#yandere haikyu!!

[chaepink]

Hear me out, maliciously praising pathetic yandere Oikawa. Like he’s so pathetic obsessed with reader, and the sound of their praise is making him go crazy, and reader catches on to this and starts praising him just for a reaction, which ends in him cumming, on his knees for reader as they just smirk and teasingly praise his pathetic shaking form <33

dom!reader, sub!Oikawa praise, cumming in pants, teasing

“You’re such a good boy for me, right?” Another shiver racks through Oikawa as he whines, staring up at you from his place on the floor with glassy eyes.

You’re standing in front of him with a grin on your face that makes him swallow in anticipation.

“I never thought you would like my praise this much, Oikawa. You must really like being my good slut, don’t you?”

A soft whimper leaves him as he clenches his fists that lay on his thighs. He’s been sitting on his knees for a while and there’s a slight ache but the cloudy fog in his mind is preventing him from thinking of anything else other than you and your words.

“I bet you just want to touch me right now, don’t you? Make me feel good like a good boy is supposed to do?” Oikawa stares up at you with tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

You glance down from his face and see the bulge in his pants and smirk. Oikawa can’t even think properly anymore, he just wants to cum. He’s so hard, it hurts.

“You’re hard from just my words, baby? Gonna cum from my praise only?” A sob racks through his body and he nods eagerly, staring up at you as he ruts futilely in the air, searching for any kind of friction.

“Go ahead and be a good whore for me then and cum in your pants then, darling.” Oikawa lets out a choked moan and gasps at the sudden release. Quickly, you see a wet stain start to appear on his crotch and you giggle.

“How cute, you came in your pants without my touch.” Oikawa’s breaths are heavy as his body rocks with his recent orgasm.

After a few minutes, he looks up at you with trembling lips before glancing down at his stained pants with a flushed face and looking back up at you, expecting you to do something. You raise an eyebrow before suddenly placing your foot on his crotch and pushing it down, making him cry out in pleasure.

“What, you thought I was done, darling? Oh we’re far from that, don’t you want to be my good boy?” He nods eagerly.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[yanderenightmare]

TW: hints of NSFW

fem reader

You have one of those cartoon faces...

So animated it makes everyone else look dull – so much so that everything else just fades into the background.

He wonders if you’re like that during sex as well. All exaggerated – curled toes and ahegao faces – moans that reach the other part of town. Drooling, quivering, tongue out and panting, going cross-eyed from his cock.

It’s all he can think about as you talk. Pretty French tip hands throwing themselves every which way – glossed lips moving but not much being said, just some anecdote from work – eyes vibrant, smile bright. You talk too much, honestly. More guys would bother if you just learned to shut up.

But you won’t scare him away. He decided he was going to fuck you the moment you stepped into the office. Granted, so did half the staff – with the way your breasts bounced on every peppy step you took – doe-eyed and out of place in the grey cubicle you were assigned.

But every single one of them gave up one after the other. 

It’s not their fault. Not everyone has the stamina. You’re a little clueless, after all. 

Shit, he’s been giving you bedroom eyes for hours already, practically fucking you with his stare, but he can’t tell whether you even realize he’s been flirting with you at all.

Your gloss stains the brim of your beer pink – only in one place since you’ve only taken one sip. He doesn’t know whether maybe you’re not a beer person or if it’s because you don’t leave enough time to drink in between words.

He imagines the stain on his cock instead – imagines stuffing himself down your throat, silencing you – making you gag and a little teary-eyed – muffling something he doesn’t care about.

What are you even saying? Something about how clumsy you are? You’re giggling over it – how you’d forgotten your phone and house keys, how your roommate’s bound to be asleep by now – how you have no idea how you’ll get home tonight.

“Wanna know what else I forgot?” You add.

“Sure.” He mumbles uninterestedly, putting his beer up to his lips – letting the cool bubbling soothe the regret of his pursuit – beginning to think up excuses to go talk to one of the other women at the office party – already scanning the bar for other available candidates. Sure, you were pretty, but this wasn’t going anywhere-

“Panties~” You reveal, and he chokes on his beer – dull eyes widening, only now noticing the coy smile playing on your lips. “Are you okay?” You feign a doe-eyed look, sitting legs crossed on your bar stool, leaning over with a manicured hand placing itself on his thigh – cleavage flashed in the bowed position.

There’s something rude glinting in your eyes as you look up at him through heavy lashes.

“Maybe I’m wrong, but I could have sworn you’ve been eyeing me up and down all night.” You flirt cheekily, giving the muscle on his thigh a lingering squeeze – licking your lips at the obvious bulge swelling in his pants. “Undressing me with those pretty jaded eyes of yours~”

Caught off guard, he’s left sitting there – a blush dusting his cheeks a drunken pink.

You lean even closer – so close your fruity perfume clouds his head – your hot breath on the shell of his ear in a sultry whisper. “How about we cut to the chase, hm?”

BNHA – Tomura, Dabi, Shinso, Bakugou, Kirishima, Hawks

JJK – Toji, Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Kageyama, Tsukishima, Tendou

[yandere-romanticaa]

Something that I find interesting about Oikawa is that he would be so observant when it came to you, not even a hawk could rival him.

I imagine him to be quite the pest when he's around you - always making some comment, stealing your things and dangling them somewhere where he knows you can't reach, just overall making all the little things in life that much more difficult. Why? Because he's bored and you happen to have the misfortune of being his favorite person ever. That's why!

But Oikawa takes mental notes, sometimes actual ones too. He probably has several notebooks dedicated to you and you wouldn't ever have a clue. He oozes with both natural charisma and childishness, which makes him a double threat. It is very easy for him to shift these two moods especially when the time calls for it. He sees the way you react because your reactions are important to him.

You are important to him.

That's why he makes sure to stay close to you as much as he possibly can, scaring off any potential threat regardless of sex. He may be a bit softer towards the girls who surround him but he always makes sure to let them down, to tell him that he's spoken for.

You just have no idea that it's you he's talking about.

Oikawa is used to success. But he also understands what it feels like to lose. That's why he does not have the courage to come clean to you. He can't help but to feel a little frustrated with you because, well, how dare you? How dare you exist there and be all cute? It's even worse when other people take notice and they actually have the courage to approach you, which just makes him want to knock their teeth out.

Oikawa is a pest. But in his way, that's his love language. He can be sweet, don't get me wrong! But messing with you is just too fun.

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ after the break-up

☆ kuroo, oikawa, daichi, hinata, bokuto akaashi, sakusa (prt 2.)

KUROO TETSURO — assuming reader is the one who ended it, he's absolutely blindsided and shocked. he walks around in a daze; to anyone who didn't know him, he just looks tired or whatever. to whoever does, it's clear he's absolutely destroyed and crushed. of course, he'll try to act his best to not let it show how sad he is, but it really shows when his teammates were wondering where he was, only to find him sitting alone on a bench, looking down at his feet somberly.

"kuroo." kenma called out softly, his lips pursed into a line at the sight of his childhood sitting ways away from the rest of his team. it took a minute before kuroo was looking over his shoulder to look over at the shorter lad, his eye-bags dark, lips pursed into a straight line. "...i miss her." kuroo mumbled, looking back down at his feet, one of his hands coming up to brush through his distressed black hair.

he feels even worse when he sees you in the distance, walking home with a friend of yours. he can only think and remember when it was him walking you home, your hand intertwined with his. he chews on his lip as you get smaller and smaller as you walk more into the distance. he misses you.

OIKAWA TORŪ — he acts totally unbothered. his teammates didn't even know the two of you broke up until one of them asked about you jokingly, to which oikawa stuck out his tongue, huffing a "she dumped me," before swiping the nonexistent hair off his shoulder with sass. he thinks he's okay; he feels okay. it doesn't catch up to him until one day he's still practicing long after official practice ended.

oikawa grunted as he jumped into the air, his hand coming up to slap the ball. he can only furrow his eyebrows in annoyance when the ball hits the net, dropping over to the floor. "damn it." he curses, wiping the sweat off his forehead. i'm thirsty, he thinks, looking to the side where you would sit on the floor, watching as he practices.

but you're not there... where are you? "y/n-chan?" he calls out, his eyes looking around the empty gym. "..she's gone oikawa, remember— she broke up with you," a voice speaks from behind him. he turns around to see iwaizumi standing behind him, his eyes low with concern. oikawa feels a pang of hurt within his chest, his face morphing into one of hurt. oh, thats right, you left him.

DAICHI SAWAMURA — please, he's so heartbroken. he's so sad and hurt, when you were breaking up with him, he knew he couldn't change your mind, so he let you go, because he knew that was the best choice for the both of you. he stills watches over you, his protectiveness still present. he'll still watch you in class and in the hallways, his eyes never lingering off you for even a second.

"y/n—y/l/n-san," he says meekly, his eyes watching your face for any discomfort. "how are you doing?" he asks. he still attempts to talk to you, even if you crushed his heart completely. "i'm doing great, daichi-san, how about you? how is volleyball going?" his heart stings at your formality, he would do anything just to hear the way you call him by that cute nickname you gave him.

i'm hurt, i miss you, i miss you—i miss you a lot. can we get back together? "i'm doin' great, we are able to go to nationals, i'm so excited." he says with a forced grin, he hopes you don't notice the way his smile doesn't meet his eyes. "sure, let's go to the rooftop?" you say, slowly getting up from your seat. usually, you'd hold his arm as the two of you walked, but you don't. instead, you walk with a slightly behind him with much of a distance for his taste, but it's okay. he doesn't want to make it anymore awkward than it already is. he'd rather be your friend than loose you completely.

HINATA SHOUYO — he cried, he cried for days. even tsukishima felt bad for him. he was almost like a zombie, and he felt even shittier when he was so exhausted that his spikes were shit. he needed your presence, he needed you to be at his side, but you weren't there at all, you left him, you left him shattered and inconsolable. he nearly got sick with the way he was so sad, almost throwing up a few times because of how hard he cried.

"y/n," he calls out from behind you. you turn your head to look him, removing your hand from your locker. "oh, hey, shouyo," you say sheepishly, tone seemingly afraid and hesitant. you seem to know what he's already feeling. "how are you doing?" you ask, turning your body to face him.

"i.." he stammers, swallowing thickly as he tries to prevent his voice from cracking. "uhm—are you gonna be there for my game next saturday?" he asks, his eyes almost wide with the way he waits for your answer. his eyebrows furrow with sadness when you give him a bittersweet smile, "i.. maybe."

BOKUTO KOUTARO — his emotions are even worse than hinata's. he actually refuses to accept the break-up, and literally gets on his knees to beg you not to leave him. he'll literally wrap his arms around your waist, his head mushed into your belly as he cries into your embrace, mumbling apologies and love confessions. he almost loses a couple of games after the breakup because he was such an emotional wreck.

"see you later y/l/n-san." your friend says, waving a goodbye as you part ways with her. you say a goodbye as well before continuing your walk down the halls. your heart beats nervously, sometimes you see bokuto in this part of the school, but you're not surprised that you do. he pops up in front of you, almost as if he was awaiting for your arrival.

"y/n.." he whines, biting on his lower lip, his hair greatly deflated. you can only sigh at the sight in front of you. "hey, kou.." you say softly, you're not even going to try to switch to his surname or even his full first name either, that'll actually destory him and you know that.

"y/n, can we please just–", "kou," "–can we please just talk about this, i need you." he whimpers, hastily walking over to you, his hands grabbing at your elbows. "koutaro." you sternly say, your use of his first full name as him freezing in place, his lips pursing into a straight line as he tries not to cry. he's then pulling you in for a hug, his head resting in the crook of your neck and he sniffles against you, whining your name like a sweet baby. you can only rub your hand against his back comfortingly before you're pulling away from him for the last time.

AKAASHI KEIJI — he tried to handle it maturely, he really tried. he respects your decision, it'll be unfair to force you to stay in a relationship when you're unhappy. like a mature person, he's polite, so polite everyone almost forgets that you two dated. but not everyone, after all, you two dated for almost two years. he's still concerned for you, though, he still looks out for you, he always will.

"y/l/n-san, do you need help with that?" he asks, quickly coming over to your side when he sees you walking with a bunch of books in your hands. "y-yeah, please, akaashi-kun," you stutter, your arms relaxing when he takes more of the lion's share of the books from you. "thank you, they were really heavy." you joke, cheekily grinning at his help.

"no problem, just helping out." he says, looking straight ahead of him blankly. he seems to be dealing with it as well as he can, of course, he misses you, and he still resists the urge to text you late at night when he's upset. what about you though? you can't help the way you're gazing at him from behind, marveling at his pretty emerald eyes. akaashi notices, of course, but he doesn't take a plan of action to do anything about it, and neither do you. it was your decision after-all.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI — like oikawa, he acts totally unbothered. he'll brush off whenever someone sends their condolences on the breakup, either scolding them for their annoying pity, or not saying anything at all. deep inside, he's almost annoyed at the way he's so hurt. it's helpless, there's no point in being sad when he can't do anything about it. but he does, but it's over. he feels out of place, his daily structure and schedule is disrupted, and silently, he still awaits for you to call for your place back into his life.

"ah! kiyo.." you shout, trailing off when he walks right past you. it stings you greatly, but at the same time, you understand his actions. the two of you dated for nearly four years, since he was a still a young teenager. he avoids you like the plague now, not even sparing you a glance whenever he does come across you.

you won't ever deny it, even if it's a shock for your pride, you miss him. you miss him and his stupid check-ups, him and his annoying pesters of "did you wash your hands?" you thought that he would be okay with remaining as friends, and he did agree to that, but now, it's like you don't even exist to him. to him, you do, but he just refuses to interact with you, his pride hurt and crushed, as for the first time, he's disturbed.

please like and repost with tags

[butterymangowrites]

permanent fix

soulmate au + a/b/o

paring: alpha atsumu x fem beta reader

warnings: bullying, dub-con, atsumu is not nice, smut, slight breeding kink, biting, blood, choking, mirror sex, possessiveness, jealousy, alpha rut, atsumu talks shit, dramatic atsumu

word count: 2.2k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes

Born as a beta, you never thought fate would toy with you by giving an alpha as your soulmate. Especially not one like Miya Atsumu, the one whom you went to school through college with and still having to see his face ever so frequently as if he had sworn to never let you live in peace. 

For someone who made faces when seeing the lunchboxes your mom packed for you and proclaimed a beta was weak when you first presented at fifteen, Miya Atsumu couldn’t seem to detach himself from you. 

So when you had a crush on one of your colleagues at twenty five, having his nose in your business as usual, Atsumu knew instantly. 

“Another beta.” Lying comfortably on your couch, Atsumu scoffed. “Predictable.” 

“Didn’t ask for your opinions.” 

“I’m giving it anyway,” he said in a singsong voice, but his face was without mirth. “You can fuck whoever you want, but I’m getting my fix. That’s non-negotiable.”

Oh, yeah. His fix. 

He patted his lap. “Come here.”

Then it all began again. Him cradling you in his lap, hands going all over, lips spilling hateful words. 

‘Weak fucking beta.’ He would say. ‘Even Osamu got an omega soulmate. Makes me jealous as fuck.’ 

But then he would kiss you like the world might end tomorrow, doing everything opposite of what he said. This time was no different. His hot tongue was everywhere he could reach, acquainted itself with yours before leaving a wet trail down your neck. 

You protested when he nipped a little too hard, scared he might leave marks. He did that once. The deep purple hickey you saw in the mirror after he left your apartment scared the shit out of you. A little more force and teeth could have broken the skin, and that thought caused chills to run all over your body. You didn’t want to bear his marks. 

Yet, Atsumu didn’t care. He never did. His hands were now on your buttocks, squeezing hard through your thin pajama bottoms. He moved you to one of his thighs for better concentration. The hands on your butt now rolled your hips back and forth, to the point your moan finally slipped out of your tightly zipped lips and you forgot about the harsh nibbling on your neck.

“Go whore yourself out,” Atsumu whispered. “Like I fucking care.”

Same here, asshole.

You thought, didn’t say out loud. 

Touching each other lifted the heavy weight in the heart caused by the act of not accepting the soulmate bond. Nothing more, nothing less. If not for this calling of intimacy both of you obliged to feel, he wouldn’t be here. You knew that. He said it way too many times. 

Still, your cheeks were licked, your lips were tasted, neck wet with saliva. You felt like a prey about to be eaten every time he was close. Yes, he may not care. But he sure was possessive enough of things that were given to him. 

Whenever you tried to wiggle out of his firm grasp, he tightened his fist. This time was the hardest you ever felt. 

—

In more than twenty years of knowing each other, never once did Atsumu come to you when he had gone into rut. So when he called you two in the morning one week after his last fix, ordered you to pack a bag and tell your boss you would be on leave for a week, you were baffled. It was never more than kisses and touches with him. Your clothes were always intact and on. The idea of that being changed had you flat out saying no. 

That didn’t stop Atsumu from coming to get you one hour later though. When he saw that you did nothing to get ready, his jaw was clenched. A split second later, he packed your bag himself, shoving clothes and toiletries in without any care. You were still in pajamas when the passenger door was slammed closed and he hit the gas. 

—

There were reasons why betas are not for alphas. Physically, they were incompatible. Betas weren’t designed for alpha’s stamina, not to mention one in rut. At one point, you did not care to count anymore how many times you had blacked out. Fading in and out really fucked with your memory. All you remembered was the non-stop pounding, Atsumu’s breath against your face, and his uncharacteristic cooing, praising you as his good girl. 

“Knew you were built for me.” The blond menace pulled on both of your wrists, never stopped his thrusting. “Let me knot you again, okay?” When you shook your head, face wet with tears, Atsumu shushed you softly. “Shhhhh. You can do it, I know you can.”

And you could. But it was not without pain. 

“Shouldn’t have waited this long,” Atsumu said close to your lips. “You almost got away.” 

He talked too much. But it would have been a big fat lie to deny that his words didn’t turn you on. That his vile confession didn’t affect you.

“Bold of you to even think I would let someone else touch you.” He sounded out of breath, closing to his end. “All the effort goes to waste. No no no no.” 

You felt it coming, just seconds before. Then your whole body was taken by the waves of thrills and your whole vision turned white. Atsumu was not your first, but as if he was the harbinger of agony, it hurt when he first penetrated, hurt when he knotted. And when you felt a sharp sting at your sensitive neck, you knew he defied the rule of nature once again by marking you. 

Fruitless. That was what it would be. Betas were not made for alphas. Mating bites did not forge any bond with the wrong person and would fade over time. But Atsumu had always been stubborn. One bite turned into two, three, then countless. All you felt was pain and the wetness of blood before darkness took your consciousness like the many rounds before. 

—

The mating bites faded within two weeks, all except the first mark, proving to you that even biology could not win over destiny. Same went with all other beta-alpha soulmate couples out there after you had done some research. They were rare, but they were there. You shouldn’t have let Atsumu bite you. Should have known better that things could get weird when it came to soulmates. Now, he wouldn’t get off your ass, had the audacity to move his things to your apartment and yours to his, calling you his girlfriend in front of everyone and expecting to see you at his games. 

You didn’t even like volleyball to begin with. And as you watched his magnificent tosses to any players he deemed to have high chances to score, you thought of a way to get out of his clutch. 

He needed an omega, the correct designation he always longed for. Because even with all the protective caresses and the promise to never let you go, Atsumu was still mean. Like going back to the ninth grade when you put makeup on for the first time and he gave you the nastiest comment that made you go wash everything off in the school toilet, his words still stung badly when he chose to weaponize them. 

‘Samu’s mate smells like she needs to be bred.’ He said that nonchalantly one day at Onigiri Miya, sitting side by side with you at the counter where his twin and his mate helped each other with cooking and serving the hungry athletes who were there to celebrate the day’s victory ‘Don’t know how he stands that. So sweet’ 

Hearing that made your conversation with Hinata pause. His steely gaze was the first thing you saw when turning to face ‘your boyfriend’. 

It didn’t end there. For days Atsumu was in a devilish mood, his jabs that you knew most of them were meant to just rile you up for fun had become a real emotional harm. He still fucked you, make no mistake about that. And it was as devilish as his temper. 

‘Too hard, Miya. Too hard.’ You still wouldn’t call him by his first name. 

Veiny hands wrapped snugly around your neck, Atsumu only went faster after hearing that. The bathroom mirror was foggy with hot steam from the shower, but you could see enough. One of your legs was perched on the counter, allowing the view of his cock pistoning in and out of you, your breasts bouncing fast. 

‘Would have been pregnant already if you were an omega.’ The sentence came out coated with his accent, thicker than normal, like he didn’t have full control of how he spoke. ‘But that’s alright. I can take my time with you. We’ll get there,’ he purred. ‘Still, what a shame, huh?’ 

Shame his ass for saying that and not letting you leave. ‘Go fuck an omega then.’

He smirked. Pissed you off. ‘Nah.’ 

As his toss to Sakusa scored a winning point, the loud cheer brought you back to the present. You saw Atsumu eyes staring up at you from the court below and knew what you had to do. 

—

Getting an omega who wanted to spend a heat with Miya Atsumu was easy enough. Sending her up to your apartment where he was already there waiting for you was as simple. You drove away then, not far, stopping at your favorite 24-hour cafe because you needed somewhere to sit and waited for the first feedback from the omega girl. Half an hour later, you got a call. 

The screen showed the female omega’s name. You picked up and said hello, expecting to hear that everything went well and that you could go find somewhere else to sleep for the next five nights.

But you only heard cries. Not of pleasure, just a full-blown crying with hiccups. 

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, frowning. “Talk to me. What happened?” 

“He—he screamed—at me,” she spluttered, almost incoherently, “and only asked where you were.” 

You cursed quietly, finally able to stop stirring the poor coffee you ordered without any interest in taking a sip. “Where is he now?” 

“I don’t know,” she cried. “He left—after the screaming.” Her voice wavered all the more when she kept on trying to speak. “You had to see him. He looked murderous. There was not even a hello. He straight up shouted at me, accusing me of breaking in. When I tried to explain—mentioned you, his face was all red.” A hiccup interrupted the long babbling. “He said he was married to you and showed me the ring.”

You were not sure what crack Atsumu was on, but there was definitely no ring or marriage. 

The call was still on when you heard the cafe’s door pushed open. And it was as if you saw the devil with your own naked eyes.

Atsumu walked in. 

His strides declared no peace or mercy when he saw you, ignoring the greetings from the two night shift baristas. 

Not wanting to cause a scene, you stood up, didn’t say anything when he put his hand on your shoulder and led the way out. 

The drive was silent. Your car was left at the parking lot near the cafe, you would have to come and get it as soon as you could before the parking fee turned as murderous as him. When asked where he was going, he answered solemnly, “My place. Yours stinks.” 

You just knew it was going to be a long night. 

—

Atsumu was the one who got the car out for you the next morning since he was the one who could still walk without wobbling. The sheets you slept on were rumpled. They reeked of cum. 

You reeked of cum. 

‘You think you’re so funny?’ he asked, knowing you couldn’t answer with his cock occupying your mouth but did it nonetheless ‘You wanted me to fuck her? What was going on in that pretty little head?’ 

He pulled you by the nape of your neck before pushing your head down, forcing your throat to take more of him till you felt the urge to gag. 

‘I thought we had an understanding, baby,’ he said, finally relenting his grip on your head. ‘No whoring yourself out.’ Then he stressed, ‘And no whoring me out. I’m yours.’

‘Do you understand?’ 

You only nodded.

‘Words.’ 

‘Yes, Miya.’ 

‘Atsumu,’ he said, looking like he wanted to throw up. ‘You’re not fucking my brother. Don’t make me imagine that. Call me Atsumu.’

‘Yes, Tsumu.’ 

Looked like you delivered. Atsumu grinned from ear to ear. ‘Good girl. My best girl.’ 

That was last night. 

A warm kiss to the cheek woke you again, must have dozed off after Atsumu left, but those scenes were not a dream. You heard him whisper, 

“I got your car. Parked it at your place.”

He looked like he got a ten-hour sleep while you could not move a limb without feeling sore. Not fair. And the way he looked so good in sheep’s clothing, his wolf’s skin all hidden. Not fair at all.

“Shower.” Your voice was hoarse, but you got the message through. That was good enough. 

[i-cant-sing]

What are your thoughts on the yandere haikyuu teams x their manager?

Boring. I need some spice in it. How about-

Yandere Daichi as a cop and his darling is a civilian and now he's so obsessed with her that he murders her husband, frames him as a criminal and will literally stop at nothing to get darling in his arms because again... who will suspect good old, everybody's best bud COP Daichi to be able to do heinous crimes???

Yandere Sugawara as a psychiatrist because come on- he gives major "master manipulator" vibes and now he's obsessed with his darling patient and will continue to do malpractice and gaslight her and prescribe her all the wrong meds until she loses it and he gets to admit it her under his "special care" and now he can play with her mind all day long🤍

Yandere Oikawa is now a pro volleyball athlete and he just saw Ushijima's little sis, the same one he used to bully and even rejected (and ofc, HUMILIATED) when she confessed to him back in highschool. But now Oikawa's obsessed with her and also still hates his nemesis Ushijima, so what's better than killing two birds with one stone??? And Oikawa still has a very devoted fanclub, only now it's larger and more powerful than ever so now he uses them and his socials to peer pressure you into dating him and eventually, marrying him because he ain't getting any younger honey and he needs some cute babies out of you ASAP.

Yandere Kuroo who is the smart IT tech guy at your office but in reality, he has his own cyber security company that he uses to spy on you, controls your entire life through your socials and don't even get me started on your online banking shit. If its any consolation, he's very rich so... yeah. He may not look like a million bucks, but he does have them. In several offshore accounts.

Yandere Kita who somehow ended up as a mafia leader, probably inherited it as family business and he has like severe OCD so he wants everything done to perfection or so help you, you will 1000% end up 6 feet under. Mafia Kita who has this vision of you being the perfect wife, solely based om the one time you offered him your handkerchiefs because he had a nosebleed from stressing too much and now Kita thinks you're an absolute angel and he wont let you destroy that fantasy of his. Seriously. He will pick out your outfits, tell you how to act and all, punish you if he must, but he does love you.

Yandere Ushijima who is a farmer and has decided that the reader whose car broke down and came to his door asking for help, will now be his wife and be a countryside mom to many kids (u can't say no, okay? He wants a big family) and animals! But hey, he's a very caring husband and will massage your feet, give you baths and feed you his homegrown veggies and meals daily once you are round with his babies🥺

Yandere Bokuto who is now a popular politician and he needs an obedient wife to keep up appearances and play the "family man" image up. So he decides to threaten reader who had a one night stand with him, and Bokuto somehow has very intimate images and videos of you and he uses them to get you to marry him. And now he controls every aspect of your life and tells you to do exactly as he says, and he abuses this privilege more as he gets more powerful and you could only imagine the horrors he would inflict on you if he does actually win elections, but you can't run away because again- he has eyes and contacts everywhere.

[springsmile]

thinkin abt needy yan bokuto who takes ur virginity for the first time

bokuto who roughly possesses you— takes your jaw into his hand and (with a bruising vigor) presses his lips to yours. there’s a momentary dink of your teeth meeting, before his tongue is acquainting itself with yours. slick and warm, mapping the expanse of your mouth.

your protests muffled—your head is immobilized but trembling with the effort to shake your head, recoil.

“cmon baby, wanna make you feel good.” he’s pleading, the sound floating into your mouth and you’re choking on its sheer saccharinity.

“you want this, i know you do.” your inner thighs are pulsing at the cupping of his impressive torso. it’s a hamstring stretch in itself. even worse, his fingers maneuver around the dampened lace of your panties and tug them aside. they’re sticking to the side of your labia, and the sensation has you responding viscerally.

his next movement is unceremonious. his thick and coarse fingers plunge inside of you— the pads kissing the sides of your walls, and nicking that spot—your eyes bulge, mouth glistening and agape in a soundless cry.

“see? look how wet you are.”

if you had the capacity, you’d be gritting your teeth, but your only outright means of defiance was a breathy gasp, “b-bokuto, stop.”

he pulls back from the countless open-mouthed love bites he’d carefully worked into your neck (glowing red, incomplete circles, shining beautifully), and tilts his head.

“but i don’t want to.”

it doesn’t sound malicious. it doesn’t even look like it. but it’s petulantly dangerous. more so, he wants something, and what he wants is wrapped up in his hands. he has unparalleled strength to covet it, so it’s his. you’re not going anywhere.

he can’t even understand why you’re begging him to stop.

the tempo is incomprehensible, absolutely nonsensical. you hope his fingers cramp—the strokes keep evolving. shallow, quick, slow, deep and curled. bokuto presses his lips to your ear, so warm and wet, the same stimulus expressed by every inch of your skin. he’s panting, mewling like it’s you who’s torturing him.

“please, please let me eat you out, princess. god, please. i need it.” he’s near whimpering. it’s downright pathetic. “we’ll feel so good. i swear, i swear baby. please.”

you can’t even breathe.

his head is lowering to that precious, sensitive space between your thighs, lips closing around your nervous nub. your hands leap to his hair, fistfuls gathered in each, and you’re pulling. you can’t figure out if you’re pushing him away or keeping him in place. his tongue scales the side of your clit, and with hollowed cheeks, he suckles tightly. air-tight, and pulsating under the muscle.

callouses are petting your sides, his fingers twitching as they reach the valley of your breasts, before climbing to your nipples. he’s pinching tightly, rolling them between his forefingers and thumbs with a passion akin to the same extended to your cunt.

a strangled gasp scratches your throat, you’re vibrating at the stimulation, and as soon as he releases the bud with a reverberating pop!, something so balmy and intense rips open at the pit of your stomach. chest heaving, you ride the high with fabric-clad fists.

he’s still slurping, varying between tantalizing kitten-licking to full on fucking you on his tongue. every part of bokuto was fucking jacked and graced by boggling strength, the bruises left on your tits and your thighs weren’t as jarring as the force behind each thrust of his tongue.

his head retreats unexpectedly, and you’re fervently grappling at this moment of reprieve— but before you can suck in much needed mouthfuls of air, he’s pressing his sticky tip to your hole. precum and your slick smears and trickles onto the sheets, yielding a sickening solution of lust. its warmth intermingles with that of your sweat, frigid with dread, leaving your skin crawling and begging to be satiated more than before.

you jerk, fear tightening your joints as your eyes snap open, “n-no, wait!”

your hips creak under his grip, and when your gaze languidly meets his, you’re resigned, blinking back tears of desperation. he’s not humping your leg all needy and pleading anymore. he’s not entertaining your begs or pleas of yield. he’s not begging or pleading with you anymore, either. he’s gonna take you. but don’t worry!! he’ll make you feel real good <3

[addicted-to-morally-grey-men]

................

Uhm... So this is my first time writing a storyline based thing and spare me cause I'm slowly getting the hang of how Tumblr works but i present y'all with....

Storyline: haikyuu... A historical fantasy story about a arch mage, an alchemist and a crowned royal prince. You have been engrossed by the manhwa after your friend recommended this to you. But what happens when you suddenly get isekai'ed into the story as a saintess?

Yandere sakusa (our cleanliness loving arch mage):

You were the saintess.. and he was the mage... Ofcourse you guys were meant to be! It was a match made in heaven sweetheart! You are meant to be together forever! The things you touch... The path you walk on... Everything around you is soo pure so innocent and so so so desperate to be ruined..ruined by him!

(he's an arch mage honey, he's gonna arch your back( ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠))

The moment he realises that the crowned prince and that bastard of an alchemist are in love with you... He loses it! He has to keep you safe! No one is allowed to taint your pure soul! No one but him!

Don't be surprised when you find yourself locked in a temple with high level magic spells around you.. he just did it for your protection sweetheart.. So what if you are the saintess and have to bless people? You should only use your blessings on him and him alone! Don't worry love... He'll make sure to remove any peck of impurity around both of you<3

Even if he has to get his hands dirty just for you<3

Yandere akaashi (royal crowned prince)

You're a saintess... That means you are his bride! His soon to be wife and the empire's mother! What do you mean that's not how it works? Isn't it how it goes in the stories? The saintess marries the crowned prince who turns into the emperor and they live happily forever ever after?

Aw.. ofcourse you don't know about it.. you're a pure soul afterall! Silly him! He needs to protect you then! Since, he can't have someone else taking his salvation away!

...WHAT!? THAT LOUSY MAGE AND PESKY ALCHEMIST DARE HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU!? This can't be! no nO NO NO! This is treason! Treason against the royal family! So what if they are powerful? They need to be executed immediately!

Only he has the rights to claim you as his wife! Even if he has to bend a few royal orders here and there....

Yandere kita ( perfectionist alchemist )

Playing with spells and magic circles was his thing! The moment he laid his eyes on you.. he was enchanted! Obsessed! Desperate!. He needed to have you one way or the other.

You bless people, save them from misery by your holy powers, the epitome of mercy whereas he was deemed as evil, scary and an outcast.. but you.. you were the only one who treated him like a human.. no, no he doesn't care if you're the saintess, a maid or even a witch... He loves you! No matter what you are and what you want to be!

He's got to cage you keep you safe from prying eyes! Darling, he has seen how other stare at you... It makes him want to claw their eyes out!

How about going far far away from humanity where only the two of you are present? Doesn't it sound so romantic?♡

.

.

.

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[mermaidfanficlibrary]

Yandere Poly Kageyama & Tsukishima x male reader

Where they make fun of him at school. Bullying pretty much, but if someone else tried to do it they wouldn’t be going back to Karasuno again.

They want to see the reader cry, not having people around to lean on because they wouldn’t dare go near him. But what if he comes to school all smiley and cheery? Where he’s now got either an animal at home who’s made him happy or a neighbour to spend time with.

They don’t like it at all. Only they should be the reason him feel any emotions. They want to control everything. They want to be the only reason he is happy or upset.

I wouldn't hurt him if I were you | Yandere Haikyuu x Male Reader

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Kageyama Tobio

Summary: You just wanted a normal school life, not two boys fighting over you. Reader is male.

Warnings: Yandere themes, harassment, obsession, bullying, death, abuse

A/n: So sorry this took so long!! Sorry if this was rushed!

୨💔୧➤ You were a new transfer student to Karasuno High school. You were reserved and kept to yourself most of the time, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to yourself. But that wasn't as easy as you thought it would be.

୨💔୧➤ You had caught two of your fellow first years eyes, and hearts. Kei Tsukishima and Tobio Kageyama saw you at the same time as you walked through the hall. You walked past them as they were bickering and Hinata trying to sheepishly break it up.

୨💔୧➤ As soon as you past, though, they both shut up and just watched as you fumbled with your locker. That was the moment where everything changed between the two boys.

୨💔୧➤ That day Tsukishima and Kageyama would corner you and tease you endlessly. They would scare you whenever they could. The two would also hurt you, but that was rare and only if you "misbehaved" in their mind.

୨💔୧➤ That's where the obsession seed bloomed into something more volatile. They would endlessly manipulate you and made you feel guilty about everything. They would say you deserved this or that it was your fault.

୨💔୧➤ Both of them would break you down, and isolate you so that they were the only ones you could lean on. They made everyone afraid of you, because no one wanted to mess with Tsukishima and Kageyama.

୨💔୧➤ If they ever saw someone else picking on you, they would not have it. They would corner that person and, let's just say, they're not in school anymore and no one questions the disappearance.

୨💔୧➤ Same thing when the two see a wound or bruise on you that they didn't inflict. But first they would patch you up, made sure it healed. During that time, they wouldn't hurt you at all.

୨💔୧➤ Once they saw you flinch and break down, they were satisfied with what they had done. They found every opportunity to make you break down and cry in front of them. It was odd when either Kageyama or Tsukishima would hug you or comfort you.

୨💔୧➤ It was mental torture. You had many sleepless nights with the thought of the two boys hurting you and doing whatever the fuck they wanted to you. No matter how hard you tried to escape them, both at school or at home, there were a thousand thoughts that were burned in your mind.

୨💔୧➤ So to escape those thoughts, you would walk outside late at night, with just yourself. It was a nice and refreshing change when you started taking those nightly walks. All your anxiety washed away.

୨💔୧➤ That's how you met your neighbor and new best friend! They made you feel so safe, and you would talk to them whenever something was troubling you. They took so much weight off, and you were finally able to feel happy.

୨💔୧➤ You started smiling and giggling at school to yourself whenever you looked down at your phone and saw their contact. Your neighbor made you so happy. You would skip down the halls! This however caught Tsukishima and Kageyama off guard.

୨💔୧➤ They thought they had broken you down. They worked so hard only to see you smiling at other people that weren't them? No matter how hard they tried to break you down again, you would just come back to school smiling and radiating sunshine.

୨💔୧➤ They were curious as to why you looked so happy when you looked down at your phone. Who was making you giggle like that? It made both of them very angry. They decided together that they would steal your phone and look at whoever was texting you, they also added their own contacts on your phone.

୨💔୧➤ Tsukishima put his contact under My love on your phone, and Kageyama put his contact under My darling. On their phones, your contact name is Our darling. They immediately got a message on your phone from your neighbor. They were enraged

୨💔୧➤ You were trusting other people, you were friends with other people. In their eyes, you were practically cheating on them. So they took your phone to handle your oh so friendly neighbor in person.

୨💔୧➤ You walked out of class and checked your locker for your phone, but you couldn't find it. You were sure you had it with you, but you just assumed you left it at home. You started to walk to your neighborhood.

୨💔୧➤ You felt something was off, so you walked to your neighbor's house first to check on them. It wasn't odd for you to drop by and check in on them. But you were filled with anxiety, you've never felt this anxious before.

୨💔୧➤ Once you opened the door, the place smelt like death. Your heart dropped when you saw the red pooling beneath your feet. You looked up to see the two boys who bullied you endlessly. You fell to the floor sobbing, and they were smiling!?

୨💔୧➤ Maybe you should have just been alone, and not had talked to anyone. That way, everyone would have been safe from them. This was all your fault, at least that's what they told you.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

[creative-crybaby]

Fly on the Wall

PAIRING: yan!timeskip!Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem!reader

GENRE: smut | dark content (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: yandere themes, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, semi-public masturbation (m), nipple play, fingering (with leather gloves), dacryphilia, cum eating, creampie, size kink, breaking and entering, panty stealing, basically Sakusa is a perv

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SUMMARY: The new Black Jackal’s manager catches Sakusa’s eye. Unfortunately, whatever distance, physical or otherwise, is between you two, is too far for his liking. All characters are 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not meant to be a Christmas gift, but my timing does wonders, I guess :/

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

The Black Jackals getting a manager didn’t excite him the way it did his teammates. The idea itself didn’t bring him dread, of course, but the knowledge that certain players may get distracted–or worse: rowdier–brought more stress to him than he’d appreciate. 

Bokuto and Hinata were already babbling on to each other about what you might be like, reminiscing their high school days when they both had two managers on their respective teams. Atsumu joined in, whining that Inarizaki wasn’t as lucky to have a girl manager, let alone two attractive ones. He also bet that you’d be cute—Sakusa could only roll his eyes at the exchange.

You carried yourself with a grace often unfound in volleyball when meeting the team, offering a polite smile as you introduced yourself. Even when bombarded with questions from the boisterous ones (you know the ones), you didn’t falter, even assuring Meian that you didn’t mind the energy: “It’s nice to know I’ll be supporting a passionate team.”

Pretty, Sakusa thinks. You didn’t blow him away, but it was enough for him to acknowledge upon first laying eyes on you. Even he found himself momentarily frozen when you two made brief eye contact. 

Regardless, you’re not here for a modelling contract; you’re here to help the team grow to its full potential. The wing spiker may not be praying for your downfall, but he certainly isn’t going to celebrate your arrival too soon, either. 

Anyone can refill water bottles and hand out clean towels to sweaty giants. The same goes for taking notes on their progress, especially since you should know how volleyball works. From what Sakusa has observed, you do more than well in that department, too, always ready to correct someone’s form or have a report prepared for Meian in no time. You’re organized, punctual; it helps that you also sprinkle in some encouraging words when necessary. (Certain members are more than happy to gain that praise, which means more headaches on the ravenette’s end.)

It doesn’t take long for you to get him to accept you into the team—in his own way. He doesn’t avoid you like the plague, per se; he merely never saw any reason to put in as much effort to get to know you the way someone like Bokuto or Atsumu would. He was just glad to have one more person to give him some proper feedback. 

That distance Sakusa created is seemingly one-sided. There’s no special occasion, either: it was after a practice that partook a few days after a game against the Tachibana Red Falcons. A close match where the Black Jackals managed to pull through, though that wasn’t precisely what consumed the wing spiker’s thoughts at the time. You handed him a neatly folded towel during the athletes’ break, and he nods his thanks. You stay before him, and he peers up at you curiously after wiping his face. Stretching your hand to him, you carry a mini hand sanitizer pack. Nothing special: it’s a standard bottle in a dark red and attachable case. 

“Noticed you weren’t a fan of the gifts from some of your fans and would look grossed out when a kid would touch you,” you explain, offering a small smile. “Hope you don’t already have one of these. This was the only normal-looking one I could find. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about having a giraffe case dangling from your bag.”

You offer a sheepish laugh that Sakusa would refuse to admit is something he’d want to hear again. Not wanting to leave you hanging any longer than he already has, he takes your gift, eventually muttering his thanks. 

It’s like a boy clinging onto that one compliment he got a few years back because it’s all he received. A rational voice in his head dismisses your observation as something someone on the team probably mentioned to you—maybe Atsumu made a joke about him being a germaphobe, and you took it seriously. 

Still, that’s not a possibility the wing spiker wants to entertain. Not as he goes on with the rest of practice, not when he’s in the changeroom, not when he’s attaching that case to his gym bag, not when he gets home, and certainly not when he goes to bed that night. A small gesture, one probably wouldn’t overthink, lingers in his thoughts until Occasion #2 appears. 

Coming back from an away game is one of the few opportunities the volleyball players get to recharge. After packing everything into the bus, each member sits in their unassigned-assigned seat. Or, at least, most of them would. Some chose to sit wherever it was convenient for them: they wanted to carry on their conversation with one of their teammates or maybe get some shut-eye. Sakusa was the latter, opting for a window seat far away from his boisterous colleagues as possible. Ready to close his eyes, he only got a few seconds of relaxation before he sensed some shifting next to him. With furrowed brows, he opens his eyes, ready to tell Atsumu off (let’s be honest, it’s always Atsumu), only to find you making yourself comfortable in the spot next to his instead. 

You turn to him somewhat sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get some rest, and you’re pretty quiet, so I figured having you as my seating buddy was my best shot.”

You don’t say anything afterwards, waiting for him to tell you to leave him alone. To his surprise (and yours, he’s sure), the wing spiker mumbles a stoic “Go ahead,” his eyes trailing towards the window as he readjusts his mask. Even with his gaze no longer on you, he could hear the smile in your voice as you thank him. 

For the next several hours, Sakusa remained awake, thinking about everything and nothing all at once as he’d glance over to your sleeping form every few minutes. Even people like Bokuto and Hinata lost enough energy to fall asleep, but the ravenette didn’t notice. If anything, his entire world dissolved into nothingness as soon as your frame unconsciously leaned on his shoulder. His whole body froze, but surprisingly, not out of disgust. Awkward, perhaps, but he didn’t feel the need to wake you up, let alone push you away. 

His senses heightened. With you so much closer, his eyes scanned every detail your face had to offer, every reaction you had in your sleep, from stirring after hitting a speedbump to sighing whenever Saksua dared to take a breath too deep. Speaking of breathing, even with yours being so shallow, he can hear the steady rhythm loud and clear, despite Bokuto’s snoring somewhere in the distance. Your scent attacked his nose, even with the mask shielding most of his face, and he can at least admit to himself that it was refreshing to smell something that wasn’t a bunch of sweaty athletes. It’s just your head on his shoulder, but the ravenette felt you burning your mark into his skin, one he didn’t ever want to wash off. Every sense except for taste—

A speed bump. The last thought retreated as fast as it invaded. The remaining hour and a half to return home flew by with his guilt as a distraction. Even when Atsumu woke up and teased the wing spiker for trying to get close to you, Sakusa didn’t feel the need to reply. He merely looked down at your still-sleeping form for several seconds more before eventually trying to wake you up. He’d rather he didn’t, but something about others seeing you in such a vulnerable state irked him in a way he can only describe as filthy. No amount of water and hand soap can scrub away that dirt, but as soon as your eyes opened and met his before anyone else’s, that itch got scratched. He didn’t register your profuse apologies until a couple of other teammates decided to join in on the teasing, and suddenly Sakusa found his voice. 

“It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. And it still isn’t. Maybe you forgot about it or saw that moment as a funny story to share over drinks with friends, but it’s different for the wing spiker. He knows it shouldn’t be, yet here he is, replaying every minor interaction between the two of you. There was a reason for him keeping his distance from you when you first started: you both stick to your tasks during practice and games, only interacting when progress and strategy are the focus. Otherwise, the athlete is back in whatever vacant corner he can find, shrinking his almost 6’’4 frame as much as he can in hopes that he can avoid possible interactions. (And if that means he gets to watch you laugh at something Atsumu said or go over strategy with Meian, then those times in his hiding spot have come with new benefits.)

But he’s not in a corner right now: he’s at Onigiri Miya with his team and EJP Raijin, eyes boring into your frame as his cousin says something he doesn’t quite catch. 

The ravenette hums. “What was that?”

“Your new manager’s pretty cute and all,” Komori starts, not too loudly for others to hear, “but if you keep staring at her, you’re going to look like some creep.” Sakusa’s head snaps to the libero, who sheepishly smiles as he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that you were never all that good with girls, but even you should know this stuff by now.”

The wing spiker scoffs at his cousin’s joke, opting to take a bite out of his onigiri instead of replying. You’re listening to whatever story the blonde Miya twin has to share, laughing whenever the younger one butts in with commentary to embarrass the former. Now you watch in amusement as the two lookalikes bicker, and it makes Sakusa realize something: besides the few moments he recalls oh-so fondly, you don’t interact with each other much outside of volleyball. 

He glides his thumb across the nori on his food in irritation. The moments shared between you rarely involve anything outside of the sport. For someone as observant as him, the ravenette is almost ashamed he let his very few one-on-one memories of you two distract him from such an obvious (and somewhat embarrassing) fact. 

You’ve probably spent more time with a handful of his other teammates. Sakusa recalls Bokuto and Hinata inviting you to a movie marathon at the latter’s place on your day off, though through all that excitement exchanged between them, all he could do was mutter under his breath about them wasting your time. It probably doesn’t matter whether or not you accepted their offer; they still approached you. 

The same goes for whatever Atsumu says to you that makes you two snicker under your breaths. Inside jokes, Sakusa is sure of it, though it doesn’t make him scoff any less. If anything, his mood grew sour with every interaction you had that wasn’t with him. Another fact he wasn’t aware of until the blonde setter asked him if the stick up his ass was bigger than it used to be. (The wing spiker’s response to the harmless joke needn’t be shared.)

“Just talk to her.” Komori’s voice brings Sakusa back to Onigiri Miya. Staring; again. Lovely. The ravenette faces his cheerful cousin once more, who offers a chuckle. “I’ll even play wingman if you want.”

The quieter of the two finishes his onigiri before getting up from his seat. The libero watches as his relative puts his MSBY jersey on before heading for the exit. “I’m good, thank you.”

The ravenette risks a glance your way once he makes it to the door. You don’t meet his gaze, still occupied with the twins. No surprise there, but that doesn’t stop the disappointment plunging into his chest as he exits the shop.

That one-sided has seemingly returned since then, though the roles are reversed. Even with the few moments exchanged between you two, Sakusa struggles to pinpoint when he started to care for your attention in the several months you’ve been part of the team. The days when he felt indifferent involved less overthinking and even lesser restless nights; now, he can’t stop nitpicking at whatever detail catches his eye. You styled your hair differently one day; you’re snacking on cheesecake-flavoured Kitkat because it’s your new favourite snack. These notes follow up with nothing on his end except an extra bullet point in his brain’s buzzing list. 

It’s a winter evening when he adds his first crucial fact: your home address. An abyss swallows the sky at what seems to be only half past five. Not a usual time for practice, though nothing that disrupted Sakusa’s schedule. He’s making his way to his car when he sees you standing aside, eyes glued to your phone. A rare sight, though not an unwelcomed one. 

You’re frowning, the wing spiker notices. He’s approaching you, he notices too little too late. You notice him. 

“Oh, Sakusa!” you smile, pocketing your device. “Good work today.” The ravenette doesn’t need his mask to hide his contentment at your praise, though the pride that swells inside him grows challenging to swallow. “Off home to relax?”

His tongue rests between his teeth as he nods, and you hug your coat tighter to your body. His brain screams to carry on a conversation, no matter how small or meaningless, but his eyes seem to do enough as they rake through the parking lot. He’s looking for your car, he realizes, but has no clue as to what it looks like. 

“Had to bus here,” you explain sheepishly. Sakusa watches you from the corner of his eye, internally sighing in relief at your (alleged) mind-reading powers. “My car needs fixing, and with practice taking place later on in the day, finding a bus worked better.” Your gaze trails to the streets only a few meters away, exhaustion making them droop. “Guess my supposed ride is being held back, huh?”

“Let me take you home.” 

Your head snaps in the wing spiker’s direction, whose eyes slightly widen in shock at his proposition. Now he decides to talk. He digs his nails into the strap of his gym bag, jaw clenching as he tries to appear calm as he awaits your response.

Your brows crease ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Your voice shrinks at your concern. Sakusa imagines you shrinking under his gaze as well. “You never cause me any trouble.”

Not how he would’ve liked to word it, but it’s too late to take it back. You beam at him, offering your thanks and letting him know you owe him as you step closer to his tall frame. He doesn’t flinch away, instead facing the parking lot once more as he chews on his bottom lip under his mask.

The car ride holds silence throughout the fifteen-to-twenty minutes on his end, with you giving the ravenette directions and discussing the team’s progress. He only offers curt nods and soft hums, not that he minds this time; your sunny tone and presence in such a closed space were more than enough for him. Besides, his brain is occupied with carrying your guidance as you get closer to your destination. Because he’s the driver, and you ought to return home safely. It’s been a long day for both of you: you’re exhausted, and you don’t hide this fact as you slump in the passenger seat and sometimes yawn. 

And when you finally tell Sakusa to pull up into your driveway, he can’t help but scan your home with his eyes, wondering which windows expose which room. He sees one with lavender curtains from the interior, and he’s willing to bet that’s your bedroom. 

You thank him, and the thought evaporates. He’s tongue-tied once more; he nods, unlocking the passenger door. Offering one more smile, you exit the car, and the wing spiker’s eyes bore into your frame as you walk up your porch and enter your home. 

He’s backing out of the driveway when he begins to wonder if there is something different he could have done. The small talk was calming, but he found that he wanted more. 

The drive back consists of Sakusa glancing over at where you sat every chance he got. He swallows harshly, fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel at a red light. Even with practice done a while ago, he feels hot. His clothes hug him uncomfortably, and it isn’t until his brain entertains the idea of peering down does he understand why. 

He recognizes this street. The ravenette pulls over to a secluded area, quick to unbuckle his seatbelt before throwing his mask off. His chest heaves as he slowly looks down once more as if the first time was just a trick of the lights. 

He’s hard. Being alone with you for less than half an hour is enough to make him fucking hard.

He’s also alone. For a second, he recalls keeping a pack of tissues in the glove compartment. 

He’s also in his car. His home is not too far from yours, he noticed as you gave him directions. 

You were also in his car. The passenger seat pulls Sakusa’s gaze towards it. He’s leaning into where you sat not long ago, and if he focuses hard enough, he can catch a whiff of your perfume.

His cock stirs in his slacks, and the ravenette climbs over the gear shift before his brain can reason with his body. 

The passenger’s seat is still a bit warm, he notices upon making himself comfortable in his new spot. The wing spiker shakily exhales as he unzips his pants with great haste, shimmying them down to his thighs. His pace doesn’t slow down when he gets to his briefs, either, opting to tuck the waistband between his balls and dick’s base to free his shaft of its confinements. Only then does he pause, breathing still trembling as he tries to calm himself. 

There’s not much time. An empty parking lot when he got there, but it won’t stay that way forever. Sakusa spits into his palm, needing some makeshift lube to start slowly stroking himself. The relief has his eyes fluttering closed and lips parting with a sigh. It isn’t long until he feels some precum sliding down from his slit, and he spreads the stickiness to help with his movements. He takes a deep breath through his nose and again catches your scent. 

What if it was your hand pumping his cock instead? It should be. You’d be smiling as you do so, peering up at the wing spiker through your lashes as you ask him how he likes it. Always there to help during practice; how is this any different? You want what’s best for the team, for him. Anything for him—

Sakusa’s choking on a groan as he paints his hand and the glove compartment a creamy white. He doesn’t open his eyes until his high finally descends him back to earth, where he realizes what he’s done. 

He groans, in both exhaustion and disgust from the mess in his car and thoughts. He was a teenager when he lasted this long, though the quantity of his release takes him by surprise. Has he truly been pent up for too long? Did you do this?

Sakusa’s quick to take out that tissue pack. 

You thank him for the ride home once more the next time you see each other at practice. Other than that, the wing spiker continues to keep his distance. Mainly due to the shame that follows remembering what he’s done after dropping you off, but the one time you two shared eye contact for more than a few seconds when you handed him a towel during a break brought another feeling into the mix: excitement. What for, Sakusa has yet to find out. Or maybe he’s trying to avoid that explanation. Like any minute, you’ll tell him, you know, eyelids heavy as the emphasis tells him more than enough of what you’re talking about. The thought makes his lower stomach churn in an agonizing blender. Then, you’ll pull him into the storage closet, where you’ll—

Say his name. Well, no. Not you. Someone else is saying it. Again and again. 

The ravenette blinks back into the real world, masking his fantasy with a blank slate for a face as he turns to look at whoever could need something from him.

“Oh, so yer awake?” Atsumu. Of course. “Still got some energy in me, and I need t’kill a bit of time. Wanna set fer ya fer a bit.”

The grin the faux blonde offers isn’t reciprocated as Sakusa notices front the corner of his eye some of his teammates entering the changeroom. A part of him wants nothing more than to follow them, the clothes clinging to his body from all the sweat making him internally recoil as he wishes for a shower. He also knows this is an opportunity to improve without you there: as much as he enjoys your presence, you become a distraction as a drawback. 

The wing spiker sighs. “Only for a little bit.”

Atsumu beams at his teammate’s (albeit reluctant) acceptance, already jogging to fetch a ball to begin.

Sakusa finds his focus coming back with every spike he lands on the other side of the court, slowly but surely returning to normal. Another way to release some steam; he tries not to cringe at the memory of the other tactic from the night before. 

The attempt fails as soon as you enter the gym with Meian by your side. The two of you are speaking to each other—about what, the ravenette isn’t sure. He doesn’t get a chance to listen in, anyway.

“Nice kill!” Atsumu chirps, gaining the attention of not just his teammate, but his captain and manager as well. With a final nod, you and Meian go your separate ways; him towards the changeroom and you, the other two athletes. 

“Don’t push yourselves too much, guys,” you chuckle. “You already worked hard during practice. Take the time to relax as well.”

Sakusa can barely give you a nod while the setter grins at you. 

“I’m gonna get cleaned up before we head out, ‘kay?” The wing spiker’s head snaps towards his teammate with a raised brow. Neither you nor the faux-blonde acknowledge his confusion. 

You smile. “Take your time. I’ll just put the net and volleyballs away while you’re at it.”

Atsumu nods before slapping Sakusa’s back and jogging to the changeroom. The ravenette can only look down at a stray ball and pick it up. He remembers enjoying the silence between him and whoever he was with. 

“I’ll help,” he mutters, walking away before he can witness your reaction. It’s ridiculous, like some middle school crush: wanting nothing more than to be close to you, but freezing up as soon as it happens. And he can’t avoid you forever–he doesn’t want to–because you eventually meet him at the ball cart, dropping the armful of volleyballs into it. “What was that with Miya earlier?”

His voice finds itself whenever he’d rather it didn’t. He’s curious, sure, but he didn’t need his tone to give away his distaste. He can only hope you dismiss it as Sakusa being Sakusa and nothing more. 

With the small smile you give him, the ravenette is certain he’s safe. “Oh, ‘Tsumu invited me to check out this restaurant that recently opened with him after practice. Heard they made some of my favourites there, and I wanted to try them ASAP.”

Sakusa pretends that you being on a first-name basis with the setter doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t respond to your explanation and remains silent as he brings the net down with your help. The next time he acknowledges you is before he rushes to the changeroom to shower, ignoring Atsumu as they cross paths.

He’s at the wrong house. 

You’d think one knew the directions to the place they called home, yes? At the very least, have an idea of the area. Yet, it’s only until your driveway makes it to his peripheral vision does the ravenette realize his mistake. And he’s just in time to watch you walk up your porch. 

After another restless night, the wing spiker needed to clear his head. His home brought him no distractions, already too tidy to clean, and his mind continuously drifted away when watching recordings of volleyball matches. With a day to himself, he might as well go around town—there’s a mall not too far from his place, he recalls. It was a better attempt at keeping him occupied, though he couldn’t help it when he passed a perfume shop and wondered what scent was your favourite. Or the neighbouring lingerie store, putting whatever scandalous pieces of lace out on display, giving the athlete’s spiralling mind suggestions on what you would look best in. (White, he concluded before processing.) 

He didn’t want much, nor did he need much. More or less satisfied with his purchases (and dissatisfied with failing distractions), he’s in his car, ready to head back home. 

But he’s not home. Or rather, his house. The latter is a mere building; the former, a sense of comfort. And while there’s guilt bubbling in his chest, witnessing you carry on with your everyday life has him relaxing in his seat.

You were on an errand run, Sakusa observes. Groceries, from what he sees. What would you be making for dinner tonight? He’s too far away to catch what exactly is in your bags. The weather’s fallen to a frigid slumber—stew, perhaps? Or maybe you’ll make some umeboshi—those appeared to be your favourite whenever the team stopped by at Onigiri Miya. He and his teammates have had the opportunity to try some of your cooking firsthand; the ravenette is positive whatever you make will be just as delicious.

Then he remembers yesterday’s interaction, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Where did you two go? And when did Atsumu get so comfortable with you to take you out? You seemed content and—

And getting angry during this opportunity won’t do him any good. Surprised, Sakusa manages to calm down a little, opting to distract himself with other scenarios.

What could you two eat together? What would you serve him? He lets his thoughts waltz. The two of you share a meal after a long practice, or maybe you cook together on your day off. He’s seen a few romance movies in his life; he can imagine hugging you from behind as you prepared the food, him nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as you both talked about whatever was on your mind. The conversation would continue as the two of you ate at the dinner table, his hand itching to find yours across from him. 

And for dessert, he’d have you sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs wide open as he ravaged what’s in between them, your hands clawing at his dark curls as his greed controls his tongue. Or, maybe you’re feeling extra generous and decide to help him relax after a tiring practice, lowering to your knees to take every inch of his—

You’re struggling to open your front door. Too many bags in your hands—the wing spiker has half a mind to get out of the car and help you. As crazy as you drive him, he still has some sense to remind him that whatever excuse he has to be in your neighbourhood won’t be convincing, even from him. And with the evergrowing tightness in his pants, he has another problem he can’t hide. Worse, he doesn’t feel as bad as he used to anymore.

You finally manage to get inside, and the athlete starts the engine to find a secluded area once again.

Sakusa has to refrain from spiking the ball at the faux-blonde’s face in the following practice. A match among teammates, and noticing the setter’s little pep in his step upon entering the gym that morning had the ravenette glaring hard. A part of him was relieved being on Atsumu’s opposing team, doubting he could work alongside him for the day. 

For now, the wing spiker aims his spikes at the older Miya twin. Anyone could view the action as part of his strategy; aiming for the setter to prevent them from setting is an old trick in the book, but still in the book. 

“Damn it, Omi!” Atsumu exclaims in frustration after not properly receiving Sakusa’s spike. “Quit pickin’ on me! Ma arms are gonna fall off!”

A twinge of satisfaction plucks at the ravenette’s chest from the outcry, though he masks it with a huff before walking back to his position. His eyes automatically make their way to your form on a bench, keeping track of the points while scribbling some notes whenever possible. You don’t catch his gaze, seemingly occupied with whatever’s on your clipboard. The lack of attention makes Sakusa frown, as he had hoped you’d see him on his little winning streak. 

It doesn’t stop him. If anything, it adds fuel to the fire, the flicker of pride from before blooming into something dangerous. 

His plan doesn’t change: Atsumu will remain his target until he decides otherwise. The next time he’s given a chance to spike, his eyes make the mistake of gluing themselves to his victim. Barnes quickly steps in front of the faux-blonde’s spot, flinching from the impact but still blocking the ball perfectly. 

It’s just one point, one that he can easily take back. Still, Sakusa can’t help but aim his glare at the setter on the other side of the net, something that doesn’t go unnoticed. A hand lands on the wing spiker’s shoulder, snapping him out of his spiralling daze. 

“Take a seat, Sakusa.” Meian’s expression appears relaxed, though there’s a rough edge to his tone telling him it’s not a suggestion.

The bench you’re sitting on is opposite his team’s side of the court. Had that not been the case, the ravenette would try to take the opportunity to sit with you, even if words wouldn’t be exchanged. Instead, he settles onto a bench too far from you for his liking. Even if he were to try and take a peek at you, players from the other team block you from his vision, what with their constant moving. 

He’s observing their movements; anyone can assume that. Sakusa can no longer remember the time he’d do something like that unless he was watching videos of matches at home. If he’s not keeping the ball in the air on his side of the court, then he’s scavenging for a chance to even be reminded of your existence: you handing the athletes water and towels, the captain calling your name to gain your attention. Anything will do. So no matter the frustration that comes with the package, he’ll find a way to catch you. 

It isn’t until he watches you rise from the bench does Sakusa realize that practice is done for the day. He didn’t notice his teammates walking away from the court and giving him a clearer view of your frame; he was glad he could see you at all. His posture straightens as he watches you approach Atsumu, and his hands ball into fists when you rest your hand on the faux-blonde’s arm. Whatever you two may be discussing, the ravenette can only assume it has to do with his teammate being on the receiving end of his pent-up aggression. 

Your conversation ends short and sweet, with you walking towards the storage closet. Sakusa’s only half-listening to his captain when he asks if everything is okay with him. Meian is offered an unenthusiastic response of “Everything is fine” before the younger athlete stalks away.

You’re struggling to roll out the ball cart from its spot when the wing spiker enters the storage closet. He doesn’t hesitate to approach you from behind and grip the handle about an inch away from your hold. You gasp, jolting back slightly before turning your head to face the brooding ravenette. 

“You startled me, Sakusa,” you sigh, clutching your chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Always so eager to please, aren’t you? The wing spiker has to refrain from smirking at the thought. 

Still, he ignores your question. “The wheels on this cart have been acting up lately.” With newfound confidence, he places his free hand on your shoulder to gently pull you out of the way for him to yank the cart. It jerks out of its place with a loud screech, and you wince. “You just need to give it a tug. Until it’s fixed, anyway.”

Sakusa looks down at the cart upon realizing this is probably the most words he’s spoken to you without having you carry the conversation. 

You grip the handle after a few seconds of silence. Your voice, suddenly meek, shakes as you thank him. He’s blocking your way; nothing you need to point out to him, but your silence says plenty. His feet stay planted on the ground, and your loss of confidence makes his cock stir in his pants. 

“You were pretty tough out there earlier,” you point out. The wing spiker knows you purposefully left out who he was giving a hard time. He also knows, based on your concerned tone, that you’re asking him for an explanation. 

You aren’t offered a response. Sakusa only takes his time turning his head to peer at you, the darkness of the storage closet and the way his black curls frame his stoic face giving him an intimidating aura. But what has you subconsciously shrinking into your corner are the onyx caskets for irises boring into your frame, beckoning you to crawl into the empty pools of demise. 

“I have to be if I want to win,” is his response before finally leaving you be, exiting the changeroom with the same intensity you witnessed mere seconds ago.

He’s back: closer. 

Parking his car nearby doesn’t cut it for him anymore. Sakusa doesn’t think it ever did. With the amount of patience lost for every practice with his team, the initial distance was just a formality. 

Now, his car hides nearby as he approaches your home, giving a quick yet thorough peek over his shoulder to make sure he’s in the clear.

It took him the third visit to learn where you hid your spare key, having seen you take it out from under the cushion of a little bench on your porch. And luckily for him, it hasn’t left its spot. 

Even with his morals flying out the window, the wing spiker neatly places his coat, scarf and boots aside after removing them, then ponders over his leather gloves until ultimately deciding to keep them on. He eyes the spare slippers by the entrance before concluding they won’t be necessary (for this visit, anyway).

Based on the house’s layout, it shouldn’t take long for Sakusa to find your bedroom. But it’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. Why not get to know you via your home?

It’s a small house: one story and cozy. The ravenette wonders how you afforded it, even with your salary. With how minimal the style appears, he can only assume most of your income went into the building itself. Would it be too much for him to buy you things for the interior? As a gift, perhaps when the occasion calls for it. 

Then again, is he really in any position to ask himself about doing too much? He almost chuckles at the thought. 

A quick yet thorough tour of your home gives him a more detailed layout, though he’d love to stay longer had he had the time. Or better yet, your company. As satisfied as he was to find your living room and kitchen tidy–and by his standards no less–he’s not done getting to know you. 

People don’t really need an exploration of the bathroom. It’s as clean as any other room, though it’s a cast-aside note when his eyes land on your laundry basket. Half full, too. Squatting closer to the dirty pile, a subtle yet musky scent hits his nose. Sakusa almost groans, cock stirring in his slacks; for such a clean freak, he’s never been more excited.

His eyes scan the basket’s contents, eventually landing on flimsy lace. Part of him wishes he wasn’t sporting gloves for the occasion, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he picks up the article of clothing. Underwear, of course it is, and a flattering magenta nonetheless. You wear this to practice? Or are there other times you put it on? Do you have a matching bra? The wing spiker can’t find anything in the basket, though he’s sure–no, he knows–you’d wear it like it was made for you. 

Are you wearing something similar right now?

The ravenette stands from his position, pocketing the lacy undergarment before exiting the bathroom. Consider it a welcoming gift. 

Again, it doesn’t take long for him to find your room. Being in such an intimate location is a different experience compared to looking in as an outsider. Everything is you: the way you organized your shelves and vanity, the colour palette—your scent is more prominent here. Sakusa doesn’t catch his eyes fluttering shut until he distinctly hears shifting. 

To his right, you lay on your mattress, your sheets messily hanging off parts of your body. You’re barely a silhouette in his eyes; the moonlight stalking past the crack between your curtains is the only thing helping the ravenette navigate your room. Parts of the glow highlight a bit of your face, though a shimmer from the light’s reflection teases his peripheral vision. 

You have a bookcase headboard, and on it lays a necklace in its case. Nothing fancy; a golden heart hanging off a thin chain. It’s more the note next to its box that catches the ravenette’s eye:

Thought this would look good on you ;) Hope you like it!

— Tsumu (your favourite setter <3)

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d notice, Sakusa would crumble that note and follow up with the faux-blonde’s neck. When did you get this? He surely would’ve noticed if you received it during practice. 

There’s a good chance the setter gave it to you before or afterwards. The wing spiker’s aware that the two of you spent time together outside of training, though for it to happen enough times that Atsumu found it appropriate to give you a gift as intimate as a heart-shaped necklace has the ravenette glaring at the piece of jewellery. (As open as his teammate may be, Sakusa doubts he’d buy something like that for someone after a single meet-up.)

He hears a sigh: yours. Your body shifts in its spot again, opting to lay on your back. The wing spiker freezes for the slowest seconds his alarmed brain can count, only to relax once you stay in your new spot.

They say an average of eight spiders crawl into your mouth yearly while you sleep. A myth, of course, but maybe that’s what we tell ourselves to ease the paranoia. Maybe, that’s what he is, Sakusa thinks; a spider. Soundless, observant—he’s certainly made himself at home. 

Maybe not, he reconsiders. Most people would carefully trap the eight-legged creature before bringing it outside. Or kill it; no mercy necessary. You have yet to do either. 

Then again, you aren’t like most people. Not in his eyes, anyway. No, his eyes entertain themselves with your every move, and no matter how deep those holes in the side of your head are, you don’t catch his stare. Whatever he may be, he’s always the perfect distance to observe you.

Sakusa’s brain buzzes mindlessly as his hands draw closer to your form, long fingers pinching the hem of your pyjama shirt before lifting the material. No bra: not a surprising observation, what with your nipples poking at the fabric from the cold. Even with how dark it is, the ravenette salivates from the sight, his cock stirring in his pants. He’s grateful for the lack of witnesses, though it’s still embarrassing to be as affected as he is. You’re not even fully nude. Yet.

He waits for a reaction. Other than you moving in your sleep, the wing spiker receives nothing. He exhales through his nose, never thinking that gaining the knowledge about you being a heavy sleeper early on would be an advantage for him. His fingers twitch before slowly landing on your stomach. Again, no reaction; he then lays his palms to join the digits. With a deep and shaky breath, the ravenette glides his hands up your torso until they reach your breasts. 

They feel perfect in his grasp, even with the thick layer of the leather gloves creating that barrier. Your face scrunches when he gives your mounds a light squeeze, though you remain asleep. As deep of a sleeper as you may be, one wrong move could ruin everything. Sakusa gulps, dragging his middle finger to flick at your nipple. A shaky breath from you is enough for him to shift into a more comfortable position on your bed before he continues his ministrations more confidently. 

He’s careful, he assures; eyes flickering from your chest to your face, reading your expressions to discover what you like and making sure you don’t wake up. All the while, the athlete tries to ignore the tightness of his pants, although watching you squirm beneath him because of his touch makes that a challenge. 

“Hnngh….”

It was barely audible, but enough to make the athlete stop everything. You’re still asleep, of course—he’s almost impressed, a bit jealous, even. Countless nights of insomnia on his side because of his fantasies playing on a loop, but yours give you a good night’s rest.

Regardless, the wing spiker gears to earn another reaction like that. Dipping his toes further into the water, he gets a little rougher, tweaking the sensitive buds between his covered fingers. Your back arches in his hold; more than enough confirmation for him. 

Shifting his position once more, Sakusa wraps his lips around one of your nipples, dragging his tongue against it while groping the other breast. You whimper when he begins sucking: a shallow sound, but it travels down to his crotch. He already has to deal with the embarrassment of finishing early because of you; if he cums in his pants without any stimulation, you’ll surely be the death of him.

He can’t rely on you being a deep sleeper forever: the wing spiker must work quickly. Pulling away from your chest, Sakusa brings his attention to the lower half of your body. His hands glide down to your hips, hooking his index fingers past the elastic waistband. He wonders whether he should take his time removing the article of clothing or pull them down in one motion. You help him make a quick decision when your leg accidentally brushes against his hard-on. And while he refrains from letting out a groan, his hands make fast work of harshly tugging your pants to your knees. 

Silence: not a sound from you, not a breath from him. Your thighs clench momentarily out of reflex once the cool air hits the exposed skin. Not fast enough—Sakusa managed to catch a peek at your drooling cunt. And it isn’t until you finally relax again does he exhale with a light shiver from the sight. 

Now, with a clear view, the athlete reaches for his opportunity by swiping some of your essence and bringing that same finger to your clit. Your hips buck into his touch as he rubs slow but tight circles on the pearl, making his brows furrow in concentration and chest swell with pride. It isn’t long until he adds to his pace and slides a finger from his other hand into your sopping hole. Your thighs clench on impulse, a mewl leaving your throat as the air remains stuck in his. His movements are forced to a halt due to your hold, and it takes several seconds for you to settle. Do you enjoy the sturdy material of leather rubbing against your insides? Maybe you’re unaware of the answer, but God, wouldn’t the ravenette love to know.

Dipping his toes in the water is long out of the discussion; if anything, he’s in too deep, the water rising every second he proceeds. He might as well follow the rest of him down, no? Take that final gulp of air before dipping his head in and letting that frozen abyss swallow him.

Sakusa experimentally wiggles his finger inside you and, after gaining no reaction, slides in another. With how wet you already were, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. You gasp, but your eyes stay closed. Even with his morality slipping away each day he sees you, the wing spiker still finds himself surprised (and grateful) that you can sleep through his actions. He wonders how far he can go. 

The longer and deeper he pumps his digits inside you, the more reactions he earns from you. The squelching noises between your legs also become louder, especially with the leather material of his gloves. He’s no longer worried, just curious about what sounds and expressions he can pull out of you. 

A particular response tells him he’s found your sweet spot. With a drawn-out yet breathless wail, you lift your hips off the mattress once the ravenette prods at a certain part inside you. 

Where there is darkness, there is also light, and that’s exactly what could be said to describe the glimmer in his eyes upon discovering this hidden gem of information. He continues his ministrations, watching in fascination and lust as you grind into his touch. 

Meanwhile, his cock is begging to be released from its restraints, throbbing due to the display. Sakusa was hoping to hold out for a bit longer, mapping out your body in ways he hopes no one else has, but along with any logic and morality, his patience flies out the window. 

You whimper when the athlete slides his fingers out; he almost wants to coo, assure you that he’ll make you feel all better. He can’t, of course, so he opts to taste you, lick his digits clean of your slick. He’s certain he almost cums on the spot, your sweetness consuming his tastebuds (as well as a hint of bitter leather) and leaving its mark in his memories. The wing spiker’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to refrain from groaning. 

When his gaze returns to your form, he’s swift with your pants, further sliding them down before doing the same to himself. Having his cock out of its confinements already does plenty for him, but not enough. Sakusa recalls how your cunt squeezed his fingers, practically sucking them in. You were warm, dripping, even with his gloves in the way. And with how eager he is to have you make a mess on his dick, he knows he’s no longer the same person he was before meeting you.

The athlete taps the tip of his cock against your clit a few times, just to watch you squirm, before sliding into your entrance. Only a few inches in, and he already has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip. None of this was a part of his plan—he’s not even sure he had one in the first place; he just needed to see you, feel your presence in some way, shape or form. And the latter is more than he could ever ask for, your insides hugging him just as tight as they did his fingers. The lack of a barrier is the icing on the cake. 

He’s bottomed out before he knows it, and Sakusa doesn’t know where to look: your face contorting from being filled to the brim or your cunt stretching open to accommodate his size. Either one intensifies the swirling of his lower stomach. All he can do for now is play with your clit until you appear to feel better. (And if that means you clench harder around him, then so be it. He’s come this far as is.)

After a few minutes, the wing spiker reels his hips back with a deep breath. His thrusts are gentle, as much of a challenge as it may be to hold back. He bites his bottom lip as he feels you hug every inch of his cock, threatening to milk him for all he’s worth when he’s barely begun. You’re so much better than his hand; no fantasy can compare. 

A few strokes in, and Sakusa’s restraint is thinning. Every time, he thrusts in a bit deeper, a bit faster, a bit harder. You’re quietly moaning between pants, your face twisting from a pained expression to one much lewder. Pretty lips parted with brows both furrowed and raised, you have the ravenette throwing his head back with a silent groan. 

Unfortunately for him, that’s when he catches sight of that damn necklace again. His grip on the sheets next to your head tightens, his thrusts sloppy as his mind races. What made Atsumu think he had the right? Does he think a necklace is all it’ll take to get you? Sakusa drops his head to glare daggers as you continue to mewl and whimper. What do you think is happening right now? Who are you thinking about right now? 

His mind keeps reeling, and the wing spiker fails to notice how he’s taking out his aggression in his thrusts.

Your whimpers grow to pathetic cries, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and his hold on your sheets move to your wrists on instinct. With the mental spiral and physical force, the ravenette fails to notice your eyes shoot open.

Then, you gasp. “Sakusa!”

He hears the fear in your voice, no doubt. Yet, in a situation like this, with you beneath him, tears streaming down your cheeks as your sobbing and panting mix together, he can’t help but create a more beautiful scenario. You’re begging for him, his cock, needing him to fuck you stupid and fill you up to the brim, the pleasure so overwhelming that your nails are digging into his back, only his shirt shielding his skin from the potential marks. 

The athlete doesn’t think; he slams his lips against yours, his tongue quick to explore your mouth as his release hangs on to the edge. And when your pussy flutters around his dick, creams around it, it’s the push he needs. Hot spurts of cum paint your insides white as Sakusa kisses you harder, his hips stilling. Even as he groans against your mouth, he can hear your choked moans, and he never wants any of this to end. 

But that’s not how it works. Eventually, you both come down from your highs, his cock going soft and out of cum to give you. The wing spiker doesn’t pull out, but it doesn’t stop the white liquid from trying to seep out. It makes him shiver, slowly ending your kiss for you both to catch some air. The string of saliva connected to your lips that follows him as he sits up distracts him; something else to bind you two together. It’s messy, so so so messy. 

He loves it. 

You’re both breathing hard for the next several seconds, your terrified expression not faltering as your body trembles lightly. 

“Wha—How?” you gasp, sob, you’re not sure, and neither is he. He’s only half-listening, still floating on that release and too far away. “Sakusa, how did you get in?”

There they are again: those eyes. Empty pools, yet always full of judgement. Like you’re the crazy one. Tracing the river streams down your face and clumps of shields for lashes, they seemingly do more talking than his mouth. 

Then, Sakusa reaches a hand out to cup your cheek. You flinch, but it doesn’t stop him from wiping a stray tear. Even with your helpless sounds quieting down, the silence isn’t any less deafening. And when his voice, smooth and deep and a little too nonchalant, invades the room, you shiver.

“I was always here.”

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

[yanderenightmare]

can you expand on your idea of bully ! Tsukishima from haikyuu??? please, it sounded delicious uwu

Haikyuu!! IMAGINE

Tsukishima Kei x darling

TW: NSFW, dubcon, exhibitionism, "fingering in public"

DINKERBELL

“Tch- look at you sitting here like a bookworm~” 

His words snuck up on you from behind, making you suck in a gasp where you sat, concentrating in the quiet library with a pen in your notes and your nose in a textbook – shrinking in your seat under the mean glare of the librarian who told you to hush.

“Who’re you tryna fool, huh?” Tsukishima crudely continued in spite of it, gripping the back of your chair while leaning over – his lips brushing the shell of your ear while he whispered. “Everyone knows you’re just a pretty pair of tits on legs- tch, no one expects there to be any actual brains in here.”

You pursed your lips with furrowed brows and rose from your chair, casting a sour look up at him through the slim glasses he looked down at you through – his face soft but with a sly smirk curling his lips.

You didn’t have time to humor him, you thought while gathering your books into your bag – this assignment wouldn’t figure itself out, no matter how hard you wished it would.

“Aw, come on~ you know I'm just joking~” He stopped you – snatching the textbook out from your flimsy grip and lifting it higher than you could reach.

“It's not very funny, Kei.” You sulked. Halfheartedly grabbing after your book, knowing you wouldn’t reach it either way.

“It’s funny to me.” He replied with a cock of his chin. “Besides, it’s not really my fault you make yourself such an easy target.” Smirk spreading while he glibbed, lazily lowering the book again with eyes giving you a patronizing leer. “You need my help, right?”

You bit your lip, shifting between looking up into his knowing eyes and the heavy calculus book weighed in his palm – then the assignment on the desk. Thinking about how long you’d sat there, pulling on your hair and chewing your pen, stuck on the same equation. 

You gave a defeated huff, sitting back down in surrender – and he offered a soft chuckle, pulling up a chair right beside you, opening the book to the right chapter. 

Your pout never dropped as he started tutoring – staring at the formulas he pointed to with worried eyes, twiddling your pen unsurely with a growing storm of hopeless confusion festering in your head.

You felt close to crying when his arm went from resting on the back of your chair to slipping between you, hand brushing your thigh – traveling beneath your skirt slowly, soon with fingers stroking the warm fabric of your panties.

“Kei…” You whined lowly. “Not here…” Begging with bashful eyes fluttering shyly around the library, terrified that anyone would see.

“You seem distracted… Maybe you want me to tutor you in something else, hm?” He ignored you, keeping his hand tucked between your thighs even as you tried closing them – running his long fingers up and down, teasing your slit through the thin cotton, smiling once feeling you get damp. Despite acting all cute and demure, you’re always so easy.

“We’re in the library, Kei...” You protested, keeping your voice hushed – cheeks heating as your breath flared, trying to keep your hips still.

“Yeah? What better place for you to learn something new?” He said playfully, not bothering with lowering his voice like you as his finger hooked around the trail of your panty and pulled it to the side. “You just need to stay quiet. Shouldn't be hard for someone who never has anything worthwhile to say anyway.”

“Tsukki-” You nagged with an insisting whine, rubbing your knees together to keep him away. Embarrassed and nervous and now hot and bothered – you choked on your heart, praying no one else in the quiet library had taken notice of the two of you.

“Spread wider.” He ordered, unbothered by your concerns – making you yelp with a strict pinch to the inside of your thigh when you didn’t obey. He clicked his tongue. “I told you to keep quiet- I'm not going to detention all because your dumb mouth couldn’t figure out how to shut up.”

You only whimpered with another breath, giving in to his wishes – sinking your teeth into your lip while opening your legs with a quickening heartbeat.

“There you go- good dummy~” He praised, now with a finger diving through your wet slit, up between your swelling pussylips to rub against your perky clitty. 

You moaned under your breath, feeling lightheaded and fuzzy and warm. Withholding further sighs and lusty sounds by biting into your lip, making them come out as petty whimpers instead. Thighs quaking where you fought to keep them open despite the burn in your loins telling you to clamp them shut tight to ride the pleasure that soon washed through you.

“You know… it's okay to be stupid as long as you’re useful in other ways.” He teased – his eyes set on your expression, watching it curl in bliss as you soaked his fingers with slick. Offering a curt chuckle. “And I can think of plenty ways I want to use you.”

He wiped his fingers on your panties and pulled them back in place, patting your cunt in kudos before getting up. 

You were left softly blinking, catching your damp breaths while slowly coming to – enough to see him packing up.

“What are you doing?” You asked in a rush. The half-finished assignment spread on the desk sobering you up – enough to make you pull your thighs back together and send the worry back into your hopeless eyes.

“I gotta spell everything out for you, don’t I?” He sighed, acting exasperated before a grin crept up his face like before. 

He bent down until his face was but a hairs length from yours, one big hand laid flat on the textbook on the desk, balancing him as he curled a finger under your chin. 

“You and I take this assignment back to my place- I finish it for you, and then…” He paused, drumming his fingers on the pages while giving his teeth a quick lick. “I finish you right after.”

You bit your lip in turn, watching him pull his bag up on his shoulder while lifting the book for you to take.

“Sound good?” He asked then, waiting for you with a raised brow.

Smiling once you took the book in both hands with a cute nod to your head. 

“Then hurry it up, Dinkerbell.”

tip-jar: Kofi

[yandere-romanticaa]

Haikyuu season 2 is the best season and I'm about to make us all the ultimate y/n.

For funsies, let's say you're a manager for Karasuno. And for even more funsies, aside from the Karasuno boys having their eye on you, the others start to check you out too!!

Kuro and Bokuto would be the most vocal about their attraction, shamelessly so. They're all over you much to the chagrin of your Karasuno boys. Sugawara holds you by the shoulders as he drags you away, a nervous smile on his face but his fingertips are digging far too deeply into your skin to be normal. Daichi looks like he'll faint if he sees you talking to anyone who's not from his team, forcing him to always have someone guarding you at all times.

That job is usually handed to either Tanaka or Nishinoya. Sometimes both at the same time!

But you start getting close to the other players too, such as Kenma. He's shy but he's a sweet little thing. You always get him to eat which Kuro is immensely grateful for. He uses this as an excuse to keep you close and Kenma just goes along with it.

You're also most likely being taken cared of by Akaashi, who has his own set of motivations and goals. He knows damn well what he's doing and the smirk on his face gives him away once the Karasuno boys sneak a peak at him.

[ilylovelyz]

haikyuu boys when protective of you

most likely gets into a fight, does throw the first punch, and dramatically whines afterwards, forcing you to be his personal nurse ATSUMU, TANAKA, nishinoya, terushima, IWAIZUMI, hoshiumi

so insulting and almost degrading to whoever is threatening you that the offender ends up leaving out of embarrassment TSUKISHIMA, shirabu, KUROO, kenma, sugawara, daishou, akira, SUNA, kageyama, ushijima, futakuchi, hanamaki

YOU'RE the one who is protecting them SAKUSA, hachi, bokuto, YAMAGUCHI, GOSHIKI, asahi, tendo, AONE, oikawa (somehow), koganegawa, LEV

does his best to diffuse the situation, but ultimately leaves angry and mentally hexes them KIYOKO, akaashi, KITA, DAICHI, hinata, yaku, hirugami

spends the night in jail KENTARO, semi, yamamoto, mattsun, OSAMU

[eroslove88]

"She only wanted to lie beside him"

Pairing: Yan. Kenma x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Stalking, kidnapping, bondage, noncon touching and noncon implied

Note: WOAH!!! I POST 2 TIMES IN A WEEK. WILD!!! Uhm yeah, this is a guilty pleasure fic.

Turning on your computer you feel a bit... dumb? It feels useless to even message him- but yet here you are. Kenma messaged you, and that's not out of the ordinary. Actually it's pretty normal, it's been normal for like 6-7 months.

You got close to him because he was in a server with a mutual friend. He goes to your high school and growing up the most you said to him was something about project years ago. Senior year- you thought that this would be the year where you'd come out of your shell but that never happened. Anxiety crashed that thought early on. When you got on a daily routine of texting Kenma you thought he'd actually want to befriend you, but that's not what happened. Long late night conversations and not a word said to each other in real life. It doesn't help that you two walk the same way home either...

Maybe you wouldn't have cared so much if you didn't have a small crush on him.

'hey did we hv hw' your computer gets a notification, Kenma. You sigh and type back, 'Yeah, the insert for this lesson.' you see that he's typing but he stops and doesn't respond until about 5 minutes later- despite being online. '👍' you couldn't help but roll your eyes and just sigh.

None the less he was an ok dude, he had offered to gift you things, games & chocolates- all of which you declined. You didn't want to feel materialistic and greedy.

'do you wanna play gungeon' you put your jacket on and replied quickly, 'Sorry, I'm going for a walk. I can play in an hour though!' you patiently waited and he replied quickly. 'k' huffing you closed your laptop, charging it before you left.

During the winter, the sun went down faster than usual. So around 7ish the streets were empty for walkers except for the occasional dog walkers.

The sound of quiet foot steps penetrated your mind. Snapping your head around you're faced with empty streets, probably paranoia you thought. You turned your music up walking down your usual route.

Even with the music playing you couldn't help but hear footsteps everywhere. You weren't so far from the park... just 3 more blocks.

The feeling of being watched burns your neck, you really should've turned around. Pounding footsteps come running towards you but you were too late. Your screams were demoted to tiny whimpers as you weakly try grasping the needle in your neck.

You were freezing, your arms and legs were duct taped together. It was a pretty lazy job, but whatever kind of tape it was was pretty fucking strong. Your vision was blurred with tears and you whimper into your gag and curled into yourself seeming to have missed the boy sitting at the desk across the room.

It wasn't until you heard the creaking of the chair and light footsteps that you felt panic. Your eyes remained closed even when he was right by your face.

The bed dipped down, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you" a small crying noise comes out from your gag as you try to beg him to stay away. He shushed you coming closer but all you could do was shake your head and try to move away, "Hey, it's ok" he spoke to you like a stray kitten as he slowly approached your trembling body, "Sh... It's only me" you knew that. But that didn't stop you from squirming in his arm as you tried pushing him away. He tisked at your pitiful attempt, " 'm really sorry for not approaching you" he mumbles kissing your head. "I knew you were lonely..." he chuckles, "But that honestly made things even easier" he let's you go and stands up. "I've been waiting a while to do this you know" he pulls out a black box. He opened it and paused "I've always been curious to see how your pretty face would look with a full pussy" he pulls out 3 big dildos, "and ass" he smirks pulling out a condom. "2 v. 2?"

[i-cant-sing]

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."

[chanif-art]

“Let’s play for the rest of our lives…!”

Not me rewatching haikyu 1234567th after finishing movie🧍🏻‍♀️

Ganknow