Symmetry; Jjk (m)

I don’t normally ask for a lot but please help my friend find her sister, the last time she was seen was august 4th 2022 around 6 am. She was wearing black and red plaid pajama pants and a black hoodie. Last places she was seen was 3110 Norway pl norfolk virginia. She’s a black girl around 5’5 with brown hair and blonde dyed tips and faded red streaks in her hair.

@seraphsanzu @strawberriebunn @kyovtani (sorry for tagging y’all i just need to get a boost 😞)

the story you reblogged said weiterlesen so i was like wait a damn minute and did the math, i feel mad stalkerish now 😩

this might be really weird but are you by any chance german ? 🥺im sorry if this is a weird question

Yepp I'm german😋 How did you know?🤔

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

General Yandere! Aran Ojiro Profile

Yandere! Aran Ojiro x fem! reader

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, extreme spoiling/forced financial dependence, guilt tripping, desperation, jealousy, mentions of dub-con and masturbation, mentions of forced physical affection, mentions of creeps, fem reader, MDNI

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

DARLING PROFILE:

Sweet

Aran himself is naturally quite nice, despite his penchant for not putting up with other peoples’ bullshit. He’s able to stand up for himself, but he’s never been particularly fond of people who are mean just for the sake of it. He can appreciate a funny joke, a biting comment here or there, but someone who’s entire personality is based off of this? Not so much.

And so, a darling who is naturally quite kind is a perfect match for Aran – he thinks of his beloved as innocent, a little lamb he must protect, and whether this visage of innocence is real or not, Aran believes it to be so. All it takes is a few compliments, a few sweet smiles, some kind favors, anything showcasing his darling’s kindness, really, and Aran is smitten.

And how can he not be?

How can he not imagine how wonderful it would be to spoil someone so kind and compassionate, to reward them for rewarding others? He views himself as hid darling’s protector, and it melts his heart to see his beloved caring for other people, even if it causes these same protective tendencies to flare up when others take advantage of them.

He can’t not imagine how wonderful of a partner his darling would be, the compliments slipping past their lips making his cheeks feel hot and his chest lighter than air. He can’t not imagine how wonderful it would be to wake up beside his darling in the early morning, to feel their soft breaths against him, to have their soft, supple body pressed against his own in ways that make him groan, his own body oh so aware of them? How can he not imagine how kind and loving his darling would be towards their children, a few little copies of the two of them running around, laughing and giggling and calling them mama, Aran being daddy…

It’s the stuff of his deepest hopes for the future, and having a kind darling plays into these fantasies – so while Aran could fall for a meaner darling, it’s unlikely. He wants to protect his sweet baby, and give them the protection, love and devotion they deserve – he’s just rewarding them for everything they earn, after all.

Passionate

Aran’s hobby has been volleyball for as long as he can remember. He’s always loved the sport; playing it, watching it, talking about it, even just being in the gym makes him happy.

And so, a darling that has a similar sort of passion would make Aran’s obsession grow tenfold.

It doesn’t have to be volleyball, or even a sport – any sort of activity that makes his darling happy makes Aran happy. (Arguably even more happy, because watching his darling smile and get lost in their own little world as they practice the hobby has him staring like a lovesick fool, his lips parted and brows tilted in, his throat feeling tight because fuck, how can someone be so damn adorable?)

It could be anything at all – writing, cooking, playing the trumpet, watercolors, reviewing movies, fashion, anything at all. Aran just loves the idea of his darling loving something, and he’ll eagerly ask them about anything he can involving the passion. He's asking what got them into it over dinner, asking to see, hear, taste or watch some of their creations as they give him a tour of their modest apartment.

(He’s watching them nervously show off their hobby, but inside he’s cooing at how adorably embarrassed they are, because no one has ever taken such an intense interest in their passion before, and he can tell they’re nervous that they’re boring him, that he’s losing interest and thinking they’re weird, even though the truth couldn’t be further from it.)

He’s asking his darling to teach him the basics, to learn to sketch a circle or knit a few stitches or play a scale on the piano. He just wants to be involved in his darling’s hobby, mostly because he loves watching the way their eyes light up as they indulge themselves in it, their whole body language brightening up, only furthering his love because fuck, he wants them to look like that one day when Aran himself is on their mind.

He wants to be his darling’s passion one day, just as they are his, but for the meantime he doesn’t mind watching – they’re just so damn cute, after all.

Bookworm

This isn’t something that Aran must have in a partner, but it’s certainly a plus for him.

He’s always been attracted to softer, quieter people, and having a darling fits this mold is a dream come true for him. And to further exemplify the stereotype, Aran particularly likes those are deeply interested in literature.

The genre doesn’t matter – it could be hardcore fantasy books, cliché romances, historical non-fiction, or anything in between. He doesn’t care, just as long as they enjoy picking up a book and curling up under a blanket to read.

He himself isn’t too much of a reader, but he loves to imagine his darling snuggled up on a couch or in a comfortable chair, a book inches from their nose as their eyes eagerly take in the words, flipping through the pages so quickly it’s almost impossible they’re absorbing everything the story has to offer.

He likes to think of his beloved as being so enraptured by the book that they’re completely unaware of the real world around them, fully immersed in the story and becoming invested in the characters, the plot, the action, the everything. It’s just so fucking cute, and Aran has no issues asking about said books.

He doesn’t mind listening to his darling rant and rave about the text for hours on end, watching their face as they talk and talk, slowly opening up more and more as they discuss something they truly love. Speaking of watching, one of Aran’s favorite pastimes is to simply watch his darling read – he likes to see the way their eyebrow wrinkles when a character does something unexpected, the shock in their face as they read a cliffhanger, the way they bite their lip as the tension in the scene rises to almost unbearable levels.

It’s too much, really, because while Aran thinks it’s so very adorable, he has a darker, more perverse reason why he enjoys watching his darling’s face – it’s too easy to imagine the way those expressions could be morphed into something dirty, something lewd.

It’s remarkably easy to fantasize about the way they’d look when he presses inside of them, stretching them out as they tell him it’s too big, not gonna fit! He’s plagued by thoughts about his beloved, and having a bookish, almost nerdy darling would be perfect for him – in more ways than one.

Shy

Aran isn’t too picky with this particular trait either, though he openly admits that he tends to find himself attracted to those that are a bit more hesitant around new people.

Perhaps it’s the protector in him; he doesn’t like the idea of his darling constantly talking to new people, interacting with them and potentially developing feelings for them.

He doesn’t like that they could be chatting with any number of people, interacting with creeps and men with bad intentions that they wouldn’t even know about until it’s too late – it makes his skin crawl just thinking about it, anxiety sweltering in his gut.

And so, to have a darling that’s less inclined to speak to strangers is something Aran really, really likes. It means less worrying about his darling’s safety; why would a person with ill intentions go after someone skittish who won’t give them time a day when they could be going after someone who’s talkative, smiling at them and lowering their guard around them?

Aran couldn’t be happier; not only is it safer for his darling and much more convenient for him, but he loves how easily flustered his darling is. It’s oh so easy to compliment them and see them prickle up, their expression turning bashful as they murmur out a thanks or a compliment or their own, their voice getting all high and cute. It’s adorable, and sometimes it’s too much for Aran – he has to bite back a smile or cover his face, because his heart simply can’t take how fucking cute his darling is.

So really, while he could fall for a more talkative darling, a shier beloved is more his type – he wants to be the only one they talk to, the only who flusters them and makes them feel all gooey and warm inside, just as they make him feel.

It’s only fair his feelings are returned, right?

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Selfless

In general, Aran is absolutely whipped for you.

He’s quite literally head over heels for you – obsessed to the point that nearly all of his waking thoughts revolve around you, and a good portion of his sleeping thoughts as well.

He’s dreaming about you nearly every night, imagining your pretty face in his hands as he kisses you, your voice saying his name, how you’d laugh at his jokes and lean into his side as you watch movies together on the couch, the relaxing night slowly turning into something much more exciting as wandering hands and eager mouths begin to explore.

Aran loves the idea of loving you, and he’s surprisingly naturally quite romantic. He’s always been a bit of a sucker for those horrible romance movies; chick flicks, period pieces, anything with a strong romantic story line in it. He’s always idolized the idea of having someone to love, and as a result, once you step into his life, someone with whom he feels so strongly and passionately for, every cute date idea, romantic line he’s ever seen seems possible, real, important.

Once Aran’s feelings for you develop, he becomes more or less your personal servant. He lives to see you happy – your smile is the most beautiful thing he thinks he’s ever seen, and when it’s directed at him?

God, does it feel good to make a tall, buff, nationally known athlete fall to his knees simply because you looked at him?

Aran would do anything for you if you asked him to; he wants you to associate him with happiness and chivalry, and he’s willing to go to any length to get this association. He’s always trying to do things for you – he’s bringing you your favorite pastries from that bakery nearby the practice courts, telling you to not bother paying him back because ‘you’ll cover next time’, even though he’d rather die than let you pay for something of his.

He’ll always show up at your workplace with a somewhat bashful smile, the little cardboard box in his hands as you gasp and hug him, your smile lighting up your face as he gapes and stares at you like some teenage boy. He’s buying you little trinkets that remind him of you; anything you collect, little plushies that are adorable (just like you).

He’ll pick them up and smile down at them, thinking of how your hair looks like this plush’s, how your cheeks are so cute and round like this one’s, how this one looks almost exactly like you – a character from a TV show that he looks up once he gets home, if only because while the two of you are vastly different, he feels like he’s getting to watch you living out your life.

Fantasies cloud of his mind of living out your day to day with you, of getting to wake up with you in his arms, your messy bed head looking adorable as you snore slightly into his chest. He’s swinging by your place with groceries fairly often, things you didn’t know you needed, only to check and find that you’re much lower on than you thought you were, despite having sworn you checked it yesterday.

Aran doesn’t like to admit that he sometimes tampers with your supplies or basic ingredients just to give him an excuse to buy you something you need – he doesn’t like that it sounds invasive, but seeing your relieved smile and being invited in for a snack or dinner is so worth it. He’s always trying to buy you things, and while it initially made you uncomfortable that he spends so much money on you (and you know the items are expensive – the brand names and quality of the products more than speaks for itself), eventually you’ll stop scolding him for spending his salary almost exclusively on you.

It doesn’t deter him, and he always waves off your complaints, telling you that it’s a pleasure, plus I get to see your smile, so it’s more than worth it. That normally gets you to shut up, your ears feeling hot, only serving to make Aran find you even more adorable than before.

He’s willing to shell out serious amounts of money for anything you’d ever want – a new car? The most expensive one on the market? Of course, and he’ll even get all the fancy additional features that no one needs, like extensive stereo systems and cool gel leather seats.

You want a diamond bracelet costing upwards of thousands of dollars? You’ll find a pretty velvet box on your doorstep the next day, a bouquet of roses accompanying it along with a note that simply says you shine brighter than any diamond.

(He spent hours agonizing over what to write, and despite the corniness, he ultimately decided that maybe classically romantic things would win you over – besides, the words are true.)

Even outside of money, Aran is willing to do anything you’d ever need of him.

Your sink is leaking? He knows next to nothing about plumbing, but he’s quick to pour over dozens of online articles on what could be wrong, arriving at your apartment merely two hours after your frantic call, a toolbox in hand and a determination in his shoulders that you can’t argue with.

You’re struggling with a project for work? Well, Aran may not understand what it is you’re doing, but he’s right beside you as you work through the issue, rubbing your back and smiling at you, encouraging you with smile and compliments each time you make a small breakthrough.

He’ll be there at a moment’s notice, dropping literally everything just to run to your side, like a loyal puppy desperate for its master’s affection and approval.

And of course, Aran doesn’t expect anything in return – he hopes for your love, for you to think of him as your protector and greatest confidant, but he’ll never ask for money or time in return. He’s simply happy to just be of use to you, to feel wanted, needed, like you wouldn’t survive without him.

He’s always slipping into daydreams of ways you’d repay him, how you’d pepper kisses across his cheeks as a thanks for helping change your flat tire. He’s smiling bashfully as he imagines how you’d fuss over him and make him dinner after he’d moved something heavy in your apartment, maybe moving furniture of helping put it all together. He imagines the way you’d sink to your knees and insist on repaying him with pleasure, on making him feel because you make me feel good, too, Aran, and I wanna make you feel so good that all you can remember is my name…

He just wants you to view him as a necessary part of your life, and to see your attention on him and only him for a few moments – anything to get you thinking of him just as much as he thinks of you.

Clingy

Tying into his more selfless traits, once Aran’s feelings for you develop, it’ll be extremely difficult to avoid him. He’s never felt this overwhelmingly for someone before, and because you take up so much of his thoughts, he finds it incredibly difficult to not be thinking of you constantly, to be idly wondering what you’re doing, what you’re thinking about, who you’re with, what you’ll be doing next.

He’s obsessive in that he’s almost always got you on his mind, and consequently he finds himself just so ‘happening’ to run into you all the time. He knows the places you frequent – certain cafes or restaurants that you like, learning your orders and preferred drinks. He knows the times you tend to frequent them, suddenly finding that his schedule is – surprise – open during that time too!

He’ll always just be there; his presence isn’t intimidating to you in any way, and as a result it’ll take you quite a while to recognize just how often these ‘coincidences’ seem to happen. It’s nearly daily, with the spiker always feigning surprise that you’re there, because what are the chances?

And once your friendship (relationship, at least to Aran) progresses, slowly he’ll stop trying to make excuses and instead simply reach out to you. You’re getting texts almost every hour from him; questions of whether you’re free, designed to not only get you talking with him, but suggesting activities to do together.

He’ll ask you if you’re free and interested in going to the bookstore with him, because there’s this new series he’s heard about that’s supposed to be so good, and oh, what’s this? It’s the same series you’ve been anxiously waiting to be published? What a coincidence!

He’ll invite you out to get a drink with him and a few of his teammates, but aw what a shame, they can’t make it! They had to cancel at the last minute, but it would be a shame to waste a perfectly good night of drinking, wouldn’t it? So just sit down and let him buy you drink after drink, his face loosening up as time passes, letting some questionable things slip from his lips.

(Slurred words referring to you as his, telling you you’ve been on his mind all day, cheekily complimenting the blue panties he knows you’re wearing under your clothes, all things that seem strange but only make your alcohol infused brain shrug.)

You’re getting texts that are simply asking questions – they’re designed to get a conversation flowing between the two of you, so that your attention is sporadically on him and he can learn more about you. He’s asking you what animal you would be, what superpower you would have, if pineapple belongs on pizza, whether you want children, everything and anything under the sun.

He likes having you speak with him, if only because it makes him feel special, like – if only for a moment – he’s taking up as much of your thoughts as you do his. It’s a thought that makes his cheeks feel hot, his whole body tingling, his muscle tightening up as he stands up to walk and get fresh air because god, why is it so hot in here?

He’s sending you photos of things that reminded him of you throughout the day – a pretty wildflower, an aesthetically pleasing photo of the clouds, gifs of animals with hearts. He likes the way you respond to him so quickly, the three little dots appearing on his screen making his heart pound, nerves eating away at him because what will you say?

He gets simultaneously excited beyond belief and nearly ill every time his phone chimes, your responses making his palms sweat and his heart race because god, you took the time out of your day to respond to him, to give him enough thought to create an answer to his question?

And once you’re actually physically with him, Aran is in seventh heaven – he’s always in your personal space, though it’s difficult to grow mad at him when he’s giving you that shy smile, his words and voice like honey. His hands are always near you as well – he’ll never touch you, because despite how wonderful, euphoric his skin against yours feels, he doesn’t want you to find him creepy or invasive, so he keeps his hands to himself.

His fingers twitch occasionally, the urge to reach out and simply touch your soft skin, squeeze at the fat of your tummy or thighs nearly overwhelming him.

You won’t notice his clinginess much when you’re still unaware of his obsessive feelings towards you – he always seems to be around, but what’s the harm in that? Aran is nice, funny, attractive, a talented volleyball player, and seems to be interested in you, so what could you possibly be upset about?

But once he’s got you in the sanctity of his own apartment, your perspective on his clinginess will change drastically. Now that he’s bitten the bullet and plunged into the process of officially making you his, Aran sees no reason why he should hold back any longer.

Suddenly, he’s always beside you – his hands are on your waist or shoulders, idly playing with your hair or rubbing circles against your skin. You’re always in his lap or within touching distance, his dark eyes fixed on you ninety percent of the time.

He’s always wanting to do things with you; watching TV (often reruns of his games, with him sneaking anxious glances at your reactions each time he spikes a ball, hoping to see you impressed with his strength and skills), cooking together (he does everything involving cutting or heat, so you’re basically resigned to stirring and measuring duty), anything that involves contact between the two of you.

He’s lovesick, truly, and despite being suffocating once he’s got you under his roof, Aran’s not too terrible – he just wants to be with you, and is that such a crime?

Is it a crime to want to touch you, to kiss you and lick you and squeeze you and fuck you and make him your everything, just as you are his?

Protective

In general, Aran views himself as your provider. He likes the idea of being the stereotypical man that protects you from the world, whether that be through financially supporting you, giving you a nice, warm bed to sleep in, or keeping any creeps away from you.

He likes to feel important to you, as if he’s a vital part of your life, and as his obsession develops Aran slowly becomes dependent on this idea of himself being your provider.

He likes to pretend that everything he does affects you in some way – like his every action is for you, designed to keep you safe and make you happy.

When he gets up at the crack of dawn and enters the gym with his teammates for pre-practice working out, he’s fueled by the thought of growing his muscles and stamina so that he can better protect you. With every rep of bench presses, he’s forcing himself to go harder, to push more because in order to intimidate any guy stupid enough to approach you, he needs to look the part of the scary, strong boyfriend. To get any creep to leave you alone when they come wandering too close to you and make you uncomfortable, Aran needs to be able to easily throw them away, to easily pick them up or beat the shit out of them so that they get the fuck away from you, where they belong.

He’s training harder in volleyball practice, slamming the ball with a ferocity that makes the coach and his teammates slightly concerned, but Aran is doing it all for a purpose. The harder he trains, the more impressive his playing, and thus the more impressed you’ll be when you come to the next game he invites you to.

(He almost always invites you to watch his games; he gets you free tickets – they aren’t actually free, he just pays for them and lies saying he got a player discount – and despite how nerve-wracking it is to know you’re in the audience, hopefully watching him, it’s worth it to hear the cheering when he spikes. And if he tries hard enough, he can even pretend to hear your individual cheering out of the masses – chanting his name as loudly as you can, perhaps even your voice yelling I’m so proud of you, good job Aran…)

He’s cleaning himself up more for pre and post match interviews, hoping to look his best in case you’re watching, because he wants you to find him attractive, to think he’s handsome as a thin sheen of sweat lies on his forehead, his biceps nearly bulging out of the volleyball top uniform he’s sporting.

He’s wearing only large hoodies around his home, manifesting the idea that if he keeps wearing them, they’ll retain more of his natural smell, so that when you wear them later it’ll smell like him – you’ll smell like him.

He likes the idea that everything he does affects you in some way, and while it obviously doesn’t, it feeds his view of himself as being your provider, as giving you everything you need in order to be happy in life.

And of course, he takes this mindset into more literal terms with you as well – anytime the two of you are together, he’s employing everything he can think of to keep you safe.

When you’re walking along a sidewalk, he’ll be closer to the traffic, so that if a car happened to swerve off the road, he’d be injured instead of you. He’s holding doors open for you, making sure they don’t slam closed and catch your ankle or elbow.

He’s helping blow on your food to cool it down, because despite what you say it’s still too hot for you to eat, he’s sure.

It’s mildly embarrassing, and while you may think it’s strange how insistent he is on making sure you don’t hurt yourself, you likely won’t fight it too much. After all, if you were to ask him why he seemed to care so much, he’d only blanch and rub the back of his neck awkwardly, telling you that he just wants to help keep you safe. And isn’t that just so romantic and sweet? This big, strong, athletic man caring enough to keep you safe, to use his time and energy to make sure you’re taken care of, that you’re in pristine condition and happy.

It’s only natural to be flattered – who wouldn’t be? Except, once Aran lets his walls down a bit, exposing just how truly obsessed with you he’s become, it suddenly shifts from sweet to creepy very, very quickly.

What started as endearing when he’d walk on the traffic heavy side of the street becomes concerning when you learn he didn’t want anyone in the cars to see you, because what if someone saw you and decided to pursue you, breaking your heart and stringing you along in the process? Besides, wouldn’t it be just so much better if no one else knew you, if Aran was all you had? At least then he’d know you wouldn’t be associating yourself with the wrong sort of people.

What started as a sweet gesture when he’d gotten you the pocket taster to keep in your purse suddenly becomes much more sinister when you discover the tracking device placed into the taser’s side, designed to help him keep tabs on your location discreetly, so that you wouldn’t know.

Once you’re trapped inside his home, every desire, thought, fantasy and urge coming to light, you’ll know that Aran is not nearly the protector he claims to be – at least, in some ways. Of course, he’s largely successful in making sure you don’t get harmed. He won’t let you near anything sharp or hot, always supervising when you’re in the kitchen or supplies that have even the potential to injure you.

He’s always playing guard dog to you, making sure you’re happy and safe, and that nothing and no one can touch you. You’re his, and while it makes him giddy and light headed to think of himself as your protector, don’t think this role is entirely selfless – if you were to be hurt, killed, altered in any way that changed the core of who you are, Aran wouldn’t be able to function.

You just mean too much to him – you’re his life, his love, and he’ll be damned if he’ll let you walk away, scathed or unscathed. You’re just too precious to him, and isn’t that just so damn romantic?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

When it comes to dealing with rivals for your affection, Aran is surprisingly good at controlling himself.

He’s not a particularly forceful yandere; in general, he wants you to want him. He wants you to be in a relationship with him because you deem him a worthy partner, because you’re in love with him and want to spend every waking moment by his side.

He doesn’t like the prospect of isolating you – there’s something underhanded and dirty about getting you to be his that way. There’s something cheap about not letting you have any contact with any other men in your life, or women for that matter. He’s not naïve; he understands that you’re gorgeous, that other people are more than likely interested in you too.

And how could they not be? Aran worships the ground you walk on, and is it so strange to assume that other men likely do the same?

He knows that he’s not the only one vying for your attention and heart, but this only furthers his reasoning that he wants you to want him, that he wants you to choose him. And so, while it kills him inside, Aran doesn’t outwardly try to run off his competition. He’s not immediately threatening the men that stare longingly at you, their palms sweaty as they slowly build up the courage to approach you and talk to you. It hurts his heart, yes, and it’s the worst torture he can imagine to watch, but he has to.

It makes every muscle in his body seize up as his dark eyes bore into the back of the man chatting with you, his frame so rigid that passerbys are concerned, even asking him if he’s alright. It makes his lungs feel like they’re being crushed, the breath difficult to suck in, his every bit of attention devoted to simply watching, praying that you don’t fall victim to the man’s charms, that you won’t be wooed by his clearly inadequate attempts at flattering you.

He’ll be mentally chanting that this stranger, this piece of shit, doesn’t deserve someone as lovely as you. They’ll never be able to care for you like he can; no one knows you as well, no one is willing to go to such extreme lengths to make you happy.

He’ll always be watching, if only because he’s always slightly on edge – not even just out of fear that you’ll develop interest in another man, but simply because he’s terrified that you’ll somehow be hurt. He’s scared that you’ll be taken advantage of, that this man will reach out and touch you, that you’ll develop bruises and scream and cry because Aran couldn’t protect you like he’s supposed to.

He’s scared that if he looks away for even one moment, you’ll disappear, gone forever, the love of his life. It’s a horrible feeling, one that claws at his chest and eats at his heart, but Aran almost thinks the torture of watching is worth it. It strengthens his love for you, and with every refusal you give, every awkward smile and lame excuse of why you need to be going, he feels his chest swell with pride.

You want him, he’s sure of it. Why would you be denying so many other men if you weren’t already in love with the spiker himself? It’s obvious, and while it hurts more than anything he’s ever experienced, Aran has to let other men approach you, at least unless they hurt you.

It’s the only way to know for sure that you’re his.

Aran frowns as he notices the way the man behind you in line keeps glancing at you. You’re still waiting to order your sandwich, the line at the deli decidedly long. Aran already had his – you’d claimed you weren’t hungry, and despite Aran’s insistence, you didn’t allow him to buy you any food.

However, as you watched him eat his sandwich, something in your attitude must’ve changed – you should’ve let him wait in line for you, to pay for the sandwich he knows is your favorite, but you didn’t.

He should’ve insisted more, been more forceful, but it’s too late now – most definitely too late as the man behind you puffs up his chest, clearing his throat and telling you something. You jump slightly and turn around to face him, a small smile on your face as you answer whatever question he’d asked you.

Aran’s too far away to hear what you’re saying, but with the way the man laughs, he can’t help tightening his hand into a fist under the table. His blunt nails dig into his palm, surely leaving indents in the calloused skin, but he can’t find it in himself to care. His gaze is fixed on you, his sandwich pathetically forgotten on the deli paper before him. His lips are slightly parted as he watches, murmuring under his breath to ignore him, ignore him please, don’t laugh at his jokes, don’t smile at him, stop touching her…

He doesn’t even realize he’s speaking, but it hardly matters – because despite smiling at his joke, the man doesn’t seem to realize that you aren’t nearly as interested as he thinks, because a moment later he’s reaching out and lightly touching your arm.

You recoil immediately, shrinking back slightly as your smile turns tight, and suddenly the air in the room has returned, Aran heaving a massive, massive sigh because you obviously don’t want him to touch you. You obviously don’t want his filthy hands on you – but you do want Aran’s, if the way you let him touch you is anything. You don’t shy away from his small touches; a hand on your back to guide you, a pat on your head when he calls you short or fun-sized because he knows it annoys you. He bounces his foot against the ground, internally swearing that the line would just hurry the fuck up, so that you can come back and get away from the man who has now fallen quiet, fishing in his wallet for nothing.

You order your sandwich, keeping your back to the stranger, and as you return, the intensity in Aran’s gaze surprises you.

Those dark eyes are fixed directly on you, not wavering even the slightest bit, and a small shiver wracks your spine because fuck, why does his gaze feel so heavy and crushing?

You shrug it off, however, when he smiles at you, the grin so bright that it almost blinds you. There’s something making him indescribably happy, you can tell, but you don’t know what. You make some comment about him not having finished his sandwich yet, but Aran doesn’t pay any attention – he’s too focused on the fact that you didn’t want that man.

You rejected him essentially, and instead chose to come stay with him, with Aran, the only one who really loves you. He’s too lost in his fantasy happy land to return the teases you give him, instead relishing in the the warm, fluttery feeling in his heart, his eyes occasionally darting to the other man to watch him hurriedly walk out of the sandwich shop, sending you a last cursory glance before slamming the door behind him.

Pride swells in Aran’s chest, and once you’ve both finished, he’s quick to place his hand on the small of your back, opening up the door for you. And to his intense happiness, you don’t flinch. You let him touch you, let him guide you, let him care for you and lead you out onto the busy street.

He’s in heaven, and as he smiles like a fool, you won’t suspect a thing. He’s always been so happy, it’s just who he is – his labored breathing and the excited, desperate twitch of his fingers to keep touching you has nothing to do with you, right?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Because many aspects of Aran’s relationship with you are normal, kidnapping you isn’t something that crosses his mind until very, very late into his obsession with you.

He likes the idea of keeping things somewhat natural between the two of you; organic and warm, with nothing too forced. He wants to woo you, to have that perfect romantic courtship where he brings you flowers, making you flustered, takes you on lavish dates by candlelight at the most expensive and exclusive restaurants in town because he can afford it.

He wants you to feel spoiled and loved, and most of all he wants you to choose to be with him. He wants you to want him out of all the other men you know, for you to decide that he’s the one for you just as he knows you are for him.

And so, while the idea of having you knowingly in his home, kept safe, pristine, and his is extremely appealing, Aran struggles to let go of his desire for your willingness in the arrangement.

He can’t deny that having you stuck at home, spending your days safely under lock and key gets him feeling strangely domestic, butterflies igniting in his stomach as he bites back a smile, his cheeks feeling hot. He’s always daydreaming about how you’d look so pretty chopping up vegetables in the kitchen when he gets home, maybe a cute apron around your waist as you hum and sing to yourself, only stopping when he hugs you from behind, letting yourself melt into his arms.

(Of course, he’d never let you actually chop anything alone – too scared of you cutting yourself with the knife, but the fantasy is still appealing.)

He’s fantasizing about you doing the laundry, him coming home to a house that smells like detergent and new sheets on the bed; soft, warm, and oh so pristine.

(Though, they won’t be by the time the night is through – you’ll have to scrub out the new white stains, but that’s nothing new.)

He’s imagining the way you’d lay your head on his chest while you shovel popcorn into your mouth, the wool blanket strewn over the both of you making him feel all warm and fuzzy as you stare intently at the TV screen, the movie he'd chosen capturing your interest perfectly.

He’s got all kinds of domestic fantasies in his head, and Aran is terrified that by kidnapping you, he’s ruining any chance of any and all of these daydreams from becoming real. He’s too attached to the idea of seeing you with his baby on your hip, your pretty face smiling at him while you coo at the child, nursing it and telling him that you were wondering if you could take Friday off, I’ve been feeling awfully lonely around the house, and the baby’s normally asleep for a few hours during the afternoon – maybe we could break in those new sheets we got last month?

He’s too attached to the idea of having a normal, healthy, perfect life with you to really seriously consider forcibly relocating you.

However, Aran is nothing if not practical – and so, while it pains him immensely to do so, if something serious were to happen to you, he’d be left with no choice but to steal you away. It’d have to be something quite significant, however; perhaps an attempted home invasion, or a robbery, or maybe you were hit by a car or contracted some horrible virus that meant you needed care at all hours of the day.

Whatever the reason may be, he’ll be sighing and wringing his hands, but nonetheless gathering the softest rope he can find, setting up pillows in the back of his car so that you’re comfortable on the ride over, even going so far as to keep his face covered during the event, so that he can perhaps fabricate some story of how he was saving you from another robbery – and isn’t he just such a good guy for doing that?

For being so considerate, kind, being your knight in shining armor?

As a captor, Aran can be described mostly as incredibly giving. In a lot of ways, you’ll be terribly, rottenly spoiled; he’s giving you anything and everything he can think of.

When you initially wake up in his home, terrified and changed into a set of clean, soft pajamas (though thankfully your panties and bra are still on, helping relieve your anxiety just slightly), you’ll notice immediately how lavish the bedroom you’re in is.

The walls are a pretty emerald color, mahogany drawers and dressers sitting along the wall. There’s a window – it’s easily six feet tall and six feet wide, with a window seat and big, billowy white curtains, though there’s something odd about the glass – you get up to examine it, only to find it feels brittle, harder, even flexible. (Bulletproof glass, you later learn, placed there in case you got any ideas about braving the twenty story jump.)

All sizes and shapes of pillows adorn the bed, the best quality sheets and a heavy comforter that traps heat so well you’ll nearly be sweating in December. The closet is full of pretty clothing you don’t recognize; all colors you love, neutral pieces that flatter your form and make you feel more expensive than you’ve ever felt in your life.

Aran’s only buying the best quality food, always making sure you have a healthy balance of vegetables, protein and carbs, even occasionally indulging you with exquisite chocolates and pastries. He’s always got music playing in every room of the apartment; quietly, so as not to distract you, but you’ll notice it’s a playlist of your favorite songs. The ones that relax you, that make you smile, that bring back sentimental memories.

He’s got all the supplies for your hobbies set up in ‘your room’, as he likes to call it. Anything from easels and paint brushes to a baby grand piano will reside in the room, and despite your pleas for him to not spend so much money on you, Aran will just laugh and poke your nose lightly, telling you to not worry, that he’s got more than enough money to buy a pretty lady like you pretty things.

He just wants you to be as happy as humanly possible, and while he knows you’ll always be at least a little bit unhappy, he’s hopeful that he can help make it up to you by being the perfect partner – indulging you in all the romantic cliches and dreams you may have had when you were young.

Besides, he’s a romantic at heart, and while it feels maybe just a tad bit overkill to have the rose petals on the table and candlelight as you share a meal he cooked, Aran doesn’t care. Because when you’re wearing the dress he custom ordered for you, your curves looking magnificent and your face so warm and flustered, how can he care about anything at all except this moment?

He spoils you, yes, but you’ll not forget your kidnapped immediately – no, you can’t, not when he’s insisting you share a bed from the beginning. He’ll never try to touch you or force you into anything, but his insistence on letting him cuddle you, on letting him place a hand to your hip while you drift into sleep with your face pressed against his chest is perhaps not your first choice for how to sleep.

But really, aside from a few small quirks of Aran, you’ll find yourself growing disturbingly comfortable disturbingly fast. After all, he’s a charmer – and though you may try to hate him for kidnapping you, for being so horribly, disgustingly, wonderfully obsessed with you, he’s like a puppy.

One desperate for your affection, always bringing you a new bone or toy, and one who’ll do anything for you at a moment’s command. So really, just let him pamper you, let him spoil you, even if it makes you uncomfortable.

It makes him happy, and he’s sure eventually it’ll make you happy, too – and won’t it? Won’t it, really?

PUNISHMENTS:

Aran doesn’t ‘do’ punishments.

They just simply aren’t his thing – he wants you to love him, for your relationship to develop as organically as it possibly can (considering he’s kidnapped you and essentially been stalking you for months, of course), and the concept of disciplining you for misbehaving doesn’t fit his hopes for a normal, healthy relationship.

And so, Aran is really quite lenient when it comes to you – he doesn’t get mad very often, instead preferring to keep a steady, calm disposition, because if he wants the best possible chance of you falling in love with him, doesn’t it make more sense to be calm, happy, warm?

Doesn’t it make more sense for him to approach you with loving arms, gentle touches, soft smiles that make your cheeks heat up, that get your stomach feeling fluttery and light because fuck, has anyone ever looked at you with so much adoration and unfiltered joy?

It’s overwhelming, and for the most part Aran’s method of not punishing you works exactly as he wants it to. It’s not long before you’re moving past your hatred of him for ruining your life by stealing it for himself, and while you hope to never forgive him for what he’s done, you’re looking past it remarkably fast.

Too fast, you could even say, though with every compliment he gives you, it becomes harder to find issue with this development. With every hand picked present that you’re sure is much too expensive being given to you with that flustered, wide grin on his face, you’ll slowly find yourself forgetting about the rage you promised yourself you’d never forget.

It’s scary, really, how he’s able to mold you into what you hoped you’d never become – loving, submissive to him, wanting to please him so that the love and care you’ve come to grow addicted to is never cruelly ripped away from you.

It’s terrifying just how easily Aran is able to mold you into his ideal lover; he’s not trying to change you by any means, but after a few months with him, you’ll discover that you don’t fully recognize yourself anymore. He isn’t trying to break you down and rebuild your personality to be exactly what he wants, if only because he already loves you exactly the way you are – why would he change anything?

And yet, despite him not trying to, it’s impossible to ignore the way you’ve never been this happy before.

When you look in the mirror, you’ll find yourself smiling much more than you used to; there’s laugh lines starting to appear on your cheeks, surely formed from all the horrible jokes and sweet nothing Aran whispers in your ear with that dashing smile and those callused, gentle hands caressing your body against him.

You’ll discover that you look healthier than you ever have before – your body looks to be at a good, manageable weight, your hair shiny and healthy, your skin cleaner than you remember it being when you were on your own.

And really, who do you have to blame but Aran?

He’s so diligent in taking care of you, so loving and overwhelmingly giving when it comes to making you happy and healthy that you really can’t ignore the way your body and mind has changed. You feel happy, loved – by your captor, no less.

And so while you may have initially been so, so enraged and terrified of him for stealing you away from your old life, eventually the rage will subside, your love and devotion to him taking its place. Aran couldn’t be happier; this is exactly what he wanted, and seeing the way you morph into greeting him when he returns home from practice with a big hug and a flurry of kisses against his cheeks and lips couldn’t be more appreciated.

He just really, really loves you, but that isn’t to say the beginning of your relationship was more rocky, your behavior and feelings towards him not even a shadow of what they are now.

Even at the beginning, Aran was never one to actually hurt you. He hates the idea of physically touching you in anything other than love or in teasing, and so he absolutely refuses to harm you, to punch or scratch or slap or bruise you.

(You’ll notice early on into your intimate life with him that bruises are left often, but only because Aran needs you as close as physically possible when he’s fucking you, keeping your warm body next to his without an inch of space because god, how can you feel so damn good?)

And so, even when Aran gets mad (which is already a rare occurrence), you’ll never have to worry about being on the receiving end of a swinging fist, or having blood pooling anywhere on your body.

He would die before he harms you in that way – it would break him, truly, to the point where he may actually consider ending his life, but only if yours is taken alongside his as well, so that the both of you can be together in life and death.

And so, when Aran does get mad, he’s not even trying to punish you.

A few things can set him off – the main one being any sort of an escape attempt by you.

He’s livid the first few times you try this; he understands why, rationally, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. You’re trying to escape him, to run away from him, clearly showing you aren’t happy. And why aren’t you happy? Doesn’t he give you everything he possibly can, everything you could possibly want?

What more is there for him to give you – he’s already given you his heart, body and soul?

Sunlight is streaming through the window when Aran wakes up, his lashes fluttering as his face scrunches up into a grimace, the bright light not welcome. He groans, rolling over onto his side and instinctually reaching for you – he always sleeps with you in his arms, your warm body against his. He finds it helps him sleep, and often he’ll wait until you drift into a slumber before he stares at your face, tracing the lines of your lips and cheeks with his thumb while he marvels at how beautiful you are.

Except his hands don’t feel you. His eyes shoot open, and at the empty space where your body should be in the bed, immediately he’s bolting out of bed, scrambling to open the bedroom door. The boxers he’s wearing are haphazardly on his hips, and normally he’d be embarrassed that you see him in such a messy state, but he doesn’t fucking care.

Where are you? You’re never up before him – it’s five o’clock in the morning for Christ’s sake, you’re surely not making breakfast.

He’s quick to check the living room, seeing no sign of you anywhere. The kitchen is next, and while he’s relieved to not find a lifeless you bleeding out on the floor, it does little to calm his anxiety.

It’s only once he reaches the front door that he sees you – you’re on your knees, hands desperately working the bobby pin at the deadbolt’s lock, your movements frantic yet obviously trying to stay silent.

Aran stares for a moment, before his face hardens, his legs bursting forward as he scoops you up into his arms. You yelp and kick at him, telling him to let you go as you thrash, but with your every move Aran only finds himself getting more and more angry.

Soon he’s setting you down on the couch (not nearly as gently as he normally does, you distantly note), before taking a few steps back, his dark eyes fixed on you. He’s rubbing at his temples, clutching at his jaw, shaking his head and murmuring something under his breath that you don’t hear.

You’re mad, too, and your mouth opens as you prepare to accuse him. Why did you stop me? I was so close Aran, so close to getting out of this goddamn apartment!

And that’s it, really – it’s enough to have the extremely thin control over his rage snapping off. Why the hell are you trying to leave? What’s wrong with you?

He’s yelling, his voice so loud that you physically cower back into the couch, the cushions soft but not enough. You’ve never heard him sound like this before; this angry, this hurt. His fists are clenched at his sides, the muscles in his torso and arms visibly flexing as he continues on.

I do everything for you, do you understand? I give you every fucking thing I own – my heart, my money, my home, my love! And you what? You squander it? Throw it away like it means nothing? How ungrateful can you be?

He’s lost himself, he knows it, and yet he can’t stop. The prospect of you running away from him is just too much – he's tried too damn hard to get you to love him, to woo you for you to even think of leaving him behind. How can he survive without you?

He’s still yelling, but you’re not listening anymore. You can’t, not as a stinging, hot sensation in your nose leads to tears, your sniffles and small hiccups going ignored by Aran as he continues on.

It’s euphoric, in a way, expressing himself, but as his dark gaze moves from the ceiling (which he’d been yelling at) and towards you, the words die in his throat. Your hands are at your eyes, wiping away the tears as you sob, the emotions overflowing you. The yelling, the escape attempt, the months of trying to repress the way your desire to leave was slowly dwindling was all just too damn much –

You didn’t even realize it had gone quiet in the room until Aran’s arms are around you, your smaller body pressed against his broad chest. His face is against your neck, and you see his shoulders shaking slightly.

You wonder if he’s crying, too.

It’s silent for a few moments as your tears continue to flow, but you hug him back slowly, whispering in a dry, hiccupy voice that you’re s-sorry Aran, ‘m so sorry, I don’t – I don’t know why I tried to leave, I’m happy here. I wanna stay with you, please let me stay with you, please d-don’t leave me, please!

Your arms are fully around him now, clutching onto him with as much vigor as he you, and Aran stiffens slightly. He shouldn’t have yelled at you; that was uncalled for, and he’d made you fucking cry, something that was making him feeling physically ill. And yet, you were saying you didn’t want him to leave you, that you want to stay with him, that you’re happy…

And sure, maybe it’s a ploy to calm him down, but Aran doesn’t care. How can he, when you’re separating after a few moments, a small, sad smile on his lips as he wipes away your tears with his thumb, his voice much softer as he tells you I’ll never leave you, I promise. Shh, shh, it’s okay, I love you, I’ll never let you go. Now c’mere, I’m makin’ us a bath.

He’s quick to call out of practice that morning, settling you into the large white tub in front of him, your head leaning on his chest as the scent of lavender surrounds you both.

He holds you, letting you get the last few tears out, all the while reminding you that he loves you, you’re perfect, you’re his everything, and how can a man live without his whole world?

OVERALL DANGER:

Overall rating: 4/10

Aran really isn’t so much dangerous as he is effective. He’s not intentionally manipulative – no, of course not.

He doesn’t want to trick you into anything, to lure you into falling in love with him. No, he wants your heart honestly, to have you falling in love with him on your own terms, in your own time, so that when you do eventually make him your world, you’re doing so willingly.

However, Aran isn’t adverse to helping you along the path; he’s spending time with you, complimenting you as often as he can, buying you expensive gifts and taking you out on dates (though, you’re never quite sure if he means them romantically or platonically, and you’re almost too scared to ask), anything he can think of that’ll have you falling for him. He just wants you to enjoy being around him, to crave him like he craves you, to return the level of sick devotion he holds for you.

You’re perfect; genuinely everything he could want in a woman, and while it’s a bit embarrassing how horribly whipped and desperate he is for your attention and validation, Aran slowly begins finding that he doesn’t care.

After all, how can anything else besides your love matter?

How can he find it in himself to care whether he comes off as pathetic when he sends you a bouquet of roses on your birthday, the pretty card he spent hours writing (both to solidify what he wanted to write, and also to practice his cursive so you’d think it’s pretty and worth keeping) describing how beautiful you are, how he’d love nothing more than to hold you, kiss you, mark you up so that no other man could ever take you?

Aran slowly loses himself to his obsession with you, and while he’s not particularly delusional or violent, Aran is dedicated. So much so that it’s almost futile to run from his love – he will eventually have you falling for him, returning his feelings whether you realize it or not.

And he couldn’t be happier; the day you willingly return his hugs, initiate kisses, grind down on him with that tight fucking pussy is the happiest day of his life.

Because it means you want him, and who doesn’t like being wanted? Especially by the woman they’ve spent years pining for, obsessing over, watching and fantasizing about like some lovesick teenage boy?

Not even an upstanding man like Aran would resist that – so congratulations, because once he’s hooked, he’s never, ever letting you go.

darknets | 03 yandere!jungkook au

pairing: yandere!jungkook x reader (f)

genre: yandere

warnings: 18+, obsessive & unhealthy behavior, spying, non-consensual videotaping, tormenting, graphic violence,( TW; human trafficking, heavy themes, non-con touching/groping, mentions of physical abuse )

word count: 14.5k

Playlist

A/N; i just want to make it clear, im no expert in criminology so forgive me if there’s inaccuracies, I tried to do my best with research but it’s purely fiction!

summary: You should’ve known better than to chat with strangers online…

Parts: 01 / 02 / 03

The paper cup was held tightly in his hand. He had dropped a tea bag inside , Chamomile. It usually helped with nerves. He watched the girl through the glass, she didn’t look particularly nervous but she did look distraught. The dark eye bags gave away the limited sleep she must have endured, her oversized hoodie making her look smaller than she really was. The added bad posture wasn’t helping either. Her shoulders were slumped, her arms resting on the table in front of her as she stared down at her hands.

Detective Namjoon sighed, opening the door which immediately caused her to turn her head over to him. He gave her a reassuring smile, passing her the cup as he seated himself across from her. His long limbs sat a bit awkwardly on the small chair but he squared his shoulders nonetheless.

“I understand you said she had been acting a little strange for the past few days.” He stated, maintaining a steady gaze on the girl.

“Did she have any mental health issues that you know of? Was she struggling with depression, anxiety or anything of the sort?”

Mina swallowed, bringing her eyebrows together in feigned concernment.

“No, not that I know of.” She explained, letting out another shaky breath. “ It’s just, she was acting really paranoid like, just off, you know?”

Namjoon listened, nodding slowly as another question sat on his tongue.

“Was she scared of someone perhaps? An ex-boyfriend, someone she was romantically involved with?”

“No, I mean the last boyfriend she had was over a year ago and he transferred to another college months ago.” Mina shook her head, then hesitated a bit. “But-“

The detective raised an eyebrow in question, eyes darting around her face as he silently urged her to continue.

“But..?” He added quietly, the girl seemed to be unsure of herself which wasn’t always a good sign. The behavior usually signaled she was holding back, knew a bit more than she was willing to confidently say or was afraid of saying it.

“She had a crush, a guy in our college.” She replied, frowning slightly. “ Jaehyun. I don’t why I brought it up, it’s just a stupid crush.”

Keep reading

better than i ever even knew

NSFW - MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

fem!reader. pet names (princess, sweetheart, pretty girl, baby), minor angst start but happy ending, confessions, frenemies to lovers, porn with feelings on feelings. multiple orgasms, oral (f! receiving), mating press, riding, unprotected sex, matsukawa can and will fold u like a pretzel. if there’s anything i missed, pls let me know, enjoy :)

“something you’d like to say to me, issei?”

makki had fallen asleep on your movie night, and you’d excused yourself to use their bathroom, only to find matsukawa waiting in the hallway for you after. he’s caged you in somehow, pinned you to the wall like an insect on corkboard, with nothing more than his commanding presence and a notably large hand to the wall beside your head. he looms over you, imposing.

like he always seems to be, only to you.

Keep reading

“what do I have to do to earn your forgiveness? I’ll burn this entire fucking kingdom and rebuild it if I have too.” • masterlist

everything matters… Aurora

natures joint… (((O)))

mans world… Marina

everybody wants to rule the world… Lorde

crossfire… Stephen

playing with fire… Sam Tinnesz

the fruits… Paris Paloma

walk through the fire… Zayde Wolfe

ivy… Taylor Swift

lover. fighter… SVIRCINA

shum… Go_A

churchyard… Aurora

which witch… Florence + The Machine

in flames… Digital Daggers

labor… Paris Paloma

run boy run… Woodkid

spectrum… Florence + The Machine

too far gone… Hidden Citizens

seven devils… Florence + The Machine

towards the sun… Rihanna

artemis… Lindsey Stirling

carry me… Eurielle

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

hey friends just wanna quickly put it out there that if you pull shit like this with a blank blog:

and i give you a nice and polite response, saying how the way to get people to stay is to reblog and like their stuff, not just to demand them to stay when you have never fuckin interacted with anyone before,,, and your response is "ah alr"

i will block you without a second fucking thought. it's so entitled and selfish to pull a stunt like this. fuck off.

I WANT IT. ¹

PAIRING | miya atsumu x fem!reader + kageyama tobio

GENRE | angst, smut (18+)

AU | YANDERE

WARNINGS | TIME SKIP MANGA SPOILERS + NSFW + YANDERE! DARK CONTENT AHEAD. minors dni! pwp, yandere behavior, stalking, voyeurism, kageyama fucking you from atsumu's point of view; atsumu being a creep, light degredation, light mocking, tobio being cocky, public sex, public masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected car sex, recording sex without consent, light corruption fantasies, etc. DO NOT IGNORE WARNINGS.

DISCLAIMER | this is a yandere au. dark content ahead. minors do NOT interact.

WORD COUNT | 8.4k

SUMMARY | in which you are the only female manager that has not fallen for the MSBY black jackals' flirty tactics, and after two years of constant rejections and shut-downs to flirty comments, the entire team quit their tactics. excluding miya atsumu and sakusa kiyoomi, whose obsession, feelings, and want to be with you only got stronger and more unhealthy by the day even when you were already taken by another man. and, as a manager, you have to take care of your team members no matter what... right?

BONUS | inspired by this flaming hot ash song called i want it by two feet. FUCK.

PART ONE [ 1/4 ] | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

MIYA ATSUMU WAS A PLAYER IN EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF HIS LIFE. And he loved the feeling of being able to gain something new due to his mechanism of work and his ability to gain whatever he wants due to his status as well. He was not a workaholic, per se, but he loved taking things from working hard for them. He loved the thrill of having the ability to take what he wants when he wants. He loved seeing his hard work pay off. He loved letting certain things go after they became useless. And it didn’t help that he was the precise same way when it came to his sex or love life.

As if everything came easy to him, the idea of getting anyone he wants is not something far out of his reach. He’s a firm believer that he could get anyone he wanted due to his status as a player in every aspect.

Of course, that was until you came along. The newest female manager to the MSBY Black Jackals of Japan.

For the first few weeks with you managing their team, he wanted to get in your pants— much like every team member who worked their asses off and wanted to use a woman for their own pleasure. Nearly every year their managers would quit due to the fact they realized the team members only wanted to get in their pants and didn’t truly appreciate their work as actual managers. They didn’t feel wanted because of their skills in managing, they just felt like used property. And it wasn’t like they would force the managers to do anything, they all fall for their little tricks to blow off steam every time, which is why it was expected that you would be an easy fuck for them much like the rest.

Not you, though. You’ve been the only manager that has not given into their flirty comments and has blatantly rejected every single one of the team members in a moment they’d approach to ask you of anything but your tasks or volleyball expectations.

They can vividly recall the day you were introduced to the team and how they all mentally shared knowing glances to each other, expecting another manager who’ll fall right for their tactics. It started off as inviting you for team dinners after practice, to bars, and even to their own homes and to play it off as celebratory for game winnings. And yet— you still refused.

You weren’t the blushy or flustered type of manager when it came to their endless flirting, you would brush it off and bluntly state that you are uncomfortable with their actions, politely asking them to refrain from asking you out or flirting with you as it is unprofessional and you would prefer they maintain their distance or comments unless it had to do with their needs as team members for volleyball and nothing else. It came off as a shock to the majority of those who attempted to pursue you, but they eventually quit the acts and gave you your space, knowing fully well that a no is a no and that you are here to manage their team, nothing more.

And it worked, they all quit their acts and began to respect your work ethic and you as a person, eventually becoming close to you as friends and the fact you took great care of them as a manager. In fact, you are the longest manager in terms of duration that they have had, having managed their team for two years now, all of their acts have faded into more playful-ness.

You were just so kind and hardworking, they truly appreciated your work ethic for the good of the team. You had a smile that sent jolts of motivation each game, and overall they’d all just grown to admire you. You were just so perfect, and they knew you weren’t one to give in to easy things. So they all quit.

Well, not all of the team members, unfortunately. Your attitude of rejection could barely faze only Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu. The smallest things you did, especially having known you for two years now, sent that addictive feeling rushing into their body to pursue you in the filthiest ways imaginable. And it grew stronger daily, to the point it became an unhealthy obsession for both. Physically, you could assume they are no longer interested in you that way anymore because their flirty attitudes have died down, but oh were you wrong.

Their desire for you grows stronger by the passing minute of each day, and two years have been a major change in their perspective over you than the first day you started off as their manager. It’s as if the first day they met you they realized you’re different and you’re unlike the other managers they’ve previously had. You always stood your ground, had a deep understanding of volleyball and strategies, and you took great care of the team during their biggest slumps.

It’s kind of hard not to fall for you. But, alas, they knew you couldn’t feel the same. You’ve practically rejected them or distanced yourself each time they crossed a few lines. So they resorted to their own fantasies for the time being.

In most cases, obviously, it is okay to fantasize about who you like or admire, in fact, it’s normal to have a crush. But after two years, a normal person would say that it’s not really a ‘crush’ anymore. Instead, it’s become this unhealthy form of infatuation to have you in every way that one small taste of you can feed into it. Although they both seem to be unaware at the given moment that their goal— they both have the same exact goal of pursuing you, no matter the cost— to have you. And you wouldn’t know a single thing about it.

At first, Atsumu was confident you’d fall for his tactics. He couldn’t care less about you rejecting the others, he was just sure you wouldn’t reject him. He was confident he’d be able to get you in his bed and call it a success.

However, the day he tried it did not go very well. His confidence practically broke his ego.

One night, after practice, Atsumu wanted to stay and practice his serves more when the rest of the team left. Although, he mostly just had the plan of purposely being left behind so that he was alone with you. And just because you’re the manager and you were always left to lock up, he finally wanted to experience that first time of his heart beating realizing he was going to be left alone with you.

So when the team left and Atsumu stayed behind, he watched you scribble down a few notes into your clipboard. You looked strangely attractive to him when you seemed to be in deep focus, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip and your brows furrowed. He wondered… if you would make that face of focus if you were to get fucked dumb—!

Sadly, his fantasy was cut off the moment you looked up and noticed that he was still here and hadn’t left with the rest of the team.

“May I help you, Miya-san?” You asked, with an eyebrow raised as you secure your pen into your clipboard.

“L/N-san,” He cleared his throat. “I got permission from Foster-sensei to stay after for a few minutes to practice a couple of my serves, ya saw in last week’s game it was off, I need more practice.”

“Alright,” You nodded, and went back to jotting away at your clipboard. “But, please hurry it up in about twenty minutes so I can lock up early, it is the weekend after all and I do have somewhere to be as well, Miya-san.”

Atsumu was taken back. You were telling him to hurry it up? Just who did you think you were ordering him around to fit around your own schedule? You manage his team to fit their criteria, not the other way around. Who gives a fuck what you have planned, you’re supposed to stay here for as long as it takes because in the end, Atsumu is the star, and you’re just left to run errands for him. He doesn’t hurry it up for you, rather, you must hurry it up for him.

So why did he simply nod at your words without arguing like he wanted to? Why did he keep his mouth shut?

Just who did ya think ya were?

“Yeah, of course, L/N-san,” Atsumu nodded, before jogging up to the net where the basket of the volleyballs was, and he immediately went back to his serves and tosses.

Still, as he faced away from you and continued with his own personal practice for the next thirty minutes, he smirked as he decided to put on this exterior that he always uses and manages to work with every other girl. He had to give it a go at the moment, this is what he was here for; this is what he stayed later after practice for.

He had to try.

Atsumu spun around, holding the ball, and seeing you still deep in focus at your clipboard, he frowned lightly before resorting back to his smirk. It was going to work, he knew it—!

“L/N-san?” He spoke up, you looked up momentarily to his calling before looking back at the clock in the corner of the wall, and standing up abruptly.

“Shoot, it’s been over twenty minutes, I need to go—!” You started softly, before turning back to Atsumu standing in the middle of the court with a ball in his hand, simply looking at you.

“Miya-san, it’s been over twenty minutes! Please put away the ball, so I can lock up!” You ordered as you grabbed the keys from the bench, turning back to see him still standing there with an amused look on his face.

He doesn’t know why he wanted to walk closer and make sure you knew your place… Seriously, what could be more important than him?

“Jus’ a few more minutes,” He started, lightly swallowing his nerves before smirking and slowly approaching you, causing you to raise your brows in confusion. “How about this time, ya watch me do a few serves since ya’ve had yer pretty little head buried inside that stack of papers all day?”

You were taken back by his words and the way he clearly thinks he has the upper hand here. Did he not hear you when you said you had other plans?

“Miya-san, I have plans that I have to tend to. Please put away the ball so I can lock up,” You stated, turning away from him to pick up your clipboard, completely missing the way he caught up a few feet from behind you.

“Yer plans can wait, L/N-san,” He interjected behind you, you stood back up and turned to face him, taken back once again by his stubborn attitude. “I need to practice more and I need ya to watch me do a few serves!”

“I apologize Miya-san, but as I said earlier I have to lock up and I have to be somewhere else by now. I will watch them next week,” You shook him off as you grabbed your bag, gasping as Atsumu decided now would be a good time to grab it from your hold.

Your mouth was left agape, and impatience adorned your features.

“Miya—!”

“I don’t think ya heard me well, L/N-san,” He tsks, his gaze intense as he was holding the bag out of your hold. “I asked ya if ya want to watch me do a few serves and give me feedback.”

“What—?” You stated in confusion. “Hand me back my bag!”

“Stay first,” Atsumu stated, causing your patience to be non-existent at this point. “Then maybe I’ll consider giving it back!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Did you not hear what I said? I don’t want to!” You exclaimed. “Now give me back my bag!”

Atsumu took a step back and lowered your bag in his hold, causing you to lurch forward and grabbing it from his hold.

No, no—! Did he just ruin everything—?

“I’m sorry, L/N-san! I- I was just messing around! That’s all...” Atsumu trails off after exclaiming with his hands in the air, the ball was long forgotten on the floor.

You look away from his pouting gaze that only now just seemed playful, earlier it wasn’t. As he was clearly trying to keep you in place when you stated multiple times no. Yet, he’s your team member and you have to treat him with respect since he said he was just joking… right?

“It’s alright, Miya-san,” You resort to saying, looking away as you clutched your clipboard and bag. “Your coach asked me to lock up, and that’s what I’m here to do. Please put away the ball so I can do that.”

Again? You seriously just repeated that?

Atsumu was taken back, and girls paid thousands to watch him. He’s offering for free... how come? But he has to understand, due to the fact he almost scared you away.

Almost.

“Yeah, of course,” He bowed, looking at the side of your face as you organized your items in your bag. “I’ll do that right now.”

And he did as you asked, he walked away and put away the ball into the basket and pushed it back into the storage room, watching in admiration as you followed him to lock it. He allowed a girl to control him like that. And for what? What was the reason?

As you stood locking the main door of the gym, he stayed behind you and allowed himself to smirk again, and let his own words linger.

“Ya know, L/N-san...” Atsumu started. “It is pretty late, I can walk ya home if ya’d like!” He offered suddenly, you looked at him in confusion once more and shook your head.

“I am quite alright, I am not walking home yet,” You shook your head frantically, honestly flattered by his kindness but he’s so insistent. “Thank you, though, Miya-san.”

“Are ya sure? Maybe we’re headed in the same direction—!” Atsumu edges you on, and you shake your head.

“I’m good, thanks,” You say bitterly, pulling the door and making sure it’s locked you start to walk away, Atsumy tailing behind you.

“Oh okay,” He frowned. “No worries.”

You gave a weak smile before turning the corner of the street, letting out a puff of air and hoping he wasn’t walking with you anymore. Atsumu's pride was severed, he doesn’t know why he won’t take no for an answer.

He has to try again… and like they say, the third time’s a charm… right?

“L/N-san!” Atsumu called out from the end of the street, causing you to grumble in annoyance and whip your head back, forcing a friendly smile on your face.

“Yes?”

“If not today, then maybe next week—we could grab some onigiri or somethin’? Or whatever you might like—?” Atsumu fidgets with his jacket, cursing himself mentally when you raise a hand and interrupt him.

“Miya-san, with all due respect, I am your manager. I hope I have emphasized that enough. Please refrain from asking me out again, if you don’t mind.” you bluntly stated, impatience adorning your features. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be on my way.”

Atsumu froze in his spot... did he just get rejected? Again? As if the rejection wasn’t enough to convince him that he’s lost his shot, his eyes became clouded with red.

“I understand,” He stated coolly, however, the boiling rage that struck into his ego is at its near maximum. Any second now, he would blow up.

“Thank you,” You bowed respectfully, waving off with a smile as you bid him goodnight.

Atsumu’s gaze sharpened as he watched you walk away. Seriously, what was more important than spending time with him? And rejecting him at once? Do you really have to play hard to get? He was just being nice and offering a spot for only you to watch, it’s like a free ticket to a private game! And on top of that, one of the most powerful setters you manage his team for. So what was it that caused you to reject watching the Miya Atsumu practice his receives when they’re near perfected at his matches? People pay a fortune to get front row seats to one of the best teams of Japan, especially for the top setters in the nation!

You can’t just reject him… do you even know your place?

Atsumu eyebrows unfurrowed, and he puts a small smile on his face. However, nothing about it screams kind. It’s the unsettling sort of smile that adorns his features, the one accompanied by wide eyes bulging out as they watch your figure leave the gym. The face of a person who’d just gotten slapped in the face and knows damn well that he’ll absolutely corrupt whoever slapped them… That he’ll make them regret their choice of words. That’s what it felt like, especially since Atsumu’s knuckles turned white by the way he’s formed his hands into fists on his sides.

This has never happened to him. Just who the fuck were you?

Atsumu’s smile widens, and he lets out a breathy chuckle.

Looks like he’ll have to teach you some manners.

When the following week had come and Atsumu saw you walk into the gym with an innocent-looking smile, he presumed you’d completely forgotten about the encounter that happened between the both of you last week. But that’s okay, he’ll have to remind you about it later since it meant a great deal to him. It was the day Atsumu decided he’ll just have to try harder. It’ll mean a greater deal to you in time, he hopes.

It’s honestly just like a match. He’d practice harder if he lost, that’s all. That’s what it is. It’s the same thing. You and volleyball are the same thing, basically.

But he most likely inferred that your smile has to do with the new shiny diamond ring that circled your ring finger perfectly, the one he may or may not have seen you wear for the first time with tears of joy.

The tears of joy he may or may not have seen as he allowed his footsteps to keep moving in your direction that night right after your rejection.

The footsteps that padded behind you all the way to the fancy restaurant where a handsome and dreamy man in a suit sat at a beautifully decorated table with fancy silky cloth and rose petals, the faint smell of sparkling champagne in the air.

He saw the way you gleefully approached the man. Running into his arms, as if it was your safe haven you’d fall into after a hectic day at work. He dressed very nicely, while you remained dressed in your gym and manager attire, not as fancy. Atsumu mentally curses himself for being selfish for once and taking up extra of your precious time that you probably would have used to change out of these clothes and probably wore something fancier and out of what he’d see you regularly wearing. He could have stayed behind and watched you wear that, slowly but surely every inch of the fabric stuck to your skin and if he had wanted to rip it off. (He imagined it to be like that one purple dress that hugged your curves and cupped your tits that he saw while mindlessly scrolling through your Instagram he follows from a secret account. Nothing crazy though, it’s not even under his name.) But he’d never rip it off the first day, the first time will be consensual. And that’s important!

But Atsumu thought the manager's clothing kept your modesty and your true beauty since you’re clearly out with a rich man and you didn’t want that to be something people looked at you for. You’re you, not what your relations paint you out to be.

A rich man… from an opposing team?

Wait…

What the fuck is going on?

Atsumu’s eyes seem to widen more the moment he realizes that the man’s arms you just ran into… were Tobio Kageyama’s; the opposing team of the Schweiden Adlers' official setter.

He also happened to be Atsumu’s rival since high school. The moment he saw his neutral expression soften at your appearance, his knuckles turned white from the clenched fists he formed again. Atsumu could physically feel his blood boil at the sight of the opposing setter.

It’s like knowing that your significant other is none other than Tobio Kageyama made this entire situation of infatuation significantly worse. Now Atsumu just had to get you.

However, he wonders what Kageyama thinks. You’re managing his opposing team’s match. He wonders how Kageyama feels about you spending hours with his team; traveling and taking such… good… care of them. Atsumu knows he’d never trust his own girlfriend to be around so many men. So much could happen. He’d keep her just to himself, and pay no other man attention. But it seems as if Kageyama is unfazed, clearly the way he held you in the middle of the restaurant as you seemed to be pressed flush against his chest and sighing from fatigue just shows his amount of trust and love for you that it’s nothing to him. Especially when Atsumu caught sight of the chaste peck he placed on your forehead as he held you. Clearly, he’s a popular setter too, getting attention from millions of girls on the daily.

Atsumu internally gags at the idea of putting so much trust into one another in a relationship. Seriously, who doesn’t get worried and paranoid that the other might be cheating? It’s only normal.

However, it wasn’t until you gave Kageyama a sweet kiss on his cheek and he sat down to wait for you, that Atumu really reached his limits. He was waiting on literally anything to hold against Kageyama, to show you that he’s not the setter you should be with. He’s got to be flawed. That it should be Atsumu; it should be his arms that you run into after a long day at work for him as well—!

Okay, he was getting ahead of himself. First, he wants to fuck you. He wants to see if the moment he released all of himself inside you that it’d be a worthy investment of his time and love into you. Do you really deserve it when you’re rejecting him like a brat?

Anyway, he was waiting for a moment to seize— and as if the gods answered his prayers, a group of young women who were sitting at a table nearby got up from their seats and walked over to approach Kageyama. He looked up in confusion and Atsumu could barely hear what they were saying as they tried to surround him. However, he could only assume that they were fans and probably wanted a picture with him.

Oh-ho?

Atsumu felt a dark smile form onto his lips the moment he saw a girl latch her hand at his Kageyama’s shoulder. Atsumu couldn’t let this go to waste— this was his chance! This was his chance to prove to you who’s the real setter you’re managing! Not this cunt who’s letting a girl touch him.

The moment Atsumu whipped out his phone to take a picture, however, he saw Kageyama swat the girl’s hand from his shoulder, standing up abruptly and faintly demanding they leave even though he’s flattered.

“The bastard’s loyal huh?” Atsumu grumbled under his breath. But the answer to the question of Kageyama’s loyalty to you still didn’t faze him. Atsumu was going to have you and take you from him, obviously.

As if on cue, you opened the restaurant door clutching the same bag from earlier, except this time, the loose cloth was dangling from the bag— your manager's clothing— and you were wearing a petite cream-colored dress that hugged your hips and gentle body so well.

That’s just embarrassing… Atsumu grumbles under his breath in utter annoyance as he feels the material of his shorts tighten with the tent that began to form, leaves of the bush he stood behind ruffling as he began to adjust his legs in a more comfortable position. He couldn’t help it, the thrill of being the only guy among the Black Jackals who’s seen you out with an outfit that only leaves imagination up to the eye.

Anyway, Kageyama stood up and placed yet another kiss on your face, except for the raging fact he placed his lips on yours this time, mentally groaning at the fact you kissed him back just as passionately, your hands tugging at his jacket as he held you.

Seriously, quit it with the PDA it’s pissing him off—!

Atsumu’s wishes were granted as soon as Kageyama’s lips pulled away from yours and feathered the last one for a while on the top of your soft hair. And as you both sat down, Atsumu knew he’d have to just observe incoherent words of you both just conversing with each other, ordering your food together, and whatever else the night may have stored for later.

Atsumu expected something simple and old-fashioned from knowing Tobio. He expected a boring date with just a fancy dinner. He expected this to be just some normal date that couldn’t hint at seriousness between you both. He honestly expected you to fall asleep at one point. But none of that happened.

Tobio Kageyama was an entirely different person from his point of view as he managed to pull that heavenly giggle and smile from your lips throughout the entire night. Even after you both finished eating, you stayed and just talked for what seemed like forever to Atsumu. The gentle touches and soft shoves you both gave each other as you wholeheartedly listened to him and he, you. Atsumu’s mouth only gaped at Tobio’s behavior around you. He looked truly happy and content to be with you at every second that seemed to pass— and the part that stung Atsumu the most was just how happy you looked and felt with him too. He could just tell that this was definitely something that was serious.

It’s a shame he has to ruin something so beautiful for his own benefit. But it must be done— it just has to. Atsumu could care less that you were happy with someone else. Moreso, someone Atsumu has thought of as an enemy since high school. In fact, this just made things easier for him. It would be like knocking two birds with one stone.

He gets to finally defeat the Adlers’ setter in something other than volleyball, and he gets to have you. He gets to take you away from Kageyama. And it made sense anyway, it’s not like you managed the Adlers. No, you managed the Jackals. And it will just have to remain that way forever. He’ll ensure that.

But Atsumu never expected this night to become something he felt that he almost couldn’t take anymore. Or rather something that would complicate his plans just a bit. Because no, the night to Tobio was clearly far from over. He heard your laughs die down and a small gasp escaped your lips. However, from Atsumu’s position, he could barely see what was going on since he could only see you sitting with your hand over your lips, and Kageyama was nowhere near his chair.

Curse the expensive dark-colored sports car that was parked in front of his hiding spot. He could barely see a thing!

Atsumu tch’ed as he pulled out his phone and clicked on his camera to zoom in and get a better look at what was going on. He nearly dropped his phone at the sight of what it depicted. Kageyama had gotten on his knees under the table, oddly enough he did it in a discreet manner that no one noticed. Atsumu could see under the cloth how his hands on your knees parted your thighs slightly enough for his head to peek in right in between them. Atsumu could see the way Tobio looked up at you from under the cloth— he could only guess one thing. Lust. But perhaps lust wasn’t just it, if that were Atsumu under the table, he’d be able to tell it’s deep of love and devotion to you.

But this was so unexpected of Tobio. He never struck Atsumu as the type to be into pleasuring you out in public, the mere thrill of being caught obviously straining his boxers. Atsumu’s breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you carding your delicate hands through Tobio’s hair… he could… hear you sniffling from far away?

Atsumu zoomed in with his phone and noticed a light reflection coming from… a jeweled ring held in his fingers on top of your thigh... It’s as if he could tell the look on Tobio’s face was daring and endearing at the same time.

He was fucking proposing to you, under the table of a fancy, public, and dim-lit restaurant, with the full intent of marking you with nothing but love mixed with pleasure with his tongue.

No wonder ya both skipped on orderin' dessert.

Atsumu could only wish he heard the absolute tender yet dirty words spewing from Tobio’s mouth under the table to you. He could only wish he heard Tobio confess his intent to fully devote his love to you by making you his— and if the world caught sight of that moment, he wouldn’t mind. He’ll have you forever.

But first, (unfortunately unheard by Atsumu) Tobio will have to hear just how much you want your boyfriend to make you gush around his tongue; giving him the dessert he didn’t get to order while you beg for him to make you his with the ring he clutched between his fingers. Tobio seemed to chuckle darkly at your needy expression towards the ring in his palm. You wanted it— you practically begged to have the ring wrapped around your finger by him. Atsumu could tell you said yes; because his gaze became clouded with a sense of darkness, envy, and lust as he watched Tobio dip his head further into your embarrassed cunt. Atsumu’s tent tightened the gap between his shorts and thighs as he watched you bite your hand from moaning loudly at the pleasure that began to form from Tobio’s tongue alone. He could tell you wanted to throw your head back and tug at his dark hair.

Atsumu thanked the gods for the delicious moment and for his hiding spot because it didn’t take long for him to slide his bruised hand from setting into his shorts, reaching for his annoying erection and palming himself through the material as he watched Tobio fuck you with bliss on his tongue. He mentally cursed at the fact the recording wasn’t going to be enough due to the fact he can barely see you and Tobio’s facial expressions, but that’ll have to do for now. He can always fantasize and remember— it’s what he’s been doing up to this moment anyway.

Atsumu bit his lip as he finally saw you tug at Tobio’s hair, your fingers turning white as you held his locks; he could tell you were getting close. Atsumu’s breath increased as he realized you weren’t the innocent little manager he thought you were after all. The mere fact you could come undone in just a few minutes from simple tongue fucking and in public where anyone could see just rocked him closer to his own orgasm. He can’t imagine just how much more he doesn’t know about you. All he knows is that he wanted to be in Tobio’s position more than anything. He felt himself drool at the thought of being able to taste every inch of your cunt with his tongue— he could just imagine how sweet you would taste. He could tell from the way Tobio ravaged his tongue against your folds like he was drinking his ungodly flavored milk he couldn’t get enough of back in high school.

It’s as if Tobio had become an entirely different person when he met you. And Atsumu couldn’t blame him because he felt the same exact way. But it doesn’t matter, he’ll have his way with you. And when he will, he promised himself he’ll do it over and over— however long it would take to erase Tobio’s way with you permanently. Until you won’t want anyone but him.

Yeah... he’ll have his way with you.

Atsumu let out a muffled grunt against his jacket as his legs shook with the orgasm that rippled itself into his body like electricity. His cum squirted all over his bruised hands, groaning at the sticky sensation. He’s touched himself before to the little thoughts of you, of course; but this was something he got to witness firsthand. This was probably the best orgasm he’d had from jerking off to you. Surely, this wasn’t going to be his last?

Atsumu’s breathing slowed as he was able to tell you came around the same time he did because he watched Tobio’s head disappear after placing a kiss on your wrist from your hand that is stuck in his—now—messy locks. He watched from the distance as you came down from your high, chest heaving up and down slowly, your cleavage slightly out due to the fact your dress was shuffled a bit with Tobio’s hands.

It was beyond Atsumu how literally nobody around you noticed what just happened. He raised a brow when he noticed Tobio still under the table, but he smirked as he realized the opposing setter was clearly trying to adjust the mess he made in his pants. Unbeknownst to Atsumu, Tobio took care of your pleasure while taking care of his own. Meaning Tobio palmed himself under the table and came right as you did... in unison.

Unison… like the fact he sealed your finger with the ring as you both came undone together. An orgasm that was so precious to Tobio due to the fact you must have cum while you said yes. Cumming undone in public and sealing your fate with Tobio in unison. To say Atsumu was severely jealous was an understatement. He was utterly annoyed and, inconveniently, rock-hard once more even though he came only a moment ago. Clearly, it wasn’t enough.

He grunted in annoyance at the but his attention was back at the fact you and Tobio just got up abruptly from your table, Tobio placing the bill for the dinner and grabbing at your hand in the other, walking you out and crossing the street.

Atsumu’s eyes widened behind his disgraceful hiding spot, you were crossing the straight right in his direction. You were both practically approaching his hiding spot.

Holy fucking shit— did they see him? Did they actually catch him in his contemptible position as he pumped out his filthy desire from watching you cum?

Atsumu silently panicked as you and Tobio were feet away from his crouched position. But his heart rate died down the moment he reached for his car (that was his sports car?) keys and opened the passenger door for you to climb in with wobbly legs. Atsumu’s gaze lowered at your ridden up dress, your thighs were exposed more than they were earlier, clearly from earlier. And from his crouched position, he could see the bare outline of your drenched panties. Atsumu mentally cursed at Tobio for still allowing your wet cunt to soak your panties. If that was him, he’d have licked you up until there would be no drop to even form a wet spot on the thin material. Or perhaps it was intentional— which would make sense to his new side Atsumu had never seen. He barely knew the man and his plans now. What was next? Was that it?

No, of course not. Atsumu, or rather any normal human being, would only assume that was just a little thing to get the night started and that daring Tobio definitely had more planned for the rest of the night. He could only imagine just how hard he’ll fuck when you get home and immediately go to bed. He’ll probably since he sealed the deal and adding unprotected sex to the list isn’t too far from his plans most likely.

Atsumu would definitely fuck you without any form of protection if he’d proposed to you. He’d lose count to how many times he’d fill your cunt with his pent-up load that he wouldn’t be mad if you got pregnant. Of course, this was a far-fetched idea of getting you pregnant. But it doesn’t hurt to think outside of the box.

Atsumu mentally let out a whine. He wanted to follow you and Tobio home. He wanted to witness it first-hand. But unfortunately, he had to get home and sleep early, due to the fact he had press and a bunch of other shit to deal with in the morning. But perhaps the universe smiled down at Atsumu today. Because the moment Tobio shut the car door behind him, he lifted you by your waist, almost in a rough manner, and pushed you to the backseat.

Atsumu felt a drool down his cheek. This was so exciting. This was unbelievably filthy. In the car? In front of the restaurant?

Not bad, Tobio-kun.

Atsumu watched as Tobio went to the backseat as well and pulled you to straddle his waist. Despite the windows being closed, the backseat window had a faint opening. From the close proximity of where he was hiding, that was deliciously vivid to his view and hearing. Atsumu’s terrifying grin widened as he pressed another recording, sliding his hand under his shorts once more.

“I don’t think you did a good enough job at the restaurant hiding your moans, love,” Tobio muttered as he slid his hand under your dress, toying with your sensitive clit. “I want to give it another try, except this time, I’ll make you and my car shake. How does that sound, pretty girl?”

Tobio clearly left the window open on purpose, almost daring you to moan loudly for everyone around to hear. To hear you moan loudly about just how good he’s taking care of his woman. Buying her fancy dinner, getting dessert right from her own source, proposing with a blindingly shiny ring that presented success and accomplishments, adding the cherry on top with you now being secured in his life. He was going to fuck you until you could never forget tonight.

In a way, Atsumu felt lucky to watch, to witness a moment so important in your life, a moment that was meant to only you and Tobio to look back on. And he almost feels bad for staying hidden, recording this unforgettable moment.

Maybe he’ll show the recording to you in the future when he completely breaks this moment. When he replaces it with another moment that erases Tobio. But maybe he would show it to you. It could serve as a reminder that he’s not what you deserve. You deserve better, you deserve him. Not some rich yet other powerful setter. You have him, you should forget about Tobio Kageyama.

Yeah, you should savor this moment until the very end. Because many more will come where Tobio won’t be in the picture. Atsumu made that promise to himself.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

Atsumu’s sweat prickled on his forehead as he watched you bounce on Tobio’s cock— his head thrown back against the leather seat, fingers brushing against your nipples through the dress very so often as it elicits soft moans from you. But he could tell you were trying to keep it down. He could tell Tobio was fucking you good.

“T-Tobio, mmh—! I think I’m close already!” You whined against his clothed chest, your tears from the sensitivity of earlier streaming down your cheeks with every thrust.

“Already? We just started. You wanted my dick that much when I wrapped that finger around you, baby?” Tobio cooed as he watched you struggle to take him, bouncing ever so lightly as you do. “That’s okay— I intend to make you cum for however much it takes. Not every day you get proposed to, Y/N. I won’t let you forget.”

“Baby, please! Go faster, ‘s too big,” You whined at his words, causing Tobio to scoff as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind on the headrest of the front seat.

“Was tongue fucking you not enough prep, my love?” Tobio asked as he pinned you, his thrusts getting faster at your request, to the point where you throw your head back against the headrest of where your hands were pinned. “Thank god I’m marrying you and this tight pussy. I’m sure this will be a common occurrence. But that’s okay, I’ll fuck you loose. Loose from me. Me only, love.”

Ya liked this, L/N-san? I could make ya scream next time. I’ll do it. I won’t hold ya back from yer beautiful and dirty sounds like Tobio-kun— I’ll help ya let it all out…

Atsumu’s grip on his own cock increased in speed as he heard your moans become louder. He felt bad for you as he palmed himself— what if someone hears? That’d be embarrassing and a little clumsy of you. You get to come while filthy people watch— watch Tobio thrust up into you faster as he gets closer to reaching his own climax. Mouth latching onto your neck and hands tugging at his dark locks in the tinted windows of an unnecessarily expensive sports car. Your delicious view of tits bouncing right in Tobio’s face, making him groan into your skin and grope the flesh harder.

“Fuck—engh! Y/N, it’s honestly like your getting tighter. But I’m a bit confused, love, aren’t you enjoying this a bit much?” Tobio chuckled at your fucked out expression. “I guess I’m planning on marrying you for a reason. I get to fuck and understand this pretty little body all by myself. Of course, you—fuck—you want that too, huh?”

You were enjoying this so much, L/N-san. I’ll give ya this and more. I will.

“You’re jus’ too big for me to handle sometimes, Tobio, I can’t—mmh—! Help it!” Your breathy moan escaped with your words, leaning against his torso to steady yourself as you feel yourself getting undeniably closer to your release.

“Damn right I am. We didn't order any drinks and you're already drunk on my cock," Tobio chuckled at your helplessness. "I bet you were just waiting for me to get down on my knees for you, hm?"

"I've been waiting for months—fuck— months for you to propose, Tobio," Your riding slows from your legs giving out, causing Tobio to groan and resort to thrusting upwards into you since you clearly can't do it yourself. "'M so happy you did."

"'M happy I did too, baby," Tobio smiled, genuinely, before increasing the speed of his thrusts, capturing your swollen and plump lips with his own, as if pouring his heart out with it.

Atsumu groaned as he felt his orgasm hit him like a rock, his cum spurting out of his hands in an intense manner onto his disgraceful seat in the audience. Your final moan being loud enough that Tobio had to muffle it with his mouth on yours. The wet clashing sounds that came from your swollen lips and tongues wanting to be closer than ever. His arms sneaking around your back, pulling you closer as you both road out your amazing high; hands blazing a fiery trail across your waist and up to your back. He kissed you with much force that Atsumu was unsure if you had to pull away to breathe and compose yourselves.

But to his surprise, you pulled away and pressed a soft kiss against Tobio’s cheek— falling tiredly into his chest. He didn’t even pull out— he let you sit still on his softened cock— feeling the occasional thumping of your painted walls that are clamped around him. Tobio held you in comforting silence, feathering sweet kisses to your pretty little head.

Atsumu groaned the moment he heard Tobio mutter an ‘I love you’ into your ear, you murmuring one just as soft and sincere. He fought the urge to gag at the sincerity and realness in your confessions to one another. In the next practice match— even an official— he would make sure to target him a lot more rough than usual. What was this supposed to be? It was way too real to be a joke. It pissed him off.

His legs began to give out and shake from his crouching position, Atsumu lightly gasped as he lost balance in his knees, causing the bush in his hiding position to ruffle from his shifting movements. His eyes widened as he saw Tobio twitch his head in his direction.

Fuck— he needed to get out of here. Atsumu clasped his cum-stained hand to his mouth and nose, covering any slight movement or noise of his breathing being held in. He was not going to get caught.

“What’s wrong?” You mumble into his chest, from feeling him shift suddenly. Tobio turned back to look at you in his arms, softly carding his fingers through your hair.

“Did you hear that?” Tobio muttered as he held you close to his body, hearing you mumble a no against his chest, nuzzling against his warmth. “Thought I heard somethin’.”

“Probably the wind,” You suggested, looking up at him, your lips moving from his chest up to his exposed neck, and placing a trail of soft kisses up his Adam's apple, causing your lips to vibrate from his throaty chuckle. You gasped as Tobio lightly yet roughly tugged your head back slightly with your hair, forcing you to face him up, you tightening around his length as he looked into your eyes, smirking darkly.

“Probably,” He whispered, pecking your lips. “Or probably not. Either way, you’d like it if some fucking creep watched me fuck your brains out though, huh? Or if they heard your moans, wouldn’t you be ashamed, love?”

“I w-would!” You let out a whimper at the sharp thrust that came from Tobio, Atsumu’s mouth agape at Tobio’s words.

“Tch. Lies,” Tobio muttered, as he dipped his mouth to bite lightly at your neck, thrusting up once more aggressively. “My soon-to-be wife and also my pretty little whore. Mine. No one will ever get to fuck you dumb like this— all mine.”

“Only y-yours,” You moaned at Tobio’s rough touch, causing him to groan against your skin.

“And you will be— from now on until forever, you understand that?” Tobio looked at you with lust and love all at once— intensifying the way his thrusts felt as you felt another orgasm approach your sensitive cunt that was cockwarming him not too long ago.

“Mhm—! Forever, Tobio,” You purred as he sped up his thrusts, causing your legs to shake as you couldn’t help the way you immediately gushed around him hard, therefore fulfilling Tobio’s promise— one that caused the car to lightly shake as well.

Holy fuck.

Atsumu practically came untouched for the third time— his legs definitely gave out as his orgasm ripples through his body, he felt himself fall on his ass, quietly— but he couldn’t leave yet. That was unbelievably the most real shit he's ever seen. Not just because he wanted to see if this would go even further or if you would go for round four, but because if he gets up he’ll immediately be seen.

Tobio pressed a softer kiss against your forehead and a longing one against your lips before gently lifting you off his cock, and helping you fix your messy dress, lowering it down your legs, and pulling your creamed panties up your filled pussy. You shivered at the wet sticky-ness before letting Tobio carry you back into the front seat, helping you with the seatbelt before going up to the driver's seat.

Tobio didn’t even waste time— he was more than likely to continue the real thing at home. To give you his all tonight and expect you to take it without question. Atsumu envied that, he envied that deeply. He's never gotten to experience fucking that came with sincere emotions that intensified the orgasms pulled from both sides. And to an extent, it stung that he had to wait for you to drive away with the man before he stood up from his hiding spot— sighing at the feeling of blood rushing down his legs due to the fact he was crouched for a long while. He shook off the dirt from his knees before he walked to his own apartment.

And that was what made Atsumu’s smile widen horrifically as he watched you approach the team the following week; and hand out the tickets for today’s practice match trip. Atsumu is always the most excited when it comes to field trips. He gets to spend more time with you! Well, as much as you’d let him, of course. Baby steps. He’ll have to take his time before trying again— he wouldn’t want what happened last week to occur again. He’ll give it time.

You’ll come around, of course. He’s sure of it.

And approximately a few feet (yet what felt like miles away) his own teammate stood with just as much darkness and lust in his eyes. The darkness that presents the goal of having you in every filthy way imaginable; darkness in his pretty curls.

Darkness that's quite similar to Atsumu's. All while, of course, is perfectly concealed by the fabric over his mouth— that masked his own expressions about you.

for every reblog i’ll give you a kith on the nose <3

want to be tagged in the following parts? join taglist here.