#yandere kita shinsuke

[animeyanderelover]

Um hi i don't know if im late or not but i wan t to send in a request: i would like some haikyuu hc with reader who is kinda like isabela from encanto, yknow like being flawlessly perfect and having powers where she could grow flowers and then all sorts of other plants, but like them figuring out she has powers? I hope that made sense. I don't know if i can still send 10, but you changed the rules so im guessing yeah. So for this could you do yamaguchi, hinata, kageyama, sugawara, kenma, akaashi, oikawa, kita, suna, and goshiki, thank you

I will shock some people with this statement but I didn't watch Encanto so my description is probably a bit off. Since Corona I didn't really bother with cinemas, I've only recently watched Puss in Boots because two of my friends wanted to go with me. It was fantastic though.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, clinginess, jealousy, insecurity, touchiness, manipulation

S/o is like Isabella from Encanto

Kōshi Sugawara

🤍Sugawara himself tries to step his own game up when he falls for his darling. He knows that he has weaknesses and imperfections and is not delusional enough to believe that he will ever be the best in anything but even he feels initially a slight pressure when in your presence. From looks to grades, you do everything with such graceful ease that it’s not surprising that you’re that popular as you are. This slight pressure soon fades though as he gets to know you better and grows more comfortable. From there on he starts to get more worried though as he realizes that you yourself might feel quite pressured to always be perfect to not ruin your image. He frequently reminds you that it’s fine to not be perfect, especially around him and that you should feel more comfortable around him. At times he even ushers you to sit down, relax and let him do the task. It might not turn out as great as if you’d do it yourself but his angel deserves some rest too.

🤍Suga wants his darling to be honest with him and maybe it’s also because of his rather twisted wish to be someone you can fully tell everything. He also knows that he shouldn’t push you though to make you uncomfortable and possibly lead you to avoiding him. He happens to find out during a time where he decides to visit you to ask how you’re doing that he catches you making flowers bloom around you. You’re in shock and panic at the beginning before Sugawara snaps out of his awe and rushes to you to calm you down. He apologizes for just popping up without an announcement and even if he has questions, he promises you that he can wait. You don’t take long to tell him the truth though since you’ve been debating on whether to tell him or not anyways, something that fills Suga’s chest with pride when hearing that you trust him that much. He gets more protective since he wants to keep your secret, tries to talk you into not telling any more people. The less know, the lower the risk.

Tobio Kageyama

🌧️Kageyama is, despite the initial rather intimidating impression, deep down somewhat insecure himself. He probably doesn’t mind too often though since his passion lies in volleyball so grades that tend to be lower aren’t his biggest issue, unless it interferes with his play that is. When he goes down the rabbit hole of obsession because of you though, everything changes. Suddenly he’s hit with a truck of self-doubt and you being as flawlessly graceful as you are does not help. He wishes so desperately to talk to you but can’t even form a coherent sentence when you look at him which only humiliates and embarrasses him further. You notice how he’s often standing in the near distance, glancing constantly at you. He falters every time you approach him and talk to him, his heart beating in his chest. That shyness contrasts greatly with his aggressive and hostile attitude whenever someone spites you out of jealousy or wants to ask you out.

🌧️Just when he finally gains the courage to talk to you and fumbled around with ideas to ask you for a date, even if he has no idea how to give someone as perfect as you the perfect date, something unexpected happens. Kageyama is still stalking you for a large part, partly concerned and partly paranoid that persistent admirers will come after you. That’s how he witnesses the sight of you creating flowers and it’s only when you turn around that you notice him silently watching you with wide eyes. He’s frantically apologizing to you when you see him, terrified that you’ll despite him now that he knows your secret. You deal with it surprisingly calm though although you make him promise to never tell anyone. Tobio can’t deny that you two grow closer though because he has that knowledge and it makes him far more possessive, determined to not let anyone else find out so he can be the only one that close to you.

Shōyō Hinata

☀️Hinata is easily a blushing mess around his darling but that never stops him from approaching her and talking to her. He’s rather sociable and also very energetic and his childish energy is honestly refreshing for you. He’s surely embarrassed when he fails to do what you finish with ease but is determined to learn as long as you teach him and doesn’t wallow too much in his failure, if you cheer him up that is which you luckily do. It’s obvious he adores you but not with the same reverence you’re usually seen with, he treats you more like you two are still equals and doesn’t worry his head too much over things. He compliments you with an excited and awed look on your face when he sees you doing something cool, pesters you to teach him too and also makes an effort to recall the smaller things on you. Because of all the attention he’s often a sulking mess though, unhappy with the lack of attention.

☀️Shōyō is terribly clingy and when you aren’t with him, he’s often chatting and texting you. On this particular day you don’t answer nor read his messages though which is why he decides spontaneously to drop by at your house. He didn’t envision to see you creating plants and flowers though, watches in awe and admiration until you notice. When your eyes meet, he storms to you with stars shining in his eyes as he rambles about how he didn’t know you could do that and that this was so cool and beautiful. He even asks you if you can teach him how to make flowers and plants bloom. It’s like he forgot that a normal human can’t do that, or he just doesn’t care in that moment. It’s hard to be angry with him when he’s that enthusiastic so you scold him only mildly although you clarify to him that no one should know about your powers. Hinata makes an oath to you, swears that he’ll never tell a soul about it. And despite being very talkative, he keeps that promise.

Tadashi Yamaguchi

💕Tadashi is going to avoid his darling for a whole good while because he is such an insecure guy. Tsukishima makes fun of him, tells him to just gather the courage to just say a simple "Hello" to you yet not even that is something that Tadashi can do. He just can't stop comparing himself with you and in all areas you're far more superior and better than he could ever hope to be. Surely someone as gorgeous and perfect as you wouldn't want to interact with someone as under average as he is. He's terrified to not be seen as enough, especially since he believes that someone as you only deserves the best and he definitely doesn't view himself like that. The first time you actually noticed him and chatted a bit with him, he had even troubles looking you directly into your eyes, far too flustered and also slightly scared. He felt like ascending to heaven afterwards though, especially once you graced him with that sweet smile of yours due to his somewhat adorable behavior.

💕It's all a pure accident, he just happens to see you passing by in the distance and follows you out of curiosity he can't suppress since this isn't your usual route. Once he sees you growing flowers, his mind goes blank with shock and awe before he quietly leaves, still too shocked to fully comprehend. At night he lays awake in his bed and arrives at the conclusion that you're probably a god of sorts which only hits him harder with insecurity. Why should you even bother with a human like him then? Out of guilt for spying, Yamaguchi confesses to you within the next days that he's witnessed your powers, glancing at you surprised when you start laughing when he accidentally refers to you as a god. You tell him the truth afterwards, admit that you'd wish that he wouldn't see you as a god of any sort. You hang out with him more now that he knows your secret anyways, feel relieved that Yamaguchi proves himself to be trustworthy. He's on a shy and insecure spectrum so you can't help but look out for him a bit more, something that Yamaguchi finds himself secretly enjoying.

Tōru Oikawa

👑Now here is a guy who tends to be arrogant himself and very possssive and loud when it comes to making it a point to show that he's the best for you. Honestly speaking, in Oikawa's eyes his darling and him should already be a couple since he is convinced that both of them are just perfect for each other. To show his darling that he's right, he constantly hangs around her and impresses her at any chance he gets. He's acting like a peacock who is flexing his feathers in front of you so you always pay attention to him because, guess what, he hates it when you turn your attention to someone else. There's no better way to describe him than with the term jerk when we're talking about how he makes fun and bullies everyone who thinks they have a chance with you, not afraid to start gossip or count down every embarrassing thing that ever happened to them. Occasionally Tōru suffers from insecurities too, times where he grows more clingy and slightly unhinged for approval from your side.

👑You find it already weird when he doesn't accompany you on your way out of school although you do guess that the lost match probably has just gotten to him. All the more reason that you feel a wave of dread washing over you when you see him stepping out from behind the corner where he was hiding whilst you were carelessly using your power a bit because you thought no one was watching you. You don't like the weird look in his eyes as his eyes go back and forth between you and the flowers on the ground. He asks you if anyone else knows and you can only shake your head. Your little hell starts from there since Oikawa is not shy to manipulate you with this newfound knowledge, his frustration and possessive side getting in that moment the better of him. He sets up the condition that he won't tell anyone if you start dating him, doesn't leave you with much of a choice in that moment. As soon as he has recovered though, he's gushing and complimenting you affectionately for your gorgeous ability instead of only using it as a way to blackmail you.

Keiji Akaashi

🍁You like Akaashi a lot and that all boils down to the fact that he doesn't treat you like you're some sort of celebrity that one always has to talk about. Most people only compliment you and adore you for your perfection but you genuinely feel like Akaashi is interested in the person that is hiding behind the talent and the perfection. He talks with you like a normal human being and his conversations are never always around the topics of you being so amazing and cool. Sure, he compliments you and lets you know that he respects you but knows that there are other interesting things to talk about besides you. You even feel quite flattered when he admits after a while where you two have grown closer that he's sometimes worried that you might be a bit tired from always having to be perfect. You reassure him that it's alright but he reminds you that he'll listen if you ever feel the need to talk about something. You consider a few times telling him your secrets.

🍁Because Akaashi is so incredibly subtle with his slightly manipulative and protective behavior, you end up trusting him more blindly than you should which is why you at one point openly admit to him that you have special powers. He doesn't fully believe you until you truly show him, causing his stoic expression to crack with a surprised look on his face. He didn't think that your biggest secret would be the reveal that you can grow plants but he instantly understands why you're so adament to keep this a secret and he reassures you that he will never tell a single soul. Akaashi grows to overthink more though as he realizes soon that your secret truly is a little burden to carry, one he now feels too. He grows a hint more protective, always turns around to make sure that no one is following you two when you go home and scolds people with a hint more sarcasm when he catches someone actually following you which leads to him accompanying you more.

Kenma Kozume

🐱Kenma will without a doubt also be a guy that will try to avoid his darling at first. He's more on a introverted side as it is and so the people who constantly surround his darling intimidate him. Not even to mention that he sort of thinks about his own talents when he is constantly hears from others and sees for himself that you can seemingly do everything without even practicing it much. This self-conscious thoughts really hold him back so the only thing he really does at first is stalking you in school and stalking your social media accounts. Kuroo realizes what is going on in his silent friend who seems to be brooding a lot in thoughts since a while now. Kuroo doesn't have as much doubtful thoughts as Kenma and is immediately up to approach you and help his shy friend. If Kenma isn't comfortable talking to you in public, Kuroo will just make sure you two bump into each other when there are no people fawning over you and admiring you.

🐱Because Kuroo arranged certain things and encouraged Kenma to go to that place on this special day is why Kenma witnessed how flowers bloomed with every step you take in the first place. One quick snap of his phone to have a photo is all he does before leaving before you can notice him. He's taken back by what he has seen and spends the rest of the day just sort of contemplating how he should deal with what he has just seen. It's only a few days later that he messages you, thanks to Kuroo giving him your number, and asks if you two can meet because he has something important to ask you. You expected a confession of love because you're aware of his crush but nearly choke on the air when he shows you the photo. His gaze directly into your own eyes is fleeting as he is as flustered as he is sort of ashamed. He promises that he won't tell anyone and delete the picture but only if you tell him the truth. He's sly enough to know that you're bound to spend more time with him now that he knows about your secret.

Tsutomu Goshiki

🌟Tsutomu is possibly your biggest fanboy and cheerleader in the whole city. He's always admired you for your seemingless neverending talents and is always one of the first ones to shower you with compliments and confessions of his great admiration. Similar to Hinata he doesn't let himself get discouraged by your perfection which he doesn't have. Short phases of discourage when he fails in something spectacularly which you did with elegant grace before he gets all fired up and tries again, something you can't help but admire him for. All trouble is in the end worth it for him when you praise him for having gotten better in which case he walks around for the rest of the day with a puffed-out chest, filled with pride. Goshiki gets squirmish when you do the same to someone else though and doesn't allow himself to stop until he's gotten your praise once again, most likely for the same reason why you gave the other person a compliment.

🌟He's pretty much known as your puppy by now since he always follows you around when he has the chance to do so and on this day this isn't anything different. Only that he witnesses something you actually didn't want anyone to witness and it's specifically because he can't hold back the gasp of awe and shock when he sees your ability that you see him. He tenses up and his whole face turns red as he realizes that he has just blown his cover, stutters out some apologies and that he didn't mean to spy on you. You just stare at him in shock, trying to come up with the fastest solution on how to fix this problem. Your secret is blown either way, he's seen it already so you have little to no choice left to eventually admit that you have some special abilities. This causes Goshiki's admiration to grow even more for you. He obviously knows that he can't mention this to anyone else but when you two are alone, he's asking you with shining eyes if you could show your powers to him one more time.

Kita Shinsuke

☁️Shinsuke is also someone who worries about the potential stress and pressure you carry around with you to fulfill everyone's expectations. That's why he's always willing to help in any way you can since people tend to give you too much credit and leave you with a lot of things to do, thinking that you're one who can do everything with walking ease. He is slightly disappointed whenever he sees someone doing exactly that and even if you insist with this flawless smile of yours that you're glad to do whatever you can, he always insists that he helps you. Kita isn't shy to call such people out too for what they're obviously thinking, scolds them which causes most to feel a bit ashamed of themselves. It's the same for your rather persistent and somewhat obsessive stalkers who invade your private bubble in which case he gets even stricter with rather blunt words and a pointed and cold stare. He's one of the few who see you as more than a golden woman so you appreciate his presence in your life.

☁️It's likely that you think about admitting to Kita that you're not a really normal human. Kita himself seems to realize that you're debating something regarding him and does his best to give you the time you need to make a decision, somewhat confident that he doesn't have to worry that it will be something bad. One day you call him over to your house and he tries his best to hide his slight curiosity. You seem more on edge than normally when you tell him that you have a secret you want to entrust him with and he's quick to calm you down with soothing words. You see a glint of surprise when he sees your abilities, he's stunned for a while before he regains his composure and gives you a small smile. Shinsuke doesn't treat you like a deity afterwards which makes you feel relieved that your secret didn't change the relationship between you two. You don't have any doubts that he might spoil your secret. Considering that he is later on a farmer, he would learn to appreciate your gift even more although he insists that you don't have to feel like you have to use your abilites for him.

Suna Rintarō

🦊You have troubles reading Suna due to his stoic and somewhat uninterested expression he keeps all of the time. He himself doesn't even realize at first that he's possibly a bit obsessed with you although he always catches his eyes following you when you enter his field of vision. He's big in snapping pictures of you all of the time since he can't help himself most of the time. At the same time he calls out others for doing the same thing he's doing when he catches them doing it. Considering that you're often the center of attention, Suna has to step up his own stalking since you often have a group of people following you around. It only serves to make him an even better stalker though in the end. Checks your social media accounts daily. That is the most Suna does though because he is clueless how to approach you. He doesn't know how to express his own emotions but at the very least he has no other doubts that other people tend to have because of your shining perfection. He's curious though to know how you feel about him.

🦊You're in shock to discover that Suna can be terribly manipulative when he finds out your biggest secret. You yourself don't even know that he saw you until you receive a video from him which shows you using your abilities to make flowers bloom. You feel your blood growing temporarily cold, try your best to keep up your smile for the rest of the day to let no one know. The next time you see him, you approach him and ask him with the prettiest smile you can muster if you two can meet alone later that day. He already knows what you want and just agress with a nod of his head. Later that day he comes to your house where you confront him about the stunt he pulls, demand him to delete that video. Suna stares at you for a good while, you see it in his eyes that he thinks about something. In the end he tells you that he'll do it under two conditions. The first is that you tell him the truth and the second one is that he wants you to spend more time with him.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu!! #yandere sugawara #yandere kōshi sugawara #yandere kageyama #yandere tobio kageyama #yandere hinata #yandere shōyō hinata #yandere tadashi #yandere tadashi yamaguchi #yandere oikawa #yandere tōru oikawa #yandere akaashi #yandere keiji akaashi #yandere kenma #yandere kenma kozume #yandere goshiki #yandere tsutomu goshiki #yandere kita #yandere kita shinsuke #yandere suna #yandere suna rintarō

[deluluass]

So says fate

(Hades & Persephone AU)

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; abusive parents

  This time of the year cannot end tucked between sheets, laying down aching knees to snore the rest of the evening away. The crops have been bountiful so sleep is not supposedly easily had. 

  Rest is elusive for those who have toiled through the winter. 

  The time for toiling is over. 

  Spirits are high and— exhaustion be damned, the knees ache for merriment; for dancing; for, thereafter, running away from the festivities, a trail of giggles behind, hand in hand with a lover towards an empty barn; for a kiss; for a clumsy tumble in the hay. This is a time for drinking, of your name sung and savored by intoxicated lips. 

  But you have walked and walked and walked— made it past the forest that divided your world from his. It’s been hours. 

  The earth remained silent, as if in slumber, buried under unyielding snow.

  Below, where the soil should've been rich and soft and the grass thick and dewy for the dawn, there were only blades that cut through the calluses and scabs on your feet. From east to west, across the prairie, the trees stood out like fingers charred into disfigurement. They did not sway, branches unbudged by the gale. 

  A mother's grief.

  (A mother’s anger.)

  "I'm home," you called out, panting. Each breath came out in smoke. "Can't you feel me?"

  She would’ve come by now, perhaps not without a tirade about your obstinacy and immature and bumbling nature, but you could take that. You always had. You would take any mean thing she could dole out if it would mean she’d be here to see you.

  Because when the last of her anger had left you know that she’d eventually hold your face between her work-torn hands, inspecting how gaunt it’d become from all that had happened to you. Her eyes would turn glassy, crow's feet drooping. 

  And because she’s not the unfeeling bitch they claim her to be, she’d shed those indignant tears as she asks, "Who did this?" 

  And reality will dawn on her, after lifting your tattered clothes, that the wounds don't end on your face.

  And you’d lift your chin up, anyway. 

  They’re all on the skin. Merely that. They don’t go any deeper, not to the point of scratching bone. Besides, the wounds are proof of the days (months) (eons) spent trudging through valleys that had never felt a drop of rain. There is no need for shame. You’d tell her you braved steep mountains that could have sent you tumbling down a raging river at the slightest misstep; eluded the grasping hands of souls that hungered for a warm body and a beating heart. 

  You’re here now, you would say. 

  “I’m here now, mother,” you cried out. 

  The wind continued to howl. 

  You sought the pulse of every creature that once danced to the beat of your own. 

  No laughter. No dancing. No merriment.

  Finally, like a child holding onto her mother’s skirt in search of any sign of forgiveness, you said, “I’m so sorry.” 

  Penitence was the only way to a god’s good graces, innocent or not. The gods had no use for a lesser being that did not know how to kneel. And the Lady Harvest was a god first and your mother second. 

  “Please forgive me,” you told her, meaning every word of it.

  Breaking your resolute stomp, you fell on all fours and begged like you never had before: to feel that embrace that had been the only thing you ever knew before he took you away; to hear her voice; to be brought home. “I was stupid and careless and—”

  Young.

  The open cuts on your palms prickled against the snow. That did not deter you from bunching it into your hands, for nothing could ever burn more harshly than that simple truth. Your fingers curling into fists, you lowered yourself further— further than you’d already been debased, and pressed your forehead against the freezing ground. 

  It should have been spring by now. (Spring has long come and gone, you know this). You knew because you'd never stopped counting each agonizing day that passed, longing for the seasons that had come and gone. All the springs you’d missed.

  You shut your eyes tight— cheek to cheek with hale that refused to melt, and wept.

  “I’m so dirty now,” you finally admitted. “But I’m still your daughter, mama.”

  “I am still your daughter.”

  A proclamation this time, louder, with teeth bared through snivels. 

  “I am still your daughter,” you repeated.

  And amidst the groveling came a stray thought: 

  This is your lot in life.

  What did it matter that you’d suffered. 

  This is your lot in life.

  The earth is hardened with ice and the strikes you descended upon it, although more forceful with every passing second, didn’t do anything to soften it. As it should’ve been. This is how it is and this is how it would always be. All that suffering, all the tears shed, all had been just that. Like the wounds. Merely that. 

  When you pleaded, splayed and bleeding on your marriage bed, for any form of salvation to bring you back home and the only answer you had was an empty sky staring back at you. Not a sun or moon or a cluster of stars to be seen, as if everything and everyone that you’d prayed to had decided to turn a blind eye to the very same pain they promised to shield you from. 

  Exactly like this. 

  No one answers your call. The silence is so palpable, you could taste it. Then, without a warning, it becomes oppressive with an invisible, unbearable weight, and your strength, whatever little of it is left, further dwindles into pathetic shivering. 

  Ah, you sighed, yielding to that force pulling you down (for what else is there left to do), such is your lot in life. 

  You managed a faint, bitter smile, briefly stretching your already cracked lips, as you slowly raised your head. You didn’t bother to turn around. 

  “Well,” you croaked, “that was fast.”

  He didn’t respond. Didn’t move either. If he did, you wouldn't have heard it. 

  “You don’t suppose you can call my mother for me? Perhaps she’d taken a liking to you.”

  Pulling at the bit of root that made it past the cold, you added, “Between the two of us you’re the only one who gets to come up here. You have visited her, surely? She bakes the loveliest pastries. Pity, though, for she will not have me. Can you believe it? I sure can’t."

  You shake your head. "So unlike the humans in that regard. Apparently, absence does not make that great, incomparable heart grow fonder.”

  “Even if it’s towards their own child,” you told him, tightening your enclosed hands. “My, of course, you already know that.”

  There. 

  They never cared for your prayers, so they better not start with your sacrilegious jabs now. Besides, he wasn’t like his brothers who stuck their nose in every mortal business and punished the slightest whiff of profanity. This great, incomparable, and immovable creature— an enigma to both the impermanent and the eternal, will never be swayed by something so inconsequential as a deranged woman’s bitter taunts. 

  As if to prove your point, he then replied, “She won’t listen to you.” 

  You sneered. Ever the epitome of compassion, this one. 

  “Nor I, for that matter. She refuses to listen to anyone save for herself,” he concluded, that voice frigid and quiet. Just like this damned snow that seemed to go on for forever. 

  You find yourself bereft of any ammunition to retaliate with, like always. That little gibe about his filicidal father had been the last of it. But, you’d come this far.

  You’re almost home.

  She just needs to let you in.

  “Call her,” you muttered, vision fixed on the blank horizon. “Call her, my Lord.”

  He huffed, a hushed sound that exploded in the tranquility of the frost-bound meadow.

  He’s irritated. 

  Good.

  “The gods are always watching,” he only said.

  A reminder that didn't need to be said twice. The only constant in this fickle universe. The gods are always watching. Your mother can see you—  had seen every moment you’d been away from her. She was there the moment you set foot into the world of the living. She was there the night gold soaked the sheets and every other night that came after that. 

  She was there when those red lilies caught your fall, petals and filaments like the spindly legs of dead spiders against your neck.

  Your mother heard your cries then and she didn’t do anything.

  She won't do anything now.

  Because you’re a bad daughter. Only good daughters deserve the hand of their mothers, don’t they?

  You didn’t feel your skin jump anymore when he closed the distance between you two. It’s insidious. That you know his every breath simply by the way the air subtly shifts. 

  “Let’s go,” he whispered, opening his palm for you to take. “You’re freezing.”

  The edge of his cloak teased your shoulders. If you leaned into him its warmth would’ve embraced you whole. You ignored him, eyes trained forward. Then, “What about you?” 

  The gods are always watching.

  “Aren’t you a god, too?” you pushed. “Were you watching me, all this time?”

  The gods are always watching. 

  "You'd been following me, my Lord?"

  Such an inane question. How else were you able to pass through the river, the valley, the mountains, the woods? How else had you gone on your journey for so long, untouched by any spirit, malevolent or otherwise?

  He knew when you snuck out, had been aware of it ever since the seed of rebellion had been planted in your mind. He was right there. Behind you. Following you. 

  Always.

  Your mother will never see you again.

  Your husband will never let you go. 

  What use, penitence? What use, defiance?  

  (They’re all fucking with you.)

  For what? At this point, you no longer have anything left to give, not even contrition. Right then and there, your only true possession had been the snow trapped in your fists. He insists on taking from you, doesn't he? Well, this you are more than generous to relinquish. 

  You snapped towards him, crouched like a feral thing, and threw the ball of snow straight into his face. Your chest heaved as you stood.

  “Leave!”

  The shriek that left your throat had been dry, fragile, and strained, yet you still pushed that raw ache welling inside you because there was no other way to get rid of it. 

  “Leave! Leave! Leave!”

  Hot tears began rushing down your face, mingling with the spittle and snot as you took in deep, shuddering breaths.

  “This isn’t your land anymore! You don’t belong here!” you roared.

  He barely flinched. 

  He just stood there, dusting off the bits of snow clinging to his shoulder. He remained just as he'd been, motionless even as your cries subsided. 

  Then, after decades of running and never daring to look back, once again, you found yourself standing face to face with death. 

  The enraged beating of your heart petered out, skipping weakly only to collapse by the end of it. 

  His cloak shrouded him until it swept past the ground. You could scarcely tell where the garment ended and where the darkness began.

  He and it had always been one and the same.

  Nevertheless, the Lord Death stood out against the shadows with those heartwood eyes, glowing like embers that the violent winter wind failed to snuff out. 

  Its icy gusts, meanwhile, threatened to topple you into the snow for every second that you spent fighting against the current, keeping your feet planted into the ground and stubbornly ignoring your body's desire to keel over.  

  The wailing swelled, heightening into a sharp ringing inside your ears. You winced and chewed the insides of your cheeks. By the damnable gods you were not going to cry anymore. 

  You'd already done enough of that. 

  Enough, now.  

  However, the once steady branches began to rattle like corpses jerked into convulsions, and, one by one, trees started falling in heavy thuds, shaking the frozen land and bringing your knees closer and closer to the cold, and it was only then that you realized that there's never been a bigger lie than you telling yourself that you'd no longer cry.

  Enough, I say.

  You could almost hear her. 

  Enough with your insipid tears, little girl.

  Oh, but by the Lady Harvest, how could you not cry?

  No matter how hard you tried to remain stoic just as he is, your jaw still quivered, as if some sick monster were struggling to crawl out of you, and your heart constricted until the periphery of your vision was too dim for sight. 

  The Lord Death's gaze was not unkind. Only patient, in the manner of the wiser mortals when they wait in silence for the ignorant ones to work out what they mean to say. 

  Soon enough, the gale stopped, and in its place came the gasping whimpers. 

  You placed a hand over your mouth. 

  It hadn't managed to stifle the staggered bawling that echoed across the endless winter, darkness surrounding you like an inescapable vacuum.

  And there was just no way of stopping it. 

  You collapsed, body shattering on the snow, retching and keening as you clutched your stomach. 

  What did you tell him earlier? 

  Leave. 

  This isn't your land anymore. 

  You don't belong here. 

  Now, who truly doesn't belong here, stupid child?

  The flowers and leaves and trees are not waiting for the sun, you know that already. There would be no celebration, no dancing, no silly little rendezvous between silly young lovers.   

  The earth is not silent. 

  The earth is dead.

  There'd been nothing to grow and eat. The cold had been too much to bear. 

  Spring had not come.

  You were not here. 

  Look at what you've done. Was all that disobedience worth this? 

  "No, no," you gasped, choking on your tears as you struggled to genuflect.  "No, mama, I'll make it right it's all my fault- please listen- please forgive me-"

  "Don't blame yourself," you heard him say, effortlessly wrapping you in his cloak while you cried and cried and clambered out of his hold. "It is futile."

  "You don't understand, you don't understand," you wailed. 

  How you yearned to be here. 

  You'd imagined yourself crossing that border and laughing giddily as you speed towards the rolling hills, splashing the crystal clear waters of the stream with your feet, your mother watching, clicking her tongue, telling you to hurry or you won't have anything left for dinner.

  It is futile.

  There is nothing here for you now. Not your mother. Not your people. Nothing here would ever be capable of loving you in return.

  And you would've laughed had you still possessed the energy for it. What a farce you'd made of yourself. It must take some sort of inherent gift to allow things to come to this.

  Because, as it stands, the only place that you could come back to now is the very same one that you turned your back on.

“Oh, fuck off.”

  The woman wiped the froth from the liquor on her mouth, and smudged the back of her hand with rouge. 

  “I’m afraid I can’t,” Kita told her. 

  “C’mon, read the room,” she groaned. “Not now!”

  He has, indeed, surveyed the mead hall alive with food and sweetmeats and talk and music. The cause of her stubbornness to leave with Kita was difficult to miss. He was handsome, as well as tall, more so that he loudly inquired for the woman’s whereabouts as he weaved his way through the inebriated preparing themselves for a lively jig. 

  “I even charged him less than a whole night’s worth!” And because he stayed as impassive as he’d been, she added, too beseechingly as they often do, “Can’t a girl get a good tup before she goes?”

  She didn’t want an answer, that was apparent. What she wanted was more time, and for this to not have happened, but no one gets a say on fate. Not even them.

  Her body sat in the corner. Kita let the woman stare at it, at herself, face down on the table as if knocked to slumber by the drink beside her head, her hand that once clutched her chest now limp on her lap. “Fuckin’ idiot,” she chuckled, shaking her head. 

  “It shouldn’t be that bad, right?”

  “That’s up to you,” he said.

  “Will Her Ladyship of Bountiful Harvest follow my ass to hell?” she piped up, unfazed by the thought judging by that snicker. “Hated me, she did. Can’t stand the idea of a woman spreading her legs for food. If she’s so against it she shoulda stop playing favorites and pay attention to us sinners, eh?”

  Kita tipped his head. “You’re quite irreverent.” 

  The woman only gave a mockery of a courtesy. 

  “And no, you’re not going to hell,” he continued. “The Lady Harvest is not here. She won’t be there, either.”

  “Oh,” she said. “What about her daughter though? Is she here right now to see me? She must be.” 

  Kita saw a sliver of the child she used to be, wide eyed and expectant of good things as she turned to search, but just as the great mother is never present for death, the daughter typically  follows. The gods are always watching except when mortals cry for another chance; when they look up to the sky wondering whether the war they’re told to fight for was worth it; when they raise their fist at the world that had not once treated them fairly. 

  The dead can no longer worship. There is no reason to continue watching them until the very end. 

  “No,” he eventually replied. 

  That child disappeared. The woman returned.

  “So it’s just you then?”

  “Just me.”

  “How lonely.”

  The work is necessary. It matters not if he is lonely. It matters not if no one praises him because of it. Kita chose not to tell her that.

  “A little bit more, then, my Lord,” she said urgently. “Let me stay a bit longer, please, it’s- it’s spring.”

  “And so it is.”

  “Everything’s funnier, see,” the woman uttered weakly, taking one last look at the people  tripping over chairs as they pushed against each other, the spirits making them laugh instead of shamefully angry, twirling and jumping and clapping along to the melody of the lute that soared like birds. “Lovelier.”

  Her forlorn stare stayed on the ancient tree in the middle of the hall, the blushing buds on its majestic trunk and its sprawling, moss canopied branches carrying lamp lights, fireflies leading the eyes to the stars in the sky.

  “And so it is,” Kita repeated. 

  There’s another one after her. Kita could not delay any further.

  When she finally looked at him— really looked at him, and saw him for what he truly was, the woman began to look at him as if he’d snuff out everything funny and lovely about the world. 

And she followed him with her head down and without anything else to say.

  Kita thought that he’d heard crying. It no longer fazed him. 

  The work resumed. 

  Once, you were a child and easier to like, and your mother did not mind that you fumbled with the laundry. You were small. Easier to understand. Too much energy bursting out of you to pull the sheets out of the line without breaking the clothespins.

  She'd release an exasperated tsk-tsk and that would be the end of that. Even when you dragged the immaculately white sheet into the mud, swaddling it over your head as you raised your hands into claws, shouting when you ran towards your mother, "Here comes the three-headed beast! Best watch out, mortal!"

  The sheet smelled like the earth after the rain, pleasantly mingling with the aroma of your mother's dress. Oranges, apples, and fresh bread caressing your senses as you nuzzle your face into her stomach, clinging to her, refusing to let go. 

  Warm and soft, the damp cloth against your eyes had the exact same smell, gentle as it brushed your lashes. It coaxed you awake, despite the heaviness pulling your eyelids down. 

  You held the instinctive urge to chase the hand holding that cloth. 

  Back then, you had been your mother's little innocent daughter. Easier to forgive. Deserving of comfort.

  Now, you are not.

  The ceiling that greeted you was testament enough. So far above. Not the low hanging beams of your mother's house with dried herbs dangling upside down. Here, there were lacquered black pine arranged in a perfect grid, elaborate carvings of butterflies fluttering on the corners where they meet. The recessed panels in between were wide, each one painted with a camellia or a blooming chrysanthemum. A gallery of flowers for mourning. In the middle were delicate strokes of red spider lilies.  

  Death spoke. 

  "Go back to sleep," he said, lifting the blanket closer to your chest. You nudged his hand away and sat up, wincing as you did. 

  The futon was plush, like the white chemise that replaced your ragged dress. Although neither mattered much when your limbs were too numb to feel anything else. He watched you as you stared back at him, only for a brief moment, then shifted on his folded knees to wring the washcloth into a basin next to him.

  You turned towards the veranda, where there was an open view of the sky. Or the closest thing that the Underworld could have to a bright, sunlit sky. 

  There was nothing there. Just stark white light illuminated under a dome. The Lord Death’s mansion towered over everything else in this world and you wondered before what it would feel like if you reached out your hand to touch it. (Perhaps it is cold and empty and if you knock you’d be responded with a hollow sound.)

  That thought of wry amusement did not last long enough to alleviate the helplessness. 

  At the foot of the hill grew bamboo the size of pillars. 

  A sea of glass green where the valiant and virtuous rest, reminding you of what you’d lost and cannot get back. 

  How ironic it was to already be on the other side of death and still be deaf to the whispers of those who had passed. All the more ironic for someone who was supposedly hailed as their queen.

  (Once, there was a time when you thought that the possibility of hearing the dead could make this place tolerable. At least you would know that you were still with those you hold dear. At least you could hold onto a semblance of home. But many, many years passed and all you could ever hear and feel and see was him.)

  "What do they say about me?" you asked, staring at the forest. 

  He paused from soaking the cloth. 

  "Not the ones that you worry about. Those who are good would never speak ill of those they love,” Lord Death said. “They would not be there if they were to hold any grudge at all, besides.”

  What were you thinking, asking him that. He is not one to make reality less terrible than it actually is. Such is the nature of Death. But in this matter— well, you can never tell.  

  “My Lord,” you sighed, “With all due respect, but I do not think that you would know what those who can love are capable of."

  “If I gathered correctly…” 

  The voice of Death was calm, almost pensive. 

  “I take that you mean,” he continued, “that those who can love are also capable of punishment meted out of anger.”

  You looked at him. Tiny droplets of water seeped from the washcloth and into his fingers. It barely dripped out anymore, yet he still squeezed the thing as if every thread of cotton were drenched. 

  “Resentment.”

  You flinched. 

  “I killed them,” you told him. “I deserve that much.”

  “Your mother had chosen to deprive them—”

  “—Because I was selfish.” Your breath was becoming labored and you could no longer meet his eyes. “And all they ever did- all she ever did was love me. The resentment. The anger. She wouldn't feel those so acutely had she not loved just as fiercely."

  "And they are mine to bear," you added. "All of it.”

  After folding the washcloth into a neat square, Death moved closer, and you could only sit there, transfixed, as he fixed the sleeve of your chemise that’d slipped past your shoulder. 

  You felt his skin warming yours through his robe. He sat beside you, one hand moving to lift your chin, his hold light as a feather. 

  “You speak of your mother’s affections with this mouth, but it's her voice that's coming through,” he muttered. “Tell me, Spring, cannot you use your own?”

  How dare he.

  “She's my mother,” you spat back, recoiling from his hand. “She was my god.”

  “So am I.”

  Death was not something that your kind will ever have to become acquainted with, but every time he gets like this— looming over you with that sharp scrutiny, his power wielded insouciantly and as naturally as death takes life— for a split-second you are but a mortal that would trade away all the wealth in the world just to evade him.

  But you are not a mere mortal, are you not?

  You are Spring. Daughter of Harvest. 

  Perhaps not anymore, but you’d been one all the same.

  So you swallowed thickly and met his gaze. 

  “You raped me.”

  Never mind that your voice cracked, you pressed on. 

  “You raped me. What more could you possibly want.”

  “Anything,” he replied, not missing a beat. “Just not your guilt.”

  A disbelieving huff, then a chuckle that sounded as broken as it’d felt. Distancing yourself from him as far as your feeble, cumbersome body would allow, you hung your head low as you let the rueful laughter die in your chest.

  “Why?” You finally asked, brows furrowed.

  The question, you found, was not really for him. Tossed into existence for the sake of letting it known: to the empty dome of a sky; to the Fates; to the forest sitting peacefully below you; maybe just to the blanket in your grip, wrinkled out of place, chemise disheveled to reveal your thigh.

  Why?

  “You should hate me. I hate you. In fact,” you scoffed, “you should throw me to the deepest pits where the wicked go. Leave me there and condemn me and leave my name cursed forever. I disrespected you, time and again, and I let your children die. I let your children die, my Lord.”

  Your skin was unscathed, the insides of your legs the most spotless they'd been, not just in here. Even when you were up there, enjoying the caress of the sun, you had never been as uninjured as you are right now. No sign of wound, fresh or on its way to drying. No gold oozing out because you scraped against a rock, or got caught in the waves attempting to cross the river, or wittingly hurt yourself to destroy the god growing inside your belly.

  You are clean.

  He bathed you and tended your wounds.

  Just as he’d done countless times before.

  “It doesn’t change what you’ve done to me. But that doesn’t matter, does it? You are God. Death itself. You get to hurt anyone you want and we’re supposed to just accept that. That is your lot in life. It would not matter to you if I forgive you- I’m not even— ha! I’m not even in a place where I can forgive you! I just have to stay on my knees! Take it all in silence, don't I? Beg for your forgiveness! Be remorseful for- for wanting something different, something kinder! Because I feel! I feel! I do not exist because of you and I do not exist for you! And when you hurt me I’ll give as much as you’d given me and I will cry out when you pummel me and break me and- and—”   

  And he’s hugging you, cradling you on his lap, sturdy arms wrapped tightly around you as racked sobs and words that hardly made any sense sputtered out of you. 

  And he did not say hush, little girl. Enough. Enough or you’ll taste the back of my hand, little girl.

  And this is not love, even if he let you cling to him as if you were a small child that was easy to like and easy to understand and deserving of comfort.  

  This is not love. Love simply does. It comes to you on its own just as the seed grows towards the light. It is not acted upon in such a way that you pull it by its roots, destroying and making a mess out of the only place it calls its home.

  But—

  Is that not what your mother did?

  Spring?

  Ignoring the sharp stings that shot up your feet, you loosened yourself from his hold and scrambled to stand up.

  "Wh-” you rasped. "Did- did you hear that?"

  He held you up when you fell back into him, keeping you steady with a gentle grip around your waist. 

  "I heard my name," you said, panting and desperately eyeing the forest as if the green sea of bamboo would whisper back to you.

  And you know it would. 

  "I heard my name. Someone called me. I think it's..."

  Them. 

  The word withered before you could utter it. You looked down at him, imploring. 

  He smiled. 

  A small curve of his lips that had briefly, just for a passing second, made you forget who he was. 

  "I told you," he whispered. "In time."

  "I don't understand."

  The voices that had been inaudible to you. That look in his eyes, open and defenseless, wistful and yet…relieved. As if he could cry at any given moment.

  You could not understand any of it. 

  The question had been stewing at the back of your mind for a long time. There's no way of ignoring it now as he sighed and closed his eyes; as his perpetually unbowing shoulders collapsed under your touch, and as he rested his forehead against your hip:

  How is it possible that death can be so tender?

  "Just.." he began, hands caressing the back of your legs. "Just come to me, my love."

  Rough-hewn fingers kneaded away the dull pain from the muscles, inducing a shiver that ran up your spine and making you hold onto his head for support.

  He rumpled your chemise, exposing your skin the more he dragged the article with the fervid brush of his hands, his lips pressed on the curve of your thigh.

  You gasped at the feel of his hot breath. "I don't want to punish you," he said, grazing his teeth against your naked flesh. "I don't want to own you."

  "I'm not like her," he murmured, almost snarling. “I’ll mend you and take care of you everyday.” 

  This isn't the first time that he's done this. He's been above you, rutted into you while he had you pinned on top of him, had spent nights between your legs like a man starved, but this is the first that you contemplate, if not reluctantly, how soft his ashen hair felt, the ends like ink spilling through your grasp.

  You tugged at it, only slightly, but he immediately bared his throat and gazed up at you so fiercely it made you glance away, although not in fear, not in disgust, not anymore, the heat that'd been spreading all over your body threatening to combust you right where you stand. He must've caught on too.

  Because he never took his eyes off of you as he left a trail of kisses along your thighs, light and sweet, lingering to take in your scent every now and then, moving slowly towards where you ached the most.

  Too slowly.

  "Please," you sighed as you scratched his scalp, pulling his head closer.

  (Please? Please? What's happening to you?)

  "I have a name, wife," he replied, licking the sweat clinging to your skin.

  "Kita," you said in a hushed tone. "Please."

  It surprised you how easy it was to say, considering that all you've done thus far was pretend the name never existed, that he'd never tirelessly entreated you to call him that ever since you'd recited your vows. 

  And now here you are.

  You felt him smile against your skin. The rumbling of his chest as he chuckled accompanied your weak, shaking knees. 

  "You're so beautiful," he said under his breath. 

  Long fingers parted the thick, coarse hair on your mound, stretching the skin below along with it. And before you could even release a tensed breath, your husband had already moved to latch his lips on your cunt, an open mouthed kiss that left a loud, indecent smack.

  He ignored your surprised yelp and continued to prod with the tip of his tongue, again and again, stoking the fire in your belly. He kissed the slick bundle of nerves as if it were your own mouth, tongue brushing sloppily, sweeping across and drawing out moans from you. The soft, gentle pursing of his lips betrayed by the way he grabbed your ass, blunt nails digging into both cheeks until it hurt, restraining your bucking hips and bringing you into his mouth like you could not be any nearer, when you could already feel his nose flattened against your cunt, cutting himself off from air just to breathe you in and savor you. 

  You wanted to say something. A hasty command for him to stop. Everything was happening too fast for comfort and you were going to lose your head anytime soon if you didn't cease grinding into his mouth.

  "Wai-" you moaned, shivering when he brought up a finger to tease your hole, dripping thickly as he stroked languidly. "St-stop."

  He slipped a digit inside, then two, still devouring you, all lips and tongue and just the barest hint of teeth. And this madness had to be put to a halt. You couldn’t muster to register anything beyond his hands all over you, his mouth, his low groans, him. You didn’t think.

  You yanked him by his hair.

  Thunderclouds in your fist, dark gray and angry, the gravity of what you are doing falls upon you and makes you buckle in his hold. 

  You are taking part in this act. 

  You are no longer the abducted bride who remains voiceless as an act of retaliation during a coupling. No god can punish you, you finally accept, not here, and there is no longer any need for you to stifle the urge to cry for fear of another beating. You are not on your knees, begging. 

  In fact, it is Death who is.

  His mouth surrendered without a fight. Your thumb found its way on his lower lip, and he immediately opened to suck as you rubbed the wet flesh, his eyes telling you that in the grand pantheon of gods there is none higher and none more worthy of devotion than the one in front of him.

  This great, incomparable, and immovable creature— an enigma to both the impermanent and the eternal, has thrown himself at your feet. There's a part of you that is waiting for the curtain to lift. Soon, laughter will ensue at your expense because only a fool could ever manage to conjure the thought. Let alone consider its possibility.

  But it is there. 

  It is true. 

  Death is yours to do with what you will. 

  Always has been. 

  “Stick out your tongue,” you whispered.

  And he did.

  With unsteady limbs, you inched closer and rubbed your throbbing clit on his stiff, waiting tongue, back and forth, back and forth, keeping a sluggish rhythm that has the spit pooling in his mouth. 

  You released a thick, dissipated curse, the one that you often hear among mortals in the shadows during revelries. “Fuck,” you moaned, half expecting the stinging bite of your mother’s belt. It did not come. You could only laugh.

  Filthy. Filthy. You are filthy.

  “Don’t move,” you hissed at him.

  And he did not.

  “Don't touch me,” you huffed as you rolled your hips, slinging your leg over his shoulder. You swore you heard him whimper as you grabbed his head with both hands. 

  You could tell that he was itching for it, the feel of your waist, your ass. He wanted to reach up and grab your tits. Oh, he looked pitiful. How he'd give anything just to touch you and make you feel good. 

  “Are you mine?” you asked, stripping your husband with your foot, tactless, his robe caught between your toes. "Do you promise?"

  Kita nodded without hesitation and you smiled. 

  "Go on then," you told him, guiding his hands to your breasts, your fingers hastily intertwined with his. You whimpered as he started fondling and pinching and pulling at your nipples. 

  You're so close. 

  You cried out when he flicked his tongue hurriedly against your sopping clit, drool spilling down his jaw as you swivel your cunt harder. He picked up his pace, his tongue moving faster and faster the more desperately breathless and shameless you screamed his name.

  That familiar sensation that he introduced to you approached like a storm. The anticipation for that flash of hot light that seizes your entire body is exquisite now. Not numbed by indignity or by the fact that he'd taken you without your consent.

  This time you welcome it, letting the tides crash and drag you along with it.

  But because he's Kita and he's your husband, he immediately grabbed your thigh, mooring you to him, his other hand supporting your back in order to keep you from falling once you were finally reduced into spasms. 

  He caught you.

  He carried you and kept you safe back on his lap after you came and your limbs had gone boneless. You stayed there in his embrace, eyes closed and feeling his chest rise and fall like he’d been running for miles.

  So human.

  So unlike him.

  “We can always make another one, you know,” he suddenly spoke. 

  You looked at him, at that pallid face now beaming with sweat and a spark in his piercing gaze, a certain recklessness in them. 

  In this light, mussed hair and all, you could almost believe that he was only some farm boy who’d promised himself to the neighbor’s daughter, flowers in hand with a kiss and a song to give despite her mother’s objections, naively courageous in a way that only the youth can be. 

  It made your heart ache. 

  His hand brushed against your stomach and you became aware of the fact that something hard had been poking your wet quim. 

  He eased you into his cock with a gentle glide of his hips, the meaty girth just barely entering as he tells you, “You apologize for far too many things.”

  “We have all eternity to make amends,” he said and you shook terribly when the tip brushed under your sensitive clit. “And to make another child.” 

  At this, he entered you with a grunt, laying your back on the ruined futon while you’re twitching and squeezing down on his cock. He wrapped your legs around his waist and raised your ass with his hands, keeping his seed from leaking out of your cunt as he thrusted.

  Kita was a vision above you. 

  Death the God, your husband, eyes closed and brows knitted together as he fucked you, cheeks as red as the painted spider lilies framing his beautiful face.

  (You were a daughter once. A wife now. A mother soon.)

  (You will never be your own.)

  You were on the verge of passing out, pleasure tingling your nerves in a low simmer, and you can hear it.

  Hear them.

  The sound of feet thumping against the earth in a merry dance, the joy of drunkenness, lovers giggling among themselves.

  You threw your arms around your husband's neck, his body sweating and panting. Enclosing him in your weak embrace, you grinned to yourself, weary but enraptured, as they sang the song of sweet, sweet spring coming home.

The funeral bells are a divine order as much as they are a ritual. 

  When tolled, it means that respect must immediately be paid to the dead, and mourners and strangers alike have to set aside their grief in their little snot rags, no matter how keenly they feel it, and march to say their farewells to the one who used to walk among them. 

  The funeral bells did not ring for this one mortal, Kita observed, because no one mourns those who defied the Lady Harvest. 

  What’s left of her home had already gone up in smoke. 

  Her remains were among the ashes that covered the small plot of land. 

  A seamstress. Orphaned too early. Clever, as she had managed to survive all twenty and four years of her life with only hard work and an eye for colors.

  Clever.

  Clever did not suffice.

  She ought to have been wise, and capable of knowing her place. The youngest princess had already been betrothed to a pious maiden, one that was favored by the Lady Harvest, no less. That wasn’t much of a problem. Not really. Not to gods. Many a lowly mortal has fallen for someone above their station. 

  A seamstress who deemed herself worthy for the princess's love was no different from a boy who believed that his wings were all that he needed to get himself close to the sun. The boy's wings were made of wax. The heart of a poor seamstress was no match against the goddess of harvest. 

  This story has been told countless times before. The beginnings change, and so do the names, but ultimately they all end the same.

  Kita remained among the tall brambles, out of reach from what the fire had devastated, as he watched you, back towards him and bare feet on ruins. You hadn’t stirred for quite a while, so it was with curiosity that he stayed to see why you’d suddenly bent on one knee.

  In the blink of an eye, spider lilies sprouted out of the soil. Kita has no other way to describe it, only that with the flick of your wrist the world became new. 

  Like dusting the earth clean. No more ashes and grief and the sharp regrets of those left behind. Only the bright, vibrant hue of red, red, red. 

  Kita looked down at the flowers brushing against his cloak, pointing to where you stood, and followed. He stayed behind you but did not call to your attention.

  “She doused herself in oil,” you said. “Burned everything.”

  He knew that. He let you continue anyway. 

  “Where will she go?” 

  You looked back at him.

  “Where did she go, my Lord?”

  You’d been talking to him. 

  “You know me,” he replied, a little late and a little shaken.

  “How could I not?” You shrugged weakly. “I’m always there when they come into this world, it seems only right that I’m also there when they leave. And you are," you chuckled, “punctual, to say the least.”

  You’d been watching him.

  “I see you, you know. All the time.”

  The breeze was cool as it danced with his hair and Kita had the odd urge to cry. 

  "I like it when you talk to them. You don't have to, don't you? But you still do. You are very good, my Lord." 

  He should say that it was necessary. It had nothing to do with being good. He wasn’t. He does it everyday because that is just what it is. It matters not that he is perceived as good. It matters not that someone else regards it for the valuable work that it is. It matters not that, for once, someone understands. 

  “You still haven’t answered me,” you told him. “Where did she go?”

  You are every bit the Spring that they make songs about. He felt the need to cower at the sight of you, but like a child urged to play outside by the field of flowers and balmy weather, Kita stepped closer. 

  “It depends,” he said. 

  You rolled your eyes and threw your hands up, as if surrendering begrudgingly.

  “I’ve had enough of riddles! I’m sick of bending over backwards, my Lord! Why can’t you just say what you mean!?”

  You are infuriated. Of course you are. This death has upset you. They care for you deeply because you care for them just as much. And to know them is to know him. And to love them is to—

  Tears had sprung from your eyes. Kita wanted to wipe them.

  “Oh, my Lord, forgive me! I didn’t mean-” 

  He hadn’t even moved yet. Moreover, what he was planning to do certainly didn’t warrant raised arms, face covered, as if you were protecting yourself from him. Kita was not going to hurt you. But it seems that someone already had.

  Bruises marred your skin. Some fresh gashes on your elbows. Too small and too precise to have been caused by a slip up while doing chores. There were a number of them that they cannot be attributed to a clumsy nature either. 

  “Who did this to you?” 

  In truth, Kita needed not ask. He’d once almost crossed paths with that infamous wrath of the Lady Harvest. He is familiar with her proclivity for lessons that must be imparted with an iron fist. The difference between you and him is that he’s Death. You are simply her daughter. A lesser entity to one pillar that held the universe together. And so you are the one who’d ended up like this: afraid and beaten. 

  He should’ve been watching hard enough.

  “Who did this to you, Spring?”

  You had to say it with your own mouth. “N-no one,” you mumbled. He wondered then why you’d gotten them. Spring has not faltered, not once. You are obedient to the whims of the Lady. Does it have something to do with caring for a harlot? What about mourning for a foolishly mutinous woman with a field of red spider lilies? 

  “I have to go my Lord,” you panted, scampering to remove yourself from his presence.

  If he lets you, will you come back with another welt on your leg? 

  Worse. Kita knew that nothing would be left of you, when all is said and done. Unless, Kita thought, he had you all to himself. 

  None of them would protect you. None of them will take you from him. 

  None of them can.

  Kita was upon you before you knew it.

  You fought as he held you down. And he could’ve reasoned with you had you not tried to kick and scratch his face, that all of this is simply a natural turn of events, the same way one weeps in birth and in death. Your paths have always been locked to one another, he felt it in his very being as you bled and howled for mercy. Perhaps he’d been blind to it then, but just as he was meant to do this, you’ll learn soon enough that this, too, is your lot in life.

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #kita x reader #kita x y/n #kita shinsuke x reader #yandere kita shinsuke #dark content haikyuu

[yanderecrazysie]

Breeding with Kita

This is a day late because my internet was down.

DAY 12 OF KINKTOBER

Kink: Breeding

Pairing: Kita Shinsuke x Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW, NON-CONSENSUAL unprotected sex, yandere themes

“Promise you’ll use a condom,” you demanded, hand pressing against Kita’s bare chest before he can go any further.

Kita seemed mildly surprised, “I thought you had birth control?”

“I did! But I lost it somewhere and haven’t been able to take it in a while. I have to talk with the doctor to put in a new order.”

The man tried to act surprised but, in reality, he knew that from the start. After all, he’s the one who threw your birth control pills away.

He frowned a little. He had hoped you would trust him enough to just pull out, but you were being insistent on the use of a condom. 

He couldn’t very well breed you through plastic, could he?

“Of course,” came his smooth reply. He rooted through the nightstand, preparing to lie and say there were none and, oh no, I guess I’ll have to just pull out.

But then you were handing one over to him, smiling, saying that you came prepared.

Kita tried to keep his expression from souring. You just didn’t understand what you were meant to be. You were just confused.

Kita had greater plans for you than finishing college or working your way up in some useless career. He knew where you truly belonged- as his wife and the mother of his children.

You were meant to stay home and take care of your kids, only ever leaving to go grocery shopping or to appointments. That was the traditional dream Kita had for you and he would get it one way or another.

Kita tore open the wrapper with his teeth and pulled the condom out, rolling it down his painfully-hard cock with a hiss. How disappointing. 

Then, an idea occurred to him and he bit back a victorious grin. He wasn’t going to give up. He was going to get his way.

He pushed you back onto the bed, glad that the two of you had already done all the foreplay before putting on the condom. He needed his head clear to do this right. He grabbed your legs and hooked them around his waist before sliding in with a groan.

You were always so tight, no matter how often the two of you had sex. Your walls hugged him snugly any time he pushed into you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You let out a little moan when the head of his cock purposefully brushed against your g-spot. He’d had sex with you enough times to pinpoint exactly where it was in any position. He backed up a little before pushing back into the spot at full force. You moaned louder.

Kita did everything he could to focus his thrusts into that special spot, anything so you’d reach orgasm quicker. He reached between you both to rub at your clit, making you arch your back and practically scream in pleasure.

You hit your high even faster than he’d anticipated, and he had to hold back from following you when your walls rhythmically squeezed his cock so tightly. Instead, he waited until you were fucked out enough to pull out and turn you over onto your belly, pulling your hips up into the air to meet him. At the same time, he shimmied the condom off, pretending to miss your hole a couple of times in “excitement”.

Finally free of the plastic entrapment, Kita pushed back inside, groaning the whole way. Without the condom, everything felt so much better. Your pussy clenched around him and him alone.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, fucking into you harder.

Once you were pregnant with his kid, you wouldn’t be going anywhere. And he’d make sure to keep you well-bred at all times.

He had worked himself up far too much and was approaching his own end now. Without the condom, it felt like his cock was encased in velvet.

He dug his fingers into your hips and pumped forward a few times before slamming home, holding you still as he flooded your insides with cum.

Kita smiled and waited for you to realize what he’d just done to you.

#yandere #kita shinsuke #haikyuu!! #kinktober

[mango-bango-bby]

Domestic vibes just 🥺💕 May I request like headcanons for Kita with a pregnant darling? I was thinking maybe some general ones about him taking care of his darling and a few about him meeting his little baby 🥺💖? Thank you and I hope you’re having a good day!-🌻

♡ Welcome To The World ♡

(A/N: Domestic fics 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I hope you like this!! I’ve wanted to write domestic Kita for a while because it’s just so so cute 🥺🥺💖💞💕)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, domestic, pregnancy, kids, AFAB reader

Summary: How Kita helps you during your pregnancy and how he is once you’re baby is born (Yandere!Kita x AFAB!Reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

♡ The baby was definitely planned, Kita’s always wanted a small family with you. Even if he’s nervous about having a child with you, he’s overall just excited!

♡ Whether or not you’ve fallen completely in love with him yet doesn’t matter because he’s so loving with you especially once your pregnant, that you’re most likely in love with him by the end of your pregnancy.

♡ So gentle with you! He’s there with you for ever step of your pregnancy, from the moment you find out to the moment the baby is born, he’s right beside you to support you. He will do things like hold your hair back when you throw up because of your morning sickness or will go drive favorite restaurant in the middle of the night because you crave that particular restaurants food.

♡ Kita feels so sad when you start being in pain because of the pregnancy. He wakes up in the middle of the night some nights because you’re crying while in pain. He always holds you, gently wiping your tears, and trying to comfort you. He knows there’s not much he can do but he’s trying!

♡ He definitely reads those parenting books that don’t work most of the time. He just wants to be the best father he can when your baby is born. You need to reassure him sometimes that he’s going to be a great father and he has nothing to worry about.

♡ Kita decorates the nursery with you! And by that, you pick out the things for the nursery and he sets them up because he doesn’t want to put stress on you or the baby. But you end up loving how the nursery comes out, it’s so cute and comforting and you hope your baby likes it too.

♡ Also he has great taste in baby clothes, like every thing that he buys for the baby you’re just impressed. One time he came home with matching sweaters for you, him, and your unborn baby. You started crying immediately because it’s so sweet (it might have been the hormones though).

♡ Rushes you to the hospital after your first contraction. He’s so nervous, worried that something will go wrong and either you or the baby will get hurt. It goes well though, your baby is born healthy and there aren’t any complications with you.

♡ So Ume Kita is born! Kita immediately starts crying when he holds her for the first time. He already loves his daughter so so much. He will protect you and Ume with his life. He can’t wait to watch her grow and to raise her with you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

#yandere haikyuu #soft yandere #domestic yandere #yandere kita #yandere kita x reader #yandere!kita #yandere shinsuke #yandere shinsuke x reader #yandere!shinsuke

[a-tiny-teez]

Haikyuu

Karasuno

Hinata Shoyo

Kageyama Tobio

Asahi Azumane

Nishinoya Yu

Sugawara Koushi

Aoba Johsai

Oikawa Tooru

Iwaizumi Hajime

Nekoma

Kouzume Kenma

Kuroo Tetsuro

Haiba Lev

Fukurodani

Bokuto Koutaro

Akaashi Keiji

Akinori Konoha

Shiratorizawa

Wakatoshi Ushijima

Satori Tendou

Eita semi

Inarizaki

Miya Atsumu

Miya Osamu

Kita Shinsuke

Suna Rintaro

#yandere au #anime x reader #anime weeb #anime writing blog #haikyu yandere #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #kageyama tobio #hinata shoyuo #kita shinsuke #miya twins #yandere atsumu #atsumu fanfic #yandere oikawa #yandere kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu kenma #aoba johsai #karasuno #akaashi keji x reader #iwaizumi drabble #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu oikawa #suna x reader #yandere ushijima #tendou satori #anime angst #anime yandere

[midnightlee25]

Yandere ABC:  Shinsuke Kita

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? 

 He shows his affection in little ways. Nothing too over the top unless it’s a special day but it still shows how he feels towards his darling. 

 Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? 

 It’s rare but when it happens it’s always a clean “accident”. 

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling? 

 Sure, he can be strict but it’s a soft gentle strict…... most of the time. 

 Delusional: How aware are they? 

 It’s half and half sometimes he does ignore one side over the other depending on what’s happening and how his darling is acting. 

 Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? 

 It’s in a timely manner couples are meant to share after all. 

 Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? 

 He understands why they would fight against him so he doesn't hold it against them.  

 Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience? 

 The initial shock of finding out what he has been doing is probably the worst one it will get. 

 Ideals: What is their plan for the future? 

 He just wants a quiet life with his darling, maybe with at least one little one as well. 

  Jealousy: How jealous are they when it comes to their darling? 

 It takes him a while to get jealous of a person and it doesn't really happen all that often. 

 Knowledgeable: How much would they try to learn about their darling? 

 He is very meticulous when it comes to finding out things about his darling. 

 Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? 

 Pretty traditional in the way of giving love letters, flowers and or candies. 

 Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? 

 He does become softer and more relaxed when his darling is around even just a little bit. 

 Naughty: How would they punish their darling? 

 His punishment depends on what his darling did. They can be harsh talking to or…cruel. 

 Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? 

 Depending on how things go he can take a little or a lot but with time will slowly give them back. 

 Patience: How patient are they with their darling? 

 He is very patient; there's no reason to rush things after all. 

 Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? 

 He will find his darling after they escape. But if they were to die then he would start to fade away from everything. 

 Regret: Would they feel guilty? Would they let go? 

 As long as they don't break, he won't feel guilty. 

 Stigma: What brought about this side of them? 

 All it took was the right person to get the ball rolling.  

 Tears: How do they feel about their darling crying, screaming, and/or throwing a tantrum? 

 Crying is meant with gentle calmness while screaming angry gets nothing but harsh words. 

 Unique: Does anything make them different from the classic yandere? 

 His balance between being harsh and being gentle does make things…interesting to say the least. 

 Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? 

 Just about any opening is few and far between however there is always a 50/50 chance of it being a test so they really should think carefully if they should take it or not. (They really don't want to fail this test.) 

 Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? 

 It's not something that he wants to do. 

 Xoanon: How much would they worship their darling? 

 He does see them as a soulmate. A person who he wants to spend the rest of everything with.  

 Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? 

 It will take him a lot to snap if at all. 

 Zeal: How passionate would they be? Would they be passionate enough to break their darling? 

 There's a small chance of him breaking his darling. 

#yandere #yandere abc #haikyuu #yandere haikyu #haikyu #shinsuke kita #yandere kita #yandere shinsuke kita #kita

[originaldickhead]

Cats cradle by haikyuuhoeee

#kuroken #art wip #yandere #haikyuuhoeee #cats cradle #Asvie on her daily yandere obsession #haikyū!! #haikyu x reader #kuroo x reader #kenma x reader #kita shinsuke

[milaisreading]

I really want to write for Haikyuu rn, but I have somewhat of a writer's block and I like doing requestsa lot more tbh.

If someone has any requests, please send :)

Rules:

Please be 18+, otherwise I won't look much into the request if it's Yandere or a more mature theme. Requests are only open for Haikyuu now, for these characters, but you can request for others who are not on the list. Just know that this request might take longer to be done. Don't be disrespectful.

Tag list:

Please let me know if you want to be added to my tag list :)

MASTERLIST:

Characters I write for:

Karasuno

Kageyama Tobio

Hinata Shoyo

Sawamura Daichi

Sugawara Koushi

Azumane Asahi

Nishinoya Yuu

Tanaka Ryuunosuke

Yamaguchi Tadashi

Tsukishima Kei

Seijoh

Oikawa Tooru

Iwaizumi Hajime

Matsukawa Issei

Hanamaki Takahiro

Nekoma

Tetsuro Kuroo

Kozume Kenma

Yaku Morisuke

Haiba Lev

Yamamoto Taketora

Fukurodani

Bokuto Koutarou

Akaashi Keiji

Shiratorizawa

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Tendou Satori

Semi Eita

Goshiki Tsutomu

Yamagata Hayato

Shirabu Kenjiro

Inarizaki

Kita Shinsuke

Aran Ojiro

Suna Rintaro

Miya Osamu

Miya Atsumu

Itachiyama

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Komori Motoya

Kamomedai

Kourai Hoshiumi

Sachiro Hirugami

MSBY BLACK JACKALS

Shugo Meian

Schweiden Adlers

Hirugami Fukuro

Romero Nicollas

#haikyuu anime #haikyuu manga #haikyuu requests #haikyuu x reader #kageyama tobio #hinata shoyo #haikyuu kuroo #kenma #haikyuu miya atsumu #miya osamu #kita shinsuke #aran ojiro #suna rintarō #bokuto koutarou #oikawa tōru #hq iwaizumi #akaashi keiji #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu dark content #please request #msby black jackal #schweiden adlers #hq hirugami #hoshiumi kourai

[hedonistvenus]

The Beast You've Made of Me (1,830) by hedonistvenus

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Rating: Explicit Characters: Miya Atsumu, Kita Shinsuke, Miya Osamu Relationship: AtsuKita Important Tags: Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Yandere!Kita Shinsuke Summary:

“Can we— can we just slow down for a second?”   Kita smiled softly and leaned in close to brush his lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. “We have to be quick unless ya wanna get caught like this,” he said, but as much as his words made Atsumu want to let him do whatever he wanted, they also served as more reason for them to slow down and talk about this for a moment. Kita might come on a little too strong sometimes, but Atsumu can't really tell. He's probably just overreacting again.

(Read on Ao3)

#haikyuu!! #hq!! fanfiction #fanfiction #my fics #miya atsumu #kita shinsuke #yandere #atsukita

[narumi-gens]

Traditional Values

yakuza!Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader

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

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

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

words: 5.9k

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not interact

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

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

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

But you know that traditional really just means boring. 

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

Specifically, your marriage to Kita. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kita is dull. 

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

‘You’re so boring.’

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

‘You’re so boring.’

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

‘You’re so boring.’

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

‘You’re so boring.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘You’re so boring.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enough.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Osamu.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This marriage benefits your father more than it does Kita. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did ya use yer mouth on him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ ADORE L'AMOUR

tw. noncon/dubcon, implied yandere, forced emotional cheating, virginity, service dom, coercion/manipulation, corruption kink, size kink, creampie, service dom! tsumu, degradation and praise wordcount. 5.5k

a/n. commissioned by a lovely person who wanted to stay anonymous, thank you so much for commissioning me and trusting me with your story, and i really really hope it delivers and you enjoy!!! this is kinda softer than my usual stuff but also still read the tws pretty please ♡♡♡ ya and ty and enJOYyy some tsumu

miya atsumu x fem!reader

“Come up, will ya?” he smiles, grabbing your hand and swinging the interlaced pair back and forth. You can’t help but have to bite back a tiny smile at the way his rougher hand links into yours, and butterflies still erupt any time his hazel eyes find you.

“Shin, I-” you sigh back, before quietly chuckling as he heaves you up onto the bleachers and tugs you along to slide in right next to the familiar face. Aran rolls his eyes, but you can tell that there’s too much fondness in his look to seriously mind the lovey-dovey shit— and really, you can’t help it.

Any girl your age would be expected to go all heart eyes when their boyfriend looks at them that way. “Happy now?” you ask as you’re pushed between Aran and the escape to the outside fresh air, void of all the sweaty teen musk and squeaking sneakers, and Shinsuke smiles ever so slightly at the sight.

“Yes, I am. Keep our long-suffering ace company for a bit while he patches up his ankle, won’t ya?” He’s already escaping down from the stands with the knowledge that you will, because if nothing else, you love watching the guys play. You’ve loved watching Shinsuke play ever since middle school, and Aran’s expression gives you the idea that he knows this too. Because he simply shrugs, and re-wraps the ice pack a little better around that wounded ankle.

“Aye aye, Captain,” you shoot back as he makes his way back to the court, and this time, he gives you that wonderfully cheeky smile that made you fall head-over-heels in the first place. “And you, you’re a third year. You’re supposed to be one of the responsible ones.” You give the tall ace to your side a side-eye as he laughs full and loud, and nods.

“Sorry, Mrs. Kita. It won’t happen again.” Practice continues for another half an hour in peace, as you joke around with your boyfriend’s best friend for a while, tossing the occasional stray ball back onto the court, but mainly, just watching the guys play. You didn’t use to have such a love for the sport. When you were a ball-girl back in middle school, you only did it because it was an easy extra grade on your report card, and kept you sort of busy during hours you wouldn’t have anything else to do.

But now, sometimes it seems as much your life blood as it is theirs. You probably wouldn’t have developed such a crush on the quiet, well-spoken boy with the fluffy tufts of hair that flopped about if you hadn’t kept with it, wouldn’t have dated him, wouldn’t have laid in the dark talking about what your life together might look like. Watched Shin grow into the person he is today.

You smile and wave as Shinsuke looks up at you yet again and throws back a wink, and a few of the guys follow his gaze. Familiar lazy gazes of differing shades of brown. But they stay quiet, for now, and the team captain claps his hands to call for a break. And the lankiest of your middle blockers groans and reaches for a bench too quickly, as everyone disperses. Aran makes his way down the stands for the toilet, Ginjima follows suit, and your boyfriend goes through the trouble to start collecting the balls with the same single-minded focus he always has while practicing. But before you can so much as manage to make it down the stairs to help him out, a familiar figure comes up beside you.

“Captain’s got it, I think,” Atsumu smiles as he comes to walk beside you, not the slightest bit winded despite having jogged up to you after an hour of intensive training— and blinks down at you with the self-assured grin you’ve come to expect of the star setter. “Yer still comin’ to our practices, huh?”

“Yes, Miya. Believe it or not, I actually like watching you guys play, ‘m not just here to waste time and gawk.”

“Whoa, doll,” the blond isn’t fazed, and simply throws up his hands in mock-defense, “I wouldn’t dare question the validity of yer visits. I mean, ya brighten up the place, really.” The comfortable way he swings an arm over your shoulder and leans in a little isn’t too far out of how he usually acts, and you do know that Atsumu’s pretty damn touchy with everyone. But his smile, and the way his eyes flick down your face with an almost grating intensity— will never stop feeling flirty- and therefore- inappropriate. Though you try to find something fitting to say, he’s already running his mouth again before you get the chance to.

“Would be even better if ya’d put on a shirt with my name on it and took some cheer classes,” he gloats, and the way he walks leaned into you keeps his face much too close to yours as you go to frown at him, “bet ya’d really suit the Inarizaki colors when you glare like that.” It sets you off, and he knows it does, because he’s dodging the way you go to swing at his arm with a chuckle before you get to, and catches your fist in his hand to squeeze it a little. “Hah, always so mean to me. Getting predictable, pretty girl.”

Your bottom lip is sucked to slot between your teeth, and you roll your eyes, shrugging off the other hand that he tried to ruffle through your hair. “You’re exhausting.”

“Sure is,” Shinsuke suddenly mumbles, tossing a ball at the setter that he manages to catch, before raising a brow. “That’s my girlfriend, Atsumu. If you would, please.”

“Ya got it, Cap’n. Of course,” he chants back with a sing-song-y voice, but his thumb still rubs another few circles into the soft skin of your hand before he goes to annoy Osamu and Suna instead. It sends a cold shiver down your spine, but he’s pulling away before you have the chance to really acknowledge the touch. And if Kita has any concerns about what he just saw, you sure as hell can’t tell, when he pulls you close and places a loving kiss between your brows. But you still have to force yourself to ignore the way Atsumu gives you a once over and -if you didn’t know the guy better than that- undresses you with his eyes.

+

Graduation should feel a little bittersweet, you guess. The party isn’t too wild, considering, but it’s still loud and a little over the top— so you confine yourself to the area further away from the pounding music and sip reasonably mild drinks while the rest of the team and their plus-ones take their best attempt at rattling Suna’s house off its’ foundations. It’s warm for a spring night, and sweat sticks to the back of your neck and chest from the earlier forced dancing you were pulled into. But now the pool table has been abandoned for the garden, and you take the few quiet moments to breathe.

Most of the guys will be moving on to professional level, a few of them to university, and another few have jobs lined up. Just last year, Shinsuke moved back out to the countryside, and Aran to Tokyo; and while you’ve all tried to keep up communications, distance really does play a big part in it. And now it’s all your turns… It’ll be safe to say you won’t see some of them again much in just a few quick months. The thought already fills you with a strange sort of nostalgia. You don’t get too much rest though, because a flash of blonde followed by an equally handsome, dark-haired copy filter back into the house. Atsumu brightens a little when he spots you, lazy eyes sharper and more calculating in the low light of the house. Of course he does, he seems to have a strange fascination with annoying you to bits.

“Well, pretty girl, ‘ve ya been abandoned by yer human defense robot?” His handsome face paints on a grin, with slightly rosy cheeks and ears, that almost makes him look a few years younger. Almost makes him look innocent. You know better though, and swallow down the want to give back some snarky comment that would surely have you in a battle of wits until someone puts a stop to it. And his twin… isn’t that person. You wonder how much he’s had to drink. Not that you’re doing much better, anyway. You can feel the buzz in your blood and the heat on your face.

Osamu’s hair is messy and fluffier than usual, probably courtesy of the girlfriend he brought and— with a quick glance around the room— has been left on her lonesome somewhere in the partying group outside. You pity her just a little bit, but it doesn’t exactly surprise you that the Miya twins aren’t the most consistent with their affections. The guys started having groupies all the way back in freshman year, and the years have only built upon that fame. The darker haired of the two puts a fist into Atsumu’s shoulder, before crossing his arms. “That’s our last Captain yer talkin’ about, stupid Tsumu. Show some respect.”

“Aw, Samu. I’m sorry, alright.”

You smile softly, and nod your head towards the door. “Not abandoned. He stepped out for a minute for a smoke,” you cut them off, knowing full well they could continue their bickering for hours if left to it. It’s not like you don’t like the twins. They’re obnoxious, and boisterous and hyper at the best of times, but they’re insanely talented too. You would like them, if not for— Atsumu feeling too comfortable hanging his arm over your shoulder to pull you in for a hug, heavy cologne mixed with a scent that is distinctly more him enveloping you as you freeze up. “Miya-”

“‘S gonna be weird without everyone ‘round, huh? I’ll miss ‘em,” he lowers his voice as he keeps your face into his chest, and simply out of a desire not to feel too awkward, you allow your arms to wrap loosely around his back. You give a little motion to be let out of the hug to nod, and smooth your hands down your pants.

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s a sort of glint in Atsumu’s eyes that seems like tenderness as he pats your shoulder, then smiles. “Well, a’least you’ll know me.” Your expression must give away your confusion, because he continues. “Yer goin’ to Tokyo uni, I’m goin’ to Tokyo to check out some of the teams there. It’ll be good. Don’t tell me yer just gonna ignore me when we’re gonna live so close together.”

You don’t think it over- Shinsuke must’ve told him. As the buzz washes over you and the music picks up outside, Atsumu’s large hands find your shoulders and he turns you around towards Osamu, who has already poured three large shots. “Oh, I don’t-”

“Come on~ for prosperity,” Osamu chants, his hand finding yours to unfurl it and place one of the large shot glasses in your hand. And Atsumu nods behind you, basically glittering from excitement. You’re normally a bit more -standoffish, by necessity- but the atmosphere of the night is light. And Tsumu’s hand on your lower back as he pushes you towards one of the chairs and sits you down is nice; even if you only realize a second or two after that he’s sat below you.

“Ya owe me a couple cheers at least,” Atsumu basically coos into your neck as he taps his own glass to yours. “‘Sides, I think Shin went ta go drop off some of the other guys, no need ta wait up for ‘em. Right Samu?”

“That’s what I heard, Tsumu.”

+

You don’t expect university to be the thing that breaks you, but the distance, the lack of communication, of support— all drag on you. You and Shin both promised to make it work, but he’s busy a lot. The farm keeps him occupied. At least- that’s what you have to assume when most of your messages get read and not answered. It isn’t like Shin, but then again, you suppose it’s a growing period. It’s natural.

More surprising than that is that through it all, Atsumu is there a lot more than you expected. The giant, prestigious sport center where he trains isn’t too far from your campus, but he still goes out of his way to swing by whenever he can to keep you company, which isn’t so self explanatory as you had hoped it would be. It’s not that you don’t make friends, or can’t make friends, it’s just that- after a few weeks- they just seem to vanish off of the face of the earth. Like they were never even there to begin with. You even catch some people purposefully avoiding you on campus as the year goes on.

But the workloads are heavy, and hard, so you sadly don’t have enough time in a day to worry about it as much as you would like to. You still have Atsumu, at least, and as much as you wouldn’t have wanted to admit it shy of a few months ago, his persistence about wanting to be by your side does slowly have you bending just a little.

“I swear it, cross ma little heart,” the blonde dramatically says while walking the grounds with you- on his free day- “am I not the best goddamn setter in the prefecture? What choice is there?” He runs a hand through his hair, then looks over at you to pout. “Make me feel better, c’mon.” Before you can really analyze the moment or how he looks at you with those warm brown eyes and too much fondness, his hand wraps around yours, slipping his fingers between yours with a strange determination.

You stop walking, and your school bag hits your thigh hard because of the abrupt stop. “Atsumu.” You’ve had this conversation with him about a million times. You are with Shinsuke. You have been with Shinsuke since middle school, and though dealing with the distance is hard right now, you promised to try. And he says he understands, and you’re making a big deal out of nothing— but it sure doesn’t seem like he does. “I am d-dating Sh-”

“Ya keep sayin’ yer dating, but where is yer boyfriend? Didn’t ya say he hasn’t been responding to yer messages?” Though he tries to keep his voice down, he doesn’t let go of your hand, and stares like he’ll burn holes through the shape of you. “Ain’t that proof enough?”

“I know Shinsuke, and you know Shinsuke. If he wanted to break up, he would say it.” You puff your chest out a little, and swallow, trying to untangle your hands from his grip. “He’s busy, and this is a transition period for us both, and I just- I want to make it work.” Atsumu seems to cling on for a second longer with a slight kink in his brow, but then he lets go and sighs, rubbing his hands back and forth through his lighter blonde hair with a groan.

“Fine— fine! If ya gotta hear ‘im say it…”

+

The irony tastes bitter. It stings with every swallow, really.

‘I think it’s not working out. I’m sorry. We should break up.’

You’re staring at the message for the nth time this evening, burying yourself in your cocoon of blankets and an almost empty back of chips yet again. You must’ve breathed it into existence, right? There’s no way around the timing of the message, and the sick way it churns in your stomach. You’re halfway towards another crying fit when Atsumu plops himself down onto your bed and grimaces. “Put that down,” he mumbles, snatching the phone out of your hand despite your glare, “you’ve been cryin’ all fucking evening. You really wanna do more of that?”

“I didn’t ask you to come over,” your voice is a murmur, pinched and sad and tiny, because who wouldn’t be heartbroken at a moment like this. “You just invited yourself in, which- hck- is the worst timing you’ve ever had.”

“But yer glad I’m here. I know ya are.” Whatever. Maybe you’re a little glad for the company, but Atsumu’s flavor of bluntness is really doing a number on you. Instead you reach for a tissue and blow your nose again, and try not to cry yourself to death. “He didn’t treat ya right anyway, don’t lie t’ yerself. Hey- look- look at me, c’mon,” his hands are on your face as he tugs it towards him and stares too deep into your eyes, brushing his thumbs along your cheekbones. “No more cryin’ about yer shitty high school crush. Not while I’m here, and I’m yer amazing, incredible support system that yer so very grateful for-” He breaks off in laughter when you have to bite a chuckle back despite your heartache, and try to pull your face out of his touch.

But he lingers, and leans in a little. “What? Am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong, and I- I’m glad you’re here-” It isn’t a lie, but he’s still leaning in, and his face is growing awfully close and it’s- it’s too soon— and you shrink into your cocoon and look away in an attempt to save the situation. Shin broke up with you hours ago. “Atsumu-” you start, only to be cut off as he tugs the blankets down somewhat harshly, and clicks his tongue.

“Stop runnin’. Yer always doing this crap, I’m…” He sighs, and tries to coach you back out with thinly veiled patience. “Am I really so bad to ya? Hm?”

“Of course you’re not.”

He sits back, before patting his lap, and looks at you. In the last light of the sun that falls through your window he’s cast in the prettiest oranges and pinks, and looks almost ethereal to the world. You’re not blind. That was never in question. “Come here.” Despite being conflicted, there’s a glint in his eye that worries you. That if you were to disagree, he’d leave. And you’re not sure you could handle that right about now. As he leads you out of the blankets you notice how cold your room is in just a shirt and some ugly shorts, and Atsumu mumbles something under his breath. “Ya weren’t this shy at graduation, y’know.”

Your frown digs into your face, but his hands settle on your hips as he pulls you in and pushes you down into his lap with a soft hum. “What do you mean- graduation?”

“Just settle down, will ya? Jeez.” Warm hands that slide to the small of your back to force you ever so close to him, your heart basically stuttering out of your ribcage. “Always so damn skittish ‘round me.” You always wondered a little, truthfully. If the way Atsumu’s touches would linger on you was something to worry about, keep an eye on. If you should have been more careful about setting boundaries- and how he looks at you now, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he gives you an up and down… it says enough. Too much, even.

And though you admit that your heart is pattering like a hummingbird, there’s a much larger issue here. You love Shinsuke, you want- Shinsuke, p-promised you’d make it work for him— and it's barely been a few hours. You can’t, so you try to find the words to say; but the blond leans down to start pressing kisses down the side of your neck with a soft chuckle. His arms wrap tightly around your back, even though you place a hand on his chest and shake your head. “Tsumu, no. We can’t, I- can’t, let go.”

The noise he makes into the kisses trembles through your skin and seems to reach bone, before he squeezes a little harder to keep you slotted against him. “Yer so pretty, baby. Always were so fuckin’ pretty,” he goes from keeping you in his lap to slowly pushing you back in bed, sending your breathing into shallow spikes.

“Tsumu, cut it out!”

“I know yer nervous,” his pretty brown eyes are blown out when he pushes you down by your shoulders and you’re buried in your blankets, before he descends on your throat and chest again, kissing and leaving biting nicks, “didn’t do nothin’ like this before right? Know ya were waitin’- but I got ya now. Relax, I’ll make ya feel good. Promise.” The idea that Tsumu knows something so personal about you doesn’t even cross your mind— though it should, more than the way his weight and size locks you in place under his strong, athletic body.

“No, no, I- Shin just broke up with me- and I-”

His expression darkens, eyes narrowing a little as he comes to hover over you, one hand brushing your cheek as the other wraps tight around your wrist. “Don’t say another man’s name when I got ya under me.” He takes a long breath, before descending on you, mouth to mouth, and then pushing his tongue into your mouth too hard for you to keep him out. You try to call his name, but he kisses you without regard, uncaring as he grips your face and makes a noise of agreement when you relax your jaw out of sheer necessity. “Ya’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted ya, doll. Really, hah.”

His hand slides down your chest to start picking the shirt up your body, and though your rapidly rising and falling chest is exposed, his eyes stay sharp on you, and you can’t help but choke on your cries. He doesn’t look right. His eyes are wide and so sharp, mouth slightly curled as he forces your both wrists next to your head. “Thought I was gonna have ta kill ‘im for you ta finally give in, but-” He kisses you again, before the hand gripping your face snakes down between your bodies to grab your tits through your shirt as he repositions his thighs to lock your lower half in place under him. “Yer gonna be a good little thing for me, ain’t ya?”

“Tsumu,” you squeak, fisting your hands into his shirt by his shoulders, but it only makes him groan in response. “Let me go, I want-”

“You don’t know what ya want.” He takes a deep breath, before slipping his hands under the garment and brushing his thumb over your raised nipples, peeked from the cold air. “But I do. ‘N I’m gonna make ya beg for me so fuckin’ good.” He lets you go for a moment to take your shirt off with rough tugs, before staring again. “See, Samu said I should give it a rest. But how can I, when I knew you’d be the prettiest little virgin cunt ever? Hm?” He licks his lips, before leaning down to start kissing all over your tits, sucking and tugging at your nipples with noises that make you grow from the inside. A cold shiver rolls down your spine, and you find yourself pulling his hair despite yourself. Because it feels good, and heat pools low in your belly.

“Tell me ya want it. Tell me ya want me.” The fire that seems to glint behind his eyes takes you aback, and you try to scramble from under him, but he’s back over you before you get a chance to. Gripping your face and forcing you into another kiss, the taste of his tongue on yours, deep and heavy. “People here hate ya, don’t ya know that? Think yer a real bitch. That’s why no one wants to be yer friend.” He rests his forehead to yours, so that you’re basically breathing each other’s air, and hums. His free hand starts taking off the sweats he’s wearing in a smooth motion, leaving him hard in just boxers. “But I’ve been ‘ere for you.” Another kiss. “I’m good to ya, too.”

The room is so hot, and your brain completely thrown off with the mix of all emotions you’ve felt in these short few hours; and it has you all fucked up. Tsumu must know this, but he doesn’t care. And you take a few panted breaths, looking between your two bodies at the was your tits brush up against him each time you move— he’s so close. “So say you want it, or I’m leavin’.”

“I want it.” Your voice shakes as it comes out, eyes stinging, head floaty— it barely feels like you said anything at all. “I want you.” He takes that as all he needs before grinning, kissing your temple and shuffling off you to shove his boxers down his thighs, before grabbing himself by the base and stroking a few lazy pumps along himself.

“Here, kiss it,” he nods his head towards it, helping you up and then right back down so you’re on your hands and knees. You’re getting wet. Sadly, you didn’t exactly think to put on any nice panties, but Tsumu doesn’t care as he makes you lean in and down until you can rest your lips to his cock, and he makes another noise. “I know it’s kinda bad but- I’ve been wanting ta fuck yer face for years now. Put- yer tongue out.” The admission only makes you feel more hot and hazy, and you do as you’re told. “Ahh, mhm.” He tastes weird when he pushes the glossy head to your tongue, translucent precum coating your tongue, but he takes a few more pumps, then pushes you back over.

“But not now, I wanna fuck you first. Yer gonna let me fuck your tight, little cunt, right?” The plush in your face doesn’t hide the heat as it floods to your face, your belly, down your legs— and he manhandles your legs up to start peeling off your shorts and panties. You can feel the strings of slick as they connect your wet pussy and the fabric, and hide your face into your shoulder before he groans your name again. “Yer so fuckin’ wet, look atcha. Already a little cock tease, and I haven’t even done nothin’ yet.” Your hot, puffy pussy is revealed, and he swipes two fingers out to circle around the wet hole without hesitation, only pulling back to slot the digits in his mouth. He shrugs his shirt off and tosses it next to the bed, then comes to kiss you again.

“Ya taste that? That’s yer pussy gushin’ like a whore for me. Only me.” He kisses like he’s got something to prove, taking your mouth up until all you can think of is him, and the places where your skin seems to zap under his rough hands. Each touch leaving you more breathless than the next. And you’re forced to just nod along and abide, because you couldn’t ask for what you need if you tried. He plays with your tits while pushing first one prodding digit in, but soon pushes up with two. “Gotta- prep this little hole before I fill you up, right? That’d be the nice thing to do. Even though ya haven’t been very nice to me, babe.”

“‘m sorry- Tsumu-” you hold back a whimpering moan as he squeezes your tits hard and flicks your nipples, and his fingers slowly push into you. The wetness dripping down your slit and along your inner thighs is hot, and your body curves instinctively as he slowly slides in and out a few times, while the man above you chuckles.

“No, you ain’t, little minx.” His grin is still wide though, hiking your one leg higher to get a better look at the way your greedy pussy swallows up his long fingers and he fucks you open so easily. “S’okay tho, I forgive ya. ‘Cus I’m gonna get to fuck this pretty pussy first.” The slick sounds fill the room and sound so, so loud, and lewd, and yet, there’s still more noise coming from your throat as he goes deeper again and his thumb finds your puffy clit with a little hum. “Uhuh, that feel good? Look at you enjoying this. Didn’t you want me ta stop? Huh?”

“Hm,” you just answer, grabbing your own chest with one hand, his arm with the other. He’s so much bigger than you like this, so muscular and intimidating. You look between your bodies to watch his fingers bottom out, and though the stretch is a little uncomfortable, it’s mostly just really, really good, filling your head with fog. Tsumu’s thick cock twitches between his legs, and he leans in to kiss you again. This time pulling his hand back to slide it into your mouth instead, making you gag when his fingers hit the back of your throat. You taste heady, a little musky, and lick your lips for the thin thread of spit when he pulls back.

“Alright, say thank you, Tsumu.”

“-thank you, Tsum-” you parrot, and also freeze under him when he goes to reposition himself and his cock head pushes at your sloppy, wet slit. “Wait- condom-”

“Shhh, just relax. If you freak out it’ll hurt ya.” He places one elbow next to your head, and lines himself up better, before starting to push into you already, and your leg jerks. He’s really big. Too big, you think, trying to take a deep breath as he starts breaking open your slick walls and slowly moving back and forth through it. “Aghh, that’s- it, that’s it, thatsithatsit-” He moans loudly, pushing your cheek up and kissing you back long and deep, tongues messily tangling and tasting each other, bumping noses as he fucks in, and in, and in. It pulls every thought out of you, every fiber filled with electricity. The tightness is painful, but you don’t want him to pull back, and judging by the way he groans into your mouth, he won’t anyway.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m fucking my tiny virgin cunt with a condom,” he pants when pulling back, eyes blown wide. His hand pushes your knee up more to stare at where you’re connected, before pulling back halfway and fucking back in, and the pressure on your womb and belly is enough to have you whining out so loud it barely sounds human. “That good, huh?” He bottoms out again, feels so fucking deep inside you that you can feel him high up in yourself bumping against your walls, and it feels so good, so, so good your toes curl and your knees lock around him.

“Fuck,” you can just barely gasp, before he pumps into you again, and starts really grinding himself into you. Slick drips out of you with each thrust, and makes the bed rattle under his weight. His hair sticks matt to his forehead, his lip pulled between his teeth, and the wet slapping of his hips meeting your skin is so distracting. Everything aches. Everything feels so good. You can barely even feel the sting anymore, jerking on his cock like you are. “Tsumu, I-”

“Gon’ have ta wait, princess,” he suddenly chokes, “yer clamping down on me like crazy— fuck.” He lifts one knee to push your legs open more, and then just shakes his head as he starts speeding up. “Oh, fuck it, gonna fill you up first. So fuckin’ tight, god, fuck-” The heavy thrusts go more sloppy, rapid as he chases his own orgasm and squeezes your thigh hard, yanking your teary cheeks back towards him as you pant to slide a finger between your lips and dropping a glob of his own spit into your mouth like it’s normal. Groaning into your mouth, and fucking his fat cock so deep into you you see stars. “One experience at a time, right?”

“Ah, Tsumu- p-please, fuck-me more, more, touch- more.” Your head rolls back as he pulls your hips back into him again and again, before suddenly locking up, and feeling how hot ropes of cum fill you up and he pants out your name in between a string of swears that all melt into a long growled moan as he stills. Only for a second though, because he’s quick to pull out and roll you back so that your knees are by your head, and he’s on top of you. He strokes his cock a few times, watching the last of the strings of thick cum land between your thighs. “Tsumu-” you pant, and take a breath, and pout- all at once. Because he stares at the way his cum comes out of your sloppy hole, before pushing it back inside. “Ughn-”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. I’m not done. Not even close.” He spits onto his hand before bringing two fingers back to your pussy, and his thumb over your needy, puffy bud. And you jerk, blinks stuttering as you moan high and needy. Can’t help it. “Yer gonna wish I was done with ya long before I let ya out of this bed. I’m not done playing with my pussy.”

#atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #tw.virginity #tw.noncon #tw.degradation #tw.dubcon #tw.size kink #tw.dark content #tw.creampie #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.atsumu

[depravitycentral]

Haikyuu Dick Headcannons Pt. 1

Ft. the Inarizaki men: Shinsuke Kita, Aran Ojiro, Rintarou Suna, Atsumu Miya, Osamu Miya

tw: excessive talk of dicks/cum, yandere undertones, no protection, allusions to anal but nothing explicit, fem reader, MDNI

He’s just barely over five inches, but he’s got enough girth to get you wincing every time he slips inside you. Overall, his cock is very masculine; hard lines, perfectly straight, with a prominent vein that runs diagonally across his shaft. He likes it when you trace along it, either with your tongue or your finger, always making him quickly suck in a breath. He’s moderately sensitive, but it you want to make Shinsuke crumble then you have to aim for his balls – they’re heavy, constantly full, always ready to emptied, preferably into you. The moment your nimble fingers touch the sensitive skin, Shinsuke’s groaning, his jaw working as he tries to steady his breathing, not wanting to come too quickly from just a few simple touches. He lets out these airy hisses of breath when you squeeze at them, almost sounding like he’s trying to hold back any noise – but you’ll see the dead give away of his pleasure with the way his thighs tense up.

His cum is thick, to the point where it takes a while when it drips down your face, feeling warm and sticky. It’s difficult to clean because it’s so sticky, getting everywhere and staying there, and it tends to glob up. It’s messy, and normally Shinsuke would hate it, but when it’s on you, it’s different. And god, when it’s inside of you, some switch gets flipped in his brain, the way it dribbles out of you making him feral. He likes to gather any leaking out of you and smear it across the inside of your thighs, pressing kisses against the skin and tasting himself on his tongue. If given the preference, he will always come inside you, and he tends to groan your name when he’s finishing. It’s higher than normal, sounding strained, and he’ll always shut his eyes tightly, the pleasure overwhelming him as he releases inside you. He always kisses you as the last few spurts leak from his tip, his tongue desperately toying with yours, his hands gripping onto your sides and thighs to try and ground him. He gets a bit carried away when he comes, the feeling making his head spin, and you can hear it in the way he breathes so heavily, see it in the way his cock twitches inside you, long after he’s given you every drop he can.

His favorite way that you touch him is when you clench around him when he’s fucking you in a mating press. It’s his favorite position; the angle, the view, how close he can get to you. He likes to keep your knees pressed as tightly as possibly, opening you up and leaving your pretty little pussy open for him. His eyes always manage to wander down your body to where he’s thrusting into you, watching the way he sinks into you again and again, disappearing inside you only to pull back out. He gulps when he sees the white ring slowly forming at his base, standing out against his pale skin and only getting bigger with each thrust back inside you. He likes the way the angle makes you feel tighter around him, the sensation making him grasp onto you tighter. He’s able to hit all those spots that get you moaning this way, and with each pounding against your g-spot, you clench down on him even tighter, until he eventually loses it and lets go, burying himself as deeply inside as possible so as much of his cum stays in as it can. He likes the way your cunt flutters around him in this position, massaging him and pushing him through his own orgasm. And when he pulls out, he especially loves the way it makes this graphic, dirty schlucking noise, as if your cunt doesn’t want to let him go, that one last suction on his cock making him want to fuck you all over again.

He’s a solid six inches with moderate girth, a thoroughly filling cock that’ll make every hole feel stuffed no matter how he fucks you. He does his best to stay trimmed and groomed, but he likes to keep things a bit longer because he doesn’t like the way he looks cleanshaven. He’s not especially sensitive, but he finds the way that feels best for him is steady, consistent stimulation – expect rhythmic motions with him, especially when he’s in your mouth and in your cunt. If you really want to get him shivering, though, you can target the spot at the base of his cock, on the underside right above his balls. He won’t moan when you brush your fingers along it, but he’ll stiffen up, Adam’s apple bobbing and his hand grabbing your wrist, motioning you to do it again. He especially likes it when you lick there, rubbing circles with your tongue as he sighs and subconsciously pulls your head even closer.

        His cum is kind of watery, and tends to run once it lands. It’s easy to clean up, though, which is a good thing because he’s a bit fan of coming on your body rather than inside you or down your throat. He shoots the first round, but if he comes more than once he dribbles, the volume significantly reduced. He always lets out this breathy moan of your name when he’s coming, sounding almost as if he’s in pain. He throws his head back, eyes fluttering closed, and you can see the way his entire hips twitch alongside his cock, everything bobbing up and down from the jerky motions. He prefers to come on either your stomach or your ass, depending on which is available when he pulls out, but his favorite will always be your pretty cheeks, all round and soft and perfect to touch and grope. He’ll pull out and start vigorously fisting himself, his other hand finding purchase on one asscheek, squeezing harshly and groping, before lining his cock up with your ass and letting go, watching as spurts land over your clenched pussy and asshole, the white getting all over you. It makes him groan at the sight, and he’ll often lightly smack your ass, rubbing your cheeks together and then pulling them apart just to admire the sight again.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you grind on him. Specifically, he likes when he’s standing behind you, your perfect little ass rubbing against his crotch, slowly getting him hard and pressing insistently against you. He likes the way it feels to have dull stimulation for a long period of time, and if you’re able to keep it up for a while, he’ll eventually be able to come this way. He likes when you’re leaning on something, and often he’ll ambush you against the kitchen counter, starting by humping at you like some dog in heat before letting you take over and grind back against him. Sometimes he’ll bring his hands up under your shirt to cup at your bare breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples. He likes the way you feel so desperate against him, and how, if you’re wearing nothing and only his boxers are covering him, he can feel your wetness through the fabric, teasing him and making him ache for more. He likes riling you up, and while sex with you feels amazing, sometimes the buildup can be better than the finale.

He’s roughly five and a half inches, definitely enough for you to work with, though he is on the skinnier side. He’s not very veiny, instead just a lovely, smooth cock – pretty and without any blemishes, the kind you see and just want to touch and suckle. A small tuft of brown hair sits atop his shaft, a few hairs spread across the set of balls that a pinker color than the rest of him. The closer he gets to coming, the redder his cock gets, especially near the tip – it swells, too, the blood rush leaving him dizzy and making him fuck you even harder. He produces an above average amount of precum; when he’s kissing you and his hands are all over your body, excitement buzzing in his veins at the prospect of getting you naked and moaning his name, his boxers are already forming wet patches, a big, sticky mess when you eventually get them off. He’s a bit embarrassed by it, worried it makes him look too eager and desperate for you, but if you just compliment him and tell him that you’re excited too, he’ll just stutter out your name and look away, embarrassment mixing with bashfulness.

               He’s a shooter but it doesn’t go too far, you have to get a bit close to get it on your body. His cum is always very warm and feels nice on your skin, even as it starts to dry. It’s opaque and unfortunately pretty bitter, but he really likes it when you swallow it. He won’t force you to, but watching the way your pretty throat bobs as you take it all makes his cock twitch, a small, sad spurt of whatever his body can scrounge up leaking out of his oversensitive tip. He’ll just stop and stare when you do this, lips slightly parted and harsh breaths coming out, his eyes a bit wide, the smallest whisper of your name on his lips. He’s also quite partial to finishing on your chest, especially if it’s cold in the room and your nipples are all hard and taut. He likes the way it runs down them, dribbling down to form little droplets, and sometimes he’ll lean in and suck them off, teeth lightly nibbling on the sensitive skin. He just likes seeing his cum on you, and it’s especially erotic to have it in such a dirty place.

               He’s got this fantasy of you just absolutely manhandling him – in the bedroom he’s normally a bit more dominant (though very much a soft dom, if only because he really genuinely wants to make you feel good – his eagerness is almost palpable), but he secretly wants you to take control, and this extends towards your treatment of his cock, too. He wants you to suck him off, but to have your way with him; he wants you to grip him with force, your pretty fingers wrapped around his length while you lick at him, smiling up at him as you squeeze, tightly enough to make him hiss through his teeth, your thumb coming up to quickly swipe at his tip, making sure to pass over his slit. He wants you to suck at him, pressing wet, slobbery kisses up the sides but never quite the tip, never quite where he needs you. He wants you to tease him, to make his breath stutter and his muscles flex, but to never quite let him fall over the edge, keeping him right where you want him. He wants you to vigorously take him down your throat, bobbing your head up and down and blindly grope at his balls while he clenches his teeth and shuts his eyes, only to pull away completely, smiling up at him and telling him to hold on, not yet, I’m not through with you yet. He wants you to edge him until the last possible moment, and when you whisper to him that he can finally finish, he’s immediately coming, a grunt that sounds more like a shout falling past his lips. He just likes the idea of you using him for your pleasure, and while he’ll never voice this fantasy, every time he fucks his fist to the thought of you it’s what’s swirling through his mind.

It’s a solid five inches, with perfectly groomed black hairs framing the base. He’s meticulous about upkeep; he spends easily ten minutes out of every shower just trimming up, leaving a very short layer of hair there to make sure everything looks inviting for you, but not too perfect; he doesn’t want you to think he spends as long worrying about it as he does. (He wants you to think it’s effortless, like he’s just that sexy.) A few veins dot the length, none standing out super far, but it’s enough to run your tongue over when he’s in your mouth, which gets his knees weakening and nearly buckling. He’s pretty sensitive overall, but his cock visibly throbs when you pay attention to the tip; he likes when you drag your tongue along his slit or run your tongue around it, especially if you pull off of him with a big, wet pop noise. He just twitches a lot, cock jumping and making his balls jump, too. You can even make him twitch visibly through some of his pants if you whisper into his ear, telling him all the dirty things you want to do to him – and if you cup him over his pants, you can feel the movement, the warmth radiating through the fabric, and, if you’re lucky, even a little patch of wetness.

               His cum is runny, leaving a slick residue as it slides along your skin, and an opaque, creamy color. It’s a little bit watery, but he likes the way it looks when it’s on you. It doesn’t taste too bad, but it is a bit salty, though it’s manageable to have in your mouth or to swallow. He dribbles, leaking out of his tip and sliding down his shift while he moans. He needs stimulation throughout his orgasm, and likes when you gently squeeze at his balls, the dull pleasure making his toes curl and prolonging his finish, so that you get every last drop of cum he can give you. He’s a bit whiny when he finishes, his voice higher pitched than normal, and his eyes squeeze shut, eyebrows drawn taut because it feels too good. His abs visibly flutter when he finishes, the muscles contracting and squeezing, while he tilts his chin back and tries to hump at whatever is still touching him. He really likes to finish on your face; seeing you painted in him makes him horny all over again, his cock springing to life mere minutes later because fuck, you look good covered in his cum. He also has a thing for finishes on your pussy, with you spreading the cute little lips so that he can see your clenched hole, his cum looking perfect all smeared across your thighs and folds.

               His favorite way for you to touch him is when you ride him. He likes the way you clench him, the feeling different than every other way he fucks you. He likes when you go nice and slow, dragging your walls up and down his length, massaging the sensitive skin and making him grip onto your thighs. The way your ass feels as it claps down onto his balls with every downwards motion makes his head spin, and more often than not his hips will try to chase yours as you move upwards, desperate to keep himself inside you. He likes this position because there’s something about the way you look above him that gets him throbbing inside of you, your pretty tits on full display and easy to grab onto, bouncing in his face when you suddenly pick up the speed near the end. He likes to grab onto them, clutching on tight while you work him up and down, fucking him so impossibly deep that he swears he’s in your stomach, all the while you squeeze down on him harder and harder and harder. Atsumu likes when you alternate between thrusting and grinding, swirling your hips in circular motions and giving him a break when he thinks he’s too close to coming. Something about the motion feels good, and the way your face gets all screwed up in pleasure when you grind his tip against the spongy spot inside you makes precum ooze out of his tip and into you in copious amounts. He just likes when you ride him, kissing him and thumbing his nipples, even reaching behind you to grope at his balls. He comes harder that way, everything slowly dripping out around the both of you and coating his cock as you just keep going.

He’s a little over five inches; a nice, solid cock. It’s the perfect size to fill you up, stretching you out and making you hiss ever so slightly when he pushes into you, but not too much to hurt – he’s truly the perfect fit. He has this strange tendency of kind of man handling it; his calloused fingers will often grip himself at the base, running his tip through your folds or smacking your clit with it, liking the way you’re so soft and warm against him. He’s unfortunately not especially sensitive, so it takes him a while to come, but he actually kind of likes it because it makes him last a lot longer in bed, and he can multitask better. (It makes his thumb sneaking down to circle at your clit while he fucks you with your leg over his shoulder easier, more of his focus going into the movement so he can get tight, controlled figure eights against your sensitive bud and make you tremble.) Ironically, after he’s come he’s much more sensitive – he’s easily overstimulated and has to pull out immediately, otherwise his legs start shaking and his grunts become more like moans.

He’s a shooter, cock twitching with every spurt that splatters against you, contracting in time with his abs. It’s thick; when you rub it between your fingers it’s slimy, and smells like musk and an odd undertone of sweetness. It actually tastes good, or as good as it can get, all thanks to his diet – it makes you want to take him in your mouth, to suck the cum off your fingers, and while it still makes Osamu flush a bit every time you hum in content, he likes it. Especially when you have a drop or two still on your lip, dribbling down your chin, making you look so dirty. He’s a grunter, the sounds deeps and guttural, starting in the bottom of his chest and climbing up and up. Tends to grunt your name as he gets close, the letters blurring together until he’s slurring it out, melding it into one word that eventually just turns into a strangled nghh noise. His hips buck up when he comes, often times unexpectedly, which can sometimes choke you a bit if he’s in your mouth, or get you yelping as he reaches just a bit deeper inside you when he’s stuffed into your little cunt.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you cockwarm him. He likes mixing sex and domesticity, and he likes having you perched in his lap, cunt all stuffed with him while your arms are around his shoulders, face buried comfortably in his neck. He likes to do paperwork while you warm him, his cheeks a slight red while the pen flies across the page, his free hand parked securely on your ass. He likes the way your walls clamp down on him, all warm and wet and soft, and because he’s not that sensitive, sometimes he’ll even forget he’s inside you until one of you moves, and oh – The shocked little groan he lets out will have you keening and grinding down on him, desperate for him to just fuck you. Osamu likes to see how long he can hold out – how long you can hold out – but most of the time these little sessions end with you bent over his desk, ass bare face pressed into his paperwork while he pounds into you like a man possessed.  He even likes to cockwarm in softer, sweeter settings – watching a movie together, with the blanket thrown over you and your cunt sucking him in, his balls sitting tightly against your ass while you laugh at the movie, his eyes on you and his mind fixating on the way your every chuckle makes you clench, so that you’re even tighter, something that makes his fingers dig into your sides.  Even these sessions end with fucking – he just has to have you once he’s been inside you for hours already.

#yandere haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #_lee's headcannons #_inarizaki #_atsumu miya #_osamu miya #_rintarou suna #_aran ojiro #_shinsuke kita #_haikyuu

[svnarin]

⊹˚₊‧ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

READ FIRST BEFORE YOU FOLLOW!

જ. this is a sfw blog that writes for hq, bllk, l&ds, and hsr and is not spoiler-free. this may be a sfw blog but dni with me if you are 14 and below. also, please do keep in mind that some of my works might have suggestive undertones.

જ. my works are either for fem or gender-neutral readers. i still genuinely try to cater to my readers but keep in mind that i usually write for myself with myself in mind when thinking about how “the reader” in my x reader works will think, act, or deal with the following scenarios that i use in my works. but appearance-wise, rest assured that i will not be putting anything specific such as skin color, hair color, eye color, etc.

જ. english is not my first language. i personally think i am still not good with punctuation as well, so if you want to correct that or my grammar, please do so nicely!

જ. the only platform i post my works in is tumblr and tumblr only. repost, modification, and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited! you are also not allowed to use my work in any AI stuff either.

જ. i do not have a regular posting schedule so expect some inconsistency. i also ramble from time to time, so if you are bothered by that, you can just block the tag ⋆.˚ 𝐲𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠

જ. if you want to request something, please look into my request rules underneath these general rules first!

જ. blank blogs will be immediately blocked. i will need you to put some indication on your blog that you are not a bot.

જ. my ask box is always open, but please refrain from venting, trauma dumping, and sending me weird stuff, or else you will be blocked immediately.

જ. do not ask me to be your mutual. and if i soft/hard blocked you, that just simply means that you made me uncomfortable.

જ. and for the love of god, DO NOT INTERACT if you are racist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, islamophobic, support israel, and someone who follows the other basic dni criteria.

REQUESTS RULES!

જ. i write fics, drabbles, headcanons, and smaus! it can be fluff, angst, or hurt/comfort! and sfw requests only! requesting nsfw content is prohibited.

જ. i only write for fem or gender-neutral readers, and if you do not specify which of the two, i will be the one to decide if i would make it fem or gender-neutral.

જ. please be polite and start the ask with some sort of greeting! ask nicely and do not demand.

જ. keep your request short and simple but do not forget to add which character you want me to write and the scenario/prompt that you want me to work with!

characters i write for atm: (hq) suna rintarou, kita shinsuke; (bllk) isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito, sae itoshi, rin itoshi; (l&ds) xavier

જ. i am not comfortable or confident in writing anything that talks about death, personal problems, self-harm, and any that centers around specific mental or physical health conditions, so please do not request any of that. i also do not accept requests that include excessive gore, torture, abuse, someone's death, pregnancies, heavy angst, yandere, and character x character.

જ. some requests might take a while for me to get done, so please be patient with me! and remember, i am not obligated to write your request.

© 𝐒𝐕𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

#⋆.˚ 𝐬𝐯𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢 #like if you have read the rules

[yanderecrazysie]

Swathe Part 2 (Yandere Kita)

This was a Quotev request!

Title: Swathe Part 2

Pairings: Kita x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes

Summary: Bound by your own bandages, you’re forced to come to terms with the consequences of ignoring Kita’s feelings.

Part 1: here

swathe

/verb/

wrap in several layers of fabric.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle against your bindings. It’s been so long that the sky outside the car is darkening and you feel tears prick your eyes. You’ve made zero progress so far and you find yourself idly wondering how many bandages he used. Your whole supply, perhaps?

Escape was futile at this point, wasn’t it? But you couldn’t give up, not when you had so much to live for… and you weren’t sure Kita would let you live through this ordeal. For all you knew, he was planning to kill you somewhere secluded.

The only option you can see is to talk your way out of it, but you don’t see how. Who knows if he was willing to talk at this point.

“Why?” You whimper, “Why are you doing this?”

Kita’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, seeming surprised. “Doing what?”

You’re dumbfounded, “Kidnapping me?”

“Oh,” Kita’s quiet for a moment, as though he didn’t plan to have to explain his reasoning to you, “I didn’t want to share you. With Aran. With the team. With everyone else.”

“If… if this is about my date with Aran, I can cancel,” you’re embarrassed by the way your voice comes out in a pathetic whine, but maybe it was better that way, to appeal to his sense of decency, “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t know that you… I don’t know…”

You’d gladly cancel your date if it meant Kita would untie and let you go. You had no idea he was jealous or that his jealousy would lead him to go to such lengths. You’d always thought he was pretty emotionless and uncaring, never even had an inkling that he was interested in you that way.

“I’m glad you feel that way, (Y/n),” Kita responded, a small smile and blush playing across his face.

He kept driving.

“What do you want me to do?” Desperation is leaking into your voice now as it raises an octave, “I’ll do anything! I’ll quit my job if that makes you less jealous of your team. Please…”

“That won’t work,” Kita says dismissively, “You’ll just get another job and I’ll have to deal with that too. No, I don’t want to compete anymore. I can’t compete.”

The last bit of his sentence came out wavery, as though he was beating himself up about something. Perhaps he was insecure? Is that why his jealousy was so strong? It still didn’t explain… this.

“But Kita… I can’t just leave everyone behind…” You were willing to do just about anything, but you couldn’t just drop off the face of the earth. It wouldn’t be much better than what you worried he was about to do.

“I know,” He was giving you a pitying expression now, one that made your blood boil and renewed your efforts to escape your bindings once more, “That’s why I’m making the decision for you.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You had begun to doubt that was his endgame, but you needed to rule out the possibility.

Kita looked horrified at the very prospect, giving you a disbelieving look through the mirror, “What? Why would I do that? I love you.”

He turned his eyes back to the road, as though that answer solved everything. If anything it just left you feeling more hopeless. You’d learned about limerence in psychology- is that what this was? Was he really going to kidnap you and keep you with him until his feelings wore off? What if they didn’t wear off? Or what would he do if they did?

Reality sunk in like an anchor. You were really screwed, weren’t you? You weren’t getting out of this.

The person who held you here was the kind, quiet, unassuming volleyball captain who you’d thought would never hurt a fly. What happened? What went wrong? What did you do?

Tears began to roll down your cheeks but Kita didn’t notice until a quiet sob escaped your lips. His eyes softened, a certain sadness behind them.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it,” Kita murmured, “It’ll be okay. I’ll never harm you and I’ll make sure you’re happy.”

If anything, that made the tears fall faster. A part of you hoping to gain his pity let your sobs wrack your body loudly and violently. You felt like you were about to vomit all over yourself or pass out or both.

It’s not until the car takes a turn onto a gravel path, no longer on the road but into a driveway that reality hits you once more. Suddenly, you’re twisting and turning frantically in your bindings, screaming at the top of your lungs for somebody to save you.

Kita sighs in the driver’s seat but you can’t tell if it’s sadness, exasperation, or a dreamy sort of sigh. You can’t see him anymore through your tears.

He reaches a hand back to wipe at the river of tears. You try to flinch away but there’s nowhere to go.

“We’re home.”

You let out one last scream before your voice gives out completely.

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!! #yandere one shot #yandere x reader #one shot #yandere kita #kita shinsuke

[shingo-naizuke]

•~•My Masterlist WIP•~•

•°Ikemen vampire°•

Arthur Conan doyle

Vincent Van Gogh

Theodorus Van Gogh

Napoleon Bonaparte

Leonardo Da Vinci

Isaac Newton

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Jean d'Arc

Le Comte

'The cruel Prince'

Cardan Greenbriar

-*Shatter me*-

Kenji Kishimoto

Aaron Warner

○Bsd○

▪︎Armed Detective agency▪︎

Dazai Osamu

Ranpo Edogawa

Kunikida Doppo

Atsushi Nakajima

¤Port Mafia▪︎

Chuuya Nakahara

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

♧Decay of Angel♤

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Nikolai Gogol

Sigma

•~Hunting Dogs~•

Jono Saigiko

Tetcho Suehiro

♥︎Guild♠︎

Edgar Alan Poe

Francis Scott Fitzgerald

{Haikyuu}

~•°Karasuno°•~

Tsukishima Kei

Tobio Kageyama

Hinata Shoyo

Yamaguchi Tadashi

Koshi Sugawara

Yuu Nishinoya

●Aoba Johsai○

Toru Oikawa

Akira Kunimi

¤Nekoma¤

Kenma Kozume

Lev Haiba

Tetsuro Kuroo

☆Fukurodani☆

Kotaro Bokuto

Kenji Akaashi

◇Shiratorizawa◇

Wakatoshi Ushijima

Tsutomu Goshiki

Eita Semi

Satori Tendo

♧Inarizaki♧

Shinsuke Kita

Osamu Miya

Atsumu Miya

■Genshin■

Scaramouche

Diluc

Kaeya

Venti

Tighnari

Kaveh

Heizou

Baizhu

Childe

-~•°Honkai star rail°•~-

Blade

Dan Heng

Jing Yuan

Gepard

Sampo Koski

Loucha

Welt

Arlan

Genre i write

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Comfort

What I don't write

Rape

Yandere tendencies (I will write it sometimes, but to my liking, I won't write yandere tendencies like non-consensual or things like that)

Smut with minors (all characters will be grown up)

Kinks like pissing or vomiting

Torture

Character x character

Oc x character

Toxic relationships

Requests are open :)

English in not my first language so, sorry for any mistake

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #nikolai gogol #shatter me #kei tsukishima #hianatashoyo #smut #fluff #angst #what i write #request are open #genshin #scaramouche #kaeya #diluc #ikemen vampire #arthurconandoyle #vincentvangogh #theodorus van gogh #thecruelprince #books #x reader #character x reader #characterxreader #kenji kishimoto #aaron warner #kenma kozume #tetsuro kuroo

[imisssummer]

request rules (closed)

everything has to be x fem!reader, they should be answered within a week of submitting, and i’ll do pretty much anything (incest, non-con/rape, piss, age gaps, yandere, etc etc) except for scat!!! as for fandoms & characters—

masterlist

jujutsu kaisen

𖤐 — satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryoumen, nanami kento, choso kamo, megumi fushiguro, itadori yuji, mei mei, shoko ieiri, yuki tsukumo, toge inumaki, & okkotsu yuta.

hunter x hunter

𖤐 — chrollo lucifer, hisoka marow, illumi zoldyck, feitan portor, kurapika kurta, shalnark ryuseih, ging freecs, & pariston hill.

my hero academia

𖤐 — shota aizawa, shinsou hitoshi, dabi, hawks, shigaraki tomura, shoto todoroki, izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, endeavor, mirko, himiko toga, & amajiki tamaki.

haikyuu!!

𖤐 — rintaro suna, atsumu miya, osamu miya, eita semi, sakusa kiyoomi, oikawa tooru, iwaizumi hajime, ushijima wakatoshi, tendou satori, kita shinsuke, akaashi keiji, kageyama tobio, kozume kenma, kuroo tetsuro, bokuto koutarou, sawamura daichi, hinata shoyo, asahi azumane, tsutomu goshiki, & koshi sugawara.

tokyo revengers

𖤐 — mikey sano, draken ryuguji, haitani ran, haitani rindo, hakkai shiba, takashi mitsuya, chifuyu matsuno, kazutora hanemiya, taiju shiba, keisuke baji, shuji hanma, shinichiro sano, kurokawa izana, hajime kokonoi, seishu inui, & sanzu haruchiyo.

demon slayer

𖤐 — kyojuro rengoku, giyu tomioka, sanemi shinazugawa, tengen uzui (+ wives), muzan kibutsuji, akaza, doma, muichiro tokito, gyomei himejima, obanai iguro, mitsuri kanroji, & shinobu kocho.

attack on titan

𖤐 — levi ackerman, eren yeager, mikasa ackerman, armin arlert, zeke yeager, reiner braun, hange zoe, erwin smith, jean kirstein, connie springer, & yelena.

bungo stray dogs

𖤐 — osamu dazai, atsushi nakajima, yukichi fukuzawa, ranpo edogawa, doppo kunikida, chuuya nakahara, ougai mori, ryuunosuke akutagawa, akiko yosano, fyodor dostoyevsky, nikolai gogol, tetcho suehiro, & edgar allen poe.

black butler

𖤐 — sebastian michaelis, ciel phantomhive, alois trancy, claude faustus, & undertaker.

kakegurui

𖤐 — moomobami ririka, momobami kirari, ikishima midari, jabami yumeko, saotome mary, & yuriko nishinotouin.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #hq smut #jjk smut #hxh smut #black butler smut #demon slayer smut #my hero academia smut #haikyu smut #bungo stray dogs smut #attack on titan smut #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers smut #Kakeguri smut