— Vox x Fem!Reader
Artwork is by Riomymm on Pinterest.
— Summary: Vox intervenes when two employees in the marketing department are allegedly at each others' throats. What he didn't expect, however, was to lay his eyes upon the most breathtaking demon he's ever seen: you.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
A united front.
That's what Vox preached was imperative for Voxtek employees to have. A united front.
Even if you hated your coworker, you weren't allowed to show it. And even if you were inflicting daggers onto them with your eyes, you were still required to exhibit a smile.
You never had trouble adhering to this rule. Afterall, there wasn't a single coworker you had that you downright hated. Of course, there were a few that you disliked. But again, no one that would cause you to forfeit your smile and sweet words in exchange for a frown and curse words.
Until Mary came along.
You had already been working in the marketing department for quite a few months, when Mary was suddenly employed. Just as you did for all of your new coworkers, you greeted her with a smile and a "welcome to the Voxtek marketing team!" And at first, you thought that Mary was a wonderful new addition to the team.
But then, the rumors started.
The amount of coworkers who came to you, parroting horrible things that Mary was spreading about you, was outrageous.
"Mary told me that you were stupid."
"Mary told me that you have slept with 20 guys."
"Mary told me that you generate all of your commercial pitches on VoxGPT."
The last one was the final straw for you. You texted Mary, asking her to please stop with all of the demeaning things she was saying about you. But that did not make her stop. To the contrary, it only fueled the fire even further.
Beginning the next day, Mary started telling people that you had harassed her through text. She even had the audacity to claim that you had been spreading lies throughout the marketing department about her.
And although you had only ever mentioned Mary's name to retort against whatever ridiculous lie was brought to your attention that day, half of your coworkers were so braindead, that they perceived it as you harassing Mary. Just as Mary had claimed.
The issue had gotten so out of hand, that the head of the marketing department — Molarisa — had pulled both of you aside one day to discuss the matter. On the surface, she told both of you to stop. But through passing comments against you and a hand on Mary's shoulder, Molarisa made it obvious that she was siding with Mary.
The situation had become so abhorrent, that you decided you would be placing your two-weeks notice the following day.
Unbeknownst to you, because the situation had become so abhorrent, Vox's assistant—Papermint—decided to bring it to his attention.
"—And lastly, uh, sir, I wanted to bring up an issue within the marketing department." Papermint said, wrapping up his daily report to Vox.
"Okay, continue?" Vox said cockily, motioning with his hand for Papermint to speak.
"I know you — uh — preach a lot about having a united front. Well, currently, the marketing department is completely divided. There are two employees who both claim that the other has been harassing them. And it's been just — uh — causing a lot of division, and—" Papermint explained, before he was interrupted by Vox.
"That's not my responsibility. Tell Molarisa to get her department together." Vox asserted.
"That's the problem, uh — sir. Molarisa has already spoken with both of them, and the issue has — uh — persisted." Papermint explained, adjusting his glasses to prevent them from falling off.
"Ugh!" Vox groaned. "Fine! Send them both up here, now! I guess I'll have to put the whores in place myself."
Papermint scurried away, alerting both employees through text to report to Vox's office, immediately.
Vox had no intention of hearing either party out. Just based on what he'd been told, having such an issue persist even after the head of marketing intervened, meant that both parties were leeches poisoning the bloodstream of the company. And thus, needed to be completely rid of, immediately.
That perspective changed the second Vox set his sights on you.
After politely knocking on his office door and being told to come in, you walked into Vox's office with a warm smile painted on your face. It was evident that you were exceedingly nervous, but you smiled nonetheless. And you looked cute too.
The outfit you had on accentuated every part of your body. Not showing too much, but showing just enough to have Vox internally gawking at the sight of you. You were the most beautiful demon Vox had ever seen. Absolutely adorably pretty, is what you were.
"Hello, Mister Vox." You greeted sweetly, as you sat on one of the two chairs perched on the other side of Vox's desk.
Before Vox could greet you in return, his office door opened. Completely absent of any knock beforehand, Vox noted, as you had so politely given.
This other demon was already the polar opposite of you in every way. Not only did she set herself up as appearing inconsiderate, her appearance was — not exactly as pleasant to the eye as yours was.
She sat to your right, crossing her legs as she presented a clearly artificial smile on her face.
"Hello, sir!" Mary greeted, with an evidently false peppiness in her voice to match the smile.
Vox arched his brow, representing his sudden interest in the situation. His eyes moved to you, before returning back to Mary.
"Alright. Can someone explain to me what's been going on?" Vox questioned, as he laid his hands below his chin, and leaned back into his chair.
"I—" You began, before being immediately cut off by Mary. Quite abrasively, too.
"SHE has been spreading lies about me across the entire marketing department!" Mary proclaimed. "Which I was willing to let go, as I am a very nice, forgiving person. But then, she continued even after Molarisa sat us down."
"That's not true," you clarified. "I haven't even said a word about you, Mary. Unless it's to clarify what you've been spreading about me."
"She's lying, sir!" Mary accused, as she faced Vox. "Truthfully, sir, I think she's jealous of me b—"
"HAHAHAHAHA!" Vox interrupted Mary's statement with a loud, prolonged laugh. "BAHAHAHA! HAHAHA! HA—! HA! ........ HAHAHA!"
Vox continued to laugh, as you and Mary came into agreeance on one thing. Confusion. As you two looked at each other to see if the other was just as confused, then looking back at Vox.
After a minute, Vox slowly ceased laughing. He even wiped a tear from his eyes due to how hard he was laughing.
"That's —! WOW! That's good. You're joking, right? You're joking?" Vox asked, humor in his voice as he watched Mary shake her head. "You think that she is jealous of you? Her?"
A silence filled the room for a brief moment, a silence that was only interrupted through Vox chuckling. The humor maintained through his voice, he spoke:
"Jealous —?! Bitch, please! I mean, come on! Have you seen her?" Vox questioned, as he raised his hand up and down in reference at your body. "And, have you seen you?!" Vox laughed harder. "I mean, what would she even have to be jealous of you for?!"
You smiled, trying to hide back a giggle of your own, as Mary's eyes widened in utter embarrassment and shock. Mary tried to speak again, before being interrupted by Vox.
"I've had enough of this. Time is money, and I've had enough of you wasting it. Get the fuck out of my building!" Vox commanded, as Mary pushed her chair back with her body, and then scurrying away.
For a moment, it was just you and Vox sitting in silence. You took that moment to try and wrap your brain around what had just occurred in front of you. It was so surprising, yet so satisfying!
"Are you okay?" Vox inquired, feigning concern as he stood up from his chair. He knew you were okay, but he had to ask regardless. To start a conversation with you, of course! He waltzed over to your side of the desk, and laid his hands on your shoulders as he watched intently for your response.
"Yes sir," you confirmed. "I'm just really surprised. But in the good way! I— I really, really, do appreciate you standing up for me like that, sir. Everyone else believed her, while she was harassing me."
Vox was filled with rage at the mere thought. People employed by HIS company had made a pretty little thing like you feel even the slightest negative emotion?
"Who, exactly," Vox began to inquire, practically growling as he said exactly. "Believed her over you?"
"Practically half of the marketing department," you explained with a sad chuckle. "And even Molarisa."
That made Vox even angrier.
"Names, doll. I need names." Vox commanded, as his grip on your shoulder tightened subtly.
You proceeded to list out, just as you had explained previously, half of the marketing department. All of such names would be repeated that night by Vox to Valentino, as Vox explained to Valentino that the moth demon could shoot his gun all he wants that night. Valentino did love using his heart-lathered gun.
"All of those people? Really?" Valentino questioned, his body spread across a couch in his room. "Usually you call up the lowest earners. What's with this — newfound change? And Molarisa, isn't she the head of your marketing department?"
"She was," Vox confirmed. "But she has proven herself as utterly incompetent! And so has everyone else I've mentioned. So, I need to BE RID of them. They're in your shooting room right now."
Valentino arched his brow with an "Uh-huh." For Vox to want to suddenly execute half of a department, with the head of it no less, was a first.
"This wouldn't have anything to do with that sexy girl that's been harassed by every demon you just mentioned, would it?" Valentino questioned with a smile, as Vox's head instantly shot up with a blush.
"What—?! I— how did you— how did you know and why didn't you tell me about this?" Vox questioned in frustration, turning back to face Valentino.
"Cara mía," Valentino began. "You forget that my whores scurry around the building all day before they report back to me for the night. And they tell me everything they hear, and I mean everything."
Meanwhile, you sat at your desk in the marketing department, running through today's events in your head. As you were deep in thought, you heard a ding on your phone. Looking down at it, you saw a text that read:
"Hey doll, it's Vox. Come back to my office as soon as you can ;)"
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
Hey guys! Thanks for reading! This is my first fic that will almost definitely have a part two, assuming you want it!
Be sure to comment if you want a part two! Or, if you just like the story! I love love love love comments, they keep me writing!
tw: spoilers from ghost mw2 comics, nsfw, dead dove do not eat, mature content.
this is pretty much a part 2 to ghost headcanons except with more lore and analysis (im still not sure if reboot ghost has the same backstory as the og ghost).
ghost is not a cold, calculated, ruthless man. maybe in a separate au or something, but theres a huge difference between ghost and simon riley. in fact, we need to understand that the reason he even chose ghost as a new name for himself is because of all that's happened to him. his family got killed, he got tortured by roba, and had to eliminate many men on his own. before that he was simon, not ghost. in the comic he literally calls the child hostages he was saving ‘sweetheart’ and ‘love’. hes not that mean and cold yall
we know that PTSD does shit to it's victims, ghost lost his entire family and had no one. think of it as a coping mechanism to have a new name to be known as.
ghost is a ruthless killer. simon is just some guy.
ghost sets himself to an incredibly high standard of discipline. i think it's intuitive that military boys will need to be punctual and organized to some degree, but ghost takes this to a whole other level. considering his father's abusive behavior (explained by his disturbing statements said to simon, is a drug addict, and beats simons mom) his home life was likely chaotic as a child.
in the mw2: ghost comic (issue #3) it specifically stated the following: "discipline, precision, control. these are what riley built his whole life on. break those down and the dark stuff begins to ooze out..." again, this is probably a form of trauma response to his childhood.
so what does this lead to? well firstly, this probably means his room is incredibly tidy and organized (monotone design i know :,c).
would never in his life touch drugs. this is a promise he made to himself.
also kinda proves that ghost aint a reckless guy. he thinks things through before doing it.
ghost isn’t that hypersexual. theres no way of knowing his history with women, but i like to think ghost is not that horny 24/7 and needs a fuckbuddy. in the mw2 comic, he was on a mission and was in an area full of prostitutes (wasn’t actively on duty, but on his way) when they tried to hit on him he politely rejects one of them, and later tells them to fuck off😀 so yea contrary to popular belief i dont think he really enjoys one night stands or the idea of being entertained by random women. in fact, i hc he might actually be a virgin or just have a really low body count.
ghost is a feminist!😁 (misandrist too). ok let me reword that, ghost doesnt like men and respects women. one of the reasons why he doesn’t want to be around prostitutes and do one night stands (his father killed a hooker in front of him, very traumatic) is because he thinks the concept of quick, casual sex is not good for society and dilutes the value of meaningful relationships. but also, remember the discipline, precision, control thing? its apart of his principle. but also, in the comic, sparks (soldier he worked with) knocked out and attempted to rape a woman, ghosts literally looked disgusted and called the police (also why he’d never do that himself, i dont get the hcs that say he does). ghosts seen how his dad treated his mom and absolutely hates abusers. anyways onto misandry—i think ghost internally thinks men are violent and disgusting (ghosts would choose the bear over the man, even though hes a man) mainly because throughout his military career majority of the bad stuff hes seen was done by men, so hes much more relaxed in a room of women vs man. ghost thinks his dad is the epitome of pure evil (canon! he said this to his therapist). this doesn’t mean hes scared or hates all men tho!
ghost isn’t close with tf141… including soap. now before you attack me let me explain. sure, he trusts them to some degree, but i dont think they naturally just hangout when they’re not deployed. in the end we need to understand they are SAS soldiers, they are working a real job that mainly consists of them shooting and dismantling others. considering ghosts betrayal in the past (in the comic, a few soldiers ghost previously worked with killed his entire family 😢) he isn’t gonna just trust his teammates because theyre his teammates. im also pretty sure they all live in different cities while not deployed. tf141 probably all want to separate their job from their personal lives, which includes each other. but onto soap, i dont think him and ghost have a deep brotherly relationship. but i think they care about each other, but exchanging some dad jokes and bantering doesn’t mean they’re suddenly soulmates or brothers. think about it… you and you’re co worker joke around sometimes, never hangout outside of work, and now people are shipping you and calling the two of you besties. makes no sense.
ghost is extremely patriotic. in the comic (i reference this way too much but theres SOOO MUCH LORE i recommend reading it) ghost tells his teammates the reason for joining the military: queen and country, right after 9/11. he also said “the world has changed”. interestingly enough army enlistment did actually skyrocketed after 9/11 attacks, ghost was among them. he probably thought ww3 was about to happen, or that ‘theres no more peace’ or whatever. i hc being obsessed with soccer too lmao and getting mad if english teams dont win. also his playful banter with johnny “get us a tea?”. probably very proud of his british heritage.
ghost doesn’t have much friends. hes a really, reallyyyyy lonely guy. i hc him as an introvert in the first place, but trust issues make this worse. in the comic, he was literally in the newspaper for killing his family and then killing himself (he didnt, he was framed that way tho) so its likely most of his formers friends probably think hes dead. ghost likely got some sort of amnesty or exemption from the military after knowing he didn’t actually kill his family, but whats in the news stays true to the public. even if he does have friends he probably doesn’t share feelings with them or form a long term bond.
ghost is extremely cynical. this is obvious tbh, but i think ghost believes hes going to die in the middle of a battlefield, shot or stabbed, a painful death, body left to rot for weeks, and no one to remember him. just like that. and he accepts that fact too.
ghost isn’t a picky eater. growing up in an abusive household where his parents couldn’t hold a stable job, he had to eat what there was. some days he settles for cheap beans and toast and when people call him out for it, he tells em to fuck off😀
ghost is emotionally fucked up, probably kind of depressed. i mean this guys been through hell: got sa’d, buried alive, had to dig through underground dirt and worms with a jawbone, tortured in horrible ways, had his entire family killed, abusive dad, and the weight of his grey morales because he killed lots of people as a soldier. wow! would you look at that list, itd be more strange if he wasn’t emotionally fucked up after was has happened😅. even when tortured, seeing his family dead, ghost was never shown to have cried in the comic. i hc hes emotionally numb. however, i do think hes emotionally MATURE and able to communicate his emotions, but hes still emotionally fucked. for example a scene where he was talking about his experience with roba (guy who tortured ghost) and ghosts father to a therapist. i think ghosts may be traumatized, but this doesn’t stop him from attempting to get help and communicating how he feels and thinks about this world.
ghost wears a mask... not because hes insecure and traumatized it's to separate ghost from simon riley. first of all he learned the consequences of revealing your identity during deployment, in the comic, he reveals his face in missions before his family got killed. i think he wears a mask because 1) its practical, no one knows who he is, 2) an analogy for himself to remind him simon riley, his original identity, was dead the moment his family was murdered, this SAS soldier with a skull mask is GHOST (yes this is canon, ghost references in the comic!).
in issue #1 while some kids were being held hostage, he starts telling his life story to them to calm them down/distract them from the bad situation. this is his explanation to why he wears a skull mask, word by word: "I bet you're wondering why I wear these bones on my face. It's a tribute to an old friend of mine. He's dead now, but man if he wasn't the baddest motherfucker on the planet."
in issue #6, when ghost was trekking through a jungle in the middle of nowhere attempting to kill roba (a drug lord that started this all, brainwashed soldiers to kill ghosts family), he was never caught. ghost himself, the narrator, says that "even for a single man to get through the jungle, the patrols, the wall, the security... well that man would have to be a ghost."
however, im still a little confused whether or not reboot ghost and 2009 have the same backstories. reboot ghosts mask is more realistic and his look is much more intimidating, his reason for wearing that kind of mask is probably psychological warfare (getting milena the financier to speak up about makarov). i think 2009 ghosts reason to wearing a mask is more personal compared to reboot.
BUT WHAT ABOUT AN S/O???
i think ghost is the guy to not have one in the first place. obviously. but i lowkey think if he had one and really liked them, he would commit. in fact i find it hard to imagine hes a player or isn’t serious about relationships. when his brother tommy got addicted to drugs and fucked up his life, simon quit the military until tommy got 100% better and married. yup. he stayed to help him recover, for years. thats how loving and committed this man is🥹🥹.
ghost would not cheat on his s/o. i can't stress how important this hc is, because it's so out of character for him to do so. sure, guys in the military statistically have higher divorce rates, incidences of infidelity, and much more red flag stuff, but knowing what happened to him, he would never do that. doesn't matter how stressed, lonely, sexually frustrated this man is; he would not cheat on his partner. this guy has been through far more stressful situations and got through it, you think hes gonna cheat because hes stressed because of work?
its not sunshine and rainbows or absolute toxicity being with him. it's not really a mix of both either. ghost isn't that princess treatment, super squishy and cuddly, sweet guy who likes fluffy stuff. he definitely isn't the toxic guy who leaves you with mixed signals either.
hes quite the gentleman when it comes to approaching relationships, hes seen how his dad treated his mom, and ghost wants to do the exact opposite. i believe ghost likes to use the traditional courting methods when dating someone: gifting flowers, paying for dates, holding the door open (ladies first typa guy!!), the old fashioned stuff. idk if i should point it out again but this guy DOES NOT FW modern dating practices, he wouldn't download dating apps, or start 'talking stages'. i dont think he would write love letters just because hes not very good at writing poetry or expressing his feelings in the first place.
theres still downsides to being with him. the long distance, the time being apart (months and months). but i dont think he'd go as far as being emotionally avoidant.
also something really random ive noticed is that 2009 and reboot ghost are very different, personality wise. i like to think that 2009 ghost represents simon riley much better, but the reboot ghost actually gives the essence and character of what a 'ghost' in the military is.
more random headcanons:
simon prefers dogs over cats because dogs are loyal and stay with you until the end (stereotypically)
hates snakes and spiders
probably wouldn’t do 50/50 on dates, he pays!
avoids saying manchester slang when deployed
drinks and smokes. not always. he’s disciplined but he still does that stuff.. hes a british guy in his 30s whos kinda depressed, grew up with adults around him smoking 24/7, whatd you think😀😀 (its canon that most of tf141 smoke anyway)
listens to 80’s rock music. its canon that his mom enjoys the band siouxsie and the banshees :)), he probs does too
shaves his beard
is actually confident hes not bad looking. dude, hes 6’2, in shape with a jawline🙄
i don't enjoy hcs of ghost being the scariest out of tf141 (appearance wise yes). but soap seems much more scary imo, he was the youngest guy to pass SAS selections in the history of the UK military, and was nicknamed soap because of fast and good he is at cleaning up 'messes' (basically killing people).
id arguably say ghost is the most compassionate out of 141, if we're talking about the OG 2009 one.
I had this idea ages ago of a mid-Yorknew arc fic and finally managed to finish it :D hope you all like some of my home-made Uvogin content.
WARNINGS: Yandere! Uvogin, fem! reader, excessive violence, murder, description of wounds, needles mentioned, non-con, home invasion, 9.8k words
There was someone in the distance.
He'd noticed the footsteps a few seconds ago, the pitter patter turning more hurried once the person in question noticed him on the floor. There was not a lot of other noise around, his own labored breathing the loudest thing by far, even if only for himself. Every inhale felt like a gunshot went off by his head, every exhale muddled by the blood bubbling in his mouth.
It was probably a mafia goon, if he had to guess, or the chain user had realized his mistake in leaving so quickly and had come back to finish him off. Neither option was great, but Uvo found it beat waiting to die in the desert heat. He would never beg, but the mercy would be slightly appreciated nonetheless. It wasn’t anything he’d ever bothered with, so he couldn’t outright expect it.
As the footsteps drew near, Uvo remarked on something. The sound didn’t match those of heavy set boots pressing down on sand as he would've expected some random goon to sound like, nor the lithe steps the chain user had. It sounded hurried and oddly soft. An unknown third option, but the chain users insistence on doing this in the dessert made the odds of it being someone else rather slight.
And then a young woman bent over him, her mouth agape and her eyes wide and horrified, one of her hands covering her eyes for the sand blowing across her face. Like this, Uvogin could only focus on the earrings dangling through her hair, the bright sunflower themed jewelry noticeable enough to draw his attention and keep it. The metal flower reflected the light right into his eyes.
As she noticed he was still alive, her panicked expression turned to one of immense relief.
It wasn't a sight he'd anticipated to see before bleeding out: a face overcome with affection for a stranger, smiling as bright as the sun as her entire countenance bathed in the relief of his survival.
"You're alive!" She mumbled to herself. “What a relief.”
Uvogin tried to scoff, but found himself only gargling up a clot of blood.
The happiness that had formed on his finders’ face didn’t last long, quickly turning to all out disgust and shock as she looked at the blood dripping down his chin, the bruises trailing from his neck to the tips of his toes, the large gash in his chest. Quickly, her hands started looking for her phone, patting down her pants before coming to the realization that she didn’t have it with her.
Slightly entertained on his deathbed, Uvogin just watched her sprint back from where she came from, the loud slap of a door indicating there was a vehicle just out of his sight. He’d clearly missed the sound of the engine, which really spoke on what kind of fucked up state he was in currently.
Dying was kind of boring, if one could stand the pain, and Uvogin could stand quite a bit more than this. It was just unlucky most of his organs had gotten punctured, his heart receiving the worst of it, being squeezed so harshly by the chain that had been wrapped around it. He was pretty proud of his body's capabilities, but taking a hit like that right in his heart while he was forced into a state of zetsu and still living to breathe afterward was a miracle.
It had been agonizing, and for a second Uvo had believed himself to be dead, but a few minutes later he’d woken up, in the worst state he’d ever been in, sure, but not dead. He wouldn’t consider himself lucky, though. A quick death would’ve been marginally easier to stomach than this full-body discomfort, and he had little faith in the woman being of any use.
Still, he could allow himself a little pipe dream. What did it matter anyway? If he survived, the chain bastard would die, and there’d be no dead spiders on this mission. He’d always been optimistic, and this sounded pretty good to him. Might as well try to survive now there was a small chance of it working out.
And so he summoned the few drops of nen that had returned after the forced Zetsu had ended, and tried to minimize the bleeding. Like this, it’d probably take an hour longer to die, if he had the endurance to keep up his nen to the end. Probably not, so he’d aim for a good forty-five minutes.
By the time the woman returned, she was already on the phone, animatedly calling an emergency service. Internally, Uvo groaned. That didn’t make his chances higher. Any Yorknew hospital would rat him out or overdose him in order to collect the money on his bounty. The odds that she was contacting a doctor without any affiliation to legal networks was nihil.
Pity.
If he could get her to spot his own phone and call Machi, that would be ideal, but with the way her eyes seemed to look everywhere but at Uvo’s thumb trying to point at his pocket, that wouldn’t work.
Whatever the emergency services were saying, it wasn’t to her liking, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as the responder reacted to her description of his state. If he believed her assessment, he was ‘bleeding from every orifice’ and ‘near-death’. She repeated his state of being again, voice louder and every word articulated expressly.
It didn’t seem to do the trick.
"You- goddamnit! He can go on my health insurance can't he? Just come here and-" Still, this was pretty funny, seeing her nearly scream into the receiver for his sake. "Written consen- He's puking up blood, miss, I don't think paperwork is possible right- Well if the ambulance can't come in the desert anyway, why'd you waste my fucking time with the insurance issue. Good day."
Cursing loudly, she harshly pocketed her phone, huffing out in frustration.
“This city is a goddamn joke,” She mumbled to herself. “Written consent for receiving life saving care, how stupid can you be? Who’d say no to being helped?”
People who couldn’t afford it, Uvo thought.
The second she turned back to him, her face changed from unbearably angry to just worried. She sat down next to him on her knees and Uvo was pretty sure that he could still kill her in this condition. He’d just need to force his arm to move one last time and hit her face, breaking her neck in one fell swoop.
She sniffled, and with a side-eye, Uvogin noticed she was crying a little bit, when she noticed how he was still watching her, she tried to seem a little more hopeful.
“Hey, uhm, you’ll be okay!” She lied, maybe more to herself than to Uvo. “It’ll be fine, I’ll find a way.”
Having never been the type to be able to deal with crying women, Uvo immediately looked another way, foregoing his plans to eviscerate just one last person. What difference did it make? Death would just come faster, and the small chance of her saving his life would be ruined.
"I called an ambulance, but they don't drive as far as this, so I'll have to bring you by car to the hospital." She blinked furiously while she bent over him, the sand probably irritating her eyes, which teared up even faster. "Can you stand?"
A blob of blood ran down his chin, and if he could've, he would've laughed.
She frowned and another big tear ran down her cheek, making Uvogin try to focus on the few stars in the sky, hoping it’d stop the discomfort and slight embarrassment of having a woman cry for him on his deathbed. "No, of course not." Despite his insistence not to look at her anymore, he immediately watched her again as she looked over her shoulder. "I- uhm... There's a crane on my car. I could perhaps... lift you up? That'd work? I think?"
Why’d her car have a crane? That seemed like a pretty unorthodox object to have in Yorknew. Despite the new idea, Uvo still preferred the ending in which she called Machi, so after taking a few deep breaths, he moved his arm and patted his shorts, his muscles screaming in agony as he forced them to move.
Hopefully having grabbed her attention this time, his thumb once again pressed against his left pocket, and to some miracle, she had followed his movements this time and noticed. Humming in understanding, she slowly moved toward his pocket. Digging around, she eventually found it and fished out his telephone, making a noise of victory as she did so.
“Okay, okay.” Quickly she turned on his cellphone, realizing that there was a lock on it, luckily he didn’t have to spell this one out for her, her hand very quickly grabbing his thumb to unlock it through his finger print. The only reason he allowed such a stupid feature on his phone, something that could be used against him by any passer-by with access to his finger prints, was that pressing the small numbers with his thumbs frustrated the hell out of him.
After his phone had been locked for 12 hours after too many failed attempts, he’d just relented and accepted he might cause a massive leak of information one day.
“Ma--hi” He forced out, his entire throat feeling ruptured as he spoke.
“Mahi?” She looked through his contacts, and Uvogin hoped she wouldn’t be smart enough to check the gallery of photos, memory serving him well and stating that there was enough incriminating evidence and gore in there to traumatize a normal person for life, or at least enough to make someone leave him here to die. There were also a few dick pics, though he couldn’t quite remember why he’d taken them. Probably in a drunken mood. “Okay, I see them. It’s probably Machi. I’ll call, you just try to relax. Don’t fall asleep, though. I’ve heard that’s bad”
Pfft.
She held the phone against her head, smiling comfortingly at him as she heard the tone repeat itself, her hand placed on his arm and thumb drawing lazy circles. This was good. Even if he died now, his corpse could hold some clues for the boss to figure out. Chrollo could probably deduct the chain bastard's entire ability from his injuries. It wouldn’t be wasted.
She looked up at the evening sky, sniffling once to try and get rid of some snot that had collected on her upper lip during her crying. The tone stopped and clicked.
“Hello?”
“...Hello? Who is this? How did you get this phone?”
Uvo’s left eardrum had burst, but his right was still working fine, so he could hear the conversation clearly. The sound of Machi’s voice was pretty welcome, and he closed his eyes for a moment, deliberating what was happening.
To be honest, he kinda hated this.
If he’d died by the chain user’s hands, his death would’ve been a blast. His heart crushed by some loser with a thing for revenge? That was fine. Bleeding out next to a crying woman wearing sunflower earrings and a puffy summer dress was a little less cool in comparison. It wasn’t like Uvo had wanted to die in a blaze of glory, but this seemed anti-climactic at best.
Maybe this was the motivation he needed to survive. This was too boring a way to die. He could do better than this.
To his own surprise, he felt a little more nen join the battle to keep his blood from soaking the cold sand. The heat left this place so quickly, he thought, the heat on his skin when he was disposing of the mafia’s little army just a faint memory now.
“I was asked to call you.” Breezing over the questions Machi had asked her, she probably realized she couldn’t really explain it succinctly anyway. “I found the owner of this phone in the desert, badly injured. I’ve already called an ambulance, but they won’t drive out here, so I don’t really know what to do.”
“Stay calm.” Machi immediately commanded, probably already realizing the lucky break Uvogin had gotten. “Does the injured man have brown hair and black skin?” A different voice mentioned something, and Uvo vaguely recognized the cadence of Phinks telling Machi to ask if he was big as fuck. Even luckier. She was at the hideout, meaning no time would be lost in more phone calls. “Ah, yes, and is he about eight feet tall?”
As if the woman needed to check if that was right, her eyes flew over him again, before nodding.
“Yes.”
“How badly injured is he?”
“...I worry he might die any minute now.” Did he look that bad? Apparently so. “His entire stomach has caved in, his arms are broken, there’s bone sticking out of his shoulder and there’s an actual hole in his chest.”
It was silent on the other side for a while.
“He’s also spitting up a lot of blood.” She added, as if the description she’d given hadn’t been enough to warrant worry. “And covered in bruises.”
“...And you’re sure he isn’t dead?”
Uvo and the woman made eye contact.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay. first describe where exactly you are.” Machi instructed, always the professional. “I’ll come as quickly as possible. As soon as I know where you two are, I’ll instruct you on how to keep him alive.”
In the back, Uvo could hear Franklin mumble a ‘Fuckin’ idiot.’
“Right, okay.” The woman looked around, looking for any landmarks she could identify the area with, before realizing an easier option. “Wait. This telephone can’t send through locations, but mine can. Gimme a moment.”
Relief that his body would be found was immense, and he nearly lost control of the nen keeping his blood inside his body. He closed his eyes to focus, trying his hardest not to fall asleep. He heard the woman give some noises of affirmation to Machi, returning to the car, before coming back with some blankets, covering his body and retaining some warmth.
Time passed, the woman softly speaking to him, which helped in keeping awake, though he couldn’t really understand a word of what she was saying, if she was saying anything at all. Perhaps she was just nervously brabbling.
He wasn’t sure exactly how lucid he was anymore, but it felt like mere seconds had passed before he felt a familiar nen next to him. He didn’t open his eyes, but did feel needle and thread fashion quick fixes to some wounds he’d gathered, the pain still immense but the bleeding halted somewhat. Machi’s stitches wouldn’t fix everything, but it’d give him some more time.
She’d make him pay for this, he thought with some humor, though he had no idea where he’d get the money. The last time she’d re-attached his leg, he’d needed to rob three different banks just to get enough cash (banks didn’t carry what they used to), and even then she’d grumbled about having to receive it in plain bank notes.
Last time he’d brought Nobunaga with him to rob the banks, which was always a bad idea- they tended to get distracted quick when working together outside of troupe business- so it’d been a complete dud, meaning he’d need to do the next personal heist completely solo if he wanted to get Machi off his back quickly. They’d been on some far-off island and Uvogin had needed to fight off more security than he’d anticipated while Nobu spent all that time flirting with a front-office employee of the bank.
Large hands lifted him from the ground, and the second he was moved, consciousness nearly faded completely, a dizzy feeling numbing every thought popping up. With just a little bit of his mind still there, he could hear the woman state her goodbyes.
If that had been the last he’d see of her, her face would’ve left his memory without question. Within a week she’d only be a vague memory, a funny story to reflect on when he was on death’s door again. when the mere happenstance of bleeding out on the floor was a nostalgic event.
For now, though, he was alive, and he trusted the troupe well enough to know they’d make sure he’d last through the next few hours. He’d damn well make sure he’d do so, it wasn’t his style to leave people hanging after making a fuss. There were underground nen-healers everywhere, and certainly a city as scummy as Yorknew would have a few healers the troupe could get to save him. He’d have to suffer through several lectures, probably from Shalnark, about never going off on his own again, but it’d be fine.
He’d be back in business before long.
“Should we bring the girl?” Franklin questioned, wiping down his hands on the sand after he’d carried Uvogin inside the car, the amount of blood soaking down his arms ruining his shirt completely. “Could be worthwhile to figure out what went down.”
“...I don’t think she’s affiliated with the mafia, and Pakunoda will be able to check Uvogin for the chain user's identity.” Machi said, plunging her needles back into her pin cushion, walking toward the car immediately after. Looking over her shoulder, she followed the woman as she got into her car, preparing to go home. “She had a pretty good alibi.”
“I swear to god one of these days your hunch is going to be wrong.”
Following their lead, the woman that found Uvo also stepped into her car, readying several things and checking her mirrors before starting it. The hum of the engine interrupted the otherwise silent desert night,
“I guess.” The woman drove off, sending both Machi and Franklin a small wave, a sea of sand thrown into the air by the propulsion of the vehicle. The headlights cut through the darkness, briefly illuminating the figures left behind. Machi shrugged as she stepped into their own car, brushing some sand off the seat before sitting down. “I’ve written down her name and address, so we’ll see.”
The second time Uvogin saw the woman, he was in full get-up, his hair tied back and clunky shades covering his eyes. He didn't like evening wear, hated the way even the slightest flex would make the buttons pop off like bullets, though it made for a pretty nice party trick at the end of the night. Always managed to make Shizuku laugh and Nobunaga cringe, the perfect combination. It was while scouting the surroundings and waiting for the signal to go inside and ambush the Nostrade company that he suddenly spotted her.
“That’s her,” he mumbled, slapping Shalnark's shoulder to point at the new arrival. “The chick from the desert.”
“What? The guardian angel? What’s she doing here?” Shalnark said, scanning the crowd with a skeptical look.
“I have no idea.”
“If this is an elaborate set-up, this has to be the most clumsy execution ever,” Shalnark mused. “If the idea was to gain your trust by saving you, why would she show up here of all places?”
“Machi said her alibi checked out,” Uvogin replied, feeling that was enough to prove her innocence.
“Do you know what it was?”
“No.”
“Could she possibly be a manipulator?”
“No way,” Uvogin dismissed the idea. “Or she’d have to be top level at hiding her nen, but that’s quite unlikely. I’ll trust Machi.”
“Hmm. Sure, but should we just ignore her now?” Shalnark glanced at Uvogin.
“Nah. I’ll talk to her. See what’s up.” Uvogin squared his shoulders, the fabric of his suit straining with the motion, and began to make his way through the crowd toward her,
“Going off on your own again?” Shalnark said, a slightly judgemental tone lacing his words. Uvo waved his hands dismissively. “I see nearly dying hasn’t changed you a bit.”
“You’re here aren’t you?” Uvogin grumbled, already over the mothering he’d received by some of the troupe members. The troupe never got too chummy, for obvious reasons, but they’d all already believed him to be dead, making his return a bit more dramatic. The only one who backed off easily had been Franklin, both because he wasn’t the most emotional of the troupe and because Uvo had seen him pocket some cutesy cat collectible from the treasure stash. They’d made eye contact and quickly Franklin had started minding his own business, because even if everyone knew he’d picked that up for someone else, Phinks wouldn’t have let him hear the end of it. It’d been a lucky break, since Uvogin wouldn’t have been able to handle even a shred more of that fucking sympathy. Even Feitan had peeked around the corner when he’d been sleeping to check on him. Feitan. It kind of hurt his pride. “Just because I lost once-”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” It seemed even Shalnark had grown tired of this conversation, even though they both knew it’d come up a few more times, probably today.
“Hey.”
She looked up from her phone, which Uvogin could see was leading her to a nearby address. When she noticed him, she first frowned with complete confusion before lighting up, immediately recognizing him despite his new clothes. Well, he guessed she didn’t meet a lot of people that looked like him. Quickly putting her phone away, she left herself completely open as he approached.
A quick chop against the neck, a squeeze to her face, a flick of his wrist. If she did anything suspicious, he’d take her out and hide her body in the bushes nearby for now. Luckily, she’d been far away enough from the entrance to avoid the cameras.
“Oh. Oh! You’re okay!” In his entire life, Uvo wondered if he’d ever seen anyone as seemingly elated to see him alive. Even Nobunaga had only punched his shoulder this time, warning him to stop kidding around. The woman that had saved him, however, already seemed close to tears a second time. “I’m so happy! I was really worried you wouldn’t have made it through the night. You were in pretty bad shape.”
“Yeah, well.” He didn’t really know what to say to that. “I had a good doctor.”
“I’m very glad. What are you doing here? Isn’t it a bit soon to be out of bed?”
The nen-healer that had been found had been a bitch to arrange. Uvo always marveled over the stupid ways some would fashion their abilities, and this one was no exception. In order for him to have been healed, the healer needed to knit a mini-version of him and set the doll aflame when it was done. Phinks had even grumbled that the healer hadn’t even been good at the craft. Why make an ability like that? “Nah, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
Ignoring the fact he’d just not answered her question before rebutting, the woman just smiled. “Work. It’s a family business, so I work odd hours.”
Work? Here? Family business? Was she mafia after all? No, that didn’t make any sense. Machi said she’d had a good alibi. It wouldn’t make any sense for her to so openly admit to being part of a criminal organization. It wasn’t like he went out into the world screaming his membership of the Phantom Troupe, though the tattoo made it pretty obvious some times.
“You keep busy then.” He said to buy himself some time to think. Even if she was mafia, she would probably not admit to it easily. That wouldn’t be a problem, since the majorly important line of question was something else entirely, like why she was here. “Can I ask you how you found me two days ago?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, that was also work. I went looking for an air balloon.”
"Air balloon?" Uvo remembered the trip from the auction house to the desert well, the telephone conversation with the boss fresh on his mind. "Why were you looking for something like that?"
“Yesterday, one went past the lease and I went to pick it up. That’s how I found you!” She immediately admitted, telling the truth for as far Uvo could tell, and he was a pretty good judge. “It's my uncle's business, I just do some admin work and pick up the balloons when the time runs out and it hasn't been returned."
"You're kidding." For a second, Uvogin was overcome with an incredulous feeling. He’d been saved because the boss had been too cheap to actually buy an air balloon? If this was the truth, that would be outright hilarious. "How did you even know something like that was there?"
"There's a little tracker in the basket." She seemed to look at his shoulder a lot, probably since a bone had been sticking out just two days ago. If she was skeptical of his quick recovery, at least she didn’t say anything about it yet. "A lot of people try to steal them... "
Well. That was what happened.
He was lucky she didn’t drive much farther, since she’d have seen the massive piles of dead mafia goons rotting in the sun. Probably would’ve made her a bit more suspicious to the random stranger she was helping. “Did you end up finding it?”
“Nah, I only knew the general location since the tracking chip broke somewhere along the way, and I gave up after I found you.” Shifting her weight back and forth between her left leg and right, she smiled again. “The order was made by someone living around here, but it seems a bit busy right now, so I might just come back tomorrow.”
That was indeed a good alibi, he decided, though second guessing Machi was always a bad gamble.
The knowledge that she was innocent at least solved one riddle, though there was still the question of what to do with her. She knew, at least vaguely, who he was, and it would be bad if she started blathering to other people what had happened. She probably didn’t even know his name, but she’d gone through his phone, so she might remember plenty of others. Killing her and hiding the body now would also not be ideal, since that’d just increase the risk of a corpse being found before the auction. The ‘killing of most of the security’ had already put the remaining mafia on high alert, but they didn’t need to know that the troupe was already inside right now waiting for the chain-user asshole.
So getting her out of here would be best, at least for now.
“You know this place is off-limits right now?”
“Huh? They just let me in, though?” She tilted her head, genuinely perplexed.
He could see it happening, guards just letting her slip past, out of a certainty she wasn’t a threat. Everyone was on the lookout for the Phantom Troupe, and somehow she’d managed to dress even more harmless today. Who even wore cardigans anymore? Her pastel-colored cardigan and simple jeans made her look like she belonged at a library, not in the middle of a high-stakes auction swarming with dangerous individuals.
“The auction is about to take place,” Uvogin stated.
“Oooh.” She placed her hands on her sides and looked around, at the cars blazing past and the overwhelming amount of people dressed in suits and evening gowns. “That explains the fuss.”
Any Yorknew citizen would know this place wasn’t exactly safe, so she’d probably get out of here by now, having been told what was going on, but Uvogin didn’t find her casual browsing of the people very convincing of that fact. Immediately, he decided that this was the perfect opportunity to pay the favor back.
He could be nice.
“I owe you, so let me just say this:” He bent over a bit, looming over the smaller woman, who looked up at him with wide eyes, confused at his sudden proximity but ultimately unalarmed. He could see the reflection of the auction building's lights in her eyes, the confusion and curiosity mingling there. “This place will get pretty dangerous soon, so I’d get out of here if I were you.”
She blinked, absorbing his words. “Dangerous how?”
“Let’s just say things could get messy. You don’t want to be caught up in it.”
Deciding to up the ante a bit, since this woman clearly was still completely clueless to the warning he’d given her, his hand snapped forward to her shoulder to keep her in place. That seemed to startle her.
He could’ve killed her back in the desert, could kill her now or let her die at the hands of the chaos that would soon unfold. She didn’t see her place in the world, nor did she see his.
“What’s your name?”
She told him, although she seemed a tad uncomfortable doing so.
He repeated her name. “You can leave and live another day, or you stay and I make sure your death is painless. I’ve got some friends who’d take it slow with a dumb bitch like you, so trust me when I say it’d be a mercy.”
Finally, There it was, that glimmer of fear in her eyes, the balling of her fists, the unblinking, trembling eyes meeting his. Suddenly, Uvogin thought of the hypothetical situation of her asking people around here for help after his threat. That’d be bad, if they thought to question her. Internally, he sighed. It would’ve been easier to kill her after all.
Well, he could always bluff his way out. Doubling down on his threat, he grinned wildly and squeezed her shoulder a little bit tighter, before letting go and nudging her back to the exit. “And I wouldn’t recommend asking anyone round here for help. They’re on pretty high alert, so an intruder like you would probably be either killed or captured immediately. Just go back the way you came, and you might even make it home in one piece.”
Her eyes watered, and for a second Uvo thought she’d cry again, but instead she stepped back and with a slightly nervous readjusting of her purse, she just nodded and turned to leave, squeaking out a very nervous “Bye.”
Uvo fixed his posture and waved, smiling ear-to-ear. “Bye.”
As she flinched in response, Uvogin could only huff out a laugh, immediately turning back to the hotel where the auction would be held. Hopefully that’d be that. If all went well, tonight would be fun, he could just feel it. He’d get his goddamn revenge on the chain bastard, and he’d get to kill even more of those mafia nobodies.
What an evening.
The third time he saw her, it’d been a lot less coincidental.
The heist was over, the mafia defeated, and the chain bastard, or Kurapika as he turned out to be called, had been murdered, the few aces up his sleeve useless as the troupe had figured out his weakness. They’d just used a few decoys, nen-using scum that posed as Phantom Troupe members, tricking him to use his powers on them. The idiot had fallen for the bait, not having realized Uvo had survived, and cleaning up the rest had been easy.
After the mission, a lot of spiders lingered, not having anything time-pressing to do anyway. Phinks and Feitan had left to play a game they’d found, and after a short while a few other members had joined.
Uvo had no interest in it, though he was close to bored enough to do it regardless. Lounging around the hide-out for days on end had never been his strong suit.
The facilities in the hide-out were the worst of all, and following the example of Pakunoda and Shalnark, Uvogin tended to go out to a nearby hotel or apartment building to clean up and get some fresh air.
He’d been showering and had, without much lust already on his mind, just decided to jerk off. It was hard finding some private time in those hide-outs, most members' ears' good enough to tell anything that was happening within the building. Hard to cum in peace when Feitan would open the door halfway and throw his sword through the room out of annoyance. Uvogin was a lot of things, but not exactly quiet.
And then a face popped up into his head.
He’d promptly quit fucking his fist, looking at the tiled wall with furrowed brows, before letting his face split into an amused grin, his hand quickly resuming the previous tempo. She’d helped him quite a bit, huh? Finding him, crying for him while getting help, doing whatever she was capable of to save his life. In turn, he’d made sure she left the auction building, saving her life, as he’d rarely done before.
He didn’t owe her anything anymore.
Nothing stopping him from doing whatever he wanted.
He could find her, scare her a little, see that clueless face twist into confused expressions as he pushed her buttons, lift her up the wall and feel her heartbeat quicken. If anything, it was the right call, since she had witnessed something that wasn’t meant to be seen by her. She knew some members’ names, and had even spotted him at the auction site. It was a security risk, if anything, to just let her be.
Worst of all, she’d looked at him while he’d been dying like he was weak. The fact that he’d even needed her help filled him with frustration.
How dare she have looked at him like that.
The look she’d given him at the auction had, in comparison, been much better. That furrow of her brow, those bright eyes screaming of betrayal and confusion, the slight parting of those soft lips that were just begging to be kissed and bruised.
A spurt of pre-cum shot from his dick, dripping down the floor and into the drain, his arm against the wall to support himself as he bent over and continued to jerk off aggressively.
It was something to do, at the very least.
When he got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he immediately called Machi. When he asked for the name and address of his new prey, his fellow spider had suspiciously asked what he needed it for, before dropping her line of questioning immediately, probably dreading the answer. Uvo just chuckled at the speed with which she’d sniffed out his intention. it seemed her instincts worked even over something as menial as this.
Didn’t matter, she’d given him the address.
A cat greeted him when he broke into her house.
Just like its owner, it was quick to trust and overly affectionate, following him as he walked through her study, headbutting his shin when he stopped in front of a wall of polaroids. Depicted in the photographs was an insight into her life: the people she considered important enough to hang on a wall, sights that had made an impression. A few shots were clearly made from the sky, once again making him reflect on the fact that he was alive due to a fluke.
A single shot caught his attention the most, a selfie of her laughing brightly. She was wearing some sort of face paint, some flowers by each eye, either done by herself or someone else for an occasion. It was a cheerful shot, bright light and a background of green indicating it had been nice weather. The smiling face on the polaroid screamed of innocence, and Uvogin truly felt like the villain he played when all it made him feel was an urge to ruin it.
The cat meowed to gain his attention, before suddenly moving away into a different room, a response to the noise of the front door opening.
Uvogin closed his eyes and smiled.
What timing.
He walked to the door of the study, and opened it without attempting to be quiet. No need for such precautions. He was here because she’d caught his eye and he needed to fuck her, and he was not one to hide his intentions.
Despite his assumption at being seen immediately from downstairs, this was not the case. She was not paying attention, despite him standing right atop her stairs. She placed down her coat, put some bags of groceries on the ground and hummed to herself while she ascended the stairs. When she came close enough to spot him (he’d again made no move to hide himself), she startled greatly with a cry, nearly falling backward but gripping the railing just in time.
“Huh? Wait, you? What are you doing here?” She grabbed the railing of the stairs tightly, clearly spooked by her near fall. She looked back over her shoulder, giving him way too many openings. “How- how did you get in?”
“Busted through the window in the study.” He admitted honestly, appreciatively looking her over. It seemed she did have other outfits outside the persona she had shown him, the short skirt she was wearing right now much more to his tastes. “Not gonna apologize for it, so don’t bring it up.”
“The study? How- I mean, I- uhm,” She seemed at a loss as to what to say, probably never having dealt with home invasion before. “What are you doing here?”
"Needed a place to stay for a bit, and since you were so hospitable before, I was sure you’d find a place in your heart to let me stay for a while." Uvo’s voice echoed through the dimly lit hallway, his rough demeanor at odds with the cozy ambiance of the house. At her blank expression, he barked out a laugh that seemed to bounce off the walls. "Or do you have something to say to that?"
Her eyes widened, and for a second, he saw that same worry sparkling in her eyes that he'd noticed the last time they met. “Is someone—someone chasing you? Like… you’re in danger and you came here to hide?”
His shoulders dropped a tad as he rubbed his eyelids, trying to stave off the impatience gnawing at him. “Dear god, woman. Did the auction not clue you in? I’m the bad guy. You’re the one in danger here, not me.”
“I’m in…danger?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
“Well, yeah, statistically.” Uvo lowered his hand and looked at her properly, wondering how such a naive person had survived this world for so long. Yorknew wasn’t even that good of a place to live, if the sheer volume of mafia goons he’d had to kill was any indication, and she’d still managed to keep this innocence for so long. The space around them was filled with little trinkets and family photos, showcasing the life she’d led up until this point. Whoever she surrounded herself with, they had clearly coddled her from the very start. “Strange man breaks into your house while you’re a woman living alone? It’s not looking good for you. Or do you come from a place where it is normal for guys to break through windows?”
“I just thought—I’d prefer it if you—” She didn’t finish her sentence, but she didn’t need to. Her gaze turned oddly calculating, a glimmer of resolve hardening her features. “But I’m assuming this is not something I have a choice in?”
“Not really.” He shrugged and took a step back to lean against the wall, the tension between them thickening the air. “You can either be okay with me being here, or dead, whichever you prefer.”
She nodded slowly, her movements measured, before closing the distance a bit further, getting her to the top of the stairs. “Then I am okay with it... I think.” Her voice wavered, betraying her fear.
He stepped forward, pleased she’d come closer instead of doing something as stupid as running. Not that this choice would do her much good, but at least it was easier for him. For a second he wondered if there was something upstairs she was trying to reach, and vaguely remembered the landline he’d seen in the study. Ah. Well, not that she’d get that far. "Good choice.”
“I can just get my laptop if that’s what you’re—” she began.
He didn’t want to deign that comment with an answer and leaned forward to kiss her, a twisted smirk playing on his lips.
She leaned back, avoiding his approaching face, and lost her balance. He didn’t reach out to grab her as she fell back, instead watching as she rolled down the staircase with a cry, the sound echoing through the house. Moving away from him when he’d tried to kiss her was to be expected, but it still pissed him off a little.
Perhaps he was being unfair, but the sight of her crumpled at the bottom of the stairs stirred something within him—irritation, perhaps, or maybe just a flicker of disappointment that she hadn't simply submitted.
“Wow, way to hurt a man’s feelings.” He said, knowing he’d have her make up for it later.
“Ow...” She just bemoaned instead, the stairs having been steep enough to probably fracture something at the very least. “That hurts.”
“Sorry, but I’m not as kind as you.” He said, slowly descending as he watched her heave at the bottom of the stairs. When he reached her, she’d regained the ability to try and push herself up, but a light tap to her elbow made sure she instead immediately fell prone again. “If you get injured, I’m not calling anyone.”
The parallel was cathartic, he thought as he loomed over her, a mix of panic and pain swirling around her eyes. If he’d even looked half as pathetic, he’d have wanted her to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze the last bit of life out of him instead of calling Machi. Though, he had to admit, he probably didn’t play her role all that well either, especially after he squatted next to her and pinched the leg he’d seen her fall on, just to hear her cry out once more.
Whether it was an attempt to restore some of his pride or because he got off on it, he didn’t know for sure, but it was probably a mix of both.
This was better, he reckoned as she looked up at him pleadingly, way better.
“So, here’s the deal.” He said, intrigued as he watched her try and squirm away from him. “You saved my life, I saved yours, so we’re perfectly even right now. That said, ever since you appeared, something’s been bothering me.”
She didn’t respond, which was a good call in his book.
“You see, you were acting awfully familiar back when I was incapacitated.” He grabbed her by her face and lifted her up until they saw eye-to-eye, the woman convulsing in panic as he made his move. She clawed at his arm and whimpered pathetically. “Do you act that way with every man you come across?”
He let his eyes once again trail down to her skirt, which had hiked up to show the underside of her ass. “Must be, if you’re dressing like that.”
Uvogin knew he was being a little childish, but the indignation shining through her expression made it all worth it. Fear, anger, it didn’t matter. As long as she didn’t look at him like he was weak again. He could stand anything but that. “So whaddaya say? Will you be good when I fuck you?”
She paled as his words sank in, some noises of panic leaving her mouth once he stood up and took her with him to the living room. There was a large couch, but Uvo was an even larger man who didn’t like being cramped while enjoying himself, so he just kicked the coffee table next to it into a wall and placed her down on the soft rug. The sound of the coffee table crushing into the wall made her yelp once again, and he hoped it’d make her realize how stupid it was to try and fight back.
Just as he reached forward to grab her top and rip it off, she held up her hands into his face.
“Wait! Wait-wait-wait,” She repeated with a shrill voice. He stopped for a second, raising his eyebrows to see what she had to say. He doubted it was anything urgent, since she was probably just stalling, but he decided found the wait to be arousing in its own way, her pathetic sniffles while she looked around for any kind of way out kinda cute. She opened her mouth, closed it again, before finally finding her voice. “Should you be... doing this in your state? You nearly died, didn’t you? Aren’t there like... stitches?”
“Ha! Well, if you’re so concerned about that,” He lifted her up by her waist and set her on top of him as he sat down on the rug. grinning ear to ear as her legs squeezed around his waist. “why don’t you go ahead and do the work then. Doctor’s orders, apparently.”
“I- I just fell down the stairs, I-uhm.” She looked down, before visibly recoiling at the sight of his erection bulging through his shorts, instead choosing the ceiling as a safe space to stare. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can.” He encouraged. “If anything, isn’t that better for you? That way you can control exactly how fast it’ll all go down. I’m not sure whether you caught my drift, but I’m not exactly a gentle lover, so if you want things slow, you’re gonna have to do it yourself, sweetheart.”
“No, I mean-”
“I know what you mean, I’m just telling you it ain’t gonna happen.” Uvogin interrupted. “Now either you’re gonna ride me, or I will take things into my own hands. What’s it gonna be.”
Her hands curled into fists, her mouth opening and closing multiple times again. If he’d been any less into her, he might’ve grown impatient, but seeing her agonize over the ordeal was a show in its own right. No need to hurry it along.
She took a deep, shaky breath.
“I’ll do it.”
“Good girl.” He praised with the same grin spread across his face. He placed his hands behind his head and laid down, eager to see how she’d go about it. It took her three or four tries to will her hands fully towards his shorts, losing her nerve everytime she hitched her fingers just below the waistband. Heat radiated off her skin, and he could nearly see the steam exiting her ears as the mortification set in.
He didn’t help her as she realized that his shorts were tight, and would need more than just some gentle nudging to come off. She looked up at him, and the sight of her rising chest and nearly crying face was borderline obscene. He felt himself twitch as she very nervously began to speak again. “Uhm… the shorts… I can’t get them off?”
“Not a very promising start.” He said teasingly. “Can’t even get my pants off? How about I’ll help you out with that once you’re undressed yourself?”
He’d clap himself on his shoulder for that sentence, seeing as the reaction was ever so sweet. Her entire body straightened, a clear shiver rolling over her spine as she realized she had to go ahead and get naked for him now. She swallowed, before looking down and slowly taking off her top. She threw it somewhere across the living room, and he would’ve commended her on doing so quicker than he’d anticipated, if her lip hadn’t started wobbling as she reached behind to undo her bra clasps.
Ohhhh~
Could she be making this any harder?
“I’ll say this for your sake.” He said, a little breathlessly as her tits came into full view. “I’d hurry up if I were you, because if you go any slower than this I won’t hold back.”
“I’m trying.” She huffed, upset.
“Don’t talk. Makin’ it worse.” He reached forward and grabbed her face. Pulling it toward his own, the surprised noise she made was another moment in which he had to physically hold himself back. “Can you try being a little less hot right now?”
That seemed to burst her out of her anxiety. With her cheeks bunched up in his grip, her expression turned angry. “I’m crying, shaking and sweating. Sorry if me being upset at you forcing sex on me is too goddamn hot for you, asshole.”
Immediately after she finished speaking, her eyes widened, as if she couldn’t believe she’d said it.
“Ohh?” Uvogin let go and sat up, now looming over the little thing who was already regretting every choice she’d made until this point in life. His grin got wider, and he knew he looked as villainous as he felt. Excitement thrummed through his body as he deliberated how he’d respond to her words. “Anything else to add to that?”
With her mouth tightly pursed and her gaze very pointedly away from him, she shook her head.
“No, don’t get shy now.” He regretted not bringing his cellphone, knowing that if he’d photographed her right now, the picture would be a treasure for the rest of his life. He placed his hands on her thighs and squeezed slightly. “I like the whole pathetic display, I truly do, but if you wanna act all brave, I have no problem with that either.”
“...Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re completely right, it’s just a very stupid thing to say to a man who is deciding how to fuck you tonight.” He grabbed her chin and made her look forward again, repeating the motion twice when she immediately tried looking away again. “But I think I still want you to ride me. I think seeing that little bit of fight in you die out when you realize how good my cock will feel inside you is still the best play. But,” He squeezed her thigh so tightly she yelped in pain, and once again the bulge mere inches away from her clothed cunt twitched painfully. “If you decide to say something like that again, I have no problem with throwing you on the floor and showing you exactly what I get off to.”
She crossed her arms in front of herself, probably in an attempt to calm herself, but Uvo just appreciated the way her tits looked all bunched together. He could be patient, he had to be, but come hell or high water those breasts would be purple with hickeys in the morning. He wanted her to look at herself in the mirror tomorrow and see the proof of his actions all across her body.
He wanted her to wince when she stood up, and wobble about before realizing that even if she showered, combed her hair and brushed her teeth, the taste and feel of him wouldn’t disappear for a second. Not for a long, long while.
The thought made his patience run out a little again, and despite having said he’d wait for her to finish undressing, he hurried up and tore off the little skirt and panties hiding her cunt, the ripped fabric joining the new pile of clothing. He also pushed down his own shorts, letting his rock-hard cock jump up into view. It ached, and it took a lot of willpower not to lift her up and set her down on his dick, but he needed to see her lift herself up to push him in. He needed the image. It’d haunt him if he didn’t get to see.
“Well? C’mon.”
She frowned as she stared at his dick, and her disgruntled look could only be classified as cute in his book. Suddenly, the frown deepened and she suddenly looked a bit bashful as she blinked and turned her gaze up to look at him.
“Uhm… Shouldn’t…you, or we I guess, uhmm-” His impatience at her stalling was apparently quite apparent while she spoke, because she swallowed at seeing his heavy gaze on her. Still, he was curious what excuse she’d thought of this time, so he didn’t interrupt. If it was possible to grow even more embarrassed, she somehow managed, her eyes wide and her skin burning on his. “Use a condom?”
“Eh?” He raised an eyebrow. “What for?”
‘Well, uhm, I don’t wanna get pregnant?” If anything, that question had the opposite effect on Uvogin, who now looked down at her imagining just what that would look like. “And like…safety?”
He shrugged, the words being right on the tip of his tongue that he’d gotten himself fixed years ago due to not wanting kids and hating the feel of latex, before thinking better of it. He knew it’d be fine, but there was no reason for her to know that. Moreso, the mere idea that she was imagining him knocking her up was kind of doing it for him.
“How selfish of you.” He said. “And what if I do want to knock you up? Fill you up with a baby so you have a little souvenir of me? I think pregnancy would suit you, especially since those tits would fill up even more nicely.”
“Huh? That’s-” She seemed horrified at his response. “You’re horrible.”
“Don’t care, don’t care.” He leaned down to her ear and let one of his hands leave her thighs, instead wrapping around her ass to nudge her a tad forward, so she was a mere inch away from his cock, which had been angrily bobbing against her stomach for a while now. “Now, I won’t ask a single fucking time more.” It was a lie. He’d command it endlessly. He wasn’t switching gears now, too infested in the idea of her lowering herself onto his cock. “So get to it.”
After a soft bite to her earlobe, he let himself fall back again, putting his hands back behind his head.
Taking a deep breath, she steadied and raised herself. As she hovered right above his dick, her breath turned more erratic in her panic, and it took a lot before she squeezed her eyes shut and reached between her legs for his cock. Uvo knew he was massive, but the sight of his dick rubbing between her folds made even him doubt it would fit. Eh, it would. He’d get it to.
A drop of cum rolled off his cock and stained her hands as she held him and the squeak of surprise she made as she felt it only made more drops follow the first one’s lead.
“Do I really-” She stopped talking.
The answer was obvious.
Yes.
Yesyesyesyes.
After multiple unsuccessful attempts at pushing him in, she took another deep breath and finally managed to get him in the right place. He felt his tip disappear in a warm, soft cunt, saw the pained embarrassment on her face and resisted the urge to thrust up. He let out a long groan, the first bit of satisfaction after so much waiting. It only made him hunger for more. It’d be so easy, so so easy. He was already holding her thighs, he could just keep her in place and move his hips so his cock would slide in all the way. She’d yelp and cry and he’d get to laugh in her face.
Not yet… Not yet.
Having foregone any preparations made it much more difficult to lower herself onto him without significant pain, and while normally Uvogin would’ve opted to pull out just so he could stretch her out with his fingers and get a taste so she’d be ready, he’d already been patient for too long and wouldn’t stop now even if the police bust down the doors to her apartment. The world could crash, the house could be set on fire, but he’d have her.
“That’s it… That’s it.” He encouraged as she very slowly lowered herself, her hands at one point on his chest to steady herself. “Good girl.”
“Don’t say that.” She said breathlessly.
“Why? You don’t want my approval?” He laughed, wide eyes following the slow way her cunt sucked in his cock. Just a bit more, a little more. “Or are you scared you’ll grow to like me if I say shit like that.”
She was nearly halfway, the brunt of his dick being clamped by her warm cunt, and it was close to torture to not thrust up and finally get to filling her up. Sweat beaded down her forehead as she looked up at him in defiance. “I liked you when you were silent and bleeding out.”
Well.
So far for that plan.
With a roar, he grabbed her hips and pulled her down violently, sheathing himself inside her with one brutal thrust. She cried out in pain, her body folding forward in response to his action. Uvo raised her up again and brought her down, making sure the thrusts were as deep as could be. She felt warm, tight, and the noises she made.
“You little bitch.” He said, laughing loudly as he finally finally finally fucked her properly. “You wanted me to take over that bad?”
Her back arched as he hit her womb, his fingers making delicious dark bruises where they were digging into her skin. The first time he’d seen her popped into his mind as he used her, the sunflower earrings and bright beautiful smile, and he couldn’t believe he’d once thought himself capable of forgetting her. Such a sweet creature was begging to be ruined.
How he’d not immediately seen how fucking perfect she was for this was beyond him.
“Please- stop, that hurts-”
“I know.” He said, eyes burning with lust as he knew he would have her in every corner of this room before daybreak. He’d take every innocence she had left and corrupt it, fill her up with his cum from every hole she had, and he’d make her kiss him and profess her love for him in the same breath, all because he knew it’d kill her to do so. “Regret saving me yet?”
Even if she wanted to say anything, she couldn’t anymore, as she had to bite her own bottom lip just to silence her own whimpers and moans as he jackhammered away at her pussy. Uvo chuckled at the sight.
“You really should’ve let me die.” He taunted, merciless in his continued thrusting, the betrayal and tears in her eyes warming his very soul. “No good deed goes unpunished, huh?”
Hiiii, I have a request- could you do like jealous or after arguement smex- you can pick any sort of of storyline or any jjk character. (prefferbly a character like sukuna or toji because i feel like they'd be kind mean about it)
Tyy
𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oof, i think after an argument, sex w/kuna would go crazyyy (esp true form! like yikes)
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - fingering (f! receiving) - impact play (spanking + pussy slaps) - clitoral play (grinds, swipes, and pinches) - biting - pinching - degradation (bitch, whore) - monster-fucking (he got 2 dicks) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - backshots/doggy position - pet names ([little]dove, my wife, pet, woman) - multiple orgasms - mention of drool/spit and blood.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k
You dare avoid him? The King of Curses? Did the screws in your brain finally come loose, and now you’ve gone mad?
Ryōmen Sukuna rarely lets things slide. He is considered the top dog of the cursed Jujutsu world – he doesn’t find himself bowing down to things because things are supposed to bow to him. Anything and everything doesn’t go unnoticed under his gaze, as that’s the order of things that are supposed to happen.
And this philosophy doesn’t stop with you — his little dove.
Being engaged to a human spouse already raises flags of inconsistency. It isn’t rare for you and Sukuna to argue; the workers of the fortress where you reside can attest to this. The love is there, but Sukuna expects you to understand your standing in this marriage. You may be what he always keeps by his side. However, even you shouldn’t overstep him so carelessly.
Nonetheless, your humanness continues to poke him; your resilience is a thorn to your giant husband’s side. The more disagreements you clash with him, the bolder you’ve become in your standing, which makes the cursed man proud, albeit prefers it wasn’t directed towards him.
And now, after he puts his thunderous foot down and shuts you up with your bickering, you decide to be courageous enough to turn your back on him? Him? Your betrothed? He couldn’t believe what he saw; your expression molded to neutrality before you turned on your heel and headed somewhere away from him. And then you don’t respond when he calls out to you — the absolute nerve.
Oh, you knew Sukuna wasn’t the one to be daring with, especially when you think you can get the last laugh. So, it would be best if he corrected your foolishness.
“—Dahhh! Su’kunaa, stop! Let go—Ohhh!”
“Shut your mouth. Think you’re in any position to order me now, huh?”
He has you pinned to the tatami flooring, his upper hand on your head to keep your cheek printed on the mat despite your cries. The upper right hand has a good hold on your waist while his lower right hand grips your ankle to keep your legs spread. And with the lower left, he uses it to tease and toy with your chasm. The mouth of his chasm laps around your labia to lick the fluids that coat your slit while his middle and ring fingers grind on your sore clitoris.
This is your punishment: your husband reprimanding you as he gesticulates around your body. You can cry and holler all you want, squirm out of his hold when knowing your efforts are futile. He doesn’t care because he knows that he will make this point to you no matter what.
The tongue of his palm easily swallows your essence, pushing the muscle into your cunt to fuck you. You nearly choke on spit, sensing the considerable muscle swirl around your insides and graze your walls. “Mmph! Oh, fuck—Nnnm! Sukuna, no! I just came seconds ag—Oooh!”
“Do I care?” He raises his sole pink brow, four red eyes scanning your figure, writhing because of his touch. “You will cum however many times I say, my wife.” He draws out the last words to your ear, enjoying how small you appear under his massive shape.
He lives for your shrieks, your pitch going higher and higher with every flick of his tongue. Swiping your clit makes it harder to maintain balance, your resolve slipping through your fingers with every push and pull of the abnormal tongue.
“Hahhh, ahhhshit, shiiiit,” your eyebrows scrunch together, nails purchasing on the tatami mat beneath you, which you’re sure your scratches would cause damage. Again, not that your jerk of a spouse would care; he is probably getting a kick out of you losing your poise because of him. “Ooh, ‘Kunaa, y’re going too fast…Nnnn !”
“Oh? Does the dove think I’m going too fast?” Sukuna licks the helix of your ear tantalizingly slow, and you gasp when he bites it while the mouth of his palm sloppily kisses the entrance of your vagina. “You wish to cum again, woman?”
You nod hurriedly, his chuckle rumbling to the core of your heart. The hand on your waist comes up to smack your ass, denting the skin by piercing his fingertips. You howl in pain, “Yesss, I wanna cum again!”
“Hmph, no,” he removes his hand from your throbbing folds before slapping it; the abrupt action erupts a choked sob. Screams fly out at the pinch of his fingers on your delicate bud; the pain from your chasm stings, making your head pound. “You’re not some whore who gets to cum when they want; you’re mine, and cumming without my permission will get you into predicaments worse than this. Are we clear, pet?”
You had no choice in the matter, propping your ass up and your face down, forcing you to take his two cocks with both of your holes.
“Aiishhh, oh Lord, Shhlow down! I’m t’oo full…!”
“Mmnn, khheh, I bet you are, grippin’ on my cocks like a real bitch in heat…”
His lower hands keep hold of your hips, keeping you glued to his pelvis as he pistons his fat dicks into your ass and vagina. The tip brushes on your inner walls, and you mewl at every push as the girth stretches your caves. His upper hands keep you held down to the floor, submitting you to his robust stature that easily swallows your small frame.
Your face is still on the floor, drool trickling down your lips as ineligible babbles seep out. “Nnmahh, ahhaa…!” God, he puts so much strength on your poor body; the inability to move or move away from him keeps you immovable for him.
Sukuna’s pace is unforgiving, propelling himself into your leaky wetness with no remorse. The fact that he has you come two times already doesn’t concern him; if anything, it aids him in pushing to and fro from your tight cunt. He bites his lip from how your rear contracts around him—so snug for his dual limbs as if you’d milk him dry.
“Fsshoo, ohhmy Go—Daah!” A hand finds its way to the left wrist on your shoulder. “Ohh, ‘Kunaa!”
Your wails are broken when he bends down; the added weight is so lethal that you might end up being pressed and being one with the tatami mat. “Hmm? What is it, woman?”
“—Ahhck! Fuuuhuck, pleaseee, can I pwease cu–Uhhmm?!”
You make him snicker, pulling back his rhythm to implement slow yet harsh ruts to your openings while throwing a slap to your asscheek. “Why should I let you?”
A tear rolls down your hot cheek. “Pleasee, forg’ve me! I shouldn’t have…turned my back on you...”
Crimson eyes narrow while observing the way your ass quakes from his powerful pounds. Sukuna then comes to your shoulder to bite on your shoulder, and of course, you yelp bitterly. The sight of his canines drawing blood from his mark dials his excitement. “Say it properly, pet,” he purrs as he licks the wound on your shoulder.
“Mmmm! Suk’naa, my Lord…”
“Hmm?” He cups and squeezes your cheeks with his upper left for access to kiss your neck, and the lower left snakes down to play with your clit again. You gasp from the sensation of the tongue of his stomach licking your back, the colossal muscle having you arch like a cat.
Rubs on your pearl have you squeaking for him and eyes rolling upward— all desperate and aching for your release that you could break any moment. “Forgive me for stepping out of line...Hooooh, I wanna cum on yer cocks,” you admit while swaying your hips. “Please allow me to cum.”
“Depends,” you gulp at his quick answer. “This will be your only kind warning for this; if you dare do it again, don’t ever think of asking me.” Sukuna licks your cheek before he chews on the flesh, your breath halting at the graze of his fangs. “Understand?”
Your brave side takes over to turn to him meekly, watery eyes meeting his fierce red ones – a good move on your part. “Yess, my husband…”
❝AYY, FUCK YO IG, I PUT SOMETHIN' ON YO SONOGRAM— I'M THE MAN.ᐟ❞
─•──── FARMHAND!TOJI X BIMBO!READER
꥟ summary: farm au. you and toji can't keep your hands off each other since he first turned you out in the barn and he's determined to put a baby in you ASAP!
꥟ wc: 2088
꥟ a/n: I had to do something for my mans for his bday and I MADE it in my time zone at least (pst) FarmHand!Toji just comes so easy to me.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY TOJI.ᐟ
[ read p1: here ]
FarmHand!Toji who after the first time fucking you senseless in the barn can't keep his hands off of you. God, it's so hard for him to get any chores and shit done when your young tight cunny spreads so willingly for him.
Out in the pastures, the herd of cows block the distant view of the both of you from the farm. Making it the perfect location for Toji to freely fuck you sloppy like you've been pouting for all morning.
Wanting to tease his sweet lil' Bunny, Toji would have made you wait even longer (so he could do a bit of actual work) but you always kept him on his toes. You were so much of a brat you pushed limits with him constantly.
This time your achieve your naughty goal by flashing him your pantyless pussy.
"Whoops, must have forgot to put some on this morning! I'm so silly huh, Daddy?"
You bat your lashes and sway your jiggling hips so innocently. Like the hot sun wasn't glistening off the gooey slick drenching your puffy pussy lips —it was fucking obscene.
Obviously, Toji is hard instantly but you still needed to be taught a lesson and he'd yet to keep his promise of 'fucking some manners into your haughty cunt.'
You clearly still didn't know how to act.
What with his lil' Bunny skipping around the farm all morning bare assed and so nonchalantly too?
How many times does he have to remind you he'd kill someone over you?
No one else was allowed to see what belonged to him alone...
Jealous as hell, Toji angerily snatches you up as you squee in excitement finally getting what you'd been craving. Easily flipping you over, Toji's large muscular arms drapes you over the old wooden fence like you were a mere feather.
The fact that Toji was supposed to be patching up said fence, not causing further structural damage from how hard he was about to tear your ass up is not lost on him. He simply just can't bring himself to give a fuck at the moment, not when you get him so riled up like this.
Pushing your thin white sundress up your back, Toji doesn't even need to prepare you before he ruts into your heated core. Honestly, it didn't take Toji long at all to mold your pretty lil' pussy to the shape of his stocky girth. Your wet warm hole welcomes him back eagerly like it was his home. The pull of that creamy cunny of yours sucking him deeper to the hilt—even before his own hips could shealth himself fully inside—shit.
"That's a good girl bunny, that pussy opens up so good f'er me now, n'—HELL... She's just as fuckin' tight too."
Pistoning forward, Toji doesn't waste time with warming you up with slow strokes.
Not when you act out like this.
He knows once you get this way you are practically begging for him to pound you rough, deep and fast.
True to the nickname he bestowed you Bunny, you wanted him to fuck you stupid like one daily. Demanding Toji's hefty cock be plunged into your cunt during all hours of the day—especially at night.
Your slutty pussy was so hungry for his dick stretching her, you even foolishly volunteered the farm's security codes to Toji. Meaning he could slip not only in and out of your room at night —but the farm entirely. This was excellent for the illegal business he was forming under the cover of the farm.
Little risk of getting caught now too.
That old farmer slept like the dead and he'd been able to bribe the less than scrupulous night security workers.
Heh. Smuggling contraband in now was a breeze.
But in order for his plan to be put fully in motion he needed to knock you up quickly. Cumming in your quivering pussy 3-4 times a day was a necessity and Toji was more than up for the task.
He needed a baby in you yesterday.
And yet the way your greedy pussy hungered for him, strangling his length every time you came on his cock for the nth time made him think she secretly wanted to be a mommy too —you were the only one who didn't know that yet. You milked him so well like you were made for Toji to breed you —just waiting all this time for his nefarious ex-con cock to destroy you.
Toji grunts escalate as the old fence creaks and shakes from him brutishly bullying himself further into your guts. You moan deeply with every maddening thrust of his pelvis forcing his thick meaty cockhead to kiss your womb.
"Shiiit..Mmmm—OOOH!"
The rebound of your plump ass ripples against his pelvis and Toji thinks its his favorite sight in the world. Both hands on your hips, Toji digs crescents into your flesh as he drives him into you over and over, deeper and deeper. The vulgar noises of moist skin slapping echo from your bodies —bodies which only get hotter and wetter under the oppressive heat of the sun and it's all so intoxicating. Your chest heaves as you take desperate breathes, your lungs struggle to even expand with how roughly Toji plowing into you.
There's nothing you can do but dangle there and let Daddy Toji use you like he wanted—not that you would have it any other way, loving when his cock purees your mind into just as much of the sloppy mess as your pussy. Toji could tell by your cries too just how your ass liked to be ferally manhandled like you were one of these barn animals.
"Yeah that's right my slutty brat 'moo' louder f'er Daddy while ya squirt on his cock. Ya wanna let this whole farm know who's making you feel this good, huh ma?"
You whine at Toji likening your pleasure filled sobs to that of cow noises but you're needy 'lil cunny only squeezes him tighter —just as he knew she would. Toji knows how much you like him talking crazy to you when he's fucking you six ways to Sunday, balls smacking your clit.
Thankfully no one could actually hear you from way out here. Meaning he was free to spew all kinds of nasty shit into your ear drawing even more slobber from your swollen pussy lips. It only made you hotter on the inside your mind only focusing on his debased dirty talk and the drag of his cock against your g-spot —Toji was hitting it perfectly from this angle.
"Ya know ya fuckin' suck at milking cows but this juicy pussy? She sure knows how t'milk a cock like its 'er job."
And it would be your job too if Toji had any say. Fuck going back to school at the end of summer and fuck getting a career. You didn't need to do anything but lay on your back and let Toji do the rest. Heh, you wouldn't be able to do much else but be on your back once you started growing his kids inside you anyway. He'd keep you nice n fucked out to the point you'd almost stay pregnant.
Spanking your ass harshly, the sting fills fresh tears on your already bleary eyes. You squeak between your pitchy moans as your pussy weeps so much of your arousal around your sex and down your thighs the squelchy gurgles of your creamy cunt are heard throughout the field.
"S'gudddd Daddy! HAH—HARDER!!"
You really are the perfect slut for him. Wanting him to go harder?
Could you even handle that?
As your reward Toji gifts you another spank, shaking the fence entirely now as it sways on its exposed hinges. It's a miracle it's still standing.
But Toji was determined to have you all for himself, to have everything —you, the farm, a wife —to bring Megumi here away from his twisted ass family so you could be the mother he never had. Thoughts of domesticating you makes him want to bust in you even more as he chases his release.
Wrapping an arm around your middle Toji lifts you so he can thumb at your clit. The rough pad of his thickest digit scrapes over your bud sending rapid tingles through your body that has drool pouring out of your mouth and cunt.
"Daddy's gonna put his milk in y'er tummy, yeah Bunny? Tell me ya want it slutty mama —beg me f'er it."
But you can't beg, you can't do anything but ride the rapturous wave of pleasure radiating from your core as you squirt on his cock like a good Bunny. Your orgasm following soon after with enough force from erratic rhythm of spasms in your walls to make Toji spurt is scorching seed inside you. Filling your womb as you purr from the sensation.
Toji bites harshly down on your shoulder —another mark you'd have to hide from your uncle —who thought you were just a rather clumsy girl getting so many marks on you from your farm chores.
Slicked in sweat and your gushy pussy's fluids Toji slumps forward still inside you, his entire weight bearing down on you.
"T-Tojiiiii!"
You whine in that pretty, utterly angelic way Toji usually can't resist but he had to keep his cock plugged in you a bit longer if he wanted a baby in you by the end of the month. He eases up a bit though, rubbing your sore ass cheeks and murmuring something about 'when he finally gets to use your ass' as his thumb ghosts aimlessly over your puckered hole.
When Toji finally pulls out of you, you're barely standing. Slumping your elbows on the fence, your hips went a bit numb from being folded like a pancake over the rough wood fence with a big man like Toji putting his weight on you.
Truthfully, Toji didn't even want to pull out. He could go a few more but you need to get back to the farm soon before your uncle came around looking. He'd question you if you kept missing lunch everything.
As if you could read Toji's thoughts you pipe up, voice a bit hoarse already from all your moaning.
"I told my uncle I'd probably walk to the lake again today. So he won't be expecting me back until the evening, you know..."
After enough feeling returns to your lower body you push off the fence and prance over to a nearby tree at the edge of the clearing. Pulling off your dress fully you lay it down on the lush green grass in the shade. Fully nude, the sun peeks through the shade's leaves, decorating your skin in its shadowed rays.
You stretch like a cat on your makeshift dress-blanket. Spreading your legs wide and arching, you gaze over to Toji from under your babydoll lashes. He's already on his way over to you.
"Looks like I'm your lunch today Daddy... c'mon n' eat me up before I get cold."
Oh you didn't know what you fucking did to him... or maybe you did?
You were clever sure but all reason flew out the window when it came to Toji from the minute he first jammed his cock into your lewd sappy cunt.
Heh, you wanted FarmHand!Toji to ruin you? Well little did you know that's exactly what he planned to do anyway— trap you, and ruin your life and that pussy of yours at the same time.
꥟
Back on farm an old dusty white bus stops at the gate.
A lone prisoner exits, a man accused of being a serial killer— 27 victims all skinned and gutted mercilessly like fish in under two years.
However, the man has always protested his innocence.
The evidence at best was circumstantial, with a conviction based solely off of a lone witness who was later proven to be unreliable. As a result the appeal of his life sentence is currently in process, much to the excitement and anger, respectfully, of both his many supporters and detractors.
Yet the way his P.O. comically cowers is a stark contrast to the vibe of the prisoner. The tall, well built convict appears calm, somber even.
This was really the man that killed 27 people?
His eyes survey his surroundings with the hesitant curiosity of a puppy—nothing like the dangerous threat the courts or his P.O. make him out to be. Handed over into your uncle's care, the flighty P.O. quickly gets back on the bus, signalling the driver to get ghost quickly as if your uncle would change his mind at the last minute.
Your uncle on the other hand isn't intimidated at all by the notorious, supposedly innocent, pigtailed cold blooded killer.
"Welcome to the farm, son. Like I tell everyone, just do as your told and stay outta trouble —you'll do fine I reckon. Don't fuck this up now, boy. In your case especially, this is the chance to prove yourself worthy of an appeal or its back to solitary for life Choso Kamo."
꥟ a/n: oh hehe, i wonder what will come of toji's plan now that Farmhand!Choso has arrived 😈😩? Also y'all think he's innocent or guilty? 💕🤭 tysm for reading!
lol idk if i end up writing more of this but this is my no pressure, for fun project (i whipped this up in like 3 hrs so whether i will or when it will come out i can't say~ i already have sm on my plate but farmhand!toji is special to meee and its his bday so had to run it back on him. i may come back edit this since i was rushing sorry for any mistakes!
reblogs and comments appreciated!
My Sweetest Heart: Yandere! Fushiguro Toji x Reader
Description: You have a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.
Part 2 here
Part 3 here
Part 4 here
Part 5 here
Masterlist
Trigger Warnings: nsfw, yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, AFAB reader, toxic behavior, stalking, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), alternative universe (no curses), daddy kink, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s)
A/N: hello! this is my first time posting anything here. if anyone reads this, i hope you enjoy. if you do, i might continue it :)
Not edited!
You were uncertain how you ended up with your legs on each side of your head as this beast of a man you didn’t even know thrust deeply into you. You weren’t even aware you were this flexible before this. However, you weren’t complaining as you felt the tip of his thick, hard member collide with your g-spot repeatedly. He had made you reach your peak three times by now and it was evident that stopping wasn’t in his plans. His grunts and moans only fueled your horniness, hearing a man make some noise during intimacy could rile any woman up.
“This tight lil’ pussy is driving me crazy, sweetheart. Fuck— you gonna let me feel you come on me again? Lemme feel you flutter around my cock, baby, please.” He begged into your ear, his low, raspy voice sending waves of pleasure all over your body. This man knew what he was doing to you.
You moaned loudly, feeling his dick twitch inside you. “I need it, Toji! Don’t fucking stop!”
“That’s right. Say my fuckin’ name, baby. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.” You thought this to be impossible, but he started drilling you harder, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull and forcing you to succumb into the delightful sensation that his large prick brought you. The room was filled with the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass repeatedly, your juices pooling on the sheets of the bed. It didn’t take long for your pussy to clench around his dick, announcing the arrival of your orgasm.
“Oh fuck! I’m gonna— I’m g-gonna come, Toji!” You gasped as you squeezed his cock, making him shudder. You were forcing him to come.
“Holy s-shit.” He cursed as you milked his cock. Long, thick spurts of semen started painting your walls white, making your combined juices overflow from your abused hole. He stilled inside your pussy as he finished riding his high, laying his head on your breasts once he was done.
You thought it was over, until you felt him starting to suckled on your nipples.
“Lemme take you again, sweetheart.” He groaned, his voice muffled by your breasts. Jesus, does this man have unlimited energy? He flipped you over onto your stomach on a swift motion, as if you weighed nothing to him. Somehow, you still had enough strength to keep yourself up on your hands and knees. He spread your ass cheeks open and watched as his seed dripped out of your cunt slowly, like it was seducing him into sliding himself inside you once more. He hissed, feeling his dick get painfully hard again.
“Gods, what a beautiful sight.” Toji grasped his shaft, stroking it a few times before pressing the tip against your entrance, forcing a moan out of you. “You want it, you slut? Wanna feel daddy’s dick splitting you open again?”
You weren’t experienced with men.
In fact, this was your very first one night stand. You wanted to experience for once in your life what it meant to be free and to have control over your own body, so when you saw Toji looking directly at you from across the bar, you knew he was going to be the one fucking your brains out tonight.
You had decided to go out with your girl friends to decompress from work when one of them pointed out the dark haired, exquisite looking man that had been staring at you the entire night. You didn’t know if it was the fact that a man that looked like that had been eyeing you up this whole time or if you were just tipsy, but you got a sudden burst of confidence that pushed you to go talk to him.
He seemed extremely pleased you approached him, excited even. He was noticeably older than you, but not old enough to be your father. You had never paid much attention to men his age, but something about this absolute hunk of a man pulled you to him. Looking at him up close made you nervous, the confidence you felt earlier, slowly turning into shyness. This man was definitely the most handsome man you’ve laid your eyes on. Judging by the smirk on his face he enjoyed your shyness. He thought it was cute.
To your surprise you had a very fluid, enjoyable conversation. He knew how to have a good time. You could feel a sincere interest coming from him, he wanted to get to truly know you, asking you questions about yourself, your likes, your hobbies and your life in general.
It was a shame you only wanted to fuck him.
At this point of your life you weren’t looking for a relationship. You had just gotten out of a five year relationship with your first ever boyfriend a few months ago and you simply weren’t ready to get into another commitment just yet. You had been with you first boyfriend since you were teenagers and you never got to explore what it felt like to be young and single. You wanted to learn how to be alone.
So you cut Toji short politely inviting him over to your place and he didn’t even hesitate to agree.
This is how to ended up with this man pounding you sore pussy from behind like a madman.
You moaned wantonly as he spanked your ass red, your ass jiggled with each harsh thrust. “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good, baby. The bes’ one I’ve ever felt.” Toji was so pussy drunk, he could barely form words.
You looked over your shoulder wanting to see his expression and god was the sight gorgeous. His mouth hanging open and his brows furrowed, his body dripping with sweat. Then he opened his eyes and looked directly into yours. You both had the same expression.
“Oh, don’t you give me that slutty face. I’m not gonna last.” Toji grunted, delivering another slap to your ass. You smirked and let out a moan as you started pushing your ass towards him, trying to meet his thrusts. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you.
“You fuckin’ whore. You want me to fill you up with my cum again don’t you?” He said between a moan and a chuckle. “Tell me you want it, baby.”
“I want it so bad, daddy. Please empty your balls inside me!” Your fifth orgasm was approaching as well.
“Take it!” He bottomed out releasing his seed straight into your womb, making you scream as your own orgasm took over squirting all over his crotch and thighs. Your legs finally giving up as you crashed onto the bed.
Toji pulled out slowly, groaning at the sensitivity. He laid down besides you, admiring your sweaty, red face. He thought you looked the most beautiful like this. “How about we take a shower together, sweetheart?”
So you did and you let him spend the night.
After all, how bad could it be?
The next morning you woke up with a pair of strong arms wrapped around you. You almost got scared until you remembered what happened last night, you could not believe you actually had sex with a stranger. You covered your mouth as you giggled quietly in disbelief. You knew this wasn’t going to become something frequent, you weren’t the type to sleep around, but you had to admit it had been a great experience and you were glad it had been with a man as experienced as Toji. It probably wouldn’t have worked out as well if it wasn’t for him, so you had to give him some credit.
Speaking of which, you could feel Toji stirring awake. You turned around to look at him and you were received with a sleepy smile. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”
“Morning.” You replied back feeling your shyness take over.
“Don’t get shy with me now, I saw your entire being last night.” He joked, giving your cheek a sweet kiss. Are men usually this affectionate after causal sex?
You blushed from embarrassment, he really did see your entire being. You started to get up, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing your arm. “Where you going so early, baby? Let me keep you warm for a little longer.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Toji. If I don’t get up now, I’m gonna be late for work!” You answered giving him a courteous smile. You weren’t certain why he was being so doting, you didn’t know if this was normal behavior after a one night stand. What you did know was that, that’s all you wanted it to be. Simply a night of good, casual sex with a hot guy you met at a bar. A man you would never have to see again and to you it was safe to assume that Toji was the type of man looking for the same thing as you.
“I see. Well, maybe we could grab some coffee and I can drop you off at work. How does that sound?”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Lunch?” He insisted.
“Toji—“ He cuts you off by pressing his scarred lips to yours, tangling his fingers with your hair.
He pulled away, his finger still holding your hair. “Baby, don’t worry. Just give me your number and we can schedule something for when you’re available.”
You felt odd. How can you get out of this situation? You hated this, you’ve never been in a position like this before. You felt helpless as you hesitantly agreed to give him your number. The weirdest part being that he never let go of your hair until you entered you contact information into his phone. It felt threatening in a way, even if his grip on you was loose.
He let go of your hair when you handed him his phone back. “Perfect. Let me just call you real quick so you can save my number.” Good thing you didn’t give him a fake number. “I’ll get going then. I’ll text you later, sweetheart.” Toji smirked, pecking your lips before walking out of them room.
You let out a sigh of relief once you heard your front door slam closed. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until now. You were feeling exasperated, you were already praying he never contacted you.
Maybe last night was a mistake.
Toji was a troubled man. He knew it. The people around him knew it.
They say no one is born evil, but from the moment he gained conscious he doesn’t remember a moment when he was truly good and quite frankly, he preferred it stayed that way. He had been raised around pain and suffering. He was brought into this world to become an assassin from a young age. He was brought to inflict nothing but agony and that’s all he knew how to do. He doesn’t remember a single moment of happiness from his early childhood to his adult life. He was made to believe he didn’t deserved love and he believe it because he never did anything worthy of it. He knew he wasn’t a good man.
He knew he wasn’t a good man and that’s why he didn’t feel guilty about all the times he followed you as you walked back to your place from work.
The moment he laid his eyes on you, something changed deep within him. There was a feeling he’d never felt before and it felt… good?
You first saw Toji at that bar, but Toji?
Oh, Toji first saw you at least two months before that.
Rain was pouring over him, but he could care less because what he was witnessing right now was perhaps the most breathtaking, heart-bursting sight in his entire existence. It was you. The answer to all his problems just walked past him in the torrential rain. He was amazed that not even the rain could conceal your beautiful face, he could see it perfectly clear. You were wearing some type of uniform that clung to your body thanks to the weather. Toji couldn’t help but admire the shape of your body, instantly getting hard at the sight of your nipples hardening from the cold rain under your white shirt. You had only walked by him for a few seconds, but to him it felt like an eternity. It was almost as if you were walking in slow motion. In spite of being distracted by your beauty, he was still an extremely observant man and was able to descry the name of the company you worked for on the logo planted on your shirt.
Toji wasn’t a good man. That’s why he stalks you any time he can, to him he’s just making sure you’re safe. That’s why loves breaking into your place and stealing your clothes and anything he can get his hands on that will make him feel closer to you. He particularly loves laying on your bed and smelling your sheets, your scent was simply divine. That’s why he tugs on his cock any time he caught sight of you. That’s why he would drag any man that dared approach you —hell, even look at you— to an empty alley and beat them to a pulp without a care for their sorry lives. He was an assassin, it’s all he knew how to do.
Toji wasn’t a good man, but he wanted to be for you.
He couldn’t stand hiding behind your shadow any longer, he was growing desperate. He felt pathetic, this feeling was alien to him and he hated it. He needed you to notice him.
Imagine his luck when he saw you walk into the bar that night. Toji was over the moon. Both of you were finally at the same place at the same time and he didn’t even need to fake a scenario for it to occur.
Toji was having an internal battle with himself, trying to find a way to approach you where you wouldn’t find him creepy. You were with your friends which made it harder for him to come up with a way to swoop you away. He never had trouble getting any woman to bed him, but you weren’t just any woman. You were special to him. He wanted to keep you, provide for you, protect you, love you.
He didn’t realize how long he had been staring at you until he noticed one of your friends point him out. He freaked out internally until he saw you move your gaze towards him and he swore his heart could come out through his mouth at any moment. This was the first time he ever made eye contact with you and he couldn’t wait to hold your gaze for the rest of your lives. To his surprise, you smiled at him.
He observed as you whispered something to your friend before standing up.
You were walking towards him.
All this time thinking about how to approach you and now you were coming to him.
That night he had the best time he’s had in his life. Getting to talk to you, look at you up close was indescribable to him. Although he wished he could’ve spoken to you more, he didn’t mind how the night ended at all. Getting to enjoy your delicious little body was the best part of it. He gave you his all. He wanted to make sure you were ruined for any other man, he wanted you to only think of him from that night forward.
He really thought he had achieved that.
But the next morning you were so cold to him it broke his heart to a million pieces.
But that’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll win your heart over. ♥︎
boyfriend!Toji who swears he’s out of the game. he’s done the thing, got married and had a kid—when he starts dating you he promises himself it’s for companionship purposes only. he’s a lonely old man; he wants someone to fuck on, someone to kiss at night, someone to fill a certain void he’s got trouble placing let alone admitting to himself. you make him feel young and hot—the way your fingers creep up the faint trail of hair on his toned stomach, the way you lick his pecs and suck on his nipples and draw sounds out of him he’s not sure he’s ever heard before; you beg to ride his toned abs, beg to hump his muscular thigh, beg to squeeze his big ol’ tittes because the more of him to love, the better. not soon enough, it seems, it’s you begging him to fuck his fat load into you with his even fatter cock—you’ve got your hands on his abdomen, his hips, his chest, not pushing him away but pulling him ever closer, wanting to feel him, more, more, more; you want as much of him as you can get.
only when he’s fiancé!Toji does he really realize what you’re doing—you’ve done some sort of witchcraft on him. you’ve had to. no matter how much he hits the gym, he’s filling out in ways he never thought he would. you notice, too—but it doesn’t seem to bother you. quite the opposite, actually. when he turns to the side in the mirror, analyzing his gut—all the beer must finally be catching up to him, or maybe it’s your cooking—you just wrap yourself around him and dig your fingers into the layer of plush forming around his waist. the pretty little rock he put on your finger glints in the mirror and steals his attention for a second until you’re burying your face in his shoulder, your hands dancing beneath the waistline of his sweatpants—beneath his tummy—to tease the thick bush you insisted he stop grooming so vigilantly because you don’t mind, you had said with a hint of something else behind your coy smile. you hum as you take in his smell, grin as his cock twitches to life between your fingers, laugh a little when his back arches the slightest bit into you.
husband!Toji’s aware of what you’ve done, but he loves you too damn much to care. all of his musculature is soft and full, no longer hard and sinewy, and he’s never clean-shaven. you even implored him to let the tuft of hair on his chest—the one he was so unsure about—sprawl across his (now squishy) pecs and you just bask in him. you take your time with your husband—you bite the stretch marks on his biceps from his years of training, now cracking further, prettier, pinker under your hand. you grab on his lovehandles while you ride him—there’s far more room to dig your signature in with your nails after you’ve fed him so well. you bury your nose in the thick happy trail on his cute, round stomach before you suck him, seemingly worshipping every hair on his pelvis prior to taking him in your mouth. his fat balls seem bigger, saggier—you love fitting your lips around them, hearing him croon and call you dollface. his thighs, still strong but fluffier with both hair and chub, squeeze your head so lovingly when you go down on him; you squeeze them back with just as much adoration.
it’s no wonder Toji let you pull him off the bench. not only does he still feel young and hot, despite everything he thought would go out the window the second you started making him pasta in exchange for your orgasms and begging him to stay home and cuddle instead of going to hit arms—he feels okay with getting old, because you still think he’s the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on as long as you’ve got all of him to love.
TW: kidnapping, possessiveness, mentions of stalking, mentions of masturbation, allusions to somnophilia, Stockholm Syndrome, emotional manipulation, Ko uses you as his emotional support system, delusional behavior, nonconsensual physical affection/touch, vague allusions to non-con, mentions of physical abuse, Kotarou is extremely emotionally needy and physically touchy and just generally quite a handful, mentions of insecurity, fem reader, MDNI
I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!
WC: 11K
DARLING PROFILE:
Introverted
Koutarou is a lot. He knows it, his team knows it, hell, the entire league knows it.
His energy is difficult to match; he’s a ray of sunshine, blinding yet impossible to look away from, someone with boundless amounts of energy, someone friendly and extraverted to an almost extreme.
Because he is so rambunctious and loud, he would actually really enjoy a partner who mellows him out a bit more, someone who isn’t constantly hyper and talkative and wanting to spend hours on end with other people.
He works well with Akaashi; who is quiet, calm and not as talkative, and his darling would likely reflect that in many ways – the serenity, the sense of peace and calmness, the idea that they aren’t constantly jumping with energy, constantly bursting at the seams to go do something.
Ideally though, he’d enjoy a partner who is still willing to talk, who’s willing to indulge him in conversation and compliment him and give him that adorable smile, just not a social butterfly like himself. It makes him feel privileged, special because his darling wants to speak to him, that they’re using their precious social battery on him him him.
He’s in awe that they start conversations with him; his darling, who so often doesn’t utter a word around crazy people such as himself, who sees someone as hyper as him and immediately run for the hills.
It makes his ego flare, and he can’t deny how adorable they are when they get embarrassed at his attention, when they roll their eyes and shove his shoulder lightly, when they freeze and cower as he loudly proclaims his love for them in the middle of the movie theater and everyone looks over.
He loves it, and it’s a nice bonus that it cuts down his competition - less dirty work for him, something Koutarou is very thankful for.
Creative
Volleyball is Kotarou’s life, and as a result he hasn’t had much time to explore anything outside of it. He’s never really tried his hand at painting, playing an instrument, baking, or really any other hobby.
And of course he loves the sport dearly, but there’s something alluring to the idea of a darling that’s invested in something so completely different from himself.
It doesn’t matter what the hobby is - cooking, drawing, writing, singing, it could be anything at all.
But once Kotarou finds out his darling enjoys it, suddenly he becomes obsessed with it, wanting to learn as much as he can and hone as many talents within it as possible. In his eyes, everything his darling does is perfect, so the thing that they love most (aside from him, of course) must be amazing, right? It must be worth his time to learn about it and become familiar with it, if only just to impress his darling, if only just to share even a scrap of the love they feel for it.
He’ll beg and pester his darling to teach him, constantly asking questions and carefully watching their answers.
Because rally, while Kotarou develops an interest in the activity because of his darling’s love, he also becomes familiar with the hobby because he lives for the way their eyes light up when they’re concentrating. They look absolutely gorgeous, even more beautiful than normal, something sparkling in their eyes.
His knees grow weak when he sees them biting their lip or sticking out their tongue in concentration, his feelings only growing ten-fold and becoming stronger because it’s just so incredibly endearing that his darling has something they love enough to be this devoted.
They get this ethereal glow about them and Kotarou genuinely can’t take his eyes off of them when they’re in that mode.
And so instead of listening to their instructions, he finds himself drifting into fantasies of them finally getting that glow and radiance when thinking about him. It’s what fuels him, what gives him energy.
He just wants his darling to adore him in the way that he adores them.
Nurturing
If his darling is anything, they have to be supportive.
Poor Kotarou is in constant need of reassurance, and his darling has to be willing to put up with that. They have to be willing to deal with the emotional labor of constantly praising him, of telling him wonderfully talented he is, how funny, how charming, how handsome, any and all compliments they can think of.
Their kind words go straight to his heart, making his body feel fuzzy and warm, an unstoppable grin stretches across his face and his words excited as he asks them really? Are you sure?
He’s overwhelmed by the idea of his darling thinking such thoughts about him - they think he’s strong? They think he’s talented? They think he’s amazing?
Needless to say, a few simple words of praise from his darling are enough to get Kotarou’s entire mood shifting, his metaphoric feathers ruffling and a pleasant, gooey feeling in his heart making him feel lighter than air because oh, they think he’s attractive and fun to be around?
He loves how easily they’re able to make him feel good about himself, and he can only hope to return the favor.
As a result, he’ll compliment his darling often, completely out of the blue and about odd, but strangely endearing things. He just wants them to feel how good they make him feel, and he’ll do anything to get them there.
Competitive
While his darling needs to be someone capable of spilling praise at a moment’s notice, Kotarou also finds himself attracted to those who has a healthy sense of competition in life.
As a professional athlete, he takes competition very seriously, and is also the type to find that a bit of competition is the perfect thing to spice up a relationship. He loves the idea of having a friendly rivalry with his darling – perhaps at something entirely stupid, like mini-golf or slugbugging or something equally childish.
Regardless, he likes the idea of his darling and him being playful together, of having someone he can establish that teasing rapport with. Besides, while he can sometimes be a bit of an emotional wreck, Kotarou finds emotional intelligence extremely attractive.
Thus, having a partner that’s capable of gracefully winning and losing is wildly attractive to him – they’re able to regulate themselves and put others’ thoughts and feelings into perspective.
He cares too much about other people to have a darling with little to no awareness of others’ feelings, and to have a darling that manages to merge in this awareness alongside a healthy appetite for competition and teasing?
Well, Kotarou finds himself falling hard and fast, loving the idea of a darling who’s so mature yet so wonderfully immature – perfect for someone like him.
(And, though he isn’t consciously thinking about it, perfect for a mother – he won’t explicitly bring up the topic of marriage and children, but he enters every relationship with the thought in mind, always hopeful that perhaps he’s finally found the right woman. And lucky him, he has – his wonderful, wonderful darling.)
GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:
Clingy
He’s naturally quite affectionate with those around him, for better or worse. He’s always looking for someone to talk to, hang out with, goof around with, and once his feelings for you form, so lovely and horrible and overwhelming, this trait is only amplified.
It only increases monumentally with the absolute need to constantly be around you, to have your attention solely on him because god, seeing your pretty eyes focused on him makes his heart race so fast he thinks he’s dying.
He wants you to be looking at him at all times, thinking about him every minute of the day, be craving him as much as he craves you. He wants you to daydream about him smiling at you, making you bite your lip and stare at the ground while you fight back a flustered, school-girl-esque grin because god, isn’t he just so dreamy?
He wants you to be fantasizing about hugging him, feeling his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your body while he nuzzles into your neck, whispering your name in a hoarse voice that gets you shivering and nudging your thighs together because fuck, how can anyone sound that good?
Honestly, the idea of you thinking of him is enough to have him grinning with his eyes squeezed shut, a slight flush on his cheeks as he pumps his fist and lets out a victorious laugh.
(There have been quite a few instances of you patting him on the back, albeit awkwardly, to which he responded with a resounding hey, hey, hey! that sounded much too close to a moan and raised his fist to the sky – you’ve never understood why his voice gets all high and shaky like that, but somehow it seems you’d rather not know the answer.)
He thrives on your physical touch, your sweet words and glossy eyes staying fixed on him, and you’ll quickly notice how Koutarou always seems to just be around, how those golden eyes never really seem to leave, his gray and black hair standing out in your peripheral, followed shortly by a cheerful yell of your name and a bone crushing hug that makes you wheeze and shiver as you realize there’s something pressing into your thigh, oh god why is he hard and nuzzling his face into your neck and is he sighing?
It’s almost flattering at first – not expected, but sweet that he seems to feel so close to you, until it’s happening every day, every time he sees you – he’s always hugging you, holding your hand, ruffling your hair, calling you so cute, isn’t she Akaashi? Makes me wanna eat her right up!
It’s endearing and you’ll be flattered that a famous, attractive professional athlete is so obviously interested in you, but it becomes less and less endearing as time passes. It becomes less cute when he’s making some offhand comment about how you must’ve changed your shampoo – he distinctly remembers your hair smelling like strawberries, and now it has more of a lavender scent; but don’t worry, you smell great either way, cutie!
It becomes less flattering as he tells you while you’re being forced to sit in his lap as the team puts up the volleyball nets that you seemed like you were hesitant to come to practice with me today – is there something I don’t know about? Are you seeing someone else? What aren’t you telling me? It’s not nice to keep secrets from boyfriends, you know.
Quickly you’ll come to realize that Kotarou’s level of dependence on you is completely unwarranted for how close your relationship really is, but there isn’t much you can say to change this fact – he’s clingy, he needs your affection and attention, and when you ask Akaashi or Atsumu about it, about why he seems so needy and so obsessed with you, they’ll both write it off as Bokuto and his fleeting feelings, just his childish nature at work.
And when you try to confront him about it, to tell him that you’re uncomfortable with him suddenly springing up on you from behind, pinning you against a desk with his body looming over you while he inhales deeply and whispers about how pretty you look in your new skirt, he’ll just frown, pouting down at you while he whines about how he isn’t trying to be weird, that he just wants to show you how much he cares, how much he loves you.
He’ll only lean more weight on you, hug you tighter and whisper about how he knows you want this just as bad as he does, that it’s only normal for boyfriends to want to touch their girlfriends, to want to spend time with them and hear their compliments and care for each other.
It’s natural, he explains, to be always by your side, for you to never leave his field of vision – which is why you’ll find yourself coming to most MSBY practices and games decked out in the #12 spare jersey he not so subtly demanded you wear (that still very much has the fresh scent of a recent workout in it – something about pheromones and marking you, Kotarou had explained, with words too quick and slurred for you to really understand).
You’ll find yourself spending most of your meals either by his side or in his lap (trying to ignore the way a certain hardness presses against your ass if you move too much, if you’re squirmin’ so much cutiepie, you okay?).
You’ll be walked home everyday from your job and convinced to spend the evening with him, though he spends more time staring at you than watching the movie you’d thrown on.
And really, you can tell yourself every day that you’ll finally stand up to him, that you’ll finally end this bizarre, possessive behavior coming from a man you aren’t even dating, but each time you bring it up, those soft golden eyes will have you feeling like you’re kicking a puppy, his entire aura being shut down in a heartbeat at your stuttered I-I think we need to take some time apart…
Kotarou isn’t doing it on purpose, but you’ll be extremely hard pressed to ever really change the way he acts around you – it makes you feel too guilty, like you’re spinning the situation into so much more than it really is.
So, when you bite your lip and shake your head, giving him a shaky smile and telling him that you changed your mind, he’s beaming and letting out a cheer and scooping you into his arms to swing you around in circles, despite your demands that you must be too heavy to carry, that he’s making such a scene and the entire restaurant is staring and god, he just loves you so much, he knew you were meant for him and your acceptance only proves this!
It’s not so big a deal, right? Kotarou is mostly harmless, doesn’t mean anything weird by his touchiness, his desperation to be with you, right? It’s just a short term thing, soon his attention will move on, right?
Possessive
Kotarou, while incredibly empathetic and intuitive to other peoples’ emotions, does not handle his own especially well.
He’s terrible at stopping himself from having extreme highs and lows over the pettiest things, and this doesn’t stop at just volleyball, at just his normal life – no, his love for you is most definitely affected by this as well. Namely, in the form of jealousy; he’s a firm believer in faithfulness and loyalty, in the idea that you have one and only one partner, that they should be enough for you and that other men and women are essentially just background noise for the real one, the one that makes your heart race, your palms sweat and a lovely sort of nervousness to grow in the pit of your stomach.
He’s always believed in this, and once his infatuation with you forms, this philosophy most certainly doesn’t change; if anything, he clings onto the idea with frantic fingers, clutching at the concept of you looking at no one else for any reason whatsoever.
He’s plagued with the fear that someone will try and interfere with your relationship, that someone will come along and try and tear the two of you apart – he’s terrified of losing you, of losing who he genuinely believes to be his true love to some other man, to some other loser who decided you were pretty and would be a fun catch.
Kotarou is self-aware enough to know that he isn’t the ideal man, that you likely don’t love his mood swings, his habits of switching emotions quicker than you can likely keep up. He knows this, which is why it makes it so much more painful when that coworker of yours starts talking to you more, looking at you with such light and happy eyes, staring at you with what Kotarou is absolutely sure is a blush on his cheeks, when he’s leaning in way too much.
His possessiveness flares up especially in his sadder moments – when he’s already spiraling into a fit of self-doubt, it’s easy to read too far into any situation in which your gaze flickers over to another guy, easy to over examine the way you quickly apologize after bumping into a player on the opposite team in the hallway.
It’s so fucking easy to feel like his place as your rightful partner, as your lover and boyfriend and future husband is being threatened when he sees literally anyone approach you – because really, Kotarou can’t help but wonder if you’d like them more, if maybe you’re only nice to him and letting him hug you, compliment you, and everything else because you feel sorry for him, because you’re pitying him.
And it’s those thoughts that drive him to march up to you and pull you into his chest, to press your ear against his heart while he buries his face in your hair, tears streaming down his cheeks as he asks in a whisper if he’s still enough, if you’ve found someone else, if you even really love him.
And really, as disarming and disorienting as it is, there’s some part of you that will feel bad for him, that will want to comfort this man so obviously in need of praise, so obviously in need of someone to tell him that yes, he’s enough, yes you love him and you’ll always love him.
Even if it’s not true – even if it’s just something you’re saying out of a misplaced sense of guilt, even if it’s something you’ll find yourself horribly regretting the deeper into delusion Kotarou sinks. And so, as you promise that you do in fact want him, that you need him as badly as he needs you and that you’ll never, ever leave him, Kotarou slowly begins to relax, melting into your arms and trying to calm his ragged breaths, the racing of his heart, the tears flowing down his cheeks.
It’s difficult, but as he pulls back and sees your confused, beautiful fucking face, a small smile makes its way onto his lips, the knowledge that you’ll never leave him ringing in his head. Because really, how could he ever ask for anything more?
All he needs is you you you, and now that you’ve promised him, he’ll hold you to it. And when you’re trapped by his side some time later, those strong arms wrapped suffocatingly tight around your waist and his grin big and dopey and scary as he promises to never, ever let you leave his side, you’ll really only have yourself to blame. Because really, while Kotarou’s jealousy manifests mostly as self-deprication and an increased need for your reassurance and praise, ultimately you’ll be the one to push forward his dependence on you.
You’re the one telling him that he’s wonderful, that you’re not interested in any other men, that he’s every girl’s dream. It’s small things that slowly build up, feeding into Kotarou’s delusions until he’s too far gone to really even listen to you anymore; picking and choosing what he wants to hear from you, twisting your words into some grand declaration of love that gets him smiling like a fool, crushing you into his arms and leaving your lips bruised with the ferocity of his kisses.
You’re just so perfect, huh?
Delusional
But in an extremely specific way – on his own, Kotarou isn’t a particularly delusional man. He’s tied to his beliefs, yes, but he’s grounded and lucid enough to understand the importance of seeing multiple perspectives, of listening to others, of staying in touch with reality and not letting himself get too carried away.
And this is still true in the beginnings of his obsession – he knows that you’re just friends, that you have a budding friendship that he’d like to progress into something more, something deeper and more romantic in its origin. And he’s strict about this for a long time – going to Akaashi for dating advice or asking the ever-grumpy Sakusa how he thinks Kotarou should approach you.
(Akaashi gives much, much more insightful advice than his teammate, of course – telling Kotarou to take things slow and listen to what you want, to let you guide the pace and direction of the relationship. Sakusa merely scoffs and tells him to stop being loud and irritating, and you might have a shot.)
And Kotarou sticks to this advice well in the beginning – establishing a positive connection with you and letting you get comfortable, your friendship blossoming and growing into one that you can foresee being one of your most cherished.
But then elements of his infatuation begin developing, and suddenly that advice gets a bit warped, his understanding of your intentions slowly crumbling away because of one critical, crucial factor: Kotarou grows an incredibly strong sense of attachment towards you.
He’s already quite physically touchy and needy as it is, but as his obsession with you progresses, this dependency morphs into not only the more tactile side of things, but his mental state as well. He quickly grows to absolutely need you in every sense of the word; you’re something that keeps him tethered, grounded. Your love and attention is something that he needs in order to survive, in order to wake up everyday and get himself out of bed because he knows that he’ll get to see you today, to hug you and touch you and maybe even kiss you if he can catch you off guard enough.
Within the span of a few months after he recognizes that his feelings for you are more romantic than platonic, Koutarou’s entire mental health and wellbeing revolves around you and the attention you give him.
The advice of his friends still rings through his head, but he instead begins interpreting your actions as you wanting to foster this dependency of his. He thinks that you’re aware of his brewing feelings, and that you feel the same way – surely that’s what you mean when you always praise him, right? His every action comes back to you; he hits a spike in a match he got you exclusive, front-row player’s box seats for?
Well, he’s immediately peering up into the stands, golden eyes frantically searching for you, and once he spots you he’s waving like a madman, blowing obnoxious kisses at you, proudly exclaiming that was for you babe! And he’ll keep going until you acknowledge him, until you give him a thumbs up and a toothy smile, until you yell back that you’re so proud of you, Ko!
(Of course, the phrasing of ‘babe’ is a bit suspect, but you’ll blame it on mishearing him in the loud, packing stadium.)
When he tries out a new recipe for a particular dish he knows you love, he’s eager to call you, begging you to drop whatever it is you’re doing and swing by his apartment to try because he really, really needs you to say you like it.
(He’ll be watching with rapt attention as you hover the fork to your lips, practically not breathing as he watches you chew and swallow, his palms so sweaty and clammy that he nearly drops the pan in excitement when you compliment the food. Don’t pay attention to the way he gulps loud enough for you to hear, nor the way he grabs you by the waist and spins you around, laughing that booming laugh of his and seeming much too joyous for a simple well-cooked meal.)
Everything comes back to the basic principal that Koutarou just wants desperately to impress you – he thrives on your praise, seeing you proud of him and happy to call him yours, and he’s leaping at each and every possible chance to achieve that, to make you laugh and wrap your arms around him, to whisper into his ear that you’re so proud baby, I know you worked so hard, now what’dya say we go home and I reward you for all that hard work, just how you like it?
He’s committed to being your dream partner, to being someone you can proudly call your own, and he quite literally needs you praise and validation in every aspect of his life to solidify his delusions about the way you feel for him – your opinion is something he values over his own life, your presence something he genuinely believes he can’t live without, and so to have you by his side constantly, always smiling at him and making him feel so giddy and happy is something that Kotarou really honestly needs.
The bottom line is that his entire emotional and mental state rests firmly upon your shoulders, firmly upon your reactions to the things he does for you – so keep that in mind as he rushes up to you with the excitement and energy of a puppy, ranting and raving about how he managed to hit one of Atsumu’s new kinds of tosses or block one of Hinata’s best spikes.
Keep it in mind as he presses you flush against his body, his face buried into your neck, his audible inhale and whimper that vibrates against your skin making a shiver shoot up your spine in anything but pleasure. Keep in mind that now it’s your responsibility to keep Kotarou happy, that your job is essentially to make sure that he stays at least somewhat stable.
(With the pressure coming from the entire management staff of the MSBY team, who’ve realized that Kotarou has a bit of a massive crush on you – you, who isn’t doing the best financially, who could very much not survive a class-action lawsuit for ruining one of their star players.)
And once he’s stolen away, it’s your responsibility to keep him happy so that he keeps leaving the apartment, leaving you, making sure that you have enough food and water to survive, so that his depressive episodes don’t cost you your life.
So really, have fun; because eventually the emotional toll will hit you, but don’t worry because Kotarou will be right there to help pick you up again.
DEALING WITH RIVALS:
Because his jealous streak is really quite strong, Koutarou has a tendency to misinterpret nearly every single interaction you have with a member of the opposite sex.
He’s automatically assuming that everyone is interested in you, that everyone wants to date you and make you smile and kiss you and fuck you, all of which are things that only he should be allowed to do. He’s jumping to conclusions before things really even happen, sure that you’ll somehow be manipulated into leaving him, into leaving the happy, loving relationship you share with him.
It’s a fear that permeates his every moment when he’s away from you (something that is admittedly quite rare, but still), that seeps into the back of his mind no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that you love him, that you’d never cheat on him or trade him in for someone better.
Of course, he trusts you enough to not immediately act upon his jealousy when he notices another man in your vicinity. Rather, he’ll start demanding your attention even more, trying to keep you physically turned away from the stranger and keep your eyes focused only on Kotarou, because if you can’t see the man, the man can’t see you, right?
It’s poor logic, and Kotarou panics the entire time he tries to stall, only able to imagine the way you’d look by this new man’s side.
And at the end of the day, that’s really it – Kotarou knows that he’s not perfect. You, with your lovely figure, beautiful face, wonderful personality, and many talents, could really get any guy of your choice. So why would you want him?
He seems confident, like he has no doubts about himself and his abilities, and for the most part he doesn’t, but there’s just something about you that makes him constantly reanalyze himself, that makes him wonder if he’s really enough, if he could ever really be enough for someone as perfect as you.
Sure he’s athletic, friendly, handsome, kind, but he’s not the number one hitter in the league, not the brightest, not the most charming, not the best looking or most mysterious or funniest or any number of other things that you might find more attractive.
And as time passes this eats away at Kotarou’s mind, driving him insane the longer it occupies the back of his thoughts because he just can’t shake the image of you in another man’s arms, laughing and kissing them and just being so fucking happy without him.
He’s dependent on you to an unhealthy degree, absolutely fixated on the idea of needing you in his life, and so Kotarou doesn’t really hold back in terms of trying to control his jealousy – he knows he needs to step in before you even get the chance to be lulled in by some other man. He needs to interfere before he loses you forever, and while he knows you’re probably embarrassed by how he barges in anytime you talk to someone else, Kotarou doesn’t let it hold him back.
Nothing can hold him back in the face of something as terrifying as losing you.
You’d never pegged Kotarou as one for video games, but when he’d dragged you to the new arcade that opened up a few blocks from his house, he practically seemed like a child in a toystore.
With his hand wrapped tightly around yours, he’d led you through row after row of game machines, golden eyes wide as he pointed to each and every one, promising you that he’d beat this one in two tries, or that one with his eyes closed. It’d been endearing in a way, watching how excited he’d gotten, before he dragged you over to a game in the far corner with especially bright lights and all sorts of noises coming from it.
He’d challenged you, telling you with a booming laugh that he’d bet you couldn’t beat him, a challenge you eagerly accepted. And really, while he’d been mildly embarrassed to sheepishly admit he’d run out of quarters after his fifth try through the game, it didn’t stop him from practically sprinting up to the ticketing counter, digging in his wallet for the largest dollar bill he had on hand to trade in. Leaving you alone at the game, biting your lip and reading over all the cartoon-style text decorating the game’s exterior.
You were so engrossed in the game’s appearance that you didn’t hear the blond man’s calls to you, shy little excuse me’s falling on deaf ears. Soon a tapping at your shoulder tapped you out of your reverie, spinning around to come face to face with a man you’d never seen before. Sandy blond hair and thick rimmed glasses sitting atop a rather brightly colored dress shirt and dark jeans.
Do you know how to play? Even his voice seemed timid, and while you were a bit shocked at his question, you’d only smiled and said no, hoping the man would drop some hints on ways to beat Kotarou – hearing his boasting was worse than hearing his moping, after all.
The man seemed relieved, moving forward to restart the game and talking you through the level, telling you tips on when to jump, which treasure chests were worth more, tricks on how to move the toggle piece, even telling you that the game would sometimes glitch and delete off ten seconds to your total time if you moved just right.
You’d thanked him profusely, excitement brewing in your chest at the thought of how you would crush Kotarou, but the sudden feeling of being watched washed over you and left you stiffening up, no longer paying attention to the stranger’s words.
In less than a moment, you were suddenly pushed from behind, spun around so that your back was pressed against the arcade wall, the breath knocked out of your lungs and Kotarou’s face – fit with a scowl – filling up your entire view.
Your surprised yelp was cut off by him suddenly lunging forward, his lips settling onto yours hard enough to make you flinch a bit. He kissed you roughly, loudly, the sound of wet smacking filling your ears and surely the stranger’s, if his facial expression was anything to go by. With red cheeks and a shocked look spread across his features, the man was quick to stutter an apology and speed off, trying to avoid the sight of Kotarou pressing you tighter against the wall and the sound of his groans and grunts.
As soon as the man was out of sight, Kotarou pulled back, licking his lips and looking at you with something akin to hunger swirling in those golden eyes.
Who was that?
Is all he got out, hands still firmly placed at your waist.
Your shock barred you from answering right away, before a resounding smack rung through his ears, the mild pain of your slap to his chest leaving him winded, the pleasant sensation of you touching him numbing out some of the hot, angry envy in his veins.
What the hell was that, Kotarou? You practically yell at him, the sound drowned out by the ringing of a few games nearby.
Kotarou only sighs, squeezing your sides and fixing you with an unblinking stare.
That man was bothering you, couldn’t he see you were here with me?
At your bewildered look, he merely laughed, one hand coming up to teasingly ruffle your hair. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure he’ll leave us alone for the rest of the day. Now c’mon, I got more quarters – watch me win!
And just like that, he seemed to have forgotten all about the rather heated, intimate moment he’d instigated – all smiles and laughter and taunts for the rest of the day as you shakily and wearily settled by his side, trying to rationalize that perhaps it looked different to an outsider.
Perhaps Kotarou thought the man was bothering you, and was worried he’d only get the hint through extreme measures. And he’s always been a bit extreme and exaggerated, surely he meant nothing by the kiss – even if it had been rather graphic, even if he’d been practically moaning at just the taste of you.
That must be it, you decide, as Kotarou whines and pouts about losing the level once more, begging you to give him just one more try. The small, half-hearted smile you give him is enough permission for him, and just that look settles the raging jealousy in his heart.
You were looking at him again, just as you should be – him and him only.
(And later that night, that’s what’s falling past his lips in a mantra as he vividly remembers the feel of your body in his hands, your lips pressed against his own, the smell of you clouding his every breath.)
TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:
Kotarou’s infatuation with you is, in most ways, strange.
He’s utterly obsessed, of course – his every waking moment is either revolving around volleyball or you, often times mixing and jumbling up so that he’s imagining all sorts of things that get him grinning like a fool, his cheeks bright red and his breathing too heavy to be considered normal.
(Things like seeing you wear his jersey, for example, or having you toss him a ball that he smacks so hard it hurts, seeing your impressed and flustered expression as he teases you about how strong he is. The kind of thing that makes his chest swell with pride, that makes him bite his lip and clutch at his covers late at night when he’s dreaming and wanting and needing you.)
His feelings for you carelessly breach any sort of trust or boundaries between the two of you, and for the most part Kotarou doesn’t see an issue with this.
Of course you probably don’t like when he checks the tracker he’d installed into your phone, but it’s just for safety and he’s sure you’ll eventually understand! It’s unsafe to let someone like you travel around alone at night (or in the day, or in crowded streets or public parks or even in the safety of your own home-).
He’s just taking an extra precaution to make sure someone’s got an eye on you – he’d be more than happy to install a tracker into his phone for you to keep tabs on his location too, if you’d like. (And oh, he wishes you’d like that.)
You’re probably not the biggest fan of when he wraps an arm around you in public, beaming and planting a wet, long kiss against your temple as he greets you, walking to your favorite coffee shop with his arm still wrapped around you, migrating down to your waist and making walking uncomfortable while he prattles on and on about his latest training regiment.
(And sure, maybe he’s exaggerating just a hair about how much he can bench press, or how fast his serves are, but those golden eyes of his are constantly scanning your expressions, looking for even the slightest hint of awe, analyzing any signs that you’re impressed with his physical prowess, his dedication. Impressed by him, really.)
And so really, Kotarou breaks every physical and intangible barrier and wall that you have down, slowly and bit by bit until you’re so desensitized to his antics and his behavior towards you that you stop questioning it. You’re not exactly supportive of the possessive, overly clingy way he treats you, but it’s just Kotarou, so really how harmful can it be? He’s just a silly, overgrown puppy of a man, and why should you ever be afraid of him?
And Kotarou’s feelings towards your living situation reflect this sentiment – that is, he absolutely does not want to kidnap you.
Not only does he find the term entirely unapplicable to your situation if he were to steal you away (because he’s convinced that on some core level you’d actually be pleased, like you want him to whisk you away and keep you wrapped up in his apartment as his little housewife), but it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth to imagine keeping you cooped up in one place all the time.
He loves to be out with you, to take you to markets and restaurants and movies and all sorts of other things – he likes having you out in public. It stresses him out a bit, yes, constantly being vigilant and aware of any man that tries to approach you, but by and large he finds that he enjoys your company most and enjoys showing you off most when you’re not all alone at home.
That isn’t to say that he dislikes cozy movie nights spent on his couch with now-cold takeout sprawled across the table, but there’s just something special about seeing you laugh so hard you cry because of him in a busy, sunny street café where everyone can see just how entertained you are by him.
(Those cozier evenings are of course favorites of him, though, because he gets to see a more intimate side of you – when you get sleepy and your eyes start drooping, he has to physically hold himself back from cooing and squishing your cheeks. And especially when you fall asleep on his shoulder or shift just right so that he worm his way into your arms, noticing how your flimsy sleeping shorts ride up just a hair to expose the lower curve of your ass, his mouth is left watering and his own shorts feel uncomfortably tight – something he'd be absolutely crazy to dislike.)
And so, Kotarou will hold off for as long as possible on stealing you away, just for the selfish reason of being able to drag you to all his games, to pretty dates (that you aren’t aware are dates, of course, but that’s just a technicality), to keep you happy and excited and free by his side.
But if things were to go south and you started to really critically analyze his behavior and decide that you don’t want to remain in his life?
Well, Kotarou has never quite felt panic like when you swing by his apartment one last time to announce that you’re moving away. He’s never quite felt a level of dismay like when you tell him you’ll be blocking his number because he’s made you uncomfortable, or when you tell him you’ll be crashing at a male friend’s place.
And really, that last portion is the kicker – it sends Kotarou’s mind spiraling, panic engulfing him and leading him to grab you, his hands shaking as he holds you, eyes flashing as he drags you to his bedroom, holding you down on the bed and using a spare t-shirt to tie up your wrists and ankles.
He’s never known fear like this before, and as he stares down at you – writhing, looking at him with tears in your eyes, looking at him –
He’s never quite known excitement like this before, either.
As a captor, Kotarou isn’t terrible – with one glaring exception: he’s needy. You’ve known this for as long as you’ve known him, but once you’re trapped in his home this is only amplified, the clinginess getting worse and worse because you have no way to dissuade his touchiness, no way to distract him away with outside people and activities.
No, now it’s strictly you and him – which is heaven for Kotarou, exactly what he’s been fantasizing about come to life.
Unfortunately for you, this means excessive time spent together and a lot of physical contact. Though his delusions aren’t quite deep enough to fully mask the fact that you’re unhappy, Kotarou is able to chalk up your lack of enthusiasm for things you did pre-kidnapping as you simply being moody, shy, womanly.
It’s infuriating how much he blames your behavior on your hormones and menstrual cycle.
He’s practically impossible to deal with once your period begins, his touches soft and gentle and nearly scared, treating you like you’re some breakable, delicate piece of treasure that can’t do anything on your own.
He’ll cook meals for you, then promptly bring the chopsticks up to your mouth and say ahh, smiling like a fool as he guides the ramen past your lips, nodding enthusiastically when you chew.
He’ll hold your hand and help you walk around the apartment, big eyes wide and worried when you near any corners, terrified that you’ll somehow hurt yourself because you’re distracted with cramp pain or simply having brain fog. And really, it would be endearing how earnestly he’s trying to make you comfortable and provide for you during your time of the month, but there’s something truly humiliating about the level of disregard he feels for your complaints, simply smiling lopsidedly at you and telling you don’t worry, I’ll make it all better! I’ve got some of that chocolate you like, you want some? I can heat up your heating pad too, and we can watch some old reruns of my games – you’d like that, right? You like watching me play, yeah?
And really, that’s the main thing with Kotarou – the level of care and attention he both gives to you and demands from you is incredibly draining.
The constant feeling of walking on eggshells around him is enough to have your mind running in circles, constantly worried that you’ll say the wrong thing about his personality or his actions and have him moping, convinced that you’re just being mean because you’re disappointed in him, that you’re just playing hard to get because he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve. And so how does he respond to this?
By giving you more attention, swamping you with questions and touches and all sorts of things for the two of you to do together. He’s always forcing you onto the couch to try out a new video game Akinori mentioned when he last ran into him, or watching a scary movie and clutching onto you for dear life at every jump scare.
(He thinks it’s romantic, but the slight bruising left on your thighs and sides from his very, very tight grip are less sweet.)
He’s just generally so very out of touch with how you’re feeling that it’s infuriating – but you have to be careful, because everything you do and say will only cause him to grasp onto you tighter, clutching onto you with more strength than you can handle because his entire mental wellbeing is still resting firmly on your shoulders. He forces you to sleep in bed beside him, waking up to you tangled in his arms every morning, starting his day off right and making it slightly easier to leave you for early morning trainings.
(He has to wake up with you every morning or else he feels like something’s off, his performance severely lacking and the only thing that can fix it being excessive affection from you – something a bit difficult to come by.)
He forces you to share meals with him because it gives him a reason to unabashedly stare at you (though he does this anyway, frequently) and watch as you eat the food he provided you. He has to be the sole one cooking or buying you take out, because it feeds the narrative he’s crafted in his head that he’s your provider, that he’s taking care of you, that he’s being a good male partner and spoiling his perfect little wife.
(Of course, you may not be married yet, but to Kotarou it’s just a matter of time – you’re already entwined in every possible way, living together and spending every waking moment together, so why bother with formal ceremonies and official titles when he can just buy a diamond and slip onto your finger with a toothy grin and a much too long and much too detailed declaration of his love? Of course, if you want the ceremony he’d be more than willing to give it to you, but he’s content with the knowledge that you’re his and his alone already.)
So really, if you can handle his hands constantly being on you, his lips always pressed against your skin, his voice always ringing in your ears, and his presence always a looming shadow over you demanding your praise and attention and time, Kotarou isn’t terrible.
There’s shades of genuine love in how he treats you – the gentleness in his touches, the tenderness of his compliments, the way he’ll moan into your ear the most adoring, utterly pathetic things as he settles himself between your legs.
There’s evidence that he truly loves you in some horrible, twisted way, but it all just feels like too much. Too forceful, too desperate, too passionate, too him.
But no amount of trying to get through to him will ever change the way he treats you, or ever persuade him into loosing the metaphorical lease he keeps you on – you’re his, and no matter how hard you try Kotarou will always firmly believe that fate has brought you together.
And isn’t that so romantic?
PUNISHMENTS:
In general, it’s rare for Kotarou to get genuinely angry at you.
Of course he has his highs and lows – he may be unwilling to seriously listen to your complaints or insults hurled at him, but he’s not inhuman. He still knows that you’re being mean – criticizing him and visibly displeased with him, and just that fact alone has his eyes drooping, guilt, self-pity and shame resting heavily on his shoulders.
His delusions about your feelings for him bar him from fully comprehending that your anger lies in the fact that he’s kidnapped you rather than not cuddling with you the night before, but he can still tell that something is amiss. He doesn’t like when you aren’t smiling and happy, when you’re bothered and troubled, when you aren’t acting like you used to, back before he relocated you to his apartment.
It’s upsetting, really, and it leaves Kotarou desperate to figure out how to get a grin back onto your lips, how to make you laugh, how to please you again. A lot of Kotarou’s anger and punishments stem from a place of insecurity and worry about your perception of him – he’s really quite sensitive, especially coming from someone he idolizes and reveres as much as you, and so his solutions to any sort of non-desirable behavior from you is to simply try harder.
It’s seemed to have worked in his career – hours upon hours upon hours spent lagging after practices to work on his spikes just a bit more, to serve just a few more balls, to get just a bit better.
And he applies this same principle with you – he’d rather pull his nails off one by one than physically hurt you or deny you of food and water or leave you all alone or any number of things he could do to force your codependency on him to become stronger.
And so, Kotarou wracks his brain for any and all possibilities on how to get you to like him more, on how to make you happy, on how to be a better boyfriend.
And frankly, it results in a much, much worse time for you.
If you thought Kotarou was clingy before you yelled at him for installing locks on his windows, then he’s downright glued to your side afterwards, his breath constantly fanning on your cheeks and his voice seemingly never ending as it rings over and over and over in your ears.
If you thought being in the same room as him was difficult before you slapped him across the face for giving your ass a playful squeeze, it’s nothing compared to how he plants more and more kisses onto your unwilling lips, leaving pretty dresses and lacy lingerie out on your (forcefully shared) bed for you, the way he starts piling on the compliments with such frequency and urgency that it nearly makes you sick.
Kotarou has always been a lot, truly, and once his feelings for you are thrown into the mix he becomes too much – and when you’re angry at him, ignoring him or hurling insults at him or denying his affection?
Well, the sadness quickly dissipates into fear, anxiety eating at every inch of his body because what if you hate him now?
You’re meant for one another, sure, but what if he’s messed it all up by not being enough for you?
It’s the stuff of nightmares, and in order to correct it he’ll instead become your nightmare.
You hear him before you see him – his keys jingle loudly in his pocket, the rhythmic noises of the padlock on the front door locking back up sounding too familiar now. You’re sitting at the dining table, staring down at the new book Kotarou had gifted you a week ago – you’ve read it twice already in that span of time, but as his footsteps approach the kitchen area, you resolve to read it once again.
His voice is loud as he calls your name, and you can hear the smile on his face as his footsteps quicken, his pace nearly turning to a run as he approaches you. His arms are around you before you can stop them, his words already pouring out as he starts telling you all about his day, rambling on about how Meian and Hinata had promised to take Kotarou out to a new bar later this week.
He’s still hugging you as he goes on to tell you that it’s supposed to be super good, I’ll have to let you know how it is! Maybe I can bring something home for you – I know your favorite’s always been –
Your mouth is moving before you can even really stop yourself, the words seeming to burst out without your control. Don’t tell me about all your plans in the outside world – not when I’m stuck here wasting away in this fucking apartment.
Your voice is low, uneven, and immediately Kotarou tenses, his eyebrows drawing together into a pout. What are you talking about? I just want to bring you a good drink and maybe we can watch that trashy rom-com you love and –
You cut him off again by harshly shaking off his arms from around you, moving your elbows out in an attempt to get him off of you.
Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to get me a drink! I don’t want you to do anything for me – you need to let me go, Kotarou. You can’t keep me stuck here forever! I should be out there getting a drink too, and going to the fucking store and seeing my friends and living my life! You’re – you’re a terrible person, and I hate you!
Your chest is heaving by the time you finish your spiel, having started off in that same low tone but eventually getting to a yell. He’d backed off of you, watching you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, his mind racing and trying to understand what you could possibly mean.
Stuck here? What were you saying?
You were happy here – you always return his hugs and his kisses and let him pull you closer to his chest at night and laugh at his jokes and smile at him and say you love him to and and and –
He moves back towards you, going to wrap his arms around you again, but this time you stand up and scurry off to the other end of table and now Kotarou can see the way your eyes are glossy, how you’re on the verge of tears and your lip is trembling.
Leave me alone, I can’t stand you! Not after what you’ve done to me!
And with that, you turn tail and run off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Behind the door your hands shake, the tears finally falling as you slide down the wood, landing in a sitting position and cursing Kotarou for not putting locks on the interior doors.
A fresh wave of tears falls down your cheeks as you realize you can’t even use the toilet in peace, not without the constant, lingering threat of him watching you. It’s too much, and soon your head is in your hands, sobs wracking your body.
Meanwhile, Kotarou is still standing frozen, his heart and mind racing because you’re obviously upset. He doesn’t know why you’re overreacting like this, but the image of you with tears in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings, prompting him to rush and grab his car keys once more, flying out the front door and practically speeding to the nearest store, his grocery cart full.
He’s home roughly twenty minutes later, tears already pooling in his own eyes because the more he’s thought about the state you’re in the more he comes to the conclusion that it’s his fault, that he must’ve made you angry or sad and now he has to fix it.
He has to show you that you don’t hate him – you’re just having a rough day, that’s all. You’re just sad that he’s been gone all day and hasn’t been home to give you the proper love and care that you deserve. His fingers grip the steering wheel tightly even to leave his knuckles white, his teeth grinding and gritting together as he presses down on the gas gauge just a hair harder, desperation and guilt weighing heavily in his chest because god, he hates seeing you so upset.
And as he races back up to the apartment with all the groceries in his arms, he’s quick to wrap his fist against the bathroom door, asking in a breathless voice if you’re okay or if you’re hurt.
You’re still quietly crying, sniffling heavily and trying to ignore him as he knocks again. He knows he could bust the door open, easily overpowering you and giving him direct access to you, but the hurt look in your eyes flashes through his mind again and he decides against it. No, he needs to prove that he’s good enough at reading you and figuring out what you need – he needs to prove himself to you, to make you like him again.
He calls your name through the door again, before resting his forehead against the wood and wincing. I’m sorry for whatever I did, baby, I promise I didn’t mean it!
He hears you scoff at that, and bites his lip.
You know me, sometimes I just get carried away! I never meant to make you upset, you’ve got to know that. He pauses, shifting around the bags in his arms. You mean so much to me, I love you. I love you more than I think I should, but it’s okay! I’ll be better for you, I promise. I’ll be a better boyfriend and I’ll make you happy. Just – you just have to let me try, okay? Please baby, let me try.
It’s silent for a moment, and Kotarou’s chest feels tight.
Please, he tries one last time.
And although you know you shouldn’t and that you’ll regret it, some small part of you almost feels bad as you hear him sniffle through the wood, the sound of him crying obvious. You bite your lip, a small voice in the back of your head quietly wondering if you should believe him.
After all, does he really make you that unhappy? He’s always so eager and pathetically excited when you smile at him, and is it really so bad to have someone give you all their attention and time? You’re ashamed to admit some part of you almost likes it, and soon your body is moving before you can stop it.
The door opens and Kotarou’s heart is in his throat, the sight of you with red, puffy eyes and your lip caught between your teeth making something between a sigh of relief and a whimper slip from him.
The multitude of bags precariously balanced in his arms immediately have your eyes widening, the names of your favorite snacks peeking through the sacks and making that same pang in your heart twist again, the knowledge that he went out and bought all of this for you just because you were sad forcing you to take a step forward.
You don’t say anything, and Kotarou stares at you with wide eyes, a wild sort of look overtaking his parted lips and pink cheeks, and when you mumble something small, he has to physically strain himself to hear you.
You repeat your favorite drink, swallowed harshly and struggling to make eye contact with him. He mouths it back to himself, before slowly, shyly, smiling down at you.
You won’t regret, I promise! He laughs, the sound relieved, dropping all of the shopping bags on the ground and immediately scooping you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you nearly can’t breath, all the while that familiar, chiming laughter fills your ears.
I love you, I love you, I love you he repeats into your ear, keeping you close and occasionally squeezing tighter.
And even as something crumbles up inside you, you find yourself wrapping your arms around him too, shoving your face against his chest and nodding, your words muffled as you murmur the smallest I love you, too back.
And Kotarou can only beam down at you, repeating the phrase over and over until all the words start slurring together, until all you can do is slowly relax into the warmth of his arms, into the feeling of someone completely and utterly loving you.
OVERALL DANGER:
6/10
Kotarou is less dangerous and honestly more pathetic than anything else.
He’s a fully grown man who’s desperate for someone to love, whose desperation becomes so deeply ingrained in his feelings towards you that he clutches onto you and never lets go.
Reading into your feelings festers delusions about how you feel towards him, feeding him pretty lies about how you really feel and what your actions really mean.
He builds a relationship between the two of you in his head, growing closer and more intimate with you than socially acceptable for a friendship, becoming more and more dependent on you and the praise you so willingly give him.
It’s heaven, really, and it leaves Kotarou blinded to the ugly side of his obsession.
He’s clingy and overly possessive, always touching you and calling you his and making sure that everyone sees the two of you together – that everyone knows that you’re his woman and he’s your man.
He wants to make sure that your relationship – fake or not – is idyllic, that you’re so happy with him that you could never even dream of wanting another man, never even entertain the notion of needing anyone else because Kotarou is everything you could ever want.
And while he won’t explicitly acknowledge any behavior that clashes with the pretty image of you and your love that he’s crafted in his head, he’s not immune to your negative reception of his touches and his rather aggressive affection.
You’ll have to walk on eggshells around him, careful to keep him from falling deeply into a spiral that could lead to your own slow demise being trapped under his thumb.
It’s stressful, a lifestyle that’ll leave you haggard and spent, tired to the point where slowly it will stop feeling like an act to return his hugs, to compliment his muscles, to tell him that you missed him while he was away at work.
It will feel less and less like a lie, the words slipping off your tongue so easily that it’ll leave you scared.
Because really, while Kotarou is overbearing and quite honestly scary with the way he barrels forwards and takes whatever he wants from you, eventually you’ll find yourself less and less angry, and more and more complacent. It could be worse, couldn’t it?
You have a warm bed to sleep in, a roof over your head, and food to eat.
And the man that holds you flush to his chest in said bed, pays the rent for said roof, and hand-selects only meals he knows you like can’t possibly be that bad, right?
After all, doesn’t it feel good to be needed?
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