he can’t keep teasing himself, that he needs to be inside you and feeling how warm and wet and perfect you are. He’ll come very quickly after doing this - it only takes a few minutes, and soon he’s groaning your name and spilling inside of you, spurts of hot, thick cum plugging you up while he breathes in your scent and basks in you.

He’s a tall man, and his cock reflects that - it’s long, easily six and a half inches, hanging so heavily between his legs that even when he’s fully hard, swollen and practically begging to sink itself inside of you, it’s only standing at about 120 degrees, too weighed down by it’s own size to fully stand up. He’s not especially thick, but he’s veiny, with the raised skin criss-crossing and feeling perfect when they rub up against your spongy, sensitive walls. He’s not too terribly sensitive, but he likes steady, consistent pleasure stimulation, like a constant pace when he’s fucking you, or when you bob your head steadily, tongue lapping at his underside with fervor. His tip is always a darker shade than the rest of his shaft, the color matching his balls, and Issei particularly likes when you pay attention to those two areas. He’s extremely sensitive when it comes to any sort of stimulation to his balls, and the moment that your fingers brush them or your tongue flicks at them, he’s groaning, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tells you to do that again, angel, fuck just like that. He likes when you suck on them, trying to fit as much of each one into your mouth as you can, and just the sight of your lips wrapped around one while you suck and thumb at his tip with your hand makes his head spin, his orgasm drawing closer and closer at an alarming rate. He has a thing for making you kneel below him, and he really likes to be the one standing over you - there’s something about the power dynamic that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life, and when you look up at him all sultry and dirty like that, it takes everything in him to not force your lips apart and fuck your throat like an animal. (And sometimes, the urge is too strong - you’re left with a bruised throat and a hoarse voice, but everytime you talk to him like that it makes his expression darken, his cock growing hard once more and soon you’ll find yourself bent over the nearest surface, ass cheeks on display while he breaths hard and nudges his tip at your hole, determined to give you a bruised cunt to match your throat.)

His cum is thick too, but sometimes the consistency can be a little strange. It tends to glob up a bit, and because he dribbles when he comes, this can sometimes result in little spurts oozing out of his tip. The volume of cum is quite high, and because of this, when he comes inside you, you can really only describe it as him stuffing you full. (He’s seen your tummy swell before when he’s creampied you - you don’t really believe him, but he swears your stomach got bigger. And just the thought of that - that he stuffed you full enough to stretch that little pussy of yours out - is enough to get him growling and sucking dark hickeys into your neck, his possessiveness shooting through the roof.) He’s not especially vocal in bed, normally preferring to stay quiet and just listen to you, but as he gets closer his breathing starts getting really heavy, pants coming from his lips that sound more and more labored the closer his orgasm looms. Right before it hits, he’ll close his eyes and groan, the sound low and full of timber, making a shiver roll up your spine because it sounds so primal, like some sort of animal. And when he’s actually coming, he’ll groan again - except this time, it sounds vaguely like your name, the last syllable sounding upturned as the pleasure makes his mind scramble. His hips will slow down to nearly a stop when he’s coming, because he tends to get oversensitive really easily and he needs a moment to catch his breath. His eyes are closed the whole time, eyebrows scrunching together and looking a bit like it hurts, but the way his thighs tremble and the way his jaw goes slack tells you just how good you’ve made him feel. He prefers coming inside you, but as long as his cum gets inside of you somehow, whether that be in your cunt or down your throat, he doesn’t really mind.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s on his back, and you’re perched with your cunt over his face and your mouth over his cock. He’s a fan of the classic 69 position, because while it isn’t the most sexually satisfying option, there’s something that he finds really endearing about the idea of pleasuring each other equally. He loves the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and the combination of that plus getting to taste your cute little pussy leaves him light headed and aroused enough to throw you down onto the bed. He likes to get on his back and give you a look, hoping you’ll understand what he wants without him having to articulate it, but if you don’t seem to get the message he’ll grab you and manhandle you on top of him, a hand gently pushing your face down to rub against his cock while his tongue slips between your folds. He’ll admit that the position is a little distracting, because it can be hard to focus on pleasing you when you’re doing such a good job of pleasing him, but he’s normally able to stave off his orgasm long enough to get you falling apart on top of him. He’ll aim for your clit and will sometimes bring a finger up to gently rub and curl against your walls, anything to get you shaking and moaning his name. (Plus, if he gets you wet enough, your slick will actually drip down onto his face - he fucking loves this, because it feels like you’re showering him with evidence of how well he’s touching you, coating his face with your slick because you want him to know that what he’s doing is enough.) He likes the way you gasp and struggle to stay consistent around him when he’s touching you like this, and feeling your fingers tremble as they stroke him and squeeze at his balls makes him sigh and buck his hips slightly. If he gets close, however, and feels like he can’t hold off any longer, his free hand will come down and hold your head in place while he thrusts up into your mouth, balls slapping against your nose as he fucks your face to his heart’s content. He just likes the intimacy of this position, and you’ll find yourself in it very often - especially towards the beginning of your ‘relationship’.

He’s just barely over five inches, but he’s pretty thick. It’s girthy, and when you first see it, the first thing you think of is how the hell he’s going to fit something that wide inside of you. It’s always a pink rosy color, even when he’s not hard, and although he’s embarrassed at first, he actually really likes having domestic moments with you where you see his cock both erect and flaccid - it makes him feel closer to you. (Plus, it normally only takes mere moments for it to go from soft to hard when you’re involved, which is what tends to happen nine times out of ten.) He doesn’t do a very good job of grooming himself, and takes pretty much no time to actually shave or trim or anything of the sort. It’s a bit of a mess down there, but he showers often so it all smells good and is clean. He doesn’t want you to shave or trim either - he firmly believes sex should be natural, and he wants to see you as you are, not as you present yourself. He’s decently sensitive, and while he’s got a bit of experience, he can get overwhelmed pretty easily when he’s inside you. He twitches a lot, especially once he’s settled between your walls - you can feel him moving inside you, bobbing and spasming as he gets closer to his orgasm, and sometimes his whole body shakes in time with them. It’s nice, actually, because it makes it easy to identify what kind of dirty talk gets to him - the moment you let any sort of praise slip past your tongue, he’s twitching and throbbing inside of you, acting as encouragement to get you saying more, to tell him that he feels good and that he’s gonna make me come ‘Hiro, please please please! (Begging normally gets him throbbing, too.)

He shoots, and there’s quite a bit of force behind the stream - it feels like the perfect amount of pressure in a shower, and he’ll always force himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch the way it spurts out of him and lands in ropes on your pretty body. His cum actually tastes surprisingly sweet, given how poor his diet is. It’s on the saltier side, but it’s nothing too outrageous. (You told him that once and he made some joke about how it would make the perfect replacement for that salt shaker that always seems to run out. You didn’t find the joke particularly funny, but the thought lingers in his mind for a while, and suddenly he can’t stop imagining the way you’d look actually eating his cum, not even in a sexual context. The thought makes him flush and have to clear his throat, but he can’t deny the allure.) This is great news for you, because Takahiro loves to come in your mouth. There’s something so dirty about seeing his cum dripping from the corners of your lips, down your chin, your pretty pink tongue coming out to lick it all up - and oh, if you hum or moan at the taste? He’ll melt, a few droplets of whatever remaining cum his body can scrounge up landing on your face without any warning. He’s a moaner, and while it embarrasses him, his voice always gets high when he gets close to coming, sounding less like moaning and more like whining and whimpering. He’ll always try to bury his face in whatever surface is closest by, though he tends to prefer your breasts or the small of your back, whichever is accessible. The moment he’s actually coming, though, he’ll always pull back to watch, because even being a fully grown adult man, he’s still in awe of how your body just seems to affect his, almost like you’re pulling the cum out of him with how hard he orgasms.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you ride him. He’s not necessarily lazy in bed, but he likes to watch you and let you do most of the work until he needs to step in. He’ll lay back with his head on some pillows and let you straddle him, your cute tummy and pretty tits on display as you slowly slide down onto him. He likes when you grind a bit on him first, your folds rubbing and massaging against his length, and if you watch his tip you’ll see a copious amount of precum oozing out, showcasing his steadily growing desperation to get inside you. Once you slip him past your tight entrance and he bottoms out inside you, he’ll sigh and pinch at your hips, his voice cocky as he tells you to get on with it baby, wanna feel you bouncing on me like a good little slut. It’s uncharacteristic, with how most of his tendencies in the bedroom tend to air on the more submissive side, but the moment you’re actually moving? Well, all traces of cockiness and dominance are gone - he’s gripping onto your thighs for dear life, eyes fixated on the way your breasts bounce and jiggle, maybe even smacking against your ribcage if they’re big enough. He likes the way he’s able to get deeper inside you like this, the penetration going further and making you cry out his name because you just feel so damn full. He’ll stare and watch you, his cheeks bright red, unable to focus on anything except your body and the way his orgasm is drawing nearer and nearer, and eventually he’ll get close enough that he needs to take control. He’ll sit up and wrap his arms around your waist, face pressed against your chest and maybe even a nipple in his mouth as he moves you up and down like some glorified sex doll. He’ll control your body fully, his own hips snapping up to meet yours in a crazed chase of his orgasm, until finally it hits, and he’s moaning your name and his balls are pulsing against your ass as warm cum floods you. He likes the vulnerability of this position, the way he can be touching so much of you at once, and because he gets to see all of you, even the parts of you that you try to hide in other positions. (Like that cute stomach of yours or the fat of your thighs.) You just look sexy, and the way you pulse and clench down onto him like a fucking vice when you reach your own high only spurs him on, desperation for round two and three and four hitting him like a truck.

He’s a little under five inches, but he’s mean with it. He doesn’t have much experience, but he’s nursed a small porn addiction for most of his life, and although he knows porn isn’t realistic, he can’t help but fuck into you with reckless abandon every time he’s got you naked in front of him. He’s not too terribly thick, but he’s veiny, to the point where he almost looks like those veiny dildos you can get online. His tip is extremely sensitive - swiping your thumb across his slit or squeezing at the head makes him splutter, his cheeks turning bright red as his hips jerk forward. It’s easy to turn him on, because he’s really bad at hiding when he’s aroused. Seeing you in anything form fitting will make him feel hot and have him alternating between averting his eyes and staring at every inch of you, but the real nail in the coffin for him is when you touch him in falsely innocent ways. Place a palm to his chest and smile at him and he’s immediately hard, or run your hand over his hair and he’s practically panting, unable to stop imagining the way you’d grip at his hair and beg him for more when he’s got his face between your legs. He gets hard easily, but he’s normally able to make it go away pretty easily too, but his face stays this rich red color and he gets more skittish around you than normal, so you’ll be able to tell ninety percent of the time. He’s actually pretty meticulous about upkeep - he’s not clean shaven but the hair is very short, perfectly trimmed so that you have unrestricted access to everything below his belt. He does this both because it makes him feel cleaner, and also because he wants to be as enticing to you as possible so that you’ll be more inclined to touch him. He’d gotten drunk one night in his early twenties and decreed that he’d be getting his dick pierced, and a buddy had gotten it on video, and he wouldn’t let his pride be wounded, so now he’s got a Prince Albert piercing on his tip. It hurt like hell, but he really likes the way it feels inside you - it makes him more sensitive, he thinks, and you always seem to squirm when you feel the cold metal, the extra stimulation making you moan and clench even harder around him.

His cum is thick and there’s a lot of it. It doesn’t taste great, and the first time you tasted it you couldn’t help but grimace slightly. Kentarou noticed, and while he didn’t say anything about it, he’s been trying to alter his diet to include more foods he’s read help sweeten the taste of cum. He prefers to finish on your body rather than in you, but he’ll never not finish inside you if that’s what you want. Really, if you ask him to finish anywhere specific, he’ll do it in a heartbeat, excited that you want it. He just likes the way you look with it smeared across your skin - again, that porn addiction has left him with a bit of an objectification kink, and while he doesn’t view you as simply a toy for him to fuck, there’s something that quells his possessiveness towards you when he’s covering you with his seed. He tries to avoid coming in your mouth though, just because he doesn’t want to see you grimace like that again. When he’s fucking you, he doesn’t usually say much, but he isn’t super quiet - he grunts a lot, always sounding a little bit like he’s in pain, and he keeps his eyes tightly closed for much of it. He’ll mutter your name under his breath, too, but it’s quiet enough that unless his mouth is close to your ear you won’t be able to distinguish what he’s saying. But as he gets closer to coming, those grunts turn more into growls, and right as he’s on the edge, he’s literally growling your name, along with slurred fuck’s and yeah’s and too damn tight’s. He’s not too expressive, but if his orgasm is particularly powerful he’ll end up sinking his teeth into the skin of your shoulder - not enough to break the skin or hurt, but enough to leave a mark when he pulls away, and enough to muffle the moan that bubbles up in the back of his throat. His whole body tremors when he’s coming, everything from his fingertips to his toes trembling and shaking slightly, the force of his orgasm nearly blowing him away. It takes him a long time to actually finish coming once it starts, too - he comes so much that it just never seems to end, him emptying into you for easily twenty seconds before the last few drops finally come out.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take your time and just absolutely worship his cock. He’s never been embarrassed of his body or anything, but he likes the idea of being soft with you, and while he’s just a bit too awkward to take the time and worship your body, he likes when you do it to him. (It’s not that he doesn’t want to worship yours - he does, absolutely, more than you could ever understand. But putting himself into that position where you’re watching his every move and judging him, letting him explore and pleasure you and do whatever he wants with you makes him nervous, the pressure settling on his shoulders to do well making him chicken out at the last second. But when it’s you worshiping him, he can just sit back and watch, letting you do your magic until he’s eventually gasping your name and getting cum all over himself as you fist him and press kisses against his thighs.) It feels like such an intimate moment, and it helps convince him that you actually like him, that you’re actually returning the love he’s so frantically forcing onto you. He wants you to keep eye contact the whole time, looking up at him from your place on your knees, his own body seated in a chair with his legs spread so you have easier access. He wants you to kiss every inch of him, your soft lips pressing against his thigh, balls, cock, navel, everything you can reach. He wants you to pump slowly, telling him how warm he feels in your hands, how he’s so big and makes you feel so good, the compliments flowing off your tongue like sugar and making his face turn bright red. He wants you to suckle on his tip and lick along his slit, teasing him with not quite enough pressure, telling him how good it feels when he brushes against that certain spot inside you that makes you see stars. He wants you to squeeze and touch his balls, telling him how these always make you feel so full, they fill me up so well, Kentarou, I love it when you come in me. He just wants you to praise him and touch him all softly and slowly, showing him that you really love him. Give him hope that his one-sided feelings might be more reciprocated than he seems to think.

It’s solidly five inches, and curves very slightly to the left. He’s confident enough with it, but Yuutarou finds himself wishing he was just a bit longer, just a bit thicker, just a bit more. He spends a lot of time looking at himself in the mirror, and especially once his feelings for you form, he’s always idly wondering what you’d think of him. It’s a pale color, and when he gets hard it turns a gradient of pink down to his tip, where it’s flushed and always swollen within seconds of blood rushing south. He keeps himself clean shaven because he doesn’t want you to be grossed out when he eventually has you in front of him, naked and yearning for his touch. He wants everything to be clean and attractive and perfect, because the first time he gets to touch you and fuck you, everything has to go perfectly. He’s decently sensitive, and he especially likes it when you pay attention to his base. Gripping him there and idly squeezing while you talk to him will make him breathless and light headed, his voice strained and tight when you ask him if he’s wanting to fuck me? Do you want that, Yuutarou? Do you want to make me a mess on your cock? You’re so dirty when you talk to him like that, but it drives him crazy - and when you grip him tighter and tighter and tighter, it only furthers the feeling. He likes it, too, because your hand almost acts as a sort of cock ring, barring him from accidentally coming much too early - something that’s happened often when he was still left to his own devices with only the thought of you and his pillow to work with.

His cum is watery and there’s not a huge amount of it. He comes pretty easily, all things considered, but he has a decently short recovery time, and if the worst case scenario occurs (he comes before you), he’s immediately getting onto his stomach and diving between your legs, tongue eagerly working at your clit and his fingers slipping past your swollen folds to curl and rub at you until you’re moaning and clutching onto the pillow under your head. He’ll let himself calm down, and within five minutes he’s normally able to get hard again, and while this time he’ll likely be shooting a blank, he will keep fucking you until you come for him - and this time he’ll have his thumb working at your sensitive little clit the whole time, his pride out the window because he needs you to come, dammit. When he comes he makes this weird little half-shout half-groan, the sound loud and a little bit jarring. He tries to keep quiet for the most part during sex, because no matter how many times you try to tell him that you like his noises, he’s too embarrassed to freely let them out. Besides, he’d rather hear you anyways. But when he’s getting close, he does tend to start blabbering, his voice slurred and the words coming out so quickly that they’re hard to understand. He’s trying to get every thought out in those last few seconds before he comes, because he has all these compliments and sweet nothings that come to mind when he’s fucking you, but he’s too engrossed in the moment and nervous to actually say them, so he waits until the last moment and all you can hear is y’so tight ‘n good, ‘m gonna come in you, fuck let me come, y’so pretty when you’re drippin’ with me and fuck fuck fuck, here it comes take it take it take it-! He writhes when he comes, unable to stay still, his muscles flexing and relaxing over and over again, leaving him to shake on top of you and then promptly collapse onto you. He’s exhausted after he comes, but he’s still attentive to your needs, and even if he’s on the edge of passing out, he’ll make sure to get his fingers stuffed inside you and his lips on your nipples, absolutely anything to guarantee you’re feeling good.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take control. He’s always a little doubtful of his own abilities, nervous that he’ll do something that you don’t like, even though you aren’t the first girl he’s slept with. He’s just a bit paranoid that he’ll make a mistake and eliminate any form of attraction you feel for him, and so he likes it best when you take the wheel, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him, leaning down to kiss him and suck hickies into his neck. He likes when you grind on him, your hips moving against his in circles, your very thin panties (that he’d picked out, with a red face, the last time he’d visited a lingerie shop, having bought a few sets for you after learning your panty and bra size) rubbing up against his boxers, the navy material already stained a darker blue with a copious amount of precum. He wants you to move his hands for him, your grinding never stopping as you situate his large palms against your breasts (already bare, your - his - t-shirt haven’t been discarded across the room), squeezing over his hands to encourage him. He wants you to slowly sink down on him, before setting up a brutal pace, bouncing on top of him with reckless abandon while you smile down at him and hold eye contact. He wants you to move his hands to grope at your ass, while you reach behind you to play with his balls, squeezing lightly and feeling the way he tenses up and warbles your name. He wants you to suddenly switch your positioning, so that you’re facing away from him, your ass exposed to his prying eyes while you roll your hips again, the new angle making access to squeezing his thighs easier. He just wants you to manhandle him, really, because while he may be well over six feet tall and is finishing up his collegiate studies, he’s nothing more than putty in your hands, eager to do anything and everything you want.

He’s roughly five inches, with a moderate girth. Overall, he’s thoroughly average - tufts of brown, curly hair sit at his base and a vein or two decorates his shaft, which slims out a bit as it extends, ending in a round, mushroom-shaped tip that’s always covered by pretty, pink foreskin. He produces a lot of precum, to the point where once you get your hands on him, you’ll be surprised to feel that it’s almost like he’s already slicked himself up with lube. There’s just so much of it - but that’s because once Akira gets hard, he stays hard. No matter how hard he tries to distract himself or will away his erection, it takes at least fifteen minutes for it to go away. Even after he comes, he stays hard for a while - he gets oversensitive very easily, so he’ll try to swat your hand away if you reach for it when it’s still coming down after his release, but secretly he hopes you’ll reach for it again because he’ll begrudgingly let it happen the second time, content and pleased that you want to keep touching him. He stays hard, but actually takes him quite a bit to get hard - even with you, the woman he finds so sexually arousing and desirable that it makes him sick sometimes, he has to have a good mix of stimulation and thoughts to get him ready to go. Generally, if you want to get his cock swelling up and turning a deep pink color, kiss his neck and palm over his crotch, whispering his name in the most sultry voice you can manage, maybe even flicking even lightly biting his earlobe as you whisper into it. He’s not too sensitive, and because of this he tends to last a long time in bed, to the point where if he’s really concentrated and you’re in the right mood, he’ll get you to orgasm at least three times before he gets close. He doesn’t groom himself all that much, figuring that if you really have a problem with it you’ll let him know, and while he keeps everything clean and sanitary, sometimes you end up with a bit of hair in your mouth when you’re sucking him off.

He doesn’t produce a huge amount of cum, but it’s decent tasting, enough so that you genuinely don’t mind swallowing it. This is good news, because Akira really, really likes when you give him head. His favorite place to come is definitely your mouth, and the feeling of your lips and tongue against him are often the quickest way to get him to orgasm. He’s a fan of pushing himself as deeply into your mouth as he can and then releasing, so that all of it goes directly down your throat, because he likes the idea of his cum being in you, even more than just in your cunt. He’s also satisfied with pulling back and coming all over your face, because while it isn’t quite as satisfying as finishing in your mouth, there’s still something lewd and dirty about it, especially if you open your mouth and let your tongue loll out. He’s pretty quiet in bed, mostly just breathing hard or muttering commands under his breath - they’re never too harsh, just things like keep going or say that again. But when he comes, he takes this long, harsh inhale - it’s not quite a gasp, but it sounds too uneven and heavy to be a normal breath. He’s not one to moan too much naturally, but he tries to push down any sort of noise if possible because he doesn’t want to turn you off in case you don’t like it - even if you try to reassure him, he doesn’t really believe you, and he’ll still do the long-inhale-thing rather than let out the little whimper he really needs to. His whole body jerks when he comes, and this normally ends up lodging him even deeper into whatever hole he’s buried in, which adds extra stimulation to his already sensitive cock, making him hiss and grit his teeth. His face gets red as he gets close, too, and it’s a telltale sign that he’s feeling good when his cheeks start blooming pink, all the way down to his neck and over his collarbones. He gets sweaty, too, exertion and holding back any sounds taking a lot of effort, and often his bangs will get stuck to his forehead.

Akira’s favorite way for you to touch him is when you take his cock into your mouth. There’s something about the power dynamic that gets to him, because while he doesn’t inherently view himself as any better than you (he may not show it, but he worships the ground you walk on, if all the stalking and tedious collecting of your information are anything to consider), something just feels right when you’re suckling on him like that, your pretty eyes sparkling up at him through your lashes and tears pricking at your lash line every time you take him just a bit too far down your throat. There’s something endearing about the way that you take him so well, relaxing your throat and bobbing your head over and over, and he especially loves it when you get messy. He likes your spit to be everywhere, dripping down his shaft and onto his balls, dribbling down your chin, just getting everything wet and sticky. He likes the sight of you pulling back and panting hard, a thin strand of saliva and precum connecting his tip to your lip, the sight making him gulp and clutch onto the corner of the chair he’s seated in so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He likes the way your lips are so soft against him, how your tongue is wet and warm and so very dexterous, licking around his tip and dipping in against his slit. He just likes the way you give him so much attention when you’re using your mouth; it makes him feel special and pleased that all your time and effort is going into him, to please him and make him feel good. And if you were to reach down between your legs, your fingers playing with your clit while you bob your head and use your other hand to lightly grope at his balls? Well, hopefully you take getting your throat fucked as well as you do bobbing your head, because the mere sight will have him losing control and needing to fuck something, and your pretty little face is the nearest thing.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere iwaizumi #yandere matsukawa #yandere hanamaki #yandere kyoutani #yandere kindaichi #yandere kunimi #haikyuu smut #_haikyuu #_lee's headcannons #_tooru oikawa #_hajime iwaizumi #_issei matsukawa #_takahiro hanamaki #_kentarou kyoutani #_yuutarou kindaichi #_akira kunimi

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seijorhi · 1 year

Text

Shelter from the Storm

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

w.c 8k

tw: yandere, blood, murder, nsfw, smut (sorta), oikawa is awful in this, technically everything is consensual but... big yikes.

A gentle breeze blows past, a lock of loose hair fluttering in its wake. Early still, the sky is painted with buttery oranges and pinks, a perfect, picturesque sunrise. Leaning on the railing of the balcony, you gaze to the city below, lost in thought.

Behind you, the sliding door opens, a warmth enveloping you, strong, sinewy arms curling around your middle.

“Morning,” Oikawa murmurs, drawing you closer. His bare chest rumbles at your back when he speaks again, “You want some breakfast? Coffee?”

How many times can you make the same mistake – fall into bed with the same person – and still claim it to be a momentary lapse in judgement? Maybe you’ll set a new record.

“Oikawa…”

Lips press against the back of your head, strangely affectionate. For all your little indiscretions, the time you’ve spent together, this sort of affection – the casual touching, the… intimacy of it all, feels out of place in broad daylight. “Mm? We could go and get one of those croissants from you like from the place across the road? Or get something delivered if you’d rather stay in?”

“Oikawa,” you sigh again, more insistent this time. You spin in his arms, turning to face him. Hair still mussed from sleep, shirtless, smiling down at you – unfairly handsome in the morning light.

“What? Not hungry?” he asks, a faint amusement lacing his tone.

Your hands find their way to his chest, your pinky grazing the raised, puckered outline of one of his scars. While curiosity might eat away at you, you’ve never quite mustered the courage to ask him about them.

You’ve heard enough of the rumours that swirl around Oikawa; they won’t be pretty stories.

“We can’t keep doing this. You have to stop.”

He laughs, surprise flitting across his face, “Me? If I remember correctly, you were more than eager to get those lovely hands of yours on me last night.”

“That’s not–” you break off with a flustered huff, cheeks warming. “That’s not what I meant, stop twisting my words! You work for my father, I can’t keep– we can’t keep doing this.”

A little of the mirth in his expression fades at that, “You don’t think I can handle keeping you safe while we’re sleeping together, ‘s that it?”

“He’s paying you to keep me safe. I’m a job, Oikawa, that’s it. That’s all.” You bite back a sigh, shifting to put some distance between you two – as much as his grip will allow. “This is a bad idea, you know it as well as I do. In a few weeks, or months–”

“So?” he asks, cutting you off. “He can’t say I’m not doing an excellent job, keeping such a careful, close eye on his beloved daughter,” the hands the rest on your waist slide down to your ass, squeezing it appreciatively as he closes the gap between you once more. The grin he wears is nothing short of devilish – not to mention incredibly self satisfied – his mouth a hairsbreadth from your own. He continues, “I’m keeping you safe, satisfied and very, very happy. If anything, I should be getting paid extra for that.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s how he’ll see it.”

Oikawa leans forward, kisses the tip of your nose, and then your lips.

“I’d kill for you, how many other guys can say that, hm?” When the joke fails to garner a response, he sighs. “We’re not breaking any rules, and I’m not going anywhere. Stop overthinking it.”

—

In the days following the first threats made against your father, the idea of having a bodyguard shadowing your every step seemed laughable. Ridiculous. You weren’t some darling, young starlet with creepy, obsessive fans. Not a witness set to testify in some groundbreaking criminal case.

No, you’re simply collateral, caught up in a mess of your father’s making, one that has nothing to do with you.

That you love him in spite of it is an immutable fact. You’ve tried hard – so, so hard – to distance yourself. To separate the life you’re trying to lead and the good you’re trying to do from the shadowy reach of his legacy.

In any case, you felt perfectly comfortable brushing aside his offer of protection. You neither wanted nor needed someone monitoring your every move under the guise of keeping you safe.

And then the focus of the threats turned to you. To your step-mother. To Ryo, your little brother – a kid.

Your father, a man unaccustomed to hearing the word ‘no’, introduced Oikawa the very next morning and would not budge on the issue. ‘You do not have to like him,’ he’d said. ‘But he’ll keep you out of harm’s way, and you will listen to him.’

It was – is – an adjustment.

Those closest to you, your friends, your work colleagues – the ones you interact with on a daily basis at any rate – have all been made aware of the truth behind his presence. For everyone else–

“Don’t mind him, Oikawa’s my new assistant,” you explain to the hotel’s manager, smiling sweetly at her bemused expression.

Oikawa matches it with one of his own, saccharine and glittering.

A cup of tea is set out before each of you by one of the hotel’s employees, and he thanks her quietly, swirling the cup round in its saucer to better reach the bone china handle. Lifting it to his lips, he takes a smooth, slow sip.

“I’m really just here for the free tea and cake.”

One look at the blushing manager, and you can tell she’s thoroughly charmed – which is the only reason you abstain from kicking him under the table.

“Ignore him, please. I had a thought about letting some of the kids come up and talk on stage as part of the opening speeches, but I wanted to make sure that wouldn’t push us too far behind with the entertainment.” There’s a slight nudge at your thigh, “And um, we also wanted to run through the security measures, if possible.”

Her brow wrinkles, “Security, I– well, we’ll have doormen to check the guest list, and I suppose we could have some of our security staff posted near the ballroom exits if you’d like?”

You nod, “Yes, that’ll be–”

“You should have a few dressed to blend in with the crowd, mingling throughout the room, regular security at the stairs, and we’d like some guards working the backstage area as well,” Oikawa interjects. “Considering the guest list, not to mention the A-list performers we’ve hired for the night, the least they can ask of us is to ensure we’re making their safety and security a priority, no?”

“All these extra measures are a little last minute, don’t you think? The gala’s tomorrow night!”

On the brink of exasperation, she looks to you, no doubt expecting you to rein in your employee.

You simply smile, folding your legs over one another, taking a moment to indulge in the tea you’d been so graciously provided. “We chose this hotel as our venue for a reason, I’ve heard nothing but excellent things about you and your staff. A few added security measures shouldn’t be too difficult for your staff to accommodate. As my assistant said,” your eyes slide to Oikawa’s, a faint hint of a warning there, “we simply want to ensure everyone has a safe, enjoyable evening so that the foundation can raise as much as we possibly can.”

“… Of course,” she concedes.

“Perfect! So, let’s get back to the opening speeches.”

And so it goes, the two of you discussing the final touches and small details for the event you’ve spent months bringing to fruition, the foundation’s first charity gala.

Untouched by your father’s hand, you built this foundation from the ground up, it’s yours – your baby. Your pride and joy.

You think nothing of it when Oikawa excuses himself to take a call. He doesn’t leave the room – he won’t risk straying that far – and you’re distantly aware of the quiet tones of his voice speaking into his phone. You pay it no mind, focused on closing out your meeting with all the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed.

By the time the meeting’s finished, you’re thrilled.

Naturally, there’s still plenty you have left to do; one last check in with the caterers, you have to go and pick up your dress, and there’s the debrief with your team. You’ll have to come back to the hotel early tomorrow to make sure that the set up runs smoothly and nothing’s slipped through the cracks.

Regardless, promising that you’ll touch base first thing in the morning and thanking her again, you can’t quite tamp down your excitement, or the giddy little grin you wear, exiting the hotel with Oikawa.

At least, until he stops you just shy of the town car waiting out front, his hand on your arm, murmuring your name.

“What, what is it?”

He appears almost hesitant. Regretful, certainly. “There was another threat delivered to the main house today…”

Your stomach sinks.

You can see it written across his face, know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth, “Don’t, don’t you dare–”

“There’s too many variables, I am not putting you on the stage in a dark, crowded room–”

You throw your hands up in a huff. “Fine! I won’t speak then.”

“You’re not going at all. Shizuku can do your speech, the team has everything else handled. I am not risking your safety, point blank.”

“That’s not your decision!”

Oikawa’s eyes narrow, “It is. You can be pissed at me all you want–”

“We’ve been working on this for months! Oikawa, this is the most important night of our entire year – we need this funding. The kids need this funding! You can go as my date, you’ll have every excuse to spend the entire night glued to my hip. We just got them to agree to all that extra security stuff you wanted, what more do you need? Don’t ask me to sit at home because of some baseless, stupid threat, please!”

You hate that your voice sounds so desperate, so pleading – but it’s frustration, not disappointment that’s to blame for the thick lump that chokes you up. The hot tears that sting in the corner of your eyes.

“I’m not asking.”

The callousness hits you like a slap in the face.

All that anger, that mounting, seething frustration, it cools in an instant, settling like a rock in your stomach. Without another word you turn and climb into the backseat, slamming the car door behind you.

If that’s how it is, fine.

Oikawa joins you a moment later, rattling off instructions to the driver.

The two of you have argued before, more times than you care to count. As charming as he thinks he is, Oikawa’s equally capable of being obnoxious, annoying, rude, arrogant, the list goes on. This is the first time it’s truly mattered, though. Maybe that’s why the cold dismissal – his refusal to give so much as an inch – stings more than it should.

“Don’t make me the bad guy here,” he murmurs when the silence between you grows too heavy to bear. “I won’t apologise for putting your safety first.”

He reaches for your hand then; a peace offering, an olive branch. You yank it back before his pinky can so much as brush against yours, lacing them together over your lap.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. That’s what you’re being paid for, right?”

—

Days later and the elephant in the room remains firmly lodged between you two.

It’s hard to justify anger towards someone who claims they’re only making your life difficult because there are people out there actively trying to hurt you and your family. At the same time, Oikawa’s insistence on smothering you under new ‘security measures’ isn’t doing him any favours.

Driving home from work, the twinkling lights of the city speeding past in a blur, the purring hum of the engine a comfort in the otherwise silent car, you can only wonder how much longer this’ll go on for.

How much more of it you can take.

“I have a date tomorrow night,” you admit in a quiet voice. “A friend of a friend, she’s been trying to set us up together for months now.”

You glance at Oikawa then – hesitant, searching his face. Momentary surprise flickers there, and then he simply raises an eyebrow, “Oh? And you’re telling me this because you want me to give the two of you a little privacy, right? I guess it would be slightly awkward to have the last guy you were fucking watching from the next table over.”

Though his tone is perfectly pleasant, there’s no disguising the razor sharp bite of the words themselves. Guilt stabs at your insides, twisting like a knife. “That’s not what I–”

You’re so tired of arguing with him. Tired of all of this. Your hands can’t lie still, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in your skirt, and though your attention falls to your lap, you can’t escape the weight of Oikawa’s watchful eyes, following your every move.

Waiting on the verge of impatience for you to dig yourself deeper.

You sigh, wetting your lips. “I’m not interested in him. This isn’t about that. I just… I can’t do this with you, Oikawa. I can’t handle every detail of my day – what I do and who I see – being monitored and micromanaged. I can’t handle you acting like a glorified babysitter and then still trying to get into my pants the moment we’re alone. I just– I need one night without that, that’s all.”

Maybe that’s a selfish thing, a stupid decision. You’d made it at the drop of a hat, your friend gushing over this guy over the phone for the umpteenth time. He doesn’t seem like the type to have a favourite gun, and that was good enough for you.

Oikawa snorts out a laugh, “If you’ve got an itch you need scratched, I’m more than happy to offer my services, pretty girl,” he drawls, low and lecherous, grinning so condescendingly you’re honestly tempted to slap him. “But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you run off to play date night with some asshole you know next to nothing about when there’s a target on your back and I’m the one keeping you safe, understand?”

You’d anticipated some kind of resistance – Oikawa arguing over where you’d go, wanting the names of the guy in question, the friend who set the two of you up, all of it.

The possibility he’d outright refuse hadn’t even crossed your mind.

You open your mouth to argue the point, only to close it softly a heartbeat later. Why bother? What good would arguing do when you’re perfectly aware that he has no intention of budging on the subject.

Which isn’t to say that you’re letting him off the hook entirely.

“Careful, you’re sounding awfully jealous there, Tooru.”

His eyes widen a fraction, but it’s delight, not aggravation, that gleams in those deep, brown depths. “Do you want me to deny it?” he challenges, the car pulling to a stop out the front of your apartment block. “You wanna know what I think?”

Not particularly, but that’s never stopped him before.

“You want me just as much as I want you, you know we’re good together. You accuse me of being jealous, yet you’re the one running scared, jumping at the first, half-baked opportunity presented so you can lie and tell yourself that you’re not missing me.”

“Please,” you scoff, unable to help yourself. “You’d have to be gone for me to miss you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Rolling your eyes and biting back a huff, you nevertheless accept the hand he offers to help you out of the car, the two of you making your way inside. He greets the porter by the door, inclining his chin in a short nod, and calls the elevator with a swipe of your keycard – the one he’d snatched right out of your hand the very day he’d met you.

All in the name of doing his job and keeping you safe, of course.

‘Well what if I need to use the stupid lift and you’re not around?’

‘Unless you’re planning on ditching me, I don’t see that being a problem, do you?’

Impossible, right from the start.

While Oikawa leans against the mirrored walls, smug and all too self satisfied, you snatch your phone from your purse, angrily typing up a quick message to your friend about tomorrow night. No doubt she’ll think you’re being overdramatic, if not outright lying – she, however, doesn’t have to contend with Oikawa on a daily basis.

By the time you reach your apartment, you’re tired, grumpy and itching for a glass of wine and a nice long soak in the bathtub.

You’re only half paying attention, impatient to kick off your heels and soothe the day's stresses – you don’t notice that the door’s hanging ajar, at least not immediately. Oikawa does, his whole body tensing, eyes alert and cautious.

The second you try to move, his arm’s there, outstretched to keep you at bay while he hastily tries to shut the door and obscure your view.

Not quickly enough.

Through the crack, you see it; the crimson splashed across your living room, stark and hideous against the white tile floors.

Blood.

It’s everywhere. Dripping from the lampshade, down the walls, pooling on the tiles.

Red, red, red, spattered and sprayed like the set of a b-grade slasher flick. And the smell, coppery and pungent, sitting in the back of your throat as bile creeps up to meet it.

No one person can bleed that much, can they?

Your breath comes quick; short, heaving little gasps far too shallow to do you any good. Your limbs feel weightless, weak – a stumbling step backwards almost sends you to the ground. Nausea churns in your guts, threatening to upheave.

All that blood… Your apartment–

They– they were in your home.

And a sudden thought occurs to you, a fresh wave of horror sinking its claws in deep. Without stopping to think, you lurch forward, desperate to get inside. Arms seize your waist, yanking you back, and you let out a blood curdling shriek, thrashing against the grip.

In the haze of your blind panic, you recognise that it’s Oikawa’s voice, speaking in your ear in a low, urgent tone. You don’t care, you can’t make sense of the words anyway, not amidst the overwhelming fear, the terror and the pounding of your racing heart.

“Ryo–” you choke out, struggling to get free, “I have to– h-he might be–”

“He’s not in there. He’s not in there!” Wrangled back from the door, he all but shoves you against the wall, caging you in close as your fists beat weakly against his chest, your pleas little more than whimpers. He exhales heavily, moving in closer to press his forehead against yours. “He’s at home, with your father. They’re not in there, I promise. We have to go.”

He takes your hand, leads you one step after another, murmuring reassurances the whole way.

You’re numb to it.

You don’t remember much, the ding of the elevator, stale air of the underground parking garage and a chill nipping at your skin. An unfamiliar car you’re hastily bundled into.

Time moves strangely after that, seconds trickling by like the drip of a leaking faucet.

The car is quiet. Dark. The cityscape out the window a blur that barely registers. Your mind ticks over the same thoughts, a reel stuck playing the same loop over and over; blood splashed across the curtains, the couch. Your apartment – your home – awash with it. The stench of it, clinging to you like perfume.

No one was hurt.

They were in your home.

You’re fine, Oikawa’s fine. Ryo was never in danger.

They were in your home.

You let out a shuddering breath, shoulders curling inwards as you draw your knees up to your chest. Oikawa clocks the movement, sparing you an assessing glance from the corner of his eye.

“… Where–” you wince at the raw sound. “Where are we going?”

“Back to the main house. Your father’s been alerted, he’s expecting us.”

Ah. Where else?

Your father has ‘round the clock guards at every entrance, high tech, expensive security systems. You’d be with your family, safe and protected within the walls of the home you grew up in. The minute he’d heard what’d happened, your father would’ve demanded Oikawa bring you back without delay.

Despite that, you find yourself shaking your head, “I… I don’t want Ryo– he’ll get upset if he sees me like this,” you mumble into your knees. “He’s already scared. Please.”

He looks at you again, properly this time. There’s a muscle working in his jaw, long fingers drumming against the leather of the steering wheel.

You’ve seen him angry before, irritated. Never like this.

Every breath he draws in is tight and controlled, his features set like granite. You only catch sight of it when the yellow glow of the street lights outside wash over you both in thick swathes; the cold fury that lurks in the black pits of his irises, held back like a caged beast.

It should scare you – it does, a bit. The man sitting next to you feels like a stranger, and yet you force yourself to hold that stare, not to shy away.

Oikawa won’t hurt you.

Whatever seethes beneath the surface, it’s not directed your way – you can’t say how you know that for certain, only that you do.

But neither one of you can return home to your family tonight, not when you’re both so wound up and strung out. You’ll beg on your hands and knees if that’s what it takes to sway him. Ryo’s already afraid enough as it is.

Your heart thumps painfully against your ribs as you wait in tense silence.

Oikawa considers you for a moment longer, mutters a curse under his breath and casts a look back over his shoulder, throwing the car into a sudden – and very illegal – u turn. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I hope you realise that,” he groans, but the words lack the hard, clipped edge they’d carried before.

He takes you instead to an apartment downtown; nondescript, small, tidy. The furniture appears new, fitting in with the same clean, monochromatic colour scheme as the rest of the apartment. There’s books on the coffee table, bland art lining the walls, cushions on the couch, a knitted beige comforter tossed over the armrest. It’s… fine, if not a little soulless.

Turning to face Oikawa, you lift an eyebrow, “You… live here?” you ask.

The brunet’s lips quirk upwards, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over the back of one of the chairs. “Not often. It’s a foxhole, one of a few I have, actually. This one just so happened to be the closest.” At your confused expression, he continues, “Think of it like a hideaway. There’s no paper trail tying me to this place and very few people who know of its existence. We can lie low here for a few days while we figure everything out.”

Somewhere that can’t be tracked, because there are men out there who want you dead. Faintly, you nod, trying your best to ignore the pool of dread sitting heavy in your gut.

There’s no pretending the threats aren’t real anymore.

But you’re safe here, with Oikawa. No one’s coming to hurt you tonight.

Exhausted, your whole body aching, you shower under a scorching spray, drying yourself off and pulling on one of Oikawa’s old shirts to sleep in (‘We’ll get you some proper clothes tomorrow,’ he’d promised). There’s only one bed in the tiny apartment, and even if you could find it within yourself to care, you’re altogether too drained to say anything when, after a quick shower of his own, Oikawa crawls in beside you.

He’s warm and solid, the scent of him familiar as his arm slides over your middle, drawing you close.

“I’m not going to let anyone touch you,” he murmurs into the dark. “I’ll kill them first. You’re safe with me.”

—

Two days later, your father summons you home.

Oikawa’s curtly dismissed at the door, left to his own devices. You, meanwhile, are taken into the study, tea is poured, and the conversation, naturally, shifts towards the break in at your apartment.

“You can always stay here with us, little one, for as long as you’d like. Ryota would be thrilled to have you back.” Your father smiles, setting the steaming cup down. “As would I.”

The childhood endearment makes your heart tug. You’ve spent too long clawing your way free of his influence to do some good in the world, to return home now, no matter how tempting the thought, would undo that in seconds.

“I know,” you reply. “And I appreciate it, dad. Oikawa’s taking me tomorrow to see a few apartments, though, so hopefully we’ll find something that works.”

He makes a dissatisfied noise, mouth tightening. “Yes, well considering this happened under Oikawa’s watch, perhaps you should rethink the weight you place in his judgement.”

“It’s because of Oikawa that they broke into my apartment. He never gave them an opening to come after me directly, so they tried to scare me instead.” Tried, and succeeded, mind you. “You’re the one who hired him,” you grumble.

“I hired him to protect you, nothing more,” he replies sternly. “If you’re put at risk again I will not hesitate to replace him with someone better suited.”

Peering down at you from behind wire frame glasses, he considers you for a moment – the same weighty, assessing stare he’d give you when, as a kid, he thought you were misbehaving. “I am not so blind that I cannot see what is happening in front of my own eyes. You’re close with him, you… trust him.”

“Am I not supposed to?” Wasn’t he the one telling you you had to listen to Oikawa?

He doesn’t answer you straight away, seemingly weighing up his response. When he does eventually speak, the words give little comfort. “Oikawa is… a necessary evil. He has the temperament and skill set which make him a natural choice in protecting you – they’re also what make him dangerous. If your life weren’t at risk I would not want you within a thousand yards of that man.”

You think back to the scars that litter Oikawa’s torso. The look in his eyes that night, the tempest raging, violent and volatile.

It’s not as though you ever believed Oikawa to be a saint – if his association with your father wasn’t proof enough, the frankly alarming number of weapons you’d stumbled across, stashed throughout the foxhole certainly did the trick.

You grew up surrounded by men like that. Your father, your uncles. Business associates invited to dinner. None of them ever frightened you.

Unease slithers down your spine.

Satisfied, perhaps, that his warning struck home, your father straightens in his chair and clears his throat. “Enough of that. Come, drink – your tea’s getting cold.”

He keeps you there for a little while longer, to indulge in another cup and talk of other, lighter subjects; your work with the children’s foundation, Ryo’s progress at school (he’s becoming quite the little scientist), to the gardens that surround the estate, the cherry blossom trees set to bloom in a matter of weeks.

On your way out, he asks for you to send in Oikawa.

It takes you less than a minute to find him – sitting cross legged on the living room floor, deep in conversation with your seven year old brother. Ryo’s the one to spot you first, his whole face lighting up. Discarding the open book he’d had splayed across his lap, your brother jumps to his feet and barrels towards you with a delighted shriek of your name, arms outstretched. You catch him with a grin, squeezing back when he hugs you firmly.

“Careful, bud” Oikawa laughs, “you’ll knock her right off her feet.”

You ruffle Ryo’s hair. His mom would say the unruly locks are desperately in need of a trim – you think it suits him, reminds you of a wild thing. “Please, this little guy? Light as a feather.”

The indignant grumble you get in response, his face still buried in your middle only makes your grin widen.

Still sprawled across the floor like a kid himself, Oikawa meets your gaze with a warm one of his own, something in your chest fluttering at the sight of it. He looks content, perfectly relaxed here with you and Ryo.

In that moment, you’re struck with the realisation that he’s not the only one.

Whatever gripped you back in your father’s study, there’s no trace of it now, it holds no bearing here with the two of them. This is the Oikawa you’ve come to know, the one you trust.

The one you like, if the warming of your cheeks is any indication to go by.

… Maybe it’s time you stopped running from that.

Saved from any further musing by your brother’s attempt to crush the life out of you in one final squeeze, Ryo reluctantly lets you go.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, his cheeks turning pink. He kicks at the carpet a little, chews at his bottom lip, hesitating just a touch. “… Dad said you’re coming home to stay this time. Are you?” And beneath the wide, puppy dog eyes that tug at your heartstrings with practiced ease (no wonder he has both his parents wrapped around his finger), there’s no hiding the hope glimmering in his tone.

“I missed you too, squirt.”

At the mention of your father, however, something else springs to mind, and you turn your attention back to Oikawa. “Oh, almost forgot – he said he wants to see you. He’s in the study, waiting.”

The brunet nods, rising. If he’s bothered by the demand at all, there’s no outward indication. From your own conversation with the man, you can’t imagine he’s about to walk into anything particularly pleasant. Then again, you doubt that whatever your father has in store for him – whether it be lecture or complete verbal evisceration – is in any way anxiety inducing to someone like Oikawa.

Sauntering past the two of you, he stops for a second, lays a hand on Ryo’s shoulder and leans down to whisper conspiratorially into his ear – just loud enough for his voice to carry. “Why don’t you show your big sister the new project you were telling me about, hm?”

Ryo lights up again with a giddy gasp, racing from the room, and Oikawa winks at you, breezing on through.

—

The moment you’re through the door back at the foxhole, he’s on you.

Ravenous, hungry, lips moving feverishly against yours, prying them apart for another taste of you. The clothes he’d bought for you are hastily discarded, thrown to the floor and kicked aside as Oikawa lifts you up, hiking your legs around his waist so he can carry you into the bedroom.

“What’s gotten into you?” you laugh, half breathless when he deposits you on the bed.

“Do I need a reason?” he retorts, yanking off his shirt and casting it aside. “I’ve been waiting to do this all afternoon.”

He climbs onto the bed then,pushing your shoulders back down the mattress as his lips find yours to kiss you senseless. Your hand meanwhile slips down between your bodies, a feather light touch grazing the bulge in his jeans.

He moans into your mouth, breath shivery and light, hips bucking ever so slightly to chase the touch. When he draws back, your stomach flips in anticipation at the positively wolfish expression you find there, “Careful, pretty girl,” he warns.

“Or what?”

He takes your hand then, pulls it back to his crotch and grinds into it slowly, shuddering, “Or you’re gonna be in for a long, long night.”

You arch up to kiss him, lips finding his throat, the two of you working together to hastily free his cock from the confines of his boxer briefs.

The moment you’re successful, the hard, flushed length bobbing against his stomach, Oikawa lets a fat glob of spit fall into his palm and takes hold of it, twisting his wrist as he slides his hand back and forth along his cock, groaning and nudging your thighs apart.

Usually, he likes to take his time prepping you, lowering his mouth to your pretty little pussy, teasing you and edging you until you’re a squirming, hot mess beneath him, all but begging him to hurry up and fuck you. Other times – when he’s in a more selfish mood – he’ll send you to your knees instead, taking his pleasure by fucking your face, fingers curling in your hair, the tight, wet warmth of your mouth too tempting to pass up.

But something feels different this time. More than hunger, or desire, beyond simple urgency. It glints and gleans in his eyes, seeps from his skin like the bead of sweat that trickles down the curve of his neck.

It crackles like electricity in the air between you.

And when he drags your hips down close, and pushes his cock deep into your warm, fluttering cunt, it robs you of all words.

True to his promise, Oikawa takes his time. Fucks you on your back, legs locked around his back at first – and then pressed back either side of you, the ache in your thighs second only to the stretch of your pussy, clenching around him with every languid roll of his hips.

He flips you over and draws your ass upwards, your face pressed down into the pillows, pounding into you from behind.

Hands on your hips, guiding you up and down his throbbing shaft, hungry eyes fixed on the way your tits bounce so enticingly for him.

And then, when your legs are shaking, pussy leaking his seed and every cell in your body is electrified and buzzing, he lays you down at the edge of the bed and feasts on your poor, sensitive, abused little hole ‘til you’re grabbing at his hair, bucking up and writhing on his tongue, screaming yourself hoarse from an overload of pleasure.

Only then does he allow you rest, kissing you sweetly as he slips from your side and exits the bedroom.

He returns moments later with a glass of water, which you gratefully accept and guzzle down. Collapsing back on the bed, you let out a groan, “I feel like I could sleep for the next thousand years.”

He chuckles. Climbing onto the mattress to flop down beside you, Oikawa rolls close, smiling with a soft look you’ve only ever seen directed at you. “So sleep. We’ve got an hour or so ‘til dinner, a nap won’t kill you.”

—

You wake to the sound of a car backfiring.

Eyes bleary, disoriented, you struggle to gather your wits as the door to the bedroom flies open. Oikawa appears in the doorway, still wearing his pajamas, gun in hand, eyes focused and alert – and it’s then, in the dim, early morning light that you realise that the sound you heard wasn’t a car at all.

With his handgun and attention trained on the front door, Oikawa spares you only the briefest of glances, “Get up, we need to go. Now.”

Your heart skips a beat, chest tightening as the reality of the situation – at least, as much as your sluggish brain can piece together – dawns upon you.

Questions, one after another, claw their way up your throat, desperate and urgent, terrified, you force yourself to swallow them down, along with the near paralysing fear that takes hold. There’s no time for that. No time to panic. Pausing only long enough to ascertain that you are in fact somewhat clothed – an old tee of his and a pair of sleep shorts you must’ve thrown on at some point last night – you scramble to Oikawa’s side.

Any reassurance you feel at the grip he takes of your hand is quickly and overwhelmingly buried, however, when you catch sight of the dark mass by the entryway.

Your stomach lurches, blood running cold. It’s a body – a man’s. The room’s not yet light enough to get a good look at his face, but the open, unblinking eyes and the sticky looking pool beneath him tell you plenty.

Dead.

“Don’t look,” Oikawa murmurs.

His fingers tighten around your hand in a reassuring squeeze, already pulling you onwards. Like a bad accident, tearing your eyes away is easier said than done.

That man, he… he’d come here for you, hadn’t he? To kill you.

You’ve never seen a dead body before, and now there’s one lying across your living room floor, riddled with bullets from Oikawa’s gun and that–

That could’ve been you. Would’ve been, if not for Oikawa.

Your chest constricts, a noose tightening at your throat. And just like that night at your apartment, the fear that takes root begins to strangle you, making it hard to breathe, harder to think.

Every uneven thump of your heart rattles your chest, your limbs feeling like they’re disconnected from the rest of you. Oikawa notices, and curses softly beneath his breath. There’s no time to coax you down, his grip turns iron, half running now down the fire door stairs with you stumbling behind him.

Somewhere above you, shouts begin to sound, and with a fresh wave of terror hammering through your veins, you force your legs to move quicker. There’s no choice but to run, to duck and cower when the creaking door to the floor above swings open and Oikawa abruptly yanks you forward to fire up the stairwell behind you.

Bare feet pounding against the floor, chest heaving with ragged breaths, you burst out into the parking garage, and still you don’t stop.

For the second time in less than a week, you’re corralled into a car, shaking and numb, on the verge of outright sobbing.

Oikawa drives for a long time.

You don’t ask where you’re going, if they’re still following you. You don’t speak.

The traffic on the streets thins out, the towering skyscrapers disappearing in the rearview mirror. Wherever he’s taking you, it’s not towards home.

And there’s a pit in your stomach, a bleak, festering emotion that grows harder and harder to ignore with every passing mile. Oikawa’s silence – tense and uncomfortable, only adds to your unease.

This isn’t like last time, when he was angry beyond words. This feels… different, somehow.

When you’re well beyond the city limits, he pulls the car to a stop on the side of a deserted stretch of road and turns it off, leaving the keys in the ignition.

“There’s a phone in the glove box, can you get it for me?”

Doing as he asks, you pop the compartment open, only to cringe when the first thing your fingers brush over isn’t a cell, but the cool metal of a handgun. Nevertheless, you keep going, eventually finding the black phone tucked away near the back and wordlessly passing it into Oikawa’s waiting palm.

He smiles at you, leans over the console to press a chaste kiss to your cheek, “Thanks. Stay here, alright? Gotta make a quick call.”

He’s already dialling, smoothly exiting the car before the words truly register.

You’re helpless to do anything but watch anxiously from the passenger’s seat, fingers worrying away at the hem of Oikawa’s shirt. Seconds tick by – nothing. No one picks up. No one answers.

A small frown graces his features. Glancing into the car to check up on you, Oikawa simply ends the call, dials another number, holds the phone to his ear, and waits for whoever’s on the other end of the call to pick up.

… But nobody does. The phone rings out.

He spares you another brief glance then, your wide, worried eyes meeting his. His brow furrows, the edges of his lips thinning into a hard line and before you can call out to ask him what’s wrong, who he’s trying to get ahold of, he’s moving away from the car and out of earshot.

This time, he seems to take longer to find the number he’s after, drawing the phone back to his ear, foot tapping away as it rings and rings and rings.

You don’t realise that you’re holding your breath, fingernails biting into the palm of your hand until you see him speaking into his cell, nodding at whatever the person on the other end of the line is saying.

Yet that reprieve, unlocking the breath trapped in your lungs, soothing over all of your tension and that awful, gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach lasts only as long as it takes for you to realise that Oikawa, staring at you from yards down the road, looks entirely too grim for the relief that you’re feeling.

He ends the call with a heavy exhale, shoulders slumping.

Your heart stops cold in your chest.

One look at his pained expression, the pity swirling in his eyes, the sympathy, and your whole world comes crashing down around you.

Fingers fumbling for the door latch, you unbuckle your seatbelt to stagger to your feet, lurching towards him. Oikawa reaches you first, letting you collide into his arms, pulling you close.

“He– he’s fine, right?” you beg in a thick, trembling voice, trying in vain to blink back hot tears. “Ryo’s fine. They both are. They’re okay. Tell me they’re okay. Please, Tooru, you have to– you have to tell me that they’re–”

As words fail you, Oikawa sighs. With a gentleness that shatters something inside of you, he cups your cheek in his palm, brushing away your tears, and presses his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry. They… they hit the house before they came for us. No one made it out.”

No… no, no, no, no, no. That’s not true. You clutch at him, desperately shaking your head. Ryo can’t be dead, he’s only seven. He’s just a kid, an innocent, good kid. He’s your little brother.

He can’t be dead.

But Oikawa’s looking at you so brokenly, and you feel like somebody’s ripped you open from the inside out and saved your heart for last of all. You open your mouth to beg for him to tell you he’s lying, but all that comes out is a sobbing wail.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, holding you close, cradling you against him. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

—

The soft sound of leather shoes walking atop marble tiles echo throughout the empty halls of your father’s estate.

There’s no need for Oikawa to disguise his presence now – not that there was much of one to begin with.

The staff had opened the door without blinking, welcoming him inside, the guards on rotation nodding in acknowledgment when he strode past. They might not particularly enjoy his presence (no accounting for taste, he supposed) but after months working for the patriarch to keep you safe, they’d come to begrudgingly accept it.

In their eyes, he was one of them, and so no one thought to stop him and ask why he’d shown up at the estate so late in the night, seemingly without reason. Without you.

It made picking them off one by one that much easier.

Well, not all of them. He had left one alive – unconscious, possibly paralysed, but breathing all the same. Oikawa smirks.

With the guards and household staff dispatched, he’d turned his attention towards the bedrooms.

Ryota was first. Fast asleep, clutching the teddy-bear you’d bought him, your baby brother hadn’t stirred when Oikawa crept in with the shadows. He made it quick. Painless. As much of a mercy as a man like him was capable of.

The kid’s mom was next; the second wife, the replacement. The money hungry, greedy, vapid little cunt.

It was no secret that your father had been married before, that his first wife – your mother – had died after a long, tragic battle with cancer when you were sixteen. The first time he’d tried bringing it up, you’d shut him down and quickly changed the subject, but in the end, all it took was one too many glasses of wine, a few stories of his own, and those pretty lips of yours were spilling all sorts of interesting secrets.

That your step-mother was fucking him before she was even cold in the ground was one such fascinating tidbit.

While he’d felt a slight twinge of guilt over killing the boy, Oikawa had no such qualms shooting her while she slept, the silencer on his pistol ensuring it raised no alarm, just like the others.

While you’d mourn for your beloved baby brother, he knows you won’t shed any tears for that bitch. He wonders if you’d even thank him for it, if he ever decided to tell you the truth.

A pleasant shiver rolls down his spine at the thought of how sweetly you’d go about it.

Presently, he raises a fist to knock at the door of your father’s study, one final goal in mind.

“Come in,” a deep voice replies.

Oikawa has to give the older man some credit, one look at him – gun in hand, the flecks of blood spattered against his crisp, white shirt – and your father stills, the colour draining from his face. He doesn’t panic, though, doesn’t shout or cry out for help, much less for mercy.

They both know none is coming.

Instead, he sets down the papers he’d been working on and rises slowly from his chair. No doubt he has at least one gun stashed nearby, but with Oikawa’s pointed towards his chest, the brunet’s index finger poised on the trigger, and his better years behind him, the odds don’t fall in his favour.

“My wife?”

Oikawa grins, clicking his tongue, “Dead.”

He nods, taking a moment to process the information. “And… my son?”

“Dead.”

“… I see.”

Oikawa’s heard more than one person accuse your father of being a cold, heartless bastard. It’s an easy assumption to make – no one gains a reputation like his without a certain brutality and overall disregard for the lives of others. The truth is simpler; your father does have a heart, it resides in both of his children. While his voice might not shake at the news of his son’s demise, his hands, splayed out over the papers on his desk, most certainly do.

He swallows with difficulty, takes in a trembling breath, “My daughter, I assume you killed her, too?”

“God, no,” he laughs. “She’s sleeping, safe and sound, blissfully oblivious to all of this.”

And for the first time since Oikawa crossed the threshold, a look of confusion adorns your father’s face. Before he can give voice to it, however, the brunet decides to nudge the conversation along. The drugs in your system will only keep you down for so long, and there’s still plenty he has left to do before the two of you can have your fresh start.

“You seem to be under the impression that I’m working for the people who want you and your family wiped from the map. I’m not. I’m simply making the best of an opportunity." He sighs, shrugging, “We could have avoided this nastiness, you know. Maybe not indefinitely, but for a little while at least. All of this, it’s your fault; you gave me a gift, and then,” his smile turns sharp, an edge of anger bleeding through, “you threatened to take her away.”

There are worse fates than death.

“If it gives you any solace,” Oikawa murmurs, the soft, placating tone at odds with the cruel twist of his vicious grin. “I intend to keep my promise. She’ll be safe with me, no one will ever lay so much as a finger on her.”

No one, that is, except for him.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere oikawa #idk if i hate this or not but hey at least it's done #:))))

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slutmegeto · 5 days

Text

solandis

such a pretty little kitten you are for them.

tw. nsfw, smut, collaring, lingerie, oral (both male and female receiving), threesome, rough unprotected sex, spit roasting, restraints (handcuffs), choking, slapping, implied yandere, implied kidnapping, praise, dubcon, slight noncon, use of slut, use of master, slight pet play mdni!

pairing: iwaoi x f!reader

"iwa-chan, isn't she pretty?"

cheeks a pretty pink, you keep your gaze lowered, hands gripping the edge of the lacy, see-through lingerie you were wearing so tight that your knuckles are white.

anything to distract you from the heavy gazes on you.

anything to distract you from the thick leather sat snuggly around your neck, trying to ignore the way it feels like you can't breathe or the way it digs into your skin.

"yeah," iwaizumi grunts, voice low in a way that has you tensing. "real pretty."

a hand falls on top of your head, large and firm and you try to resist the urge to flinch, slowly peering up through your lashes only to see oikawa grinning brightly down at you. the second his eyes catch yours, the grin fades into a mocking pout as he crouches, moving so he's directly in front of you.

his hand lowers, taking a strand of your hair in between his fingers, all whilst iwaizumi watches closely from behind him.

oikawa's fingers dig into the tiny space between your neck and the collar they'd placed on you, shoving through the small space as you wince in response, trying to ignore the sting as you're tugged forward. he pulls until your face is right in front of his, lips inches apart.

"do you like your gift, baby?" oikawa coos, letting his eyes drift across your face as his thumb strokes the dangling metal from the front loop of the collar that read; iwa and kawa's kitty.

your brain turns numb, unable to find the words to answer as you stare dumbly back at him because... because how could he possibly think you'd like it?

"oi," iwaizumi barks, causing you to jump in the spot. "shittykawa asked you a question."

fear striking you, you nod best you can in oikawa's grip. "y-yes," you whisper, voice shaky and faint as you force the words out. of course you didn't, but you weren't about to say that. not to them. "i do."

oikawa smiles, bright and twinkling, his hand leaving your collar to instead brush back your hair and tuck it behind your ear, carressing your cheek. "whaddya say, then, pretty?"

you meet his eyes, desperate for him to not make you say it. but he continues to stare at you expectantly and a glance past his shoulder at iwaizumi has you met with a similar stare, if not harsher. demanding.

swallowing thickly, you lower your gaze. "thank you..."

"thank you...?"

shame floods you, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs as you try to pull away. "thank you.... masters."

oikawa beams and even iwaizumi lets a small smile grace his lips as you utter the words they'd been waiting for. you're completely and wholeheartedly at their mercy and it's been this way for longer than you can remember. they surrounded you completely, never letting you leave the house or see anyone else.

you've become solely dependant on them. involuntarily, they've become your whole world with no escape in sight.

you'd learned long ago it was better to just go along with their whims; it was always less painful that way. from bruises to a red and blistered bottom that left you unable to sit without aching in pain for weeks... there was no escape and no amount of struggle ever helped you. so even if it burned with shame and made you sick, you did what they wanted and said what they told you to.

you let them dress you up. you let them parade you around. you let them treat you like their doll. you let them fuck you whenever they wanted and use you in whatever way they saw fit.

it was just easier that way.

at least... at least that way, it didn't hurt all the time.

oikawa sends a glance back at iwaizumi and understanding his meaning, iwaizumi nods, turning and making his way over to the closet. your heart spikes when you see him move, eyes widening as you flicker your gaze from him to oikawa.

"what... what is he—"

"shh, shh," oikawa soothes, petting your hair like some sort of animal in a mock attempt to calm you. "don't worry your pretty little head about it, angel. here. i need you to do something for me, kay?"

you can hear iwaizumi shuffling around with things in the background, but knowing you won't know what he's getting until they want you to know, you reluctantly comply. turning back to oikawa, you nod slowly.

"put your hands behind your back," you move to do so. "that's our good girl. just like that. clasp your hands together—yes, just like that. look at you. listening like you're supposed to."

swallowing thickly, you shuffle on your knees, still kneeling on the carpetted floor of the bedroom.

a second later, a shadow falls behind you.

"you find them, iwa-chan?"

he grunts in recognition, and you can hear him kneel behind you. your body tenses in anticipation, flinching faintly when his hand finally falls on you, grabbing your arm with his large hand, rubbing the skin up and down in a slow, languid motion.

his hand then lowers, grabbing your left wrist, hands still clasped together, until you feel cold metal press against your skin. your eyes widen, shoulders tensing, but oikawa grabs you by the neck, holding you still by squeezing just faintly, enough to have your lips parting in a gasp as you hear a sharp click followed by the same cold metal falling against your right wrist and the same click.

iwaizumi lets go and you unclasp your hands, only to find them stuck together by the pair of handcuffs iwaizumi had just wrapped around your wrists.

"wha—"

you don't get to finish what you'd been about to say. you're cut off by a squeal leaving your lips as iwaizumi suddenly grabs you by the waist and halls you up and off your feet. oikawa lets go of your neck as he steps back, grinning at you with a wink before you're suddenly flipped and tossed.

you hit the bed with a couple bounces, arms locked behind you and unable to steady yourself as you blink.

iwaizumi is suddenly over you before you have enough time to process what's happened. he crawls onto the bed, your body dipping in response, grabbing you by the waist once again and this time flipping you over so you're on your knees again. he shifts, moving so he's underneath you, your upper half hovering over his lower half, his hands having shifted to your shoulders to hold you up.

then, he lets go and without the use of your hands, you fall against him, unsteadied, your face falling right on top of his erection which pokes into your cheek.

you're bewildered, overwhelmed, and scared.

"what is—"

a pair of familiar hands settle on your hips and you feel something sharp poke into your ass. you don't need to look to know it's oikawa; the movements of his hands running across your ass, feeling his fingers pushing the edge of your camisole up your back, leaving you bare since they never let you wear underwear anymore, unless you were on your period.

"poor baby," oikawa hums, "you're confused, aren't you?"

"i—"

"don't worry," he cuts you off, "we'll take good care of you. won't we, iwa-chan?"

iwaizumi's hand falls on your head, stopping you from raising your head like you'd been about to, and instead presses your cheek further into his erection, the zipper of his jeans biting into your skin. "of course," iwaizumi agrees, as if that's obvious.

you can't see either of them with the way your head is positioned and the fear of being restrained is making it hard to breathe. you move to say something again, but your words fall silent the second you feel something warm and wet press against your pussy.

it's oikawa. he's pressing a kiss against the lips of your pussy, soft, gentle kisses as his hands squeeze the fat of your ass and you're gasping in response, body jerking.

iwaizumi keeps a firm hand on your head still, refusing to let you try and raise it, so your ass is left sticking up, arms bending awkwardly in the handcuffs as oikawa's fingers swiftly move to part your lips, giving him full access.

a cry of surprise is pulled from your lips the seconds his lips wrap around your clit, sucking in sharply in a way that has your vision blurring, feeling yourself grow wet and your muscles tense as you're overwhelmed by the sensation oikawa is giving you.

he sucks loud and harshly, the sounds of your wetness squelching all you can hear aside from your moans. you're biting your lip to stop yourself from crying out, body held down by both of their hands as you feel your pleasure build.

"that's it, baby," iwaizumi grunts, nails digging into your head. "take it like the slut you are."

"ah—ah, oh god—!"

you can physically feel oikawa grinning, letting his tongue swipe a across your clit as your hips buck backwards, chasing the high. it's building, getting closer, your wrists turning red as you pull against the handcuffs, crying out.

"oh, god—can i.... can i cum?" you're slobbering out the ask, nearly losing your mind when oikawa chuckles at your words and the rumble adds a vibration to his sucking. "please! please can i cum! please—"

iwaizumi grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks, pulling your head up to meet his gaze as you stare back at him, lips parted and tears welling in your eyes.

"cum," he orders, voice gruff and you lose it then, spasming as you let yourself go, one more sharp suck from oikawa has you reaching your high. iwaizumi keeps a tight hold of your hair, holding you up and your body bending unnaturally as you twitch in the spot, tongue lolling out as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"ah! oh! please—please, please, please, it feels—feels so good!"

oikawa keeps his mouth pressed against your pussy as you ride out your high, not pulling away until you slump completely in iwaizumi's grasp, mumbled 'thank you's' leaving your lips.

pulling away, oikawa wipes at his mouth, smiling as he stares at your red, puffy and wet pussy, before making eyes contact with iwaizumi.

leaning forward, oikawa grabs you by the chin, turning your face so you meet his gaze. you blink at him slowly, dazed.

"did that feel good, angel?"

you nod in his grasp; "yes... yes, thank you. thank you..."

oikawa chuckles and lets go, leaning back as iwaizumi keeps your head up by your hair. you turn back to face him, only to feel oikawa's arms slip under your arms, pulling you back and flush against his chest, moving to grasp your left breast in his hand, squeezing. you gasp at the movement and action, blinking as some of your senses come back, eyes zoning in on the way iwaizumi's hands move to the button of his jeans.

he unbuckles, pulling down the zipper, and shoves his pants down his thighs, before pulling his cock free from his underwear. it stands straight up as it does, and you swallow thickly at the sheer size. it doesn't matter how many times you see it, his dick still has you shaking in fear every time.

"give her 'ere."

oikawa lowers you, shifting as iwaizumi grabs you by the shoulder with his one hand, and the other grabs his dick, angling it towards you.

"open," iwaizumi orders, narrowing his eyes at you.

swallowing thickly, you part your lips, before his cock is all but shoved into your mouth. oikawa's hands leave you as iwaizumi grabs a handful of your hair once again, his hips rising as he shoves himself fully inside your mouth. you gag at the sudden intrusion, eyes widening as you choke on his leg, muscles spasming.

"relax," iwaizumi orders, tugging at your hair. "relax. there ya go. take it. take it like i trained you to."

you force yourself to relax, adjusting so you can better take him in your mouth. the position leaves you vulnerable, especially with your hands restrained, unable to have any control or find purchase on when or how much of him you take. but iwaizumi gives you a moment, letting you adjust until he feels you relax and uses your hair to move you.

tears well at the corner of your eyes, the sounds of you gagging on his cock the only thing you can hear.

"that's it," iwaizumi groans, head tilting back. "fuck. there ya go. that's a good girl. that's a—ah, fuck!"

you almost forget oikawa's there. at least, until you feel him deliver a sharp slap to your ass that has you flinching forwards, iwaizumi's cock hitting the back of your throat as you cry out around his length.

he delivers one more sharp slap that has you letting out a gargled cry before his hand grabs you by the hip, and a second later you feel his length pressing against your pussy. realization of their plan dawns then and you start to panic, struggling in their grasps and your confines as you try to cry out in denial.

iwaizumi just tightens his grip, slamming your head down and holding you there, unable to breathe as you try to break away until you feel oikawa fully sheathe himself inside you. it jerks you forward and the cry that leaves your lips is garbled in spit and the sound of you choking as your eyes bulge, the sudden intrusion making your vision blur.

oikawa is ruthless, not giving you any time to adjust before he pulls back out and pounds right back into you. iwaizumi pulls you away, allowing you a second to breathe, before the two of them time their movements and you're being fucked by both your mouth and your pussy.

you have no way of steadying yourself or trying to ease the strain on your body. you're left in their hands as they use your body as they see fit, barely giving you time to breathe, oikawa's hips slamming into you from behind as he hits the spot that makes your brain turn numb every single time.

oikawa shifts, grabbing your wrists by the handcuffs and pulls, adding strain to your shoulders as he uses that for purchase into slamming into you harder.

"fuck, she feels so good! she's so fucking tight—!"

"her mouth feels, ah! good too!" iwaizumi grunts, "her throat keeps—fuck! clenching around me!"

every muscle in your body tenses, tears and spit dribbling down your face as both men chase their highs by using you.

"fuck, y/n!" oikawa grunts, voice needy as he uses his free hand to slap your ass again, the sting causing you to jerk as iwaizumi moans out in response to the way your throat clenches.

"you close?" iwaizumi asks.

"yeah," oikawa hisses, his nails digging welts into your ass. "yeah, i'm—ah, almost there!"

you can't focus on what they say next. your eyes roll to the back of your head and your head is numb, blank with thoughts, crying out as oikawa repeatedly pounds into you, your vision turning white with stars as your own high starts to build.

"i'm gonna... i'm gonna cum!"

"me too!"

your visions turn completely white, your senses overwhelming you as you reach your high once again, spasming around the both of them as they orgasm with you. you feel oikawa's seed seep into your pussy, warm, as iwaizumi's fills your mouth completely, the both of them stilling their movements around you as they chase off their high.

you slump completely, weighing a dead weight in their grasps as you blink, trying to refocus, everything around you a blur. you feel oikawa still in you, not pulling out as iwaizumi slowly lifts your mouth off of him, only for his free hand to snap around your jaw and snap it shut.

"swallow it," you hear, a distant voice as his fingers move to plug your nose, trapping you with no way to breathe. "swallow it, slut."

you listen, forcing yourself to swallow his cum and ignore the bitter taste as you feel your face grow hot, trying to shuffle away from his hands to breathe.

he lets go a second later, using his fingers to pry your mouth open, making sure you swallowed everything.

"good girl," iwaizumi croons, "swallowing it all."

a whine sounds from behind you. "not fair iwa-chan!"

"you got to have her pussy, idiot. don't whine."

there's a moment of silence, before you feel oikawa pull out. you hiss as he does, your pussy sensitive.

iwaizumi's hands leave your hair and then oikawa is pushing you to the side gently, tipping you so you fall flat on your back, arms pressing uncomfortably into your back. you have no fight left to argue though, simply letting him move you as he wants as you pant, chest rising and falling as your body screams at you in exhaustion.

then, oikawa's fingers are plunging into you and you let out a cry in response, the sensitivity turning painful before he swipes up and then his fingers are gone.

fingers are being shoved into your mouth before you realize it, blinking as that bitter taste, but slightly different, fills your mouth once more, this time oikawa's fingers press against your tongue.

"suck," oikawa orders, and your eyes open to see him hovering over you. "now."

wrapping your lips around his fingers, you listen, sucking off a mixture of your own cum and his off his fingers until oikawa's satisfied enough, grinning as he pulls away.

iwaizumi watches the whole thing, before scoffing; "loser."

oikawa just grins triumphantly over at him.

a moment of silence passes, neither of them moving, as your arms twitch underneath you, and the hope that they'll take off the handcuffs soon crosses your mind.

then, a second later, oikawa smirks over at iwaizumi.

"wanna go again and swap positions?"

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #oikawa toru #oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaoi #iwaoi x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaoi #yandere oikawa #yandere iwaizumi

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yanderenightmare · 1 year

Note

Hi there, question kind of? How would you rank the Haikyuu boys (not all of them clearly you can pick) in terms of most likely to be possessive towards their partner? I'm curious of your take :)

HAIKYUU ! HEADCANONS

haikyuu boys x darling

TW: yandere, possessive, obsessive and controlling behaviour, abuse, manipulation

Most possessive haikyuu boys, you say...

Is all of them an option?

I mean... these are competitors, and personally, I think competitors are a very specific breed of somewhat toxic feelings – and that’s aside from their grandiose sense of self. We have a name for it in Norwegian; we call them competition-humans– which basically refers to that feral state some people get into during a competition, where they have complete tunnel vision and lack all sorts of a moral compass in their chase of victory.

And I think competitors as yanderes view love with that same type of tunnel vision. How they have a goal to reach, and nothing and no one is going to stop them, and nothing and no one is going to take it away from them.

That being said… I think some of the Haikyuu boys are more competitive than others.

Oikawa Toru Possessive & Controlling

“If you’re gonna hit it, hit it ‘til it breaks.” – that’s his motto, stating his principle of never going at things half-assed – his aim to be the best, in addition to the middle finger he shows anyone who doesn’t cut it.

Victory is his way of life. And his relationships better live up to it. Anything less would just be embarrassing.

Losing his girl would be embarrassing.

Moreover, anything you do reflects on him, and he’d be damned if it reflects poorly. So you bet your ass he’s possessive of you – and controlling. You’re part of his great empire of success, and losing you would be like this huge stain, this huge defeat – failure. And Oikawa Toru doesn’t fail. Oikawa Toru doesn’t get defeated. Oikawa Toru doesn’t lose.

Kageyama Tobio Possessive & Obsessive

The perfect set can’t be completed if he drops the ball. You are his perfect set, and he’s never ever dropping the ball with you – never losing you and never ever letting you go.

He wants you screaming his name in the bleachers – be his cheerleader – keep your eyes on him and only him. Tell him how great he was. Be his victory prize, his trophy, his treat.

He wants to feel you at his fingertips – drag them over your smooth skin and just touch you – keep you all to himself. And he doesn’t want anyone doing the same. Seeing people talk to you is bad enough. He needs you to focus on him like he’s the only one on the court, and everyone else is just extras – sorry pawns in his triumph.

Kuroo Tetsuro Possessive & Smug

You’re the biggest reason behind that big fat grin of his – because he knows that he has something no one else has. His object of envy – a big 'ol fuck you to absolutely everyone.

More than a trophy, more than arm candy, more than a crown atop his head – you’re his lucky golden ticket into heaven – his cheat sheet that makes him feel like a winner – superior. And everyone else can suck it.

They can look all they want – seethe with jealousy – hate him. It’ll only make him savor it more. Seeing those frustrated looks on people’s faces, like he’s beating them – like he’s got something that everyone else wants but can’t have because it’s his.

Kenma Kozume Possessive & Fanatical

Losing you means game over – and he isn’t in the mood to restart. He’s put time and effort into your relationship – and since life’s only option is hardcore mode, he hasn’t been able to leave any checkpoints.

You’re not player two; you’re all the valuable loot he’s picked up along the way. His precious inventory. His xp and upgrades and level x – his special limited edition item. You belong to him; he’s earned you.

He’s been dedicated and worked hard and put too much effort into achieving you – so no way is he about to share you with anyone who hasn’t chipped in, and he’s most certainly not about to lose you either.

They’d have to beat him first.

Kyotani Kentaro Possessive & Dogged

He goes for the throat. People can test him – fucking try it – they’d be lucky if they could count the cuts, fractures, and breaks. He doesn’t let up easily, and once he sees a sliver of red – he isn’t stopping until that’s all he sees.

And you – try and leave; he’s like a dog with a bone – his canines will remain deep and only bite down deeper if you try and break free. The look on his face is enough to make you wince without the way he twists your hair in his fist.

People are afraid to be seen with you. Talking to you is like blood on the breeze, and maddog comes at them with fangs bared, ready to bite before barking. He doesn’t take it easy on you either – like a hound tearing his toy apart before another pup can get to it.

tip-jar: Kofi

#yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyu x reader #yandere oikawa #yandere kageyama #yandere kuroo #yandere kenma #yandere kyotani #yandere #yandere writing #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #haikyuu

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 10 months

Text

Oikawa/F!Chubby!Darling: The Long Game

Commissioned by: anonymous

Word Count: 1000+

TW: noncon, fat-shaming, one use of daddy

Honestly, ____ wondered why or how she'd put up with Oikawa after all these years. He was self-centered, condescending, and always expected her to prioritize him over anyone and anything else--including herself. People constantly said they were nothing alike and as friends, were total opposites; they usually were just talking about how Oikawa was popular and an athletic superstar, and how ____ was a chubby loner, but they had no idea how different the two of them were.

After years of little jabs, backhanded compliments, and grand gestures perfectly timed to make her forget why she hated being around him, ____'d had enough. Her hands shook a little as she checked the time on her phone and reread the message she'd sent to Oikawa earlier:

Hey. I need to talk to you about something important. Can we meet after your practice today?

He'd replied with his usual breezy tone, and ____ doubted he knew that she was planning to end their friendship.

Sure! I'll meet you outside my apartment when I'm done :)

She heard his voice from behind her, just as she felt a pair of hands wrap around her waist.

"Gotcha!"

____ cursed and squirmed away, scowling. "You know I hate that," she chided.

Oikawa laughed her off and led her into his apartment. "Oh, c'mon, I didn't even squish your stomach this time!" After locking the front door, he kicked off his shoes and sank down onto his sofa. "So what did you want to talk about? It sounded kinda serious."

____ hesitated for a moment, and took a deep breath. "I just needed to tell you in person," she said firmly. "I don't think--No. I'm not going to hang out with you anymore."

Oikawa blinked, his smile unchanging. "Just because I did the Tummy Grab again? Psssh, I've been doing that since 5th grade with you–"

"Yeah, you've always been an asshole to me," ____ snapped. "Always making me feel worthless. Always expecting me to drop everything for The Oikawa, Prince of Volleyball. Fuck what I want, fuck how I feel, because unlike you I'm not center of the universe! I'm sick of dealing with it. Dealing with you." Her voice grew louder and she felt her heartbeat race as she finally said what she'd been thinking for over a decade.

"I've got other friends now, you know. And they have no idea who you are." ____ felt a surge of pride at the way he silently stared at her. For once, he was speechless. "It's fucking great. They don't constantly point out my weight, they don't make me feel insecure, and they don't gush over how cool it must be to have known you as a kid. They didn't befriend me just because they wanted to get to you. They care about me, way more than you ever have!"

____ clenched her fists and straightened her back. "So, I'm done," she concluded. "It's a courtesy you'd never give to me, but I didn't want to tell you this over the phone. If you see me on campus, don't talk to me. Bye."

She'd only taken two steps towards the door before Oikawa grabbed her wrist and swiftly threw her onto the floor. She gasped and suddenly felt him pinning her arms painfully to her sides as he looked down at her.

"I haven't spent all these years keeping you close and wearing you down just for you to leave," he replied with a nasty smile. "You think you're strong enough to just walk away? I know you're not, because I made you this way. I wore you down." He groped ____'s left breast and sighed softly when she whimpered. "You're right. I wasn't a good friend to you because you're not my friend." He leaned down and cupped her cheek, his face mere inches away.

"You're mine."

The moment his lips crashed into hers, when he finally got to claim her after years of pining and planning to keep her trapped with him, he let out another moan as his eyes rolled back slightly. ____ tried to kick him off, but he just chuckled and easily held her down while he pushed her shirt and bra up to reveal her breasts and stomach. "See, if you thought for so long that nobody would want you…" He toyed with her nipples and and nipped at her neck, and she teared up. "Then you'd never try to be with anyone. And I could keep these cute tits, those pouty lips, these soft thighs–" He started to grind against her–"All to myself."

He only pulled away to quickly cast his shorts and boxers aside before yanking her own bottoms off. "But if you actually do grow a spine and leave, it's all ruined!" He laughed shakily as he rubbed the tip of his precum-slicked cock back and forth against her clitoris, and eventually prodded her entrance once she felt wet enough.

____ sobbed at the sensation of his cock threatening to enter her, begging him to stop, promising that she wouldn't call the cops if he let her go, and Oikawa smiled lovingly at her. "There's my pathetic lil' crybaby," he cooed.

The two of them gasped as he eased himself inside of her, and Oikawa sighed happily while rocking into her cunt. "Fuck, I've dreamed about this for years," he moaned. "All sorts of ways, too. Hehe…you wearing my jersey, playing with your pussy during class, putting us on speakerphone with my friends, calling me Daddy and begging me to make you cum–"

"God, shut up!" ____ sniffled and glared up at him, trying to kick him off of her. "You're fucking disgusting! I hate you, I–"

Oikawa cut her off by grabbing her thighs and shoving them up, folding her in half as he suddenly fucked her at a fast and feverish pace. If she kept this up, he was gonna cum any second. "Go ahead and hate me, baby. You're still never getting rid of me…"

#.myshit #tw: noncon #plus size darling #.oikawa #yandere oikawa #yandere haikyuu #.haikyuu #fem darling #.commission

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lyomeii · 10 months

Text

better together

❀ warnings: yandere theme (but slightly), obsession, someone else flirt with the reader, jealous oikawa.

❀ request by anon! Can I ask for a Yandere Oikawa fanfiction? *no cheating* thank you

❀ a/n: I loved writing this for tooru! he is one the character that wrote a lot back when i used to write back on twitter, so it’s make me quite happy to someone to request him. and I have decided to write a small fanfic instead of the usual headcanons because why not?

maybe agreeing to hanging out with oikawa wasn’t a bad decision, regardless of he choosing to visit an observatory, the boy paid for the dinner earlier. so, why not sticking around to get know him better?

“are you enjoying it?” his voice brought you back to reality. how long have you spacing out while looking to the fish’s aquarium? he was probably talking about something important.

feeling his hands into yours is a reminder that oikawa might be disappointed that you failed to hear whatever he was talking about. that’s is really bad for a first date, you don’t want to lose this opportunity.

you nodded, “yep.” the small smile in your lips is way more than enough to make his day better. “i never being to an aquarium before, so thanks for bringing me here.”

“I’m glad to hear it, [name].” he replied.

soon, the silence took over them. it might a little awkward between the two, but oikawa feel it’s better to stay like this than ruining the mood between the person that he wants to know more. continuing to hold your hand, the brown haired boy showed you the rest of the aquarium, at least, his favorite parts.

one place that call your attention is the souvenir shop, where many things are in sell. candies, clothes, plushies and other stuffs that you are looking forward to buy to him. maybe an otter plush will suit him.

“I’m buying this for you.” you said, handing him the small plush as you paid at the cashier. while a smile is on your face, oikawa is quite surprised by how you just got him something so cute as this plush, but he also quite disappointed in himself, after all, he was the one to supposed to buy cute things to you.

after staring at his new gift, oikawa let a small giggle of his lips, he is both impressive and happy with the way you act with him. none of his previous dates ever got him something like this! his friends were right, you are indeed a small box full of surprises just ready to be open.

“thanks, [name].” he smiled, feeling the soft texture of the plushy in his hand is a reminder that he will ask you out more after. “do you want to go home already?”

you smile and hold his hand once again, ready to leave the aquarium with oikawa at your side. you definitely will let him take you out in more dates like this, especially if you could more gifts to him.

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

#yandere imagine #yandere #oikawa tooru x reader #yandere oikawa #yandere x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #oikawa x reader #hq oikawa x reader #yandere headcanon #yandere x you #yandere male

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mango-bango-bby · 1 year

Note

AHHHH I LOVE THE PRINCE OIKAWA i I know you’re busy with the follower event but i really want some more prince oikawa maybe headcanons 💖💘💞💕🥺🥺💝💗🥹💓💝

♡ The Prince and the Maid ♡

(A/N: I loved writing the first one so I’m so glad to be writing headcanons 💗 I hope you like this, I feel like some of the points, I already went through in the first one so I apologize for that 😭😭)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, fantasy au, prince!Oikawa, maid!reader, possessiveness, kidnapping, isolation

Summary: Prince Tooru loves you, his maid (Yan!Oikawa x GN!reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

♡↞ Previous

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

♡ Oikawa was pining after you for a long, long time. He tried to catch your attention in every romantic way possible. He had you ‘promoted’, meaning you had your own room and didn’t sleep in the maid’s quarters. You often got food that was made specifically for you, it was made to cater to your favorites. You even found gifts on your bed, such as roses and even jewelry left on your bed, although you often brought them to the high up maids, believing that they were left for you by mistake.

♡ You two met as children, you were being trained to work in the castle by your parent who also worked there when you met Oikawa. He was persistent in becoming your friend, seemingly finding you wherever you were in the castle. And that trend continued into your adulthood, Oikawa would always somehow convince you to sneak off with him so he could hang out with you. He had been in love with you for years yet you never seemed to notice.

♡ Oikawa didn't want to force you into a relationship with him, he could force you to marry him at any moment as he was going to be king. But he wanted you to love him back, to be happy. In the meantime while trying to woo you, he definitely still tried to sort of trick you into loving him. He makes sure to keep the other guards and maids away from you, Oikawa being one of the only few people you see.

♡ You never thought a relationship with him would never work, he was going to be king after all. You expected him to marry royalty from a neighboring kingdom. And everyone else but you could see that you were going to end up being the one he chose. He wanted to love you and he was, when you finally realized and he told you straightforward.

♡ Despite how protective Oikawa is of you, he does let you leave the castle grounds sometimes, but only by his side. A small walk in the woods or even some time in the kingdoms town isn’t unheard of. But you always Oikawa and a couple guards right next to you at all times.

♡ Oikawa would never want to punish you or hurt you ever. There are very rare instances where he would want to lock you up. You had gotten romantically involved with a guard at one point, or at least Oikawa thought that he was flirting with you. He didn’t hesitate to lock you up in a tower in the castle where you couldn’t see the guard you were talking to.

♡ While locked up, you told Oikawa that you were scared and you wanted everything to go back to normal. He would just hold you, petting your head and shushing you softly. He told you he just wanted to keep you safe and that he can’t have you getting into danger with anyone. You definitely understand that he loves you now, but you still need to get used to his love until you can finally marry him and love him back.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

#fantasy au #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa #yandere!oikawa #yandere haikyuu #yandere tooru #yandere toru x reader #yandere tooru x reader

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i-cant-sing · 8 months

Note

OH MY GOD, OIKAWA WOULD 💯 SLUT SHAME READER FOR WEARING A SKIRT OR SOMETHING SHORT.

Like he doesn’t care that it’s the uniform

He would!!! But like... he doesn't actually believe in it, especially if he's a platonic yandere. He's only saying it to "tease" you or bug you like most brothers do. He'd never compliment you if you ever looking nice, or if he did, it'd be a backhanded compliment. Something like- "that's a nice dress. Too bad you need to wear heels to compensate for your height! Haha, have fun!"

I can see the yandere fan girls actually dressing you up in one of the cute skirts and doing a proper "girly girl" look on you because you mentioned that you were gonna go out on a date (that Oikawa doesn't know about yet and you made the fan girls promise not to tell him because you wanted to see how things would go. In exchange for singing their praises to Oikawa of course, no good deed is free). And maybe they wanted to show you off to Oikawa, let him be impressed by how they take care of you.

They drag you to the gymnasium where he's practicing with the team.

"Tooru-chan!" They call it to him, while you're standing there, arms linked with theirs so that you can't run off.

Oikawa turns towards you, eyes widening ever so slightly at your appearance. You looked beautiful, absolutely adorable.

He walks closer, the fan girls are bubbling in excitement, you are shifting from one foot to another, nervous under his eyes that never leave yours.

"We dressed Y/n up!" One of the girls said cheerfully. "Do you like it?"

Did we a good job, Tooru? They all wondered silently.

Oikawa smiled, and the girls automatically matched his expression, only to turn to confusion as he suddenly began laughing, belly aching, thigh slapping laugh.

He was laughing at you.

"W-what the hell are you wearing!" He said between his laughs, gasping for air.

"I-" you were at a loss for words, immeadiately turning red at his reaction. Did you look bad?

He stopped laughing, slowing down to chuckles as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Heh, what in the world were you thinking? You looked like someone puked pink on you." He pointed to your skirt and snorted. "And why would you wear a skirt? What are you trying to show off? Your square buff calves? And heels? Wow, I did not know you had chubby ankles." Your eyes welled up with tears, threatening to spill. And the fan girls could sense your humiliation, so they tried to intervene.

The leader of the fan club spoke up. "Tooru, stop joking around. She looks beautiful and you-"

"Was I taking to you?" He cut her off swiftly, glaring at her.

Oikawa walked closer to you until he was right in front of you. He bended his knees a little so he could be face to face with you. His eyes bore into your teary ones and Oikawa didn't smile as his thumb came up to smear the gloss off your lips.

"Pink gloss? Really? You look like an idiot. Change. Now." That was all it took for your tears to start falling as you ran out of the gymnasium.

Oikawa only stared at the gymnasium door that you had just ran out of, as he spoke to fan girls, but to no one in particular.

"Never dress her up like that again. She looked like a slut." He didn't need to say "or else", his fans already knew of the deadly consequences. As he returned to his practice, the girls left the gymnasium, some went to console you, while others went to their room to silently ponder upon your outfit that Oikawa deemed "slutty".

Especially because all of them dressed up like that.

So was it okay for them to look "slutty"? Or did Oikawa not like their style too?

While they went over a existential crisis over their wardrobe, Oikawa was being scolded by Iwazumi for what he said to you. Oikawa didn't bother explaining himself, because he knew what he did was right.

You did not look slutty, but if you showed your skin like that, other guys will get the wrong idea. He knows "locker room talk" the guys have, what they reduce girls to. And he'd rather you he single and insecure by his side eh were he can protect you, than look available and be hurt and heartbroken a million times worse by some scum bag, all while you're away from him.

What Oikawa didn't see was you leaving the house dressed in your comfy clothes (the girls made you change into the sweats that Oikawa had gotten for you, still trying to win his favour) and meeting your date, who proceded to hang his jacket around you when the wind picked up.

The jacket had his name on it.

USHIMJIMA.

Wonder what would cause Oikawa to have an aneurysm first? The Shiratorizawa jacket that engulfs your body? The picture of you dating his arch nemesis? Or the way Ushijima who towers over you, bends down to kiss you?

My money is on "Ushijima is now a yandere for you and you're the first and last girl he'll ever date and Oikawa will have to pry you from his cold dead arms before he'll let you go."

#yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyu x reader #platonic yandere #platonic yanderes #yandere platonic

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yanderecrazysie · 3 months

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What do you think would happen if Iwaizumi and Oikawa were both yandere for the same darling?

First off, I think Oikawa would be much more willing to share that Iwaizumi would be. Iwaizumi's already jealous that Oikawa gets all the girls, so it would be frustrating for him to share the girl he loves most with someone who could have any other girl he liked. Plus he is very possessive.

I think they would both try to pursue you separately, but if Iwaizumi lost to Oikawa, his best friend would be more than willing to share. If Iwaizumi won, he would be hesitant to share with Oikawa.

If neither of them won, they would be at a loss. I think they would end up working together at this point instead of continuing to pursue you separately.

Iwaizumi would be very happy if you rejected Oikawa, even if you rejected him too.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!!#yandere thoughts #yandere oikawa #yandere iwaizumi #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime

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depravitycentral · 7 months

Text

Yandere! Tooru Oikawa General Profile

Yandere! Tooru Oikawa x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, mentions of stalking, non-consensual touching, mentions of non-con, possessiveness, mentions of murder, threats, one brief mention of eating/eating enough, extreme dependency, allusions to neglect, this one's a little sad because I think Tooru could only become yandere for someone he's known for quite a while like a friend, brief mentions of physical violence, manipulation, Tooru is mean to a fan so reminder to never meet your heroes, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10K

DARLING PROFILE:

Sweet

First and foremost, while Tooru deeply respects and loves Iwaizumi, his teammates and his often insulting banter with them, there’s nothing that melts his heart more than genuine compliments from those he cares about.

Of course, he’s used to women fawning over him; telling him how handsome he is, how talented he is, how wonderful and amazing and rich he is.

And it feels nice in the moment, making his ego swell and a smirk slip onto those pink lips of his, but Tooru wants more.

He wants real compliments, praise for things that are more personal, things that only a true companion could know about. He’s tired of false flattery, of people telling him such sweet words just to get close to him for his status, his wealth, his pretty face.

He wants someone who is kind just to be kind – someone who means what they say when they compliment others.

It makes his heart race in his chest, something about their sincerity making him freeze up when his darling tells him how dedicated and passionate he is for putting in so much effort into volleyball.

It makes his breath catch a bit when they smile and sigh and tell him how proud they are when he cuts off his practice early, so that he isn’t spending hours afterwards serving and hitting until he breaks down.

He wants a darling that will be sweet and feed his somewhat precarious ego, and he’ll eagerly return the favor. He’s pouring compliments on them left and right, drowning them in kind words designed to get them flustered and bashful and so fucking adorable.

He just finds it endearing, and it’s a nice break from the usual women he meets. His darling is different, special, perfect, after all.

Perceptive

Although time has helped Tooru become more comfortable with himself, he’s still a bit hesitant to show his true self to others.

He’s worn a persona for most of his adult life, even starting way back in high school – he’s charming and smooth, always acting happy and suave.

And for the most part, he doesn’t mind – but with a select few of his friends and close companions, the world doesn’t get to know the real Tooru Oikawa.

His darling, however, is one of the very few who are on this list – and having a perceptive darling would make him fall much, much quicker.

His darling needs to be someone who is capable of catching clues as to the man that lives behind the mask; the one that still doubts himself, the one who needs constant encouragement, the one who just needs to be wanted and loved and appreciated for his hard work and his actions.

His darling needs to be able to help slowly push past the façade that he’s crafted over the years, and while they don’t need to see everything, they need to be able to make Tooru feel comfortable enough to actually be himself.

Someone who is able to pick up on his emotions, even when they aren’t terribly obvious, would be immensely attractive to him. It makes him feel seen and heard in a way that’s difficult to come by as a famous athlete, and the moment his darling showcases this ability, it’s only a matter of time before Tooru’s feelings are developing in full force.

It’s just refreshing to not have to pretend to be someone he isn’t – he’s just Tooru, not Oikawa the athlete.

It only further proves to him that his darling is made for him – they’re able to read and understand him like most people don’t, and what other possible sign could there be that they’re perfect for one another?

Honest

While Tooru’s darling must be kind, they must also be someone who isn’t afraid to tell him the truth.

All the women he meets in his daily life want to use him – whether it be his money, his fame, his looks, very few are honest about their intentions with him.

And while it makes him feel good to be wanted by so many people, Tooru often finds himself exhausted from all the effort and analysis he must undergo in order to really understand someone’s intentions.

And so, a darling that’s upfront about how they’re feeling and what they want is very, very attractive to him.

He tends to overthink and hyperfixate on things, and having a darling who leaves nothing unanswered calms his anxiety monumentally.

He doesn’t have to guess with them – he knows he can trust their word, that they won’t easily lie to him, that what they’re saying is exactly what they’re thinking.

It makes his heart flutter when they tell him that his hair looks good today, or when they tell him that they want to catch lunch sometime and hear about his latest game.

It makes him feel wanted and understood in a way that’s rare in his daily life, only furthering his obsession and fixation on his darling.

Calm

Tooru can be a bit childish. Even well into his twenties, this still rings true – he gets jealous easily and feels challenged by small comments and doubts of his ability.

His anger can get easily sparked by the right person, and having a darling that balances out these characteristics is a necessity for him.

A calmer darling helps keep him grounded, making sure that he keeps his head and doesn’t make any rash decisions.

They act as a sort of grounding rock for him – they’re able to bring him back to Earth with just a few words and a light touch to his shoulder, reminding him that some things aren’t worth his time or effort.

It’s useful, of course, but Tooru also finds it incredibly attractive when his darling is able to handle situations calmly on their own – he likes how confident they seem, how they’re able to logically think their way through a situation and not allow their emotions to get the better of them.

It’s awe-inspiring, if he’s being honest, and with every situation and interaction they successfully navigate with a smile and an even tone, Tooru only finds himself growing more and more impressed, becoming more and more interested in them until eventually it becomes all too much, their calm nature becoming something he grows dependent on in order to regulate himself.

Having his darling around becomes a necessity rather than simply a pleasure – and thus, his dependency is born, his reliance on his darling becoming one of the main facets of his obsession.

How lucky for his beloved.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Possessive

It’s no secret that Tooru has never had to seriously work to get women. He’s attractive, a professional athlete, wealthy, famous – all in all, he’s a catch to countless fans, any of whom would be more than willing to be his partner.

And while he’s dated around, had a few serious boyfriends and girlfriends, he’s never really found the one.

For a long time, he seriously wondered if there was something wrong with him; he’s nearly 30, meeting countless new people everyday, going on dates every weekend with someone new, and he still hasn’t found a worthwhile connection with anyone long term. So why have all his friends begun slipping pretty rings onto their partners’ fingers, inviting him with a too-wide smile to attend their new house-warming party, or even posting a baby bump photo with far too many emojis?

He’s skeptical, and so while his confidence in his attractiveness doesn’t diminish by any means, Tooru slowly becomes less convinced that he’ll end up with a long term partner, a spouse, anything beyond a summer fling or a good, few month spark.

However, once his feelings for you develop, a sudden ray of hope is placed into his life. Suddenly, the prospect of dying alone doesn’t seem as imminent – how can it be, when you’re around?

How can he feel sad about his future when you’re so sweet and smart and pretty and god, that fucking smile –

He’s fallen head over heels before he even knows it, and while he exists in a somewhat honeymoon state for a while after the realization of his feelings, full of longing and dreamy smiles with red tinged cheeks and erratic heartbeats when he lays his eyes on you, quickly other feelings accompany. Ugly, disgusting feelings that Tooru hasn’t felt to such extreme degrees since high school, and never in the context of romance.

Namely, every time he sees you out in public, the adoration for the way the sunlight reflects off your hair is diminished by the coursing jealousy in his veins as he watches other men ogle you.

When he’s got you laughing at some joke he’s telling over your weekly lunch, he can’t fully enjoy the lilting sound because that damn waiter keeps coming back and asking if you want water, his body way too fucking close to you to be truly professional.

He’s suddenly acutely aware of just how beautiful and stunning you are, and how much male attention that gives you. He doesn’t blame you – no, of course not – because you’re simply perfect, and how are you supposed to know everyone wants a bite of you? No, Tooru sees you as much more helpless than that; you’re naïve, and it’s really only a matter of time before another man attempts to steal you away from him.

He knows it’s inevitable that you’ll be approached by someone else, and while they probably won’t be as handsome, wealthy, or athletically gifted as Tooru is, would you be swayed?

Is it possible that another man could win your heart, even with the setter right there in front of you all but begging for your adoration and love?

As time passes, Tooru slowly begins believing that it absolutely could happen, that any day now you could be pried away from his iron clad grip, no matter how hard he fights it. And so, he more or less panics.

He’s never really had to worry about keeping girls before, and how does it even work?

What should he do?

What should he say?

How short a leash is too short to keep you on?

He’s lost, quite frankly, and extremely embarrassed about it, because only immature, insecure men get jealous over their partner. Only men not confident in themselves panic over the thought of their beloved leaving them, and Tooru hasn’t felt crippling insecurity like this in years.

And yet, just one thought of you smiling in the direction of another man has him gritting his teeth, his arms flexing as his nails dig deeply into his fisted palms.

And so, Tooru decides that to keep you his, he’ll just have to show the world – through extravagant gifts, of course.

Suddenly there are bouquets of flowers arriving for you nearly everywhere you go – you wake up to deliveries at 8:00 sharp, a bouquet of sunflowers with a small note written in looping letters as these flowers grew, so did my dedication to you.

Necklaces with chains you’re fairly sure are made of real silver have the initial T and O engraved into them, winding around a heart and what almost appears to be a knife, though you’re not sure. Anklets, too, arrive, with sayings like angel or darling (one even featured babygirl, though you were quick to throw that particular piece of jewelry to the back of your closet, half amused at the – presumably – joke, half disturbed at the prospect of his sincerity).

You’re not sure who these gifts are coming from initially; you don’t know anything off the top of your head that would do something like this, until very suddenly it all clicks – the way Tooru looks so smug when you receive flowers while you’re out at lunch with him, the tulips your favorite color while the delivery man reads off the card Tooru had instructed him to. It pieces together when you see him sign legal forms or checks, that familiar signature and those initials jogging your memory. You only put the pieces together after Tooru’s need for your focused attention grows to new heights – physical touchiness, particularly in public spaces.

He’s always been clingy as a friend, but suddenly his hand is always at your waist, fingertips pressing in too tight for comfort.

He’s always liked hugs, but now his hugs feel strangely intimate; he’s pressing against you, burying his nose into your neck and audibly inhaling, a sigh falling from his lips as he periodically squeezes your body in his arms.

His hand is resting at the small of your back when you’re standing next to him, a steady palm to guide you through crowded spaces – though sometimes he ‘forgets what he’s doing’, as he tells you, and his hand ends up cradling the curve of your hip, dipping down to the flat of your tailbone, or jumping up and almost seeming to lightly, oh so airily trace the outline of your bra straps through your top.

(He hasn’t quite mustered up the courage to actually grope you in public, if only because he’s scared that you’ll be put off by him, and although he deeply, desperately wishes to touch you in such an intimate way, he’s a bit nervous that once he begins, he’ll never be able to stop.)

The physical affection grows extreme, his hands never leaving your body, reaching the point where it’s difficult to simply explain it away as platonic, as Tooru just being Tooru.

And yet, when you bring it up to him, those brown eyes go all wide, his mouth tilting down into a frown as he tells you he’s sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! If you want I won’t touch you at all, I’d never want you to be unhappy around me; although, haven’t you noticed how all those creeps that used to hit on you don’t bug you anymore when I’m with you? Maybe it’s a good thing – I can be your hero and keep all the freaks away from you!

(The sincerity and conviction in the pouting of his lip and the creasing of his brow will have you swaying immediately, merely brushing off his words as being an attempt at humor rather than the truth.)

He’s not trying to be purposefully manipulative, but the words are falling out of his mouth before he can stop it, your face slowly changing as you consider his point, slowly nodding and smiling lightly, telling him he’s absolutely right, thank you Tooru, I don’t know what I’d do without you.

And just the sound of his name alone has him doubling down, touching you more, his possessive streak only growing exponentially with every permission you give to his tendencies, with every smile and giggle and fleeting touch.

How can he be expected to control himself when you look at him like that, all doe eyes and beaming smile and fuck, your hand is on his chest, if you’d just slide it down ever so slightly, following the thin line of dark brown hair you’d find a place that really, truly can’t resist you. God knows he’s tried.

Obsessive

Tooru’s always had a tendency to hyperfixate.

He’s a bit of a perfectionist, wanting to become the master at whatever he chooses to invest his time in, and once his feelings for you solidify, you are suddenly at the top of the list, very narrowly beating out volleyball.

Suddenly, Tooru finds himself yearning to learn every bit of information about you he can, every scrap feeling precious no matter how insignificant.

Sure, maybe it’s not the most important thing, but knowing how you like your toast makes his chest swell with pride.

(Do you like it lightly toasted? Darkly toasted? With butter? With jam? With peanut butter? With or without the crusts? It’s all important, so that one day when he’s routinely surprisingly you with breakfast in bed you’ll smile at him and exclaim how it’s just so perfect, giving him a soft, loving kiss and feeding him a bit of the toast, wiping away the jam from the corner of his jaw and licking it off your thumb, telling him to join you in bed because it’s so big and lonely without him and you’d been dreaming of you, Tooru, and you’ll never guess what we were doing…)

He’ll admit that maybe knowing the order you get dressed in the morning isn’t the most imperative piece of your daily life, but he’ll still recite the order in his head every night as he lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling and imagining if your routine to get undressed is the same.

He’s not picky with the information he learns, approaching every opportunity with enthusiasm, excitement, and a disturbing amount of eagerness.

And the way he goes about collecting this information isn’t limited, either – he’s not particularly partial to stalking you, if only because he’d rather you be acknowledging him and aware of his company, and because it’s difficult to simply blend in as a well-known athlete.

Rather, he falls back on some equally morally gray methods – it’s not hard to get his hands on a few for-hire personal hackers, his money spreading like water as he gets into every internet browser you’ve ever used, the history in every app you frequent, your camera roll, your documents, your notes apps and reminders.

Hell, even your settings are at his fingertips, eager brown eyes flicking through the different ways you have your backgrounds, profiles pictures, even the way you group your apps.

It’s all so interesting, his thumb endlessly scrolling through the information over and over until time starts to blur, four hours having passed without him even noticing.

He’s pouring through your watch history on all your favorite streaming platforms, compulsively watching your most viewed shows and movies over and over until he can nearly recite every line, eagerness and excitement lacing his voice with every word that leaves his mouth.

He’s analyzing anything he can get his fingers on, endlessly fascinated and entertained by anything and everything that even remotely pertains to you. You’re like some drug he’s found himself addicted to, his body physically craving you, the desire to always be thinking of you and with you nearly suffocating.

But he’s a busy man, and he doesn’t want to scare you off, so he can’t just constantly be around you, constantly following you or pressing for your attention – it would scare you, he’s sure, so he settles for almost living vicariously through you.

By watching your favorite shows and looking at your search histories, it’s almost like he’s next to you, like he’s spending time with you, like he’s an active part of your life. It’s almost like you’re together, the thing he yearns for more than anything.

And even once you’re under his roof, stolen and kept soundly by his side, Tooru’s obsessive tendencies don’t disappear – now that you know, now that you’re aware of the depth of his infatuation, why should he bother hiding just how much he knows about you?

Why should he take the time and effort to mask just how expansive his knowledge on you goes? Sure, it may scare you a bit, but he simply can’t hold himself back anymore – you have to let him show you just how dedicated he is to you.

You must let him cook you your favorite meals (perfectly done, even strange flavor combinations you don’t remember mentioning to him), let him rub your back (with that one exact movement he knows you love), let him play music for you (your favorite songs, of course), and let him buy new clothes for you (they’re the perfect sizes, your favorite colors, your favorite styles).

He just wants to please you, to get you looking at him with admiration, fondness, joy, and he’s willing to put every scrap of information he’s gleaned about you to use.

He wants to spoil you and make you the happiest you’ve ever been, all so you’ll smile at him and compliment him, so that you’ll praise him and kiss him and tell him that he’s perfect, you’re everything I could ever want Tooru.

He craves your validation, so please, please let him please you – let him stare at you for hours at a time, taking in every detail of your face, every mannerism of your movements, every inflection of your voice.

It makes him happy, makes him feel needed, wanted, like he’s actually contributing something, like he's treating you like a good, loving, loyal man – please, let yourself need him.

Because he needs you more than you could ever know.

Clingy

Of course, while Tooru’s jealousy and obsessiveness regarding you is certainly not an easy load to bear, by far the hardest part of being the center of his devotion is the touching.

He’s always been clingy, even back before his feelings for you had developed – as friends, he was texting you near constantly, all kinds of stupid videos and jokes making your phone light up with notifications at the most inconvenient times.

He’s always been physically affectionate with you, whether it be hugs or ruffling your hair or lighthearted shoves, the actions never feeling forced or unnatural or strange. But once his feelings develop, things change.

The clinginess doesn’t change – no, if anything it just gets stronger, the urge to be around you and have your attention and feel you growing more and more pressing by the day.

No, the thing that changes is the atmosphere that comes alongside his growing desperation.

What used to be a small, casual hug of greeting when you meet up to eat becomes a very tense three second hug, his hands settling firmly at your waist and his brown hair tickling your neck with how deeply he buries his face against you.

(Often you think you can hear him sniffling, as if he was smelling, as if he was breathing you in, but the moment passes too quickly for you to really be sure.)

What used to be a casual holding of hands when he guides you through a crowded space becomes him snaking his fingers between yours, his palms clammy and sweaty, his fingers gripping onto yours tight, tightly enough to sometimes be painful.

What used to be flirtatious comments with very little meaning that he’d occasionally throw your way just to tease you become real, all traces of a joke erased from his tone as he tells you that you’re more beautiful than any flower after you mention how lovely the nearby flowerpot is.

Things slowly begin feeling different the longer his infatuation carries on, to the point where you will have to actively start dismissing these changes as merely being in your head – of course Tooru isn’t acting weird when he pulls you against his hip so that you’re walking side by side down the street.

Why would that be weird?

Sure, the street is nearly deserted so there’s no chance of running into anyone, and sure there’s no cracks or holes in the walkway to warrant you having to be careful, but it’s not weird.

(Just don’t look down – the dress pants he’d donned for the occasion – your date, he likes to think – do a very poor job of hiding just how your body heat is affecting him, of just how the way you fit against his side is making him feel.)

You’ll slowly get the feeling that Tooru is pushing your boundaries, every day finding a way to poke and prod just a bit more, to blur the lines of friend and boyfriend just a hair, just to see how far he can get without you calling him out for his behavior.

And when you eventually do reach your limit, wherever it may be, don’t breath too heavy a sigh of relief – because while he’ll try to tone it down as much as possible (he has to, because when you look so upset with him it makes his heart physically ache, the words of agreement already slipping out of his mouth because he’d do anything to get you smiling at him again), his clinginess is nothing compared to how it is once he’s stolen you away.

Once you’re living under the same roof as him, things will very, very quickly get out of hand. Any semblance of personal space and boundaries you may have are merely a suggestion to him, something of the past that can be plowed right past because now you’re his, and he’s yours.

Now there’s no reason to try and hold himself back – you know how he feels now, the level of desperation with which he wants you, so why should he bother trying to save his decorum or keep things platonic? He’s waited for so very long to touch you as he pleases, and while he won’t force anything too extreme on you, you will be subject his physical affections.

He’s constantly got a hand on your body, whether that’s resting on your shoulder, your waist, your thigh, your cheek, your ass, anything at all. He’s always hugging you, letting his long arms wrap around your shoulders as lets out a sound much too similar to a moan to be comfortable, pressing his body directly into yours so that he can feel every inch of you against him and feel more connected to you.

He’s always pressing kisses against your hands and legs, letting his lips travel from your fingertips up to your elbows, down over your shoulders to your belly button, down the slope of your thighs and finishing on the curve of your ankle, those brown eyes half lidded in far too much passion as you shiver in disgust.

He’s always trying to get you to return his affections, too – it’s great to hug you and sit you in his lap, but he wants you to want it, to want him, to want his touch.

He tries to keep all the affection pleasurable for you, to have you happy and smiling and craving the human contact, because the only thing worse than you rejecting his love is you rejecting his touch.

And so it’s not uncommon for him to whisper to you as he’s got his arm hooked around your waist, lying on his side with you spooned up to him if you’re enjoying this, does this feel good for you?

(His voice is unsure, hesitant, almost afraid, your response the difference between his heart breaking or beating out of his chest.)

He’s incredibly vulnerable when he’s touching you, his desperation and the raw need he feels for you bleeding out of him in ways that make it absolutely impossible for you to ignore. How can you? When he’s mindlessly playing with your fingers as he tells you about the upcoming game this weekend, he can’t stop marveling at the softness of your fingers against his calloused ones, his skin brushing yours even as you try to pull away.

When he’s clutching onto the shirt – his shirt – adorning your figure as he holds you against his chest on the couch, you’ll notice how his grip doesn’t falter for even a moment, staying steadfast and firm and strong. Frankly, even with all the rage and betrayal you feel towards Tooru, his touchiness and clinginess will likely be the source of the growing pity you feel for him.

Because really, isn’t he just so pathetic? He’s an absolute mess unless he's touching you – anxiety overwhelms him, panicked thoughts about whether you actually love him, about whether he’s even worthy of your love, whether he’s a talented player or an number of other insecurities that suddenly come racing to the surface.

So really, while it’s not ideal, you’d best get used to his handsiness – it’s intense, to say the least, and while he’ll never force himself onto you, he will force his affection onto you.

It’s better for you to simply let it happen – enjoy the human contact while you can, because when he leaves for the long, long trips for series of away games, you’ll find yourself missing your captor’s touch.

Isn’t it all just so sick?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Tooru is, unfortunately, a naturally jealous man. He’s always been both envious of others and painfully aware of his own shortcoming in every aspect of his life. Volleyball, friendships, even his own love life have left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, always acutely aware of what other people do better, what they have, frustration eating him alive because why can’t he be better or have what they have?

It’s unhealthy and as he’s gotten older he’s gotten better at keeping the jealousy at bay, but he’s still victim to the green-eyed monster much more often than he’d care to admit.

And where you’re concerned, this natural tendency only gets worse, his possessiveness flaring to worrying degrees when another man so much as looks at you.

(His jealousy is actually one of the major reasons why he even realized that his feelings for you transformed from platonic to romantic, his love for you changing from laughing at your jokes to wanting you gasping and writhing and needing him.)

Though, while desperation guides Tooru in most ways regarding your relationship, he still has enough of a grip on his lucidity to know that being jealous of every man that interacts with you is neither reasonable nor attractive to you.

Surely, other men must want you – you’re gorgeous, after all, sexy and perfect and everything he could ever want. Other men must see these qualities in you too; if they didn’t, they’d be stupid in Tooru’s opinion.

And yet, particularly in the beginning of his obsession, Tooru tries desperately to fight the rising jealousy he feels for you.

It’s not normal to want to throttle the man you make eye contact with on the street – you didn’t even speak, just merely catch eyes for a brief moment. So, instead of marching up to the man and socking him in the face like he wishes, Tooru just grits his teeth, pulling you closer to his side and asking you a question, hoping to distract you from ever even thinking of that stranger again.

Instead of yelling at the waiter that smiles just a beat too long at you after you order your meal, he just squeezes his hand into a fist, smiling tightly and asking you about coming to the important game he’s playing this weekend, emphasizing that he always plays much better when you’re there.

He’s always trying to play off his jealousy, but the result of his constant bottling of his emotions means that when the bottle finally fills, it overflows – Tooru isn’t normally scary to you, but when the jealousy finally explodes, you’ll find yourself unnerved by one of your closest friends, the man he becomes seeming utterly unfamiliar to you.

The volleyball stadiums are always loud after Club Atletico wins, and you’re sure no matter how many times you come to these games you’ll never get used to the noise.

It’s not hard to slip out of the bleachers and navigate back towards a hallway deep in the bowels of the stadium, the winding halls leaving anyone else surely confused. But you’ve met with Tooru after these matches enough times to know the path like the back of your hand – which is why the presence of another person makes you immediately cock a brow.

The man’s looking at his phone, his face visibly confused, and as your footsteps catch his attention, he looks up at you with relief. He’s quick to ask you how to get back to the main seating area, because he’d wandered off to find a bathroom and now he was truly lost.

The explanation and the exasperated expression he wears gets you chuckling a bit, a smile forming on your lips as you explain the directions to get back upstairs.

He looks lost merely three directions in, and immediately you’re laughing a bit again. He's pocketed his phone by this point, a hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck sheepishly, his voice shy as he asks you to repeat the instructions.

You only get about midway through before a hand places itself at your waist, a sudden pulling motion sending you stumbling back slightly and knocking into something firm and tall. Immediately you jump, looking up to be met with the strong jaw of Tooru, his lips set into a thin line and his brown eyes narrowed on the stranger.

The stranger immediately sucks in a gasp and splutters something out about being a huge fan, I’ve even got your jersey on! You were so good out there, those sets were insane –

He’s cut off a harsh laugh from Tooru, and your confusion only deepens. Tooru turns to look at you, a soft smile quirking up his lips.

Will you go get a towel for me? I’m awfully tired.

You blink but slowly nod, unsure where this sudden request was coming from. As you walk off, Tooru watches you, all the while ignoring the nervous fiddling of the man in front of him.

As soon as you turn the corner towards the training rooms, Tooru’s smile drops and he turns back to face the man. His voice is cold and condescending as he sighs.

Are you always this irritating to talk to?

The stranger’s jaw drops a bit, his nervousness back in full force as he takes a step back, one hand playing with the hem of the jersey.

Oh, uh, sorry, I was just getting some directions from your friend but I’ll be going now…

His steps are quick and rushed as he tries to take off down the hallway, but he freezes when Tooru’s voice calls out again.

Next time, you should save yourself some time and not bother talking to someone so obviously out of your league. It makes you look awfully pathetic, just so you know. Get going, I’m sure your mom’s worried that you haven’t come home to her basement yet tonight.

At that, the man starts moving again, and Tooru notes with a distinct sense of pride that his shoulders are shaking slightly, no doubt both his confidence and idolization of Tooru shattering.

Tooru takes a deep breath and looks up towards the ceiling, letting his eyes close briefly.

It’d been an extreme response, he’ll admit – you’d been standing a good three feet away from the man when he’d happened upon the scene, the man visibly thankful for the directions Tooru could hear you giving, but it didn’t matter.

It couldn’t matter, not when the adrenaline of the game was still rushing through his veins, not when the excitement and giddiness of seeing you was still potent, not when he’d been looking forward to hearing your praises and maybe even getting a hug, the jersey of his that he’d insisted you wear making you look particularly alluring today.

(Seeing the lettering of his last name across your back certainly didn’t hurt, his uniform feeling too tight and too hot.)

The jealousy had just sudden hit him in the moment, a rushing sort of anger that left him only barely able to realize that he needed to get you away now, that the words he’d be spewing at the unfortunate man who’d stolen your attention would surely leave you pissed beyond repair.

He breathes deeply, the anger still swimming in his veins, though releasing it out onto that poor fan was probably not the best choice.

Soon your footsteps are echoing in Tooru’s ears, and his eyes immediately fly open to watch you walk down the hallway, towel in hand and a worried expression on your face.

Are you okay, Tooru?

Your voice is an angel’s, he’s sure of it, and when you look at him with such worry and sincerity, it nearly makes his knees buckle. You’re so damn pretty, and as he gulps and nods, thanking you for the towel, he can’t help but feel a bit smug.

You’re his, damnit, and while telling the man off and losing a fan probably wasn’t the best price for this feeling, Tooru wouldn’t trade it for the world.

And when you go in for a hug, pressing yourself against him (pressing all of yourself against him), Tooru can only wrap his arms around you and return the hug, keeping his grip tight even as you try to pull back.

He’s a jealous man, yes, but when you smell and feel and look this good, can he really be blamed?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Stealing you away isn’t something that immediately occurs to Tooru. He’s got a bit of a hectic schedule; being a professional athlete means an absurd amount of time away from home, an odd sleeping schedule, and a high amount of security needed to ensure his safety.

And frankly, he just doesn’t want to kidnap you – he’s a control freak in many ways regarding you, what with his extreme clinginess and the jealousy constantly eating him alive, but he doesn’t get any pleasure from the idea of controlling you.

And so, he holds off for as long as physically possible to keep from snatching you up for himself – there’s something incredibly alluring about you when you feel free and happy, and he’s terrified that if he were to kidnap you, all those smiles and your pretty laughter that gets his heart racing would disappear forever.

He’s not particularly delusional, and he’s sure you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings if he were to drug you and have you wake up in pretty, lacy chains.

He’s not stupid, and he likes the concept of being able to go out with you far too much to really desire kidnapping you. He likes showing you off too much; his jealousy is all consuming, sure, but being able to parade you around on his arm and show the world that you’re with him is enough to stroke both his ego and his pride, making him suck in an uneven, stuttered breath.

He likes being able to take you out for spontaneous luncheons and dinners, swinging by your modest apartment (one he insists you could do better than, if you’d just let him pay your rent like he keeps offering) in his fancy black car, winking and telling you to hop in, pretty girl, we’re getting Italian! And if you eat the whole pasta bowl I’ll be so impressed I’ll even buy you some of that fancy gelato I know you love.

(Really, he’ll buy it for you no matter what, but he likes the idea that you’re eating enough, that you’re truly feeding yourself, that you’re healthy and safe and still alive and still his his his -)

He likes that he can just shoot you a text and tell you to pack for a tropical destination, requesting your presence at the nearest airport in less than an hour because he just got an extra ticket to the training camp his team is attending in the Caribbean.

He likes the excitement of it all, the way your eyes always get so big and wide and cute when he tells you about the latest adventure he’s dragging you along with or the latest thing he’s planning to buy for you.

He likes the way you always get so bashful and starstruck, utterly shocked and so grateful that you struggle to get your words out, because god the attention feels good.

Seeing you smile at him like that will never fail to send shivers racing across every inch of his body, his fingers trembling and a lump forming in his throat because oh please please please never stop looking at him like this…

It’s just too good for him to willingly end, and he’s terrified that the moment he makes a move towards keeping you in a more secure location, the magic of your happiness and fondness towards him will disappear, leaving you bitter and spiteful towards him.

And really, that’s the worst possible scenario for him – with the exception of one very, very large scenario that could actually convince him to fully kidnap you. That is, when you tell him gently one evening over cocktails and a platter of cheese, meats, and olives that you’re leaving Argentina, he goes very still and very pale.

It’s a mixture of terror, rage, and genuine panic that envelopes him, that leaves him scarily quiet for the rest of the evening, that gets him gripping the steering wheel of his car so tight that his knuckles turn white.

It’s that same horrible, gut-wrenching mixture of emotions that compel him to drive back to your apartment late that same night, his face blank as he uses the spare key you’d given him a while ago to quietly enter, already holding the chloroform soaked rag in his pocket and approaching your bedroom fast, his footsteps almost eager enough to wake you up.

All too soon he’s got your limp body in his backseat, brown eyes glancing frantically between the road in front of him and your form in the rear view mirror, a new mix of foreboding and excitement making his gut twist and turn.

You’ll be angry, surely, but Tooru knows this was his only choice – you were leaving him. What else could he have possibly done?

Being Tooru’s captive will often leave you feeling disoriented, as if you’re walking along a familiar path that’s been left to decompose and rot. Everything feels different and alien and wrong – leaving you with a false sense of comfort that’s shattered at every turn.

It’s strange, because you know Tooru – he’s been your friend for years, but as you come to terms with the extent of his obsession with you, the man you thought you knew slips away from view, leaving you with this husk of him, looking the same but acting nothing like him.

There’s still traces of him – in how he talks to you late at night, curling your body up beside his as he plays with your fingers, his voice a murmur in your ear as he rants about his teammates, the topic feeling so normal and familiar that it almost makes you cry.

There’s traces of him when he puts his hand on your back to guide you into another room, the familiar curve of his palm making your body want to relax and lean into him only for the sudden squeeze he gives you to jolt you right out of that comfort, to remind you that no that isn’t his phone corner poking into your hip like you’d always thought.

There’s traces of him, but by and large Tooru just becomes too much – he’s too touchy, too demanding, too insistent that you be looking at him and only him. He’s always got his hands on you, pressing into your skin or playing with your hair or tracing the shape of your lips and cheeks.

(It’s more of a comfort for him rather than a sexual desire – of course, he very much wants to have you naked and trembling and moaning his name like a prayer, but when he pulls your body against his or rests his forehead against your back, it’s mostly just to make sure that you’re still there, his anxiety about being away from you and losing you calming down just a hair because you’re right fucking here.)

He’s always got those eyes trained on you, watching your every move like a hawk, making shivers roll up your spine no matter how much you get used to the feeling of being observed.

(Being watched while bathing was, admittedly, the most difficult adjustment. He hasn’t forced himself on you – something you’re beyond thankful for - but it’s still jarring to be running the soapy water over your body while he watches from beside the bathtub, his cheeks tinted pink and his voice soft and worryingly husky as he tells you that he’s always loved the scent of your soap, did you know I could smell it back when I used to hug you? That’s why I always put my face against the right side of your neck – you always put extra there. Did you do that for me?)

He’s always talking to you, his voice alternating between teasing with comments that are just a tad bit too sincere to feel like a joke and low and heady, like there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he desperately wants to tell you but just can’t quite force out.

(The compliments he gives you remind you of the old Tooru, but there’s always a certain level of detail added to them that makes your skin crawl – he’ll tell you that you’re so beautiful, your face is perfect, when I sleep it’s all I see…)

It’s scary and weird and his clinginess will have you wanting to scratch your eyes out and claw at him just to get a bit of space, but the reality is that as time passes you’ll slowly grow more and more conflicted about your feelings towards him.

He’s kidnapped you, stolen you away and locked you up away from the rest of the world, and he’s spent countless months collecting fragments of your hair and your old toothbrushes and taken photographs of you and countless other things you’ve yet to discover.

But he treats you well, all things considered, and the more time passes from the kidnapping, your rage slowly cools until all that’s left is an overwhelming pity for the man who claims to love you more than he loves himself.

Because really, isn’t Tooru awfully pathetic?

Isn’t it sad that he needs you so badly that he can’t function unless you’re around, unless he’s felt your touch, unless he’s heard your pretty voice say his name?

Isn’t it pathetic that he keeps you clutched so tightly to his chest at night that you can hardly breath?

You’ll be feeling sorry for him before you even realize it, some part of you desperate to recognize him as your Tooru, as the man you’ve come to love and care for as friends.

Eventually that part of you will win out, and while Tooru feels a bit guilty for having essentially conditioned you into accepting him, it doesn’t really matter – because you want him now. You’re choosing him, accepting him, needing him like he needs you, and that’s really all he could ask for – he just wants you to love him, and while the methodology may be a little dirty, Tooru’s only ever cared about results.

Because when you smile at him again and hesitantly press your lips against his, he swears he’s died and gone to heaven – because you finally, finally want him too.

PUNISHMENTS:

Similarly to his feelings regarding kidnapping you, Tooru isn’t the biggest fan of punishments.

His dependence on you is so strong and so deeply inlaid into his person that harming you just feels wrong, carnally evil in every form of the word. The concept of physically harming you makes him feel sick and his hands immediately rush out to clutch onto you, to tuck you against his chest, to lift a finger to your pulse point to make absolute sure that you’re still with him.

He’s terrified that you’ll somehow die or abandon him, and even just a simple scratch or a light bruise would be too much for Tooru to handle. And so, punishing you is absolutely off the table – his ultimate goal is for you to develop positive feelings for him again, to maybe even love him, after all.

But Tooru is only human, and so while he won’t ever physically lash out at you or force you into any severe, serious punishments (or humiliating ones, luckily enough), he will fall back onto something more subtle, something more purposeful – he’s not necessarily manipulative with you in your day-to-day life, but he’s not embarrassed to play every single card in his favor in order to get you feeling positively disposed towards him, even if he doesn’t deserve it.

It starts off genuinely unintentional - because he really values honesty in your relationship. He wants you to be honest when you’re telling him that you love him, that he’s pretty, that you need him.

He wants things to be real and raw – except, you’re still so angry with him, your eyes so betrayed when you look at him, and it makes him want to rake his nails into his skin because that pain would feel so much better than how your hatred feels.

And so, after the first few times you try to escape the nice penthouse he’s gone through the trouble of decorating with things he knows you love, Tooru starts getting a bit desperate.

Can’t you see that he only stole you away because it was his only choice?

Can’t you understand that he didn’t want to do this, but there was no other way to keep you safe and secure and his?

He starts panicking, terrified that despite all his efforts to be kind and inviting and spoil you (both with material goods and constant affection, though you haven’t asked for either), you still won’t ever return his feelings, or even harbor positive feelings towards him ever again.

And so, with furrowed brows and a sinking feeling in his gut, he turns towards fake tears and only half-true words to get you feeling bad for him, to get you wanting him like he wants you to. Like he needs you to.

Tooru’s initially not sure what to say when he walks through the front entrance of the penthouse.

It’d only been a weekend tournament; a simple Friday, Saturday, Sunday round-robin type event that was a few hours away – nothing horribly long. And yet he’d been so, so eager to return to you, to feel your body against his and hear your voice and smell your scent and just see you that he’d literally sprinted from the car, all the way up fifteen flights of stairs to his apartment.

And this is what he walks in on?

You, with a dull butter knife in your hands, the metal bent and warped while you stare at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest?

It’s painfully obvious what’s going on – you were trying to get the door open, pushing and pulling so hard with the knife that you’d nearly broken it.

You’d nearly broken it trying to get away from him, in other words. His duffel bag drops to the ground, his fingers frozen and trembling as he stares wide eyed at you.

Angel? What – what’s going on?

You don’t respond, too nervous and scared of how he’ll react to make a move. But Tooru recovers first, rushing forward and swatting the knife out of your hand before pulling you into a much too tight hug.

His hands are still shaking as one rubs up and down your back, the other situated on the crown of your head.

Were you trying to leave me?

You start to answer, your lips moving to speak against the fabric of his shirt, but he cuts you off.

Were you trying to get rid of me? To run away from me?

And there’s something in his voice that makes your shoulders shake, a sudden bout of rage simmering through you.

Yes, Tooru, I’m trying to get out of this stupid fucking apartment that you keep me trapped in! Please, you have to let me go, this is wrong! This isn’t right – this isn’t healthy! You have to understand! How do you not-

He cuts you off with a small sob, and although you know you shouldn’t, some part of you pauses for just a fraction of a second. Your voice stalls for just a moment, but Tooru jumps into the brief moment of silence.

Stop it! Stop it, please, don’t say that.

He’s sniffling, pressing his cheeks against your head and clutching you even tighter.

You’re right, I know you’re right. I’m a monster and a freak for doing this to you. I know that, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please, you don’t understand – I hate that I’ve done this to you. I hate that I’ve made you sad and forced you to stay with me, but you have to understand that I can’t stop.

He sobs again, and you notice his voice is wobbly and something wet is touching your ear.

I can’t stop myself – I can’t stop wanting you and needing you, and I think I would die if I never saw you again. Please understand, I’m pathetic but I need you to stay sane – just, just let me love you like we used to, okay? Please, I promise I can take good care of you – I can make you happy! Just give me some more time…

Something in your chest feels tight at his words, and before you know it you’re reaching around his torso yourself, your movements hesitant as you loosely hug him back. He gasps lightly against your hair, and you can feel him swallow.

I hate you. Your whisper is soft and quiet, and although the words make his chest ache, Tooru smiles.

I love you, he tells you, pressing a kiss against your hair.

You both stay like that for a while, only the distant sound of traffic from many stories below you filling the empty air of the entryway. You don’t know what to say, or even what you could say – Tooru’s a monster, yes, but there’s something about the rawness of him in this moment that makes you yearn and ache for the old Tooru, the one you knew before he started developing this ‘love’ he claims to have for you.

Something about him feels familiar and unbearably sad, and when you pull back and he stares at you, those brown eyes puffy and tear-stained, you can’t find it in yourself to fully pull away.

Because isn’t he still Tooru Oikawa? Isn’t he awfully pathetic? Isn’t it sad how badly he craves you, how his every touch and word and look make you feel as if you were the most precious thing on Earth, as if you were the most prized woman he’s ever met?

It’s wrong and you can hate yourself for it all you want, but as he sniffles and bites his lip and lets his fingers dig into your sides, you won’t be able to deny it: you couldn’t leave him, even if the door was wide open. He’s a monster, sure, but maybe so are you for liking the way you’re so unconditionally needed by someone as famous, beautiful and successful as him.

Meanwhile, Tooru can’t help but internally rejoice at the feeling of you in his arms, at the feeling of you hugging him, and at the knowledge that he can literally see your walls breaking down, getting one step closer to you truly accepting him – to you truly loving him.

Even if the tears he’s manufactured are fake, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is you.

And after the next tournament, when he comes home and you’re lying on the couch reading the same book for the tenth time rather than picking at the locks, Tooru decides that perhaps the show he’d put on (or rather, exaggerated, as he truly was desperate for you to not leave him) was worth it.

Anything for you is worth it – as long as you keep looking at him and touching him and wanting him.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

What makes Tooru dangerous is the fact that he’s absolutely dependent on you in every sense of the word. Over time, his self-worth becomes intertwined with your opinion of him, with your presence and role in his life.

He’s not exaggerating or being obnoxious when he tells you that he absolutely needs you – he can’t go for more than a few hours without feeling your skin against his, otherwise he gets anxious and jittery and on edge, snapping at others and pacing and worrying so much that it makes his chest physically ache.

He can’t go more than a few minutes without hearing your voice, otherwise he has to see you and be near you to make sure that you’re still with him, that you haven’t left him or abandoned him or any number of other things. He just needs you, so much so that it honestly scares him.

He’s not particularly violent or condescending, and aside from the kidnapping and forced touching, life with Tooru honestly won’t be so terrible. Sure, he hugs you too tight and kisses you too hard and clings to you in a way that makes your skin crawl, but eventually you’ll grow to become just as dependent as he is on you.

Because when he’s your only human contact, can you really afford to be so picky? When he’s the only one you can see and speak with and feel, you’ll slowly become complacent and even happy when he’s around.

Stockholm Syndrome will eventually make you a willing captive, and Tooru couldn’t be happier – you’re finally treating him as a lover, embracing him and letting him dote on you and care for you, and what more could he really ask for?

You’ll eventually just give up the fight – he’s a pathetic, sad man with such deeply rooted insecurities about himself and his abilities that the pity will nearly drive you mad.

And all the while, Tooru will welcome you with open arms – you can pity him as much as you like, as long as you stay with him.

Please.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #_haikyuu #_tooru oikawa #_lee's profiles #yandere tooru oikawa

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seijorhi · 1 year

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ok ok i have been thinking about oikawa <33

tw: baby trapping, infertility, yandere vibes, oikawa is an awful, terrible man

namely, oikawa with a darling who for whatever reason can't have kids.

he wants a family with you more than almost anything else. a pretty wife, a nice big house, a wall for his trophies and medals, and a couple of adorable looking kids to tie the whole picture together. that's the dream.

you not being able to get (or stay) pregnant naturally throws a kink in that plan, but not to worry, where there's a will, there's a way. surrogacy is out of the question, he can't have too many people prying too closely into his relationship with you.

adoption's a little easier to manage, especially if he's not tied up with the red tape of the 'official' channels.

he'll just come home one day, two little bundles of joy in arms, and introduce you to your babies; a boy and a girl, how sweet!

and no, you don't need to worry your pretty little head about where he got them from, they're your babies now, that's all that matters.

except, no amount of him telling you that makes you feel anything maternal towards the twins. you're concerned about them, absolutely, you're not some cold, unfeeling monster. you'll take care of them when oikawa leaves, read to them, feed them, hold and soothe them when they cry – but that doesn't make you their mother.

(and you shudder to think about what happened there)

unfortunately, seeing you look after his children awakens something inside of him. he's always been insatiable, but when he fucks you now, your thighs pushed back, his cock driving into you with a relentless pace, he gets this manic, intense look in his eyes, starts talking about how he's going to fuck another kid into you, how he's gonna keep you barefoot and pregnant. you're such a good mama, aren't you, he'll give you all the kids you want. he'll give you everything, you just have to take it.

and you know he knows that's an impossibility, but in the heat of the moment you get this sick, twisty feeling inside of you.

you can't just wait around for him to find a way to follow through on that promise. you have to get out. it's bad enough that you have to leave those poor babies with him, but on paper at the very least, they are his kids, and you're not their mother.

but your husband is nothing if not perceptive. he turns to you one night, a sweet smile on his handsome face, 'you know i'd be beside myself without you, i don't know what i'd do if i lost you.' he laces his fingers with yours, brings you hand to his lips and kisses it softly, holding your gaze the entire time. '… what'd happen to those kids without their mama around.'

you hear it for the undeniable threat that it is.

your blood runs cold.

he wouldn't... he wouldn't hurt the babies, right?

oikawa's many things; jealous, perverse, possessive, with a mean streak that borders on sadistic at times, but that's always been directed solely towards you. you... and anyone he deemed a threat to your relationship.

he's already done awful, illegal things to get you here, is it really such a stretch to think he'd do worse to keep you tethered?

while you might not view the babies as yours per se, the same can't be said for oikawa. he's a doting father, he adores them – whether they're his blood or not.

he wouldn't hurt them.

he wouldn't.

but the next time you see him with his daughter in his arms, lifting her up to blow raspberries against her stomach as she giggles and squirms in delight, you can't help the bolt of fear that shoots through you, the sudden urge to rush forward and take her from his arms. to protect her.

even if doing so only makes your husband grin.

#i have this thing where if i don't indulge in my oikawa thoughts every once in a while #they build up and i become insane #yandere oikawa

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kiwanopie · 2 years

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Charmer!Oikawa x Captive!reader

here’s my contribution to Kinktober (and also kind of a repost from an old blog) with a Villain Au ft the love of my life.

cw: coercion through hipnosis. dub/non-con elements. oral (f!receiving). Mafia elements. a little one sided infatuation from iwaizumi. minors do not interact.

He should’ve left when he found his office door closed, should’ve left when he saw all the lights were flickered off.

Turned on his heel when he caught view of that warm light peaking through the back room of his office, casting shadows - and bad omens. Maybe he should’ve stopped when he heard his voice. Whispering something sugary and cavity inducing. Should’ve figured the papers in his hand could’ve waited till tomorrow. - With the day he’s had it probably could’ve. After breaking his back being an errand boy for his best friend, forcing things that shouldn’t need forcing, and relocating this new addition to the Seijoh home. - His hands are coppery, bruised, and calloused. And if a ransacked office job should mean anything, three dead and one missing; he wouldn’t be too out of line to say that his services have been exhausted for the day.

Hajime’s shoes clack against polished hardwood as he pokes his head into his office, refracting that balmy sliver of light traversing ivory into carpet, and carpet into oak. - And knocks twice. No response. He moves deeper into his office as that sliver of light becomes all the more familiar.

“Boss, you-“

“-Taste so fucking good.” Tooru groans from the far side of his lounge. “You’re being so good for me, baby.”

“Please, I..” There’s a whimpering. A squelching. “Please stop, I… God I’m-…m’ gonna cum…”

There’s a distinct wet noise coming from the lounge as Hajime creeps forward, like slurping. Muffled hums and airy little whimpers that make his face hot. He knows what he’s doing. Knows he shouldn’t be doing it, at least this early into stealing you. But still, that doesn’t keep his jaw from clenching at what he finds as he reaches the doorway.

Anything he could see is obscured by Tooru’s head, but your legs are wide and just above his shoulders - and it’s his hands keeping them that way. Above him frayed bra straps fall down bitten shoulders, cups messily hung over your chest from rough fondling and even rougher shades of purple. Of a necklace of claim that keeps up your neck and stops right below your jaw - below swollen lips, glossy and bitten; and tears that drop off the side of your cheeks like glitters. He’s not stupid. He knows why the boss has such an obsession with you, he knows how pretty you are, how hard to resist. But the way you look now, eyes glossed over in a mix of ecstasy and confusion, panic and maybe even refusal. - He feels envious. Feels like he’d pay money to be where his boss is kneeling right now.

You finally find the strength to reach out to Tooru when Hajime catches your eye, fingers dazedly carding through his hair in an effort to stop him but he only moans in response.

“You have’ta stop…!” And it’s cut off by a moan that makes Haji’s fingers nearly break through the paper he’s holding. “Someone’s…mh- here…”

Tooru gets a few more licks in before he’s turning around, and Hajime gets a peek when he does.

You look appetizing.

“Hm? Oh.” He looks dazed, nearly as out of it as you do. “Leave it on the couch over there. I’ll get to it later.”

He’s already turning to dig in again when Hajime speaks up. “Are you sure… you should be doing that,” He nearly sputters. “So soon, I mean.”

Tooru looks at him blankly for a long second before fixing his expression with a smile.

It’s never a good thing to see him react like that.

Hajime redistributes the weight in his feet as Tooru goes back in again. Wet sounds of gluttonous slurping and smacking gives way to the hand reaching to spread you open, leaving room for him to lave you up and slide a finger - and then another inside. The sound you make in response nearly has him cumming in his pants and he’s sure Tooru, from so up close, isn’t faring any better.

Tooru pulls away again, this time not looking in his friend's direction. “What’s our good friend’s name, baby?”

“I don’t… please… don’t make me-“

“Come on, princess. What is it?”

His voice is warm and sweet, nearly enough to make the man standing at the far side of the room feel overstimulated. You croon at the sound of his voice, struggle a little and then crack! And when you do, moaning so prettily for the two of them; Hajime can barely stop himself from letting his eyes roll into his head.

It’s a broken gasp, sinfully. “Hajime..”

“Good girl.” Tooru’s voice is muffled when he asks again. “Say it again?”

“Ha-…Hajime!” You’re cumming. “Hajime!” You’re cumming.

Tooru groans as he eases you down with his mouth and fingers. Slowly pumping in and out as he lazily flattens his tongue up and down your clit until you’re twitching from overstimulation.

He breathes it out like it’s gospel. “God you’re so fucking hot.” Tooru nuzzles himself into your thigh. “I think I’m in love.”

Hajime didn’t even notice he’d started palming himself by the time Tooru finally stands to his feet. Dipping down to pull you in a deep kiss as he directs your hand to the erection straining against his thigh. You’re looking up at him like he’s god. Like you’re not even there. And a few more tears fall as the sound of his zipper cuts through the room.

Tooru looks back at Hajime and smirks, a friendly little thing that’s too innocent for what he’s about to say.

“There,” He pulls himself out of his pants. “It’s like we broke her in together.”

Hajime should feel disgusting about something like that, but he can’t. Not when his best friend is splitting you over his cock for the first time.

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #stay spooky #oikawa tooru #oikawa toru x reader #yandere oikawa #yandere haikyu x reader #yandere haikyuu #oikawa smut #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #tw:dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw dark content

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animeyanderelover · 1 year

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Um hi its me again and i wanted to send in another request, and im sorry for bothering this is my first time sending request so i don't know if im doing this right, but i wish for another haikyuu hc with the same characters from my last request except suna is replaced by tendou: yamaguchi, hinata, kageyama,sugawara, kenma, akaashi, oikawa, kita, tendou, goshiki with a s/o gets in a fight? Basically the s/o finds out that this girl is trying to get with/flirt with their boyfriends and how the boys react to this is up to you but the s/o gets very mad, like going crazy mad. So they go up to the girl and started fighting. And not just some slapping or pulling hair, no i mean full on punches, kickes in stomach, black eyes and broken noses. Like this is a BLOODY fight and a big one at that. So how would react to seeing this fight? Would they try and stop it or cheer on? Would they be upset or would they feel honored that you fight for them?

Thank you and sorry for bothering you i and i just wanted to say that i love your blog it makes my day everytime time i read from here.

You don't bother at all.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, violence

This is a bloody fight

Kōshi Sugawara

🤍Suga is one of the more pleasant ones to react to this, although he’s not happy. He’s just telling the girl politely at first that he already has someone else and asks her to leave him alone. If she’s going to be persistent, he might get slightly colder with his words and behavior, his face trying to carry the amicable smile before that last mask finally drops and he stares at her with a cold look in his eyes. He’s just about to drop it to her in a way not fitting for his usual sunshine facade but then his s/o suddenly storms into the scene, grabs the girl by the hair and yanks her back. This startles Suga, he didn’t expect this sudden outburst of violence and he will do his best to instantly stop his s/o from doing anything that could lead to troubles.

🤍He’s pulling them back, tells them in a raised tone to stop this, that the girl has surely learned her lesson now and that he could have handled this by himself too. He leaves with his s/o soon after, keeps a close eye on them just in case so that they don’t accidentally try to attack again. He scolds them thoroughly once they’re home again, expresses his disappointment with them with an upset look on his face, eyebrows furrowed. He’s not one for physical violence as he relies more on subtle manipulation and that for a reason. You could get into serious troubles for assaulting someone. He’s disappointed with you for days after, monitors you closely. He starts lecturing you a lot more too about how to behave and what not to do, treats you like a naive and impulsive child.

Tobio Kageyama

🌧️At first Kageyama just goes rigid when a girl suddenly starts flirting with him, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. After a while there is disgust bubbling up inside his chest though as he realizes that she wants something from him despite knowing that he has a partner. That’s when he gives her a harsh glare and tells her with a clearly agitated voice that he doesn’t want anything to do with her. When he suddenly sees in the corner of his eye his darling approaching, he feels scared. He fears they might accuse him of something which undoubtedly fuels his paranoia but before he can even explain himself, they grab the woman by the hair and deliver a punch right into their stomach.

🌧️Generally talking, Kageyama is a Yandere more prone to throw hands if the situation calls for it, tends to manhandle people who agitate him. Yet he’s never seen nor expected this from his darling and for a short moment he genuinely doesn’t know what to do, in shock as he watches the girl being beaten up. When he snaps out of it, he grabs your hand and pulls you back, flinches a bit when you give him a pissed off glare before your facial expression eases up. Tobio doesn’t know what else to say besides that you two should go now, warning the girl before leaving with you that she should keep quiet about it. He’s sort of in a daze for the next few hours as he still tries to process what he just saw since this is a side of you he didn’t know before.

Shōyō Hinata

☀️Hinata is completely overwhelmed when a girl actually starts flirting with him. That is once he actually realizes that she’s being serious with him. He’s not dumb, just really dense and initially he’s a bit flattered by the comments. The moment the girl actually stays and is proving herself to be extremely persistent is the moment where Hinata grows uncomfortable. He keeps on telling her to please leave him alone and that he has a lover but she doesn’t listen and that’s when he doesn’t know what to do. He’s trying to escape at this point and when he sees you, he quickly dashed past the girl to you.

☀️You on the other hand storm past him and confuse the orange-haired boy at first before he sees you kicking the girl harshly, bringing her down into her knees where you continue your attacks. Hinata is the type to idealize his darling a lot so he’s shocked to see them being so violent, even a bit frightened at first. He’s just standing there for a while and at one point averts his eyes a bit since he isn’t the biggest fan of violence. He’s completely overwhelmed once again and for that he doesn’t do anything until you deem it enough, threaten the girl to better never get near your boyfriend again before you turn around to Shōyō, smiling sweetly. He looks at you with different eyes afterwards, after he’s come to terms with what he saw. It isn’t bad though as he starts seeing you as a really strong person someone shouldn’t mess with.

Tadashi Yamaguchi

💕Yamaguchi is a loyal soul and the moment he notices what the girl is trying to do, he tries to avoid her, clearly uncomfortable with her actions. He’s incredibly awkward, body pose stiff as he tries to somehow escape her persistent attempts to flirt with him. Yamaguchi is trying to be polite though as he tells her over and over again that he’s already taken and happy, doesn’t know what else to do. He’s also terrified that you might walk in, is constantly looking around and when he sees you storming to him, his heart drops a bit. Oh god, are you assuming something? No, instead you nearly throw the girl away from him, getting even more triggered when you see just how nervous she’s made Tadashi.

💕The boy in question has a small story of somewhat joining Tsukishima’s rude comments but besides that he’s never been a fan of violence or bullying, mainly because he was bullied in his past too. So he’s terrified when he sees this new side of his darling, somewhat frightened to initially step in before he gains the courage to do so. He pleads you to stop since you’ve probably gone too far now, worried that the girl might go to the police although she certainly looks too frightened of you as she runs away. He’s somewhat uncertain for the rest of the day. His love is still there of course but it’s the first time he saw you acting so severely. Tadashi will at one point talk with you about it since it makes him a bit uncomfortable and also very concerned since you might be arrested for your actions.

Tōru Oikawa

👑For Tōru this is a daily thing, getting being flirted with. Forming an obsession and getting together with his obsession has changed things for him though. Whilst he’s initially still polite, there’s a hidden glint of annoyance and even disgust in his eyes, not to mention that his smile isn’t sincere. Daring to continue though and implying that this girl thinks she’s better than his darling though sets him off slightly, his eyes narrowing and causing him to indirectly start humiliating the girl whilst simultaneously gushing about what he loves so much about his love. He’s already putting her down and his darling takes this to the physical level.

👑Obviously Oikawa is initially frightened a bit but when he realizes that you’re doing it because someone was trying to take him away from you, there’s a twisted feeling of happiness and satisfaction inside of him. He’d go very far if someone would try to take you away from him and there’s elation knowing that you’d do the same. He lets his darling go on for a while, a grin on his face that has the girl’s stomach churning as she sees the unparalleled sickening obsession inside his brown orbs. He eventually suggests to you that you should stop and that he’s sure that the girl has learned her lesson, tells her with a voice laced with poison that she would better keep quiet about it. He’d be the type of Yandere who would appreciate a darling showing similar tendencies as he does so he really won’t scold you unless you’re not careful enough and might get in troubles for your actions. He’ll help you though, he’s your partner in crime.

Keiji Akaashi

🍁Akaashi deals with things more calmly than some other guys and if someone gives him a compliment, he normally just quietly accepts it. He always clarifies though that he is taken and usually people respect that instantly. Meeting this one girl though who still bothers him despite knowing that he’s taken isn’t something he witnesses every day. Akaashi can’t help but think that the girl is quite a bit disrespectful though by not accepting his boundaries nor accepting it that he is already in a happy relationship and doesn’t want to do anything with her. He’s not carefully choosing his words though, he’s blunt and tells her what she thinks, sadly without much of a result which slowly tests even his patience.

🍁Your entrance certainly changes things though as you kick the girl harshly to the ground, a dangerous look on your face as you’re about to launch at her again. Only for Akaashi to react instantly and stop you. He can read from the look on your face that you plan to hurt her but deems it as unnecessary and also dangerous since someone might hear you. Causing a scene would be quite troublesome and it’s better to stop you now before you seriously hurt the girl instead of when she had proof that you attacked and hurt her. Luckily he knows what to say to calm you down enough so that you go with him and he consults you later on about your actions. He’s going to scold you, warn you to not let your temper get the better of you in such a way since it will end in problems for you.

Kenma Kozume

🐱Kenma is introverted as it is, you two specifically chose a place where not too many people would be to enjoy a date together yet luck doesn’t seem to be on his side today. He knows what the girl’s intentions are instantly when she starts flirting with him and calling him endearing names which only make him want to disappear. He makes himself small, doesn’t look at her or pay attention to her as he hopes that she’ll leave if he ignores her. Sadly that only seems to fuel her more and by now he’s panicking quite a bit, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do in such a situation. His darling comes to rescue him though, more or less at least.

🐱The first wave of relief is quickly replaced by shock and a good scare when you start punching and hitting the girl though for daring to flirt with your boyfriend and making him so uncomfortable in the process. Meanwhile Kenma is looking around him in panic, afraid someone might see you and cause a scene. So he stops you, a churning feeling in his stomach whilst asking you if you two can just leave since he has lost all interest and excitement for the date planned today. He mumbles something to the girl before he leaves, most likely a threat to not report his darling. He’s hesitating a bit to bring this up for a lack of even knowing how, eventually you two will have to talk about it. He’s rational enough to know that you could be brought to jail for such behavior and therefore he asks you if you could try to control that side of yours since it stresses him to think that you might beat someone again. He’ll just stay more inside so that you won’t have to hurt anyone.

Satori Tendou

❤️Satori is definitely not used to being flirted with, he’s far more used to be called a weirdo or creepy or all sorts of rude stuff behind his back. He’s used to it by now though, he only cares about what his darling thinks about him. Due to the lack of genuine praise, he’s completely overwhelmed when he’s one day being flirted with. He doesn’t even believe that the girl means him until she speaks to him directly. What is at first awkwardness and telling her that he’s happily together with someone already turns into sudden anger when she still continues, suggests that he can cheat even which triggers him. The girl certainly gets startled when she notices that Tendou’s previously hunched form is now towering over her with a creepy glimmer in his eyes.

❤️If that isn’t already scary enough, your reaction certainly is and the first kick you deliver causes Tendou to flinch as he wasn’t expecting this. He’s watching you for a few seconds with a mix of shock and, to his own slight shame, giddiness since you’re fighting for him in a way, defending what you see as yours. He snaps out of it though and stops you before you can cause too much damage, leans down to the girl and whispers to her that she shouldn’t tell anyone about this for her own well-being. He’s clingier after as the experience of being flirted with in such a way is alienating for him. He’ll probably reprimand you mildly to be more careful but can’t go harsher since he secretly liked it a bit too.

Tsutomu Goshiki

🌟Goshiki enjoys compliments. He enjoys them the most from his darling though and is constantly trying to impress them and being praised. When someone compliments him besides his darling, he feels proud of himself too and initially the flirting feeds into his ego as Goshiki isn’t aware of the true intention yet. He just thinks that he wants to tell you that he was just complimented as soon as you come back, gets surprised when the girl stays though and continues. The confusion soon turns into shock and a bit panic as he finally understands what she wants and quickly tells her off in an urgent tone that he already has a partner and wants her to leave. He won’t risk you getting any wrong ideas.

🌟To the poor luck for the girl you return in that moment and even Tsutomu sees the dark look on your face, he starts spitting apologies before he’s silenced by your sudden violent attack on the girl. His brain doesn’t even fully register the visual information he realizes since he’s in a state of shock before it finally clicks in his mind. Anxiety is heating up his body as he starts getting paranoid that someone might watch, pulls you back without trying to get hurt himself and asks you in a pleasing tone if you can stop and leave with him. At first hesitant, he feels later on a tiny bit flattered when he thinks it through and realizes that you’ve started fighting so aggressively for him. It doesn’t stop him from developing a frightened reverence for you.

Kita Shinsuke

☁️Shinsuke is also more polite, even in the face of being confronted with such a persistent girl who thinks that she can flirt with him even if she knows that he’s already in a relationship. Kita knows immediately where this will be going when she approaches him, he can read the look on her face all too well. He might be mildly taken aback when she brushes off his statement that he already has a partner and loves them very much but he will stay collected. She certainly isn’t earning any of his respect though since it’s in his eyes rather rude and insensitive what she’s trying to do now. He’s not aggressive, just really cold and honest with his opinion about her and that is what stuns the girl so much, he makes it obvious that he’s not interested nor really impressed in such a honest and polite way that it’s almost humiliating again.

☁️Kita is also bound to react very fast when your fist connects the first time with the girl’s cheek and knocks her off her feet. He doesn’t appreciate violence and avoids it as much as he can and is already admonishing his darling for their action but packages his words well enough to not agitate them more. He’ll try to bring you to apologize to the girl since this level of aggression was a bit too much and leaves with you shortly after. He’s going to sit down with you and force you through a longer discussion where he counts down all the possible troubles this could have caused you, tells you that he wants you to control your temper better or that otherwise he might not be able to take you so carefree outside.

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