#yandere!kita

[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

[depravitycentral]

Thinking of the men who love watching you touch yourself.

It’s dirty, sinful, taboo, but nothing gets them harder faster than seeing your legs spread, your little fingers buried knuckle deep in that tight cunt of yours.

They’ll tell you to lay back on the bed, pillows under your head as strong hands each grasp an ankle, licking his lips as he slowly, oh so slowly, brings your legs apart. He wants your legs spread as wide as they can go, pussy fully on display for his prying, predatory eyes.

He’ll tell you to prep yourself for him, to stretch yourself out, to get yourself soaking wet, dripping for him. His voice is low and husky, deep enough to send shivers down your spine. He’ll tell you to touch yourself like you’re imagining it’s him, like you’re putting on a show, like you want him to come untouched simply from looking at you.

(Not like it’s hard – he’s come untouched from the mere thought of you before, after all.)

He wants to see you play with yourself – touch your tits, squeezing and fondling at the soft fat. He wants to see you bite your lip and keen as you roll a nipple between your fingers, pulling lightly and watching as your thighs twitch. He wants to watch you trail a finger down your stomach, down over the pudge and right around your cute little clit. But no – you can’t touch it yet. No no, not yet, not until he’s given you permission – see, you’re his good girl, and good girls follow orders.

No, for now you’ve gotta rub around it – big, big circles that leave you wanting more, the phantom pleasure making your toes curl.

Everything is more intense under his watchful, observant gaze – and he’s watching, eyes boring into you so hard feel you’re on fire. His own hand lies on his knee, fingers twitching occasionally, fighting the urge to pin you down and just fuck you, to get you creaming around his cock and squeezing him like he knows you can. But no, this is about you – and he knows how much you love to wait.

Touch your little clit baby, slow circles.

You do as your told, fingers reaching down to draw slow circles on your sensitive bud, the sensation making your hips jolt forward. Small moans slip past your lips, the sounds making his cock visibly bob, the vein running along the side pronounced.

It hurts, not touching himself. Not touching you.

Faster baby, like how I do it.

You obey, fingers rubbing quickly, the circles tighter, and suddenly he can’t take it – he’s breathing heavily, his entire face flushed, the sight of you pleasuring yourself making every muscle in his body twitch with desperation. Your eyes are closed, letting the feeling sink over you, knowing he’s sitting on the edge of his seat simply watching you, precum dripping down his length and even onto his aching balls.

Does it feel good baby? As good as I do it?

Of course it doesn’t, you tell him. No one can do it as well as he can. He groans at that, gravelly and heavy, his self restraint barely hanging on.

Fuck yourself with your fingers baby, fuck – wanna see you make a mess all for me. Wanna hear it, let me hear how wet I make you.

You gasp airily as you slip a finger inside, the other hand taking over rubbing your clit in fervent, desperate circles. You curl your finer, brushing against that spongy spot that has your toes curling and your eyes sinking to the back of your head.

He licks his lips, eyes the way your tits bounce with every movement, the wet squelching sound as you play with your pussy driving him mad.

Tell me what it feels like baby.

You babble on about how it’s so good but not enough, how you don’t feel full, how you want him, how you need his cock, please need it so bad, feel so empty…

His nails dig into his thighs as he stares, his cock bright red and so heavy it’s sagging.

F-fuck, you know the rules, gotta come before you get my cock. Even saying it out loud hurts him.

You whine, shaking your head and interrupting yourself with a choked moan, your hips bucking upwards. You’re close, he can tell – can almost smell it.

Come for me.

And you do – with a long, drawn out moan and a desperate twitching of your hips. It’s intense, knowing he’s scrutinizing every spasm of your body, the way your lips part into that pretty ‘o’, your eyes squeezing shut and your back arching, forcing your tits into the air. He bites back the urge to lunge forward and suck one pert nipple into his mouth, to taste it, to taste you.

You’re gasping and heaving, and when you peel your eyes open to look at him, his resolve suddenly snaps.

He’s on you before you can breath, pinning your wrists above your head and blindly humping at your sensitive cunt, the sensation making you hiss and twitch. He groans, lips pushing against your own, the taste of you making his mind cloudy. A hand clumsily reaches between your bodies, grasping onto himself and lining up, pushing into you in one big, much too fast thrust and fuck –

He’s gasping and letting his mouth gape open, the pleasure so, so good as he thrusts in and out, in and out, your velvety walls sucking him in and milking him for all he’s worth. You’re so fucking pretty, all sensitive and needy for him, and as he bends his head down to suck at a bouncing nipple, he finds himself thanking anything that’s listening that he switched out those birth control pills you insisted on taking with sugar.

And when you’re leaking his cum five minutes later, he can’t help but grin – you’ll be such a pretty mommy, and now you’ll never, ever want to leave him. Perfect.  

Koushi Sugawara, Hajime Iwaizumi, Shinsuke Kita, Kourai Hoshiumi, Tetsurou Kuroo, Kenjirou Shirabu

#yandere haikyuu #haikyuu smut #cw: babytrapping #_lee thirsts #_koushi sugawara #_hajime iwaizumi #_shinsuke kita #_kourai hoshiumi #_tetsurou kuroo #_kenjirou shirabu

[i-cant-sing]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#yandere daichi #yandere daichi sawamura #yandere bokuto #yandere ushijima x reader #yandere ushijima wakatoshi #yandere ushijima #yandere kuroo #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere kita #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyu x reader #yandere sugawara

[addicted-to-morally-grey-men]

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

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

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

Yandere sakusa (our cleanliness loving arch mage):

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

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

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

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

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

Yandere akaashi (royal crowned prince)

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

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

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

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

Yandere kita ( perfectionist alchemist )

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

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

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

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

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#haikyu x reader #yandere x reader #yandere drabble #male yandere #fantasy #ask #send anons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #yandere haikyuu #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagine #yandere boy #yandere imagines #yandere male x reader #akaashi x reader #sakusa x reader #kita x reader

[yanderecrazysie]

Falsify (Yandere Kita)

This was requested in pms on Quotev! 

Title: Falsify

Pairings: Kita Shinsuke x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, amnesiac reader

Summary: You find yourself stricken with amnesia, but thankfully your loving husband is there for you.

falsify

/verb/

alter (information or evidence) so as to mislead

When you awoke, there was a certain blankness that you felt inside. You didn’t know where you were or even who you were.

The room you were in was small, only really fitting the bed you were lying on and an armchair next to it. The bed was soft, and you found yourself wondering who you shared it with, if there was anyone at all. You lifted your head from the pillow and winced- pain ripped through your head, making you lie back down and let out a soft cry. 

You raised a hand to your head and found bandages wrapped around it. So you had been injured? Was that why you couldn’t remember anything?

The door to the room creaked open suddenly and you jumped in surprise. A man poked his head into the room, his white-and-black hair framing worried brown eyes.

“(Y/n), how are you doing?” his voice was hesitant and quiet, as though he expected you to start yelling at him.

“(Y/n)? Is that my name?” you muttered, pressing your hand against the bandages around your head again. The man’s eyes widened and his mouth parted in shock.

“You… you don’t remember?” he asked, “Do you remember me?”

“No, I’m sorry…” you apologized, “I don’t remember anything.”

The man was quiet for a moment before explaining, “I’m your husband, Kita. You fell down the stairs and hit your head. I was so worried, I thought you had-” he choked up, eyes flooding with tears.

“I’m married?” you wondered, “But I don’t have a ring.”

“It must have fallen off,” Kita said, reaching for your hand, “If I can’t find it, I’ll get you a new one.”

You couldn’t help but notice his ring finger was bare too.

—----------------------

Kita was a doting husband, that much you could admit. He had found the ring that had fallen off your finger and, by God, it had a huge diamond.

He cooked every meal for you, bought you gifts, and took such good care of you. There was only one downside to your relationship with him.

He never let you leave the house.

You offered to go shopping with him, begged him to let you be a part of society once more, but he always had an excuse. Even though your head had healed, he insisted on you “resting”. Which basically meant staying in your room for eternity.

“Why won’t you let me leave the house, Kita?” you asked, swirling your fork through the scrambled eggs he had served for breakfast.

Kita was quiet, sitting across the oak wood table, watching you closely.

“It’s not like I’m going to run away,” you joked. Kita stiffened for a moment before relaxing.

“I know you won’t,” he responded, but offered no explanation, as always. You sighed and slid down in your seat, pushing your half-eaten meal to the side.

Kita frowned at your disappointment, “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“I love you too,” you replied, the words feeling foreign on your tongue, despite the number of times you had said it. He really was an amazing husband, even if he wouldn’t let you leave, so who were you to argue? Everyone had their flaws, Kita’s was just being a little possessive, right?

“Our anniversary is next week,” Kita said, “I was thinking we could go on a vacation.”

“Out of the house?” you gasped.

“Out of the house,” Kita confirmed with a smile. You beamed back at him, he really was the perfect husband.

To Kita, your amnesia was the best thing that had ever happened. Before your accident while trying to escape, you had been so disobedient and furious that he had kidnapped you. Now, you truly believed that the two of you were married, when that wasn’t the case at all.

All he had to do was reward you every once in a while, and you’d stick by his side forever, wouldn’t you? You’d believe his lie because he was all you had.

He could pretend to be the good guy, the loving, doting husband, when the truth was that he was a monster that had torn you away from everything you once knew.

Not that you’d ever find out, if he had his way.

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

[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

[the-slender-doll]

I don't think I posted Kita Kukita's updated reference sheet here!

Here's my yandere baby Kita Kukita! She's an albino student 👀

Her "game style" model render credits:

Character is by me

Model credits:

GAS

SizableMovie on Discord + DA (For original textures and hair model - below is their original render!):

MidoriBot/Midori-Is-Tired on Discord- (For edited albinism textures + ref sheet/ phone info model render)

MyNameIsEthan on Discord (For the Face Edit - Not shown on full model render but looks like this:)

Bonus model renders by discord user cuentaabandonadaporekucooooo:

I absolutely love her 👀❤️

Yes you can draw her! Please tag me and give me credit for her though!!

You also can send me asks about her! I love answering questions!!!

#my work #my artwork #not my render #model credits in description #kita kukita #kitakukita #yan sim oc #yandere simulator oc #yandere oc #female yandere #yandere girl #yandere #albino #albino oc #albino yandere #albino girl #yandere simulator #my characters #my oc #yandere sim art #not my model #3d model #3d render

[my-precious-hellscape]

Credits to Nabisuko25 Pixiv | Twitter | Image Source

#nabisuko25 #yuri #girls love #lesbian #yandere #bocchi the rock! #hitori gotou #kita ikuyo #art #So cute you can hardly tell it's meant to be yandere

[blog-about-anime-why-not]

#Yandere Kita-chan #mycap #bocchi the rock!

[izvmimi]

Mimi ♡ pls tell me about yan!Kita so I can lose my mind

hi!! yan!kita definitely isolates. after all it's super easy to. he has a farm, he's self sufficient for the most part, he's traditional, all you need to do is obey obey obey and look pretty for him, right?

he'd make sure you do as little work as possible in the fields, hire as much help as he can, but inside the home? you better be doing your due diligence to smile always and make sure he's well fed and entertained and he's your only source of comfort and conversation. your eyes should be on him, what else do you have/need?

he's warm tho! super sweet and doting and makes sure you're pampered, imagine like a well-treated farm animal barely aware of te bondage you're in

#mimi replies #cw yandere #daydreams: hq #thoughts: kita

[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

[i-cant-sing]

🪴- I think we can all agree that yandere inarizaki volleyball team is the worst team to be apart of, you have the Miya twins, suna, kita, and Aran. Holy fuck is that a nightmare team to have yandere for you, even if it is just platonic yanderes.

Yes, majority of the team are like psychopaths. Maybe the Miya twins are like sadists, hell the whole team is probably. But not towards reader. No, they show their sadistic nature to everyone around you. They're not as coddling as Shiratorzawa is, but they're definitely very protective of you, and combine that with their sadism, you get- no friends or relationships.

There presence is suffocating, they're all drilling holes into you every time they stare, and they are very sneaky. VERY STEALTHY with the way they handle your friends and admirers or anyone who tries to take your attention.

At least Kita protects you from punishments and shit the Miya twins try to drag you into. Captain Kita guides his team and tells them to keep an eye out for you at all times, be it during school or when you're at home, someone is keeping track of all your activities.

Suna also protects you, straight up holds your wrist and jerks you back whenever a ball comes flying in your direction. He also tells the twins "no" when they try to drag you away and join them on their dangerous shenanigans. However, Suna also tells you to cut it out when you try to sneak away from the group or dont quit complaining about not wanting to be walked to and back from your apartment every single day.

#yandere inarizaki #yandere kita #yandere suna #yandere miya twins #yandere haikyuu

[deredereyandere]

#the result of being reincarnated is having a master-servant relationship with the yandere love interest #kita yuzuru #yandere #yancore #yanderecore #yandere edit #yanderedit #manga edit #mangaedit #my edit #my edits

[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

[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