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seijorhi · 1 year

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Powder Keg

it has been far too long since i've indulged with these three

Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou & Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

w.c 6.1k

tw: implied non-con, yandere, implied violence and bad times all round

Not guilty.

There’s a moment after the verdict’s read, right before the courtroom erupts into noise where time slows. Your heartbeat thunders in your chest, violently – like it’s trying to rip its way free, and it becomes harder to breathe.

For days, you’ve avoided looking at them, treating the left side of the courtroom as though it simply did not exist.

Your head turns without conscious thought, and you watch it happen. In slow motion, you physically witness the verdict hit them.

Not guilty.

Relief. Joy. Bokuto pulls Kuroo into a hug, pounding his fist across his back as he beams.

Not guilty.

Akaashi shaking their lawyer’s hand, head tilted in a polite bow.

Not guilty.

The gavel slams down, a harsh, strangled sort of noise escapes you. Your knees, shaking as they are, suddenly give way. Cameras flash, your lawyer reaching for you as you sink back into your chair, numb – whatever he says to you gets drowned out, nothing but static and haze.

Three days spent trapped at their mercy while they broke your trust, lied to you, hurt you, fucked you. Cases don’t make it to court for trial unless the prosecution’s almost certain of a conviction, everyone knows that. You had the evidence, the rape kit, DNA, all of it. How– how could they–

The skin at the nape of your neck prickles, the tiny hairs standing on end. Lifting your head, you’re met with a cool gunmetal gaze, Akaashi’s expression giving away nothing.

He nods, though. A slow incline of his chin, his eyes never leaving yours. Bokuto and Kuroo are breaking apart, the latter already beginning to follow Akaashi’s line of sight, and you feel the bile rising up your throat.

In a sudden burst of energy, you lurch from your seat, racing out the side doors. The meagre lunch you’d managed to force down comes hurling right back up – the only saving grace being that you barely manage to make it to the bathroom in time.

On your knees, clutching the toilet and sobbing, you vomit until there’s nothing left but bile and pain. How could they– how could they do this to you?

How could they not believe you when you gave them everything?

You don’t glance up when the door swings open, nor at the tentative knock on the stall door – which as you hadn’t had the time or inclination to lock it, creaks open.

Your mother peers in. “Honey?”

“They think I’m a liar,” you croak out, finally lifting your miserable gaze. “They think I’m making it up.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“We believe you, we know you’re telling the truth. I’m sorry those assholes convinced everyone else otherwise,” your cousin murmurs, appearing behind her shoulder.

Together, they help you to your feet, your mother gently wiping away the tears while your cousin places a comforting hand on your back.

“Those bastards. Those fucking bastards! If the lay judges had any sense at all–” her voice, shaking with rage, cracks, a sob threatening to break through. Beyond words, she shakes her head, clamping her lips shut, and your cousin sighs.

“Come on, it’s going to be a circus out there. Better to get it over and done with.”

She isn’t wrong.

By the time you make it to the steps out front, reporters are everywhere, swarming. Their lawyer’s mid-way through a statement, smugness radiating from every slimy pore.

“– justice served today. These three young men have such promising futures ahead of them, and we can only be thankful that the lay judges and judges alike saw their true character amidst the wild accusations and, quite frankly, outright fabrications from this poor, misguided woman.”

And the reporters are pummelling you and your family with questions, demanding a comment, asking how you feel about the verdict passed down.

You can’t bring yourself to answer them, so you keep your mouth shut and focus on the ground in front of you, one step after another. You can’t stop or you’ll break all over again.

Your mother, however, has different ideas. “You let her down,” she spits. “This whole system let my daughter down today. Do you give all rapists a free pass, or just the ones on track to become olympians?!”

Which, naturally, only invites a flurry of rapid fire follow ups.

They’ve all decided that you’re a whore. A liar. A greedy, attention seeking slut who wanted nothing more than a few nights of fun to leverage for your five minutes of fame. They might not admit it outright, but you can hear it in their questions, see it in their looks.

The verdict only cements that belief.

Three days, every waking second spent clinging to the idea that once you got away, once they were done, you’d be free and everything would be fine.

You’d get justice.

The three of them would spend years rotting away behind bars, and it wouldn’t be enough, not ever, not for what they put you through. Somehow, though, you’d find a way to make peace with it.

And now… now they’re walking free like they did nothing wrong and you– you’re the one left standing there in the wake of a shattered reputation while people you’ve never met hurl abuse at you and your family, telling you you deserved what you got. That you wanted it.

The bolder ones tell you to do everyone a favour and just go kill yourself.

You catch one last look as the car pulls away; surrounded by their family, their crack legal team, supporters. The three of them – each with loosened ties, Bokuto having shed his jacket entirely – meet that gaze head on.

And the weight of it, burning and uncomfortable, lingers long after they disappear in the rearview mirror.

—

“Mr. Kuroo, sir, your two o'clock is waiting in conference room three.”

He hums, fingers tapping away across the screen of his phone

“And,” his assistant continues, “I have your coffee.”

At that, she finally grabs his attention. Stowing his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, he smiles, “You’re a lifesaver, have I mentioned that?”

“Once or twice.”

Accepting the cup gratefully, Kuroo laughs, “Yeah, well, remind me ‘bout that when we have your next salary review.”

She brightens at the praise, tucking her hair back behind her ear with a small nod. Kuroo, already halfway down the hall, doesn’t notice, too busy wracking his brain in an attempt to recall what his two o’clock appointment is actually regarding.

There were interviews for one of the junior positions, but those weren’t until next week, he vaguely recalls someone from legal wanting to talk about their upcoming campaign, maybe it’s about that? Usually they want to talk with the whole team, though. Long, drawn out meetings that leave him wanting to repeatedly slam his head against a wall.

Upon reaching the conference room in question, he realises that it’s not legal he’s scheduled to meet with.

Sitting with her legs neatly crossed, pen and paper in hand sits a woman of about thirty, a bottle blonde, with perky tits and a tight black, pencil skirt that clings to shapely thighs. She smiles when he opens the door, sticks out a perfectly manicured hand.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, I presume?”

He takes it, smirks as her eyelashes flutter and they shake hands.

Nope, definitely not someone from legal.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but you are–?”

“Of course, my apologies. My name is Sato Kisumi, I’m a reporter from the Metro Times, we spoke last week…”

A vague memory of a phone call surfaces and Kuroo finds himself nodding. “Right, yeah, I remember. You wanted to talk about an article or something? Sorry, we’re a few weeks from launching our campaign for the new season and it’s been a hell of a day.”

She laughs, a sweet, bell-like sound, “No, no, it’s alright. If anyone understands how crazy it can be working towards a deadline, it’s a reporter.”

He settles himself down across from her, making himself comfortable.

“You don’t mind if I record this, do you?”

Kuroo shakes his head. There’s one already set up on the table, next to the tea his assistant must have procured for her when she arrived. Leaning forward, she clicks it on, “Wonderful.”

“So what’s this article for, anyway?”

“You don’t remember?” her voice carries a teasing lilt. “We did speak about it on the phone.”

“Busy week, like I said.”

“Busy man,” she counters, red lips curling into something like a smile. “To be honest with you, it’s more of an exposé. I’m investigating professional athletes dodging charges for criminal offences. The taking of illegal substances and DUI’s of course, but more serious allegations, too. Spousal abuse, assault, rape, that sort of thing.”

Leaning back in his chair, Kuroo picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip, savouring the bitter, chocolate-y notes of the dark roast his assistant – godsend that she is – knows he favours.

He vaguely recalls the conversation – enough to remember that she neglected to tell him this part whilst she was angling for an interview. Then again, she’d hardly be the first reporter to lie for a chance to get their foot in the door. More than anyone, Kuroo can appreciate that kind of deception.

Now that the truth is laid bare, he’s faced with a choice.

If Kuroo had any sense at all – if he cared about his job and his reputation – he’d politely but firmly tell her to leave before she gets any more comfortable. It’s one thing to ignore and downplay what he’s sure will inevitably turn out to be a scathing indictment of the whole system when it’s published, another entirely to actively participate in it, regardless of intentions.

If he doesn’t tread carefully here, his boss will most certainly have his balls for it.

So he should kick her out. He should.

Instead, Kuroo lets out a light chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “And you decided to start with the VP of JVA promotion? It’s an… interesting approach, I’ll give you that.”

Kisumi mirrors him, lifting the tea to her lips to take a slow sip. She sets the cup back down on the desk, taking a second to adjust it ever so slightly, the tip of her finger running along the edge of the rim. Then, with an air of nonchalance, she shrugs. “Well, what we’re seeing is that these athletes are usually being protected by their teams and management, and in some cases, with certain athletes, that extends all the way up to high ranking officials within their respective governing bodies. Victims and police are paid off, charges mysteriously disappear, negative press gets buried, like magic.”

“It’s a sad story ‘n all, I’m sure there’s some commentary in there about the failings of society, corruption and misplaced hero worship of star athletes or whatever it is you’re after, but I’m failing to see what that has to do with me. I run the promotions division, not public relations.”

“I’m not interested in talking to you because of your job title, Mr. Kuroo, although believe me, that someone like you could rise to an office like this is damning enough,” she says, no trace of her earlier sweetness, the flirtatiousness. No, now her eyes are cold, her smile, while it still adorns her lips, all too sharp. “I’m here because of a court case a few years ago, in which you and two friends – one of whom now plays for the national volleyball team – were accused of the kidnapping and rape of a fellow student.”

Kuroo barks out a laugh, leaning back into his seat. His eyes flicker to the recorder on the desk, the pen she wields, poised over the blank pad of paper, and back to her cool smile. “A very publicised court case that ended with a verdict of not guilty. No one bribed any judges or tampered with evidence, no one made it go away. That’s our justice system, that’s how it works. If you’re looking for something damning,” he throws the word back at her, “you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot better than that.”

“And you think that was a fair trial?”

“I think you’re wasting your time. Mine, too.”

He moves to rise, intent on ushering Kisumi out of his office when she asks, “You don’t remember me, Kuroo, do you?” Not playful anymore, not even angry; she spits his name like it’s poison, as though the very act of uttering his name aloud makes her skin crawl.

And that, more than anything, is enough to really pique his interest.

Kuroo finds himself studying her – really looking at her – beyond the blonde curls and the hateful scowl, beyond all that he’d dismissed earlier. And there is something that rings of familiarity – her eyes, maybe, the shape of her nose – but Kuroo’s short on time, and despite his amusement, what’s left of his good will is dwindling fast.

“Nah, but don’t take it personally, the whole prissy, up-tight bitch thing you’ve got going on isn’t really my thing.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t, you only ever saw her.” Kisumi makes a disgusted noise, “The whole trial, you wouldn’t stop staring. You and your friends ruined her and then you sat there making moon eyes for three days while your asshole of a lawyer tore her apart on the stand.”

The pieces fall together, a memory resurfaces; a blonde woman leaning forward to touch your shoulder, whispering in your ear as you tried in vain to keep your tears at bay.

And it’s a stupid thing, the faint tinge of jealousy that stirs inside of him as he eyes the woman sitting before him. She’s family – has to be, because Kuroo knew all your friends back then.

(Funny, wasn’t it, how none of them had shown up at the trial either.)

Pushing aside the ugly feeling – at least for now – Kuroo rises to his feet, allowing a smirk to curl at his lips. “Like I said, Miss Sato,” and oh, how he relishes the cold fury that sparks across her features. “You’re gonna have to do better than that – but not today. Get the fuck out of my conference room.”

With her lips pursed, she goes to do just that. Makes it all the way to the door, clutching the handle when abruptly she stops, turning to face him once more.

An eyebrow rises, “Something else?”

“She’s missing. She left years ago, which I’m sure you already knew, but now she’s gone-gone. She hasn’t called in weeks, and the cops won’t help. They said that she’s already proven she’s flighty,” Kisumi spits out a humourless laugh. “They won’t open an investigation when we can’t even tell them the last place she was staying. But I know my cousin, and I know the only reason she’d go this long without calling is if there was something physically stopping her from doing so.”

Her voice remains level, her breath on the other hand–

A chink in the armour.

The family resemblance might not be all that strong between you two, that look though – trying to pretend she’s not afraid when everything from the expression on her face to the tremor in her hands is screaming at him otherwise – all he can see is you.

He loves when you look at him like that. More than he should, but guilty pleasures and all that. He doesn’t want you scared, not… necessarily. Not as much as he wants you vulnerable.

Unlike you, who’d burst into tears, crumble and break, she straightens her spine, swallows down that emotion and continues. “I know the kind of man you are. All three of you. It’s because of you that she left in the first place, and I’m willing to stake my career on you being the reason she’s disappeared this time ‘round as well.”

“S’that right? You got any actual proof, or is this whole thing based solely on the fact that you don’t like me?”

Kisumi, rather than dignifying that with an answer, merely spares Kuroo one last disdainful glare and stalks from the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. A minor victory, but one that brings no small sense of satisfaction.

A shame then, that it doesn’t last.

His smirk slips away, vanishing like a slate scrubbed clean.

Pulling the phone from his breast pocket, Kuroo dials the last number he called, lifts the phone up to his ear, and waits.

“What’s up?”

“We’ve got a problem.”

—

Akaashi isn’t one for the spotlight.

He doesn’t hate it per se, he just isn’t all that interested in chasing after it. Better to let everyone be blinded by the other two and let their guards slip around him.

He’s patient – has to be, dealing with Bokuto and Kuroo day in, day out. Calm. Observant enough to realise that the blonde sitting four seats down on the rattling train car has been following him for several days now.

Sato Kisumi.

Akaashi had looked her up after her meeting with Kuroo, begrudgingly having to admit that as an investigative journalist, she was rather impressive.

Kuroo was worried she’d be a problem, and Akaashi’s inclined to agree. Upset relatives were one thing, a well respected journalist with a personal vendetta against the three of them, a separate beast entirely.

One that wouldn’t necessarily be so easy to shake. Or put down.

A polite, feminine voice filters through the P.A system, announcing the imminent arrival of the next station. The train has another four stops before his, yet he rises smoothly when the train slows to a stop beside the platform, exiting amongst the throng of commuters without so much as a backwards glance.

She follows, however, as he knew she would, trailing after him when he makes his way out of the station and onto the busy streets of Shinjuku. There’s a ramen joint he’s particularly fond of a few minutes downtown, only a short walk away.

The quickest route would be to take the main road, lose himself in the throng of people. Akaashi, curious more than anything, decides to instead take the long way round, via the back alleys and narrow laneways, where every footstep echoes, and puddles splash underfoot.

He’s pleased, though not exactly surprised, that Kisumi follows at a distance.

A block away from his destination, he stops on the street corner, turning back to address her.

“Are you hungry?”

The question clearly takes her by surprise, and her answer comes slow. Distant honking from the street ahead, laughter and the rumble of voices tangled together interwoven with music and the shouting of kitchen – closer to the main road, it’s louder here. Easier to mask her presence.

Even so, she had to have realised he’d been toying with her from the start, perfectly aware she’d been tailing him. Why else would he have led her down the rabbit’s warren?

“… What?”

“Dinner,” he elaborates. “Are you hungry? I didn’t have a chance to eat today, and I figured that rather than spending all night following me in the hopes that I’ll – what, lead you to your cousin? – we could sit down and talk over some food. Ramen, actually. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To talk?”

She regards him warily, brows knitting together, considering the proposition. He can’t blame her for the reticence, exactly, but it is somewhat of a pointless exercise considering they both know that she’s going to say yes.

She might hate him. Despise him. She might even be afraid of him, but she went toe to toe with Kuroo and that doesn’t speak to someone meek or spineless. If she wants answers – if she wants you as badly as he thinks she does, she won’t be able to resist.

A heartbeat later, and he’s proven correct. Her jaw tightens, but she nods; a short, sharp jerk of her chin. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

Despite the proclamation, Kisumi remains silent as they’re shown to one of the tables set up beneath the awning outside, shielding them from the drizzling rain, and when Akaashi orders for them both, two bowls of tonkotsu, with a side of gyoza to share. She just sits, shoulders back, arms folded gracefully across her chest, glaring daggers.

All of that fades away when the waitress comes by with their food. In an instant she softens, smiling and politely dipping her head in thanks. Only when the waitress disappears back inside and they’re alone again does Kisumi finally break her silence.

“I don’t suppose you’ll save me the trouble and tell me where my cousin is?”

Akaashi smiles at that, splitting his chopsticks to snatch one of the pot sticker dumplings and take a bite. He savours the mouthful, the rich flavours of garlicky pork, cabbage and chives bursting over his taste buds, chewing thoughtfully before posing another question to the blonde.

“Did she ever talk about how we met?”

Kisumi laughs, shaking her head as she pulls her bowl of ramen close and grabs her chopsticks. “No. No, somehow between all the tears and the breakdowns, her gripping my hand while she lay in that hospital bed and told the cops every detail about how you trapped her in that house, how the three of you touched her, raped her, we didn’t get around to chatting about the meet cute. Weird, right?”

“There was this ramen place on campus,” Akaashi begins, ignoring Kisumi’s dig entirely. “Kind of like this one, except it was open twenty-four seven. Busy as hell during the day, but after ten, eleven at night it got pretty quiet, and she always worked the late shift.”

There’s a quiet wistfulness in his tone that Akaashi doesn’t bother masking.

He remembers the way your face used to brighten when the bell above the door would announce their arrival, the cute little bounce in your step that he never could get out of his head.

When it was dead and you could get away with it, you’d come over and chat, sneaking them drinks, dumplings, an extra egg or slice of pork, even ‘forgetting’ to tally their orders up correctly when it came time to settle their bill. If your boss took notice, he never said anything – or if he did, then you never cared enough to stop.

You could make a few exceptions for your favourites, you’d told him when he’d asked you about it once, smiling that soft, pretty smile of yours. Blind to the way those words, and the image of you beaming so beautifully, would etch their way into his very being, refusing to give him a moment’s peace.

Bokuto and Kuroo would waste hours fighting over who you liked best, only for Akaashi to add fuel to the fire, dryly reminding them that arguing was pointless – you weren’t stupid or blind enough to prefer either one of them.

It was a slow thing, this descent into hell with you… and then it wasn’t.

And he wouldn’t trade what he has now for all the world, but some small part of him will always mourn those early days, the sweet naivety with which you used to treat them.

Kisumi, picking at her ramen rather than eating it, sucks on her teeth and exhales slowly, drawing him from his reminiscing. “So when did it change?” she asks.

“Hm?”

“When did you decide that that wasn’t enough? At what point exactly did the three of you sit down and make the decision to take her to that cabin, keep her there against her will and spend three days systematically abusing her for your own sick fucking pleasure?”

A flash of irritation sparks, and his eyes narrow. “She agreed to come with us, and we didn’t abuse her. We’d never.”

A silence descends between them, thick, wrought with tension and disbelief. And then, like a match struck, the blonde explodes.

“God, you’re so full of shit, you know that, right?!” Kisumi snarls, disgusted. “You might’ve been able to convince the court that it was rough and fun, that whatever damage you left behind was damage she wanted, but I was there for the aftermath. I saw the state you left her in!”

Each word is biting and vitriolic, her voice shaking with barely repressed rage. If she’s hoping for some sign that they’ve struck a chord, wounded him in some way, she’s sorely disappointed. Save for the cold, flat stare he regards her with, the only response Akaashi deigns to give is simply to resume eating, gathering another mouthful of noodles between his chopsticks and slurping them up.

That, it seems, is Kisumi’s breaking point. Shaking her head with a hollow scoff, she shoves her own, largely untouched bowl aside and stands.

“I’m going to find her, and when I do I am going to spend every waking second, every last yen I have making sure that the three of you go down for it.” And with that, she snatches up her purse, yanking it open to dig for her umbrella.

Another mouthful, braised chashu pork and scallions. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

—

Fingers drum restlessly against the leather steering wheel, tapping out an anxious beat.

‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,’ Kuroo had said, clapping him on the back.

The light shines from her bedroom window, the shadow of her figure moving within. Bokuto checks the clock again; 11:27.

He’d been so happy, over the fucking moon to come home. Three weeks away, three and a half hours on the train, he was itching, leg bouncing restlessly as the miles slowly crawled by. And even though all he wanted to do was find Kuroo so they could go home already, he made the effort for the fans that swarmed the second he got off the train.

Took the time to smile and pose for pictures, signed the autographs, laughing and chatting away. He gets it, he does – meeting your idols is pretty fucking awesome, and the last thing he’d ever wanna do would be to ruin that for some poor kid just because he’s in a rush to get home and rip your clothes off.

Still, even at the best of times patience was never his forte, and three weeks might as well have been a lifetime.

Anticipation had him on cloud nine, and nothing – nothing – was gonna bring him down.

At least, that’s what he’d thought.

‘Don’t you have an ounce of shame?’

It’d taken everything he had not to snap there and then. There were kids around, staring up at him with wide, confused eyes – their parents quick to usher them away.

Kuroo’d said she’d be a problem.

Akaashi agreed.

The bedroom light flicks off, and his pulse jumps. Go time.

Adjusting the cap on his head, he flips up the hood of his jacket and exits the car, avoiding the light from the street lamps above to cross the road. Her house is nice enough. Small, with a garden out front spilling with greenery and potted flowers. Her cat, lying on the windowsill between the blinds and the glass, notes his arrival on the doorstep with slow blinking eyes, only to yawn and dismiss him entirely, unbothered.

Faced with a locked door, Bokuto doesn’t bother wasting time or energy trying to pick it. He has no need – two solid, powerful kicks later, the wooden door splinters and cracks, giving way beneath his foot.

Shoving the wreckage of the door aside, Bokuto shoulders his way inside. There’s a sudden yowl – the cat, startled by the noise, launches itself from the window to skitter away to some safe, dark hidey-hole. From somewhere else within he hears a muffled thump, followed by a curse.

Good. He wants her to know he’s coming.

‘You can google it, you know? The rape and the trial, it’s on your wikipedia page – and those kids and their families, they still worship you. That’s your legacy.’

A slow building anger seeps through his veins, blood thrumming in anticipation.

‘Doesn’t it make you sick?’

She’s threatening to take you away. ‘Kaashi said she’s hellbent on it.

Bokuto can shoulder a lot. He dealt with the blow to his image – both during the trial and after it – and when you left last time, disappearing into thin air without so much as a goodbye, it broke something inside of him.

Still, he found a way to get through it. He had to, because he was getting you back.

And the taste of you lingers on his tongue from when it was buried inside of you only hours ago, a honeyed tang he’d swallow down by the mouthful if he could. Back home your hips and ass, the soft sweetness of your thighs, carry mottled imprints of his fingers – that overeager, desperate touch.

Three rounds he’d gone; sinking his cock into your pussy, fucking out all of his frustrations and pent up emotions ‘til he was spent and you were a shaking, shivering, heavenly mess. It was supposed to make things better. Calm him down a little and take the edge off.

It had the opposite effect.

Because he knows now what it’s like to lose a soulmate, he knows just how high the stakes are.

She swung first, Bokuto’s simply returning the favour.

There’s no point masking his footsteps as he stalks through the house, a singular goal in mind. Akaashi made him promise that he wouldn’t take this too far – and he won’t.

He wants to – fuck, he really, really wants to.

But he won’t.

The door to the bedroom’s cracked an inch – it groans in protest when he nudges it wider and crosses the threshold.

The thought of finding her, dragging her kicking and screaming out into the living room was something he’d been looking forward to, but Kisumi – rudely ruining his fun – isn’t hiding.

No, flattened against the wall opposite, shaking like a leaf, she grips her phone like it’s a lifeline. “I-I’ve called the cops. They’re on their way,” she calls out, and he realises that while his eyes have adjusted, hers haven’t. She thinks he’s a burglar, someone she can reason with.

He almost snorts.

Fumbling against the wall, it takes him a second or two to find the light switch and flick it on. Light floods the small bedroom in an instant, and Kisumi flinches, an arm coming up to shield her face from the sudden brightness.

When it falls though, and golden eyes meet her own, Bokuto’s rewarded with a look of shock and recognition, which quickly gives way to something much, much more satisfying.

Fear.

It’s in her eyes, widening horribly, the way her face drains of blood. The audible little hitch in her breathing that sends a delightful tingle down his spine.

And still, she tries to put on a brave face.

“The cops are already on their way,” she repeats, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Whatever you’re after– just… just go, and I swear I won’t say a word. I’ll keep your name out of it. We– we can pretend this never happened, alright?”

Bokuto grins at that. Shifts his weight as he lowers his centre of gravity.

The funny thing is, the stupid bitch doesn’t know just how right she’s about to be.

—

The beeping of the monitors brings back bad memories.

Truth be told, a lot of what happened that day is a blur. You don’t care to pry too deep, trying to pluck and sort through the trauma of what happened. You remember the hospital, though – gowned up, lying on the scratchy sheets, gripping Kisumi’s hand while you walked the detective through every harrowing minute you’d spent at their hands.

And now the situations are reversed, and it’s your cousin lying broken and damaged in the hospital, and you’re the one sitting at her bedside, keeping watch over her like the guardians of old. Holding her hand while you fight back tears.

The doctors say she’ll wake up soon, but they’ve been saying that for hours now.

All you can do is sit there and pray that she’ll wake up soon.

Pray that she’ll listen, and hear you.

You’re there when the doctors come by to check her vitals, when the food cart rolls by. They don’t stop for her, even if she were awake there wouldn’t be much point, what with her jaw wired shut and all.

Her whole body’s a mess. A broken wrist, broken ribs, her jaw shattered and face a bruised, swollen mess.

It’s a miracle she’s still alive.

Your stomach twists, nausea threatening to heave its way up your throat. No – it’s a miracle that he stopped.

The phone in your pocket vibrates, you ignore it for the third time. No doubt you’ll pay for it later, right now you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Please,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut as your vision blurs with unshed tears. “Please.”

But it’s a while yet before she stirs, consciousness slowly pulling her back to you.

It begins with a muffled groan, a whimper when she shifts. Even with all the damage to her face, you can see the signs of distress taking shape – hurt, twisting at her features.

They’ve given her all the drugs they can, and she’s still in pain.

Your heart wrenches. “Sumi? Sumi, can you hear me?” you ask, clutching her hand tightly between both of yours.

She groans again, fighting to get both eyes open. The phone in your pocket buzzes, insistent. It doesn’t stop after one, going off again and again and again, raising your internal panic. But Kisumi’s blinking now, trying desperately to pull the world into focus. Figure out why it hurts to move, why her mouth won’t obey when she tries to talk.

And you see the tears well up in her eyes, the panic and fear, and you swallow down your own emotions because they don’t matter right now.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. I know it hurts, I know you’re scared, but you’re safe now. I promise you, you’re safe.” An echo of the words she’d once spoken to you. Your thumb strokes the back of her uninjured hand. “Don’t try to talk, just… listen to me, I don’t have long.”

Her fingers try to clumsily curl around your own, and she makes another noise – a garbled butchering of your name that breaks off into a frustrated wail – sending a fresh bolt of pain and guilt lancing through your chest. Tears sting in the corner of your eyes, bottom lip quivering.

This is all your fault.

“You can’t talk, your jaw they– they had to wire it shut,” you tell her while she chokes on another sob. You squeeze her hand, “Please, Sumi, I need you to listen to me. Don’t move, just… blink if you understand; once for yes, twice for no.”

A beat passes, and she blinks. Good.

“Do you remember what happened? The man who attacked you?”

… One blink.

You exhale unsteadily, clearing your throat. Kisumi’s eyes are wide as saucers, tracking every move with a laser focus, and your hand is wrapped so tightly around hers that if she wasn’t already drugged to high heaven she’d probably be whimpering. She’s afraid, you realise. Not of the hospital or the damage she’s yet to comprehend the extent of – she’s afraid because she remembers.

She’s afraid because you are.

“Kisumi… you need to stop this. Forget it happened, play dumb for the cops, drop the article and stop interfering. For your own sake as well as mine, I'm begging you. Otherwise… Otherwise–” your voice dies a quiet death as footsteps approach.

There’s no need to turn.

Kisumi’s face tells you everything when it blanches and she begins to tremble like a terrified puppy. Beside her, the heart rate monitor goes haywire, mirroring her pulse as it jumps erratically with the short, sharp gasps she sucks through clenched teeth.

And when a hand falls to your shoulder, both of you flinch.

“Ready to go, babe?”

To Kisumi, you force a tight, watery smile, “Let it go, okay? Promise me.”

You don’t wait for a response, there’s no point. You’ve poked the bear enough by ignoring their calls and texts, there’s no need to push your luck more than you already have.

Letting Kisumi’s hand slip from your grasp, you rise from your seat and turn, nodding. “Yeah.”

Kuroo smirks, coaxing your face up into a short kiss while his fingers entwine with yours, but it’s Bokuto, claiming your other arm, who grumbles like a petulant child, “You were s’posed to be done hours ago.”

“I‘m sorry. We can go home now.”

Neither one of them spare the battered blonde more than a cursory glance on their way out. You, on the other hand, risk a backwards glance in the moments before you’re tugged away.

Kisumi’s sobbing, broken and raw, hunched over as much as her injuries allow. Her bloodshot eyes meet yours, and your heart breaks one last time.

Promise me you’ll stop. They’ll kill you if you don’t.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo tetsurou x reader #yandere boktuo kotarou x reader #yandere akaashi keiji x reader #yandere kuroo #yandere bokuto #yandere akaashi #tw: noncon

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yanderecrazysie · 9 months

Note

this request might be a little weird but yandere!bokuto x quiet!reader x yandere!akaashi where reader like to listen to music, coffee shops (yet proceeds to get tea or hot chocolate there), mangas, and dresses. could there be some fear in this too like the fear of the ocean and easily gets homesick.

also i love your writing its amazing and take as much time w this as you need🤍

- anon🥂💍

This sounds awesome- not weird at all! And thank you so much, you’re so kind to me! >3<

Title: Routine

Pairings: Akaashi Keiji x Reader; Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, reader has thalassophobia

Summary: Akaashi and Bokuto have picked out the perfect place for you to live. Too bad you don’t agree…

routine

/noun/

a sequence of actions regularly followed.

You were a creature of habit.

You went to work and left when your shift was over. You visited a coffee place before and after work, but you never got coffee there. On Saturdays and Sundays, you spent a good chunk of your time there too, sipping away at a hot chocolate while music blared through your earbuds and you settled into your latest manga.

You also spent a lot of time at home, often doing the same things as you did at the coffee shop. Playing music while you cleaned and cooked, and curling up on the couch to read your manga. You were a homebody, but you enjoyed your time outside too.

You went shopping on Sundays and ate out on Saturdays. A little treat for how hard you worked during the week, no doubt. You got gas the moment your car started getting low and you cleaned frequently.

You liked to wear dresses and makeup, but not too much. Your dresses were nothing too fancy, almost casual and your makeup was light and natural.

You were fond of routines and anyone who knew yours could find you easily.

Stalk you easily.

Seriously, you made it way too easy for two people in particular to follow you around and watch you. Learn all the things that made you you. They knew everything mentioned and more.

Akaashi and Bokuto were best friends and shared many of the same interests- the most intense of which included you. They loved you deeply, but they didn’t know how to approach you with an offer like “date both of us, please”. It just wouldn’t work out.

Bokuto would overwhelm you, Akaashi was sure of that. And Akaashi would underwhelm you, as Bokuto liked to say. They were the unlikeliest of friends and even more so, potential romantic partners. There was no way you’d fall for either of them, much less both.

So they followed you.

At first, they had convinced themselves that, if they just got to know you, they could woo you easily. Pretend to have all the same interests and bam! You’d be one happy throuple.

They could claim to like all the mangas they’d seen you read. Claim to love that cozy little coffee shop where they, too, get hot chocolate. Claim to have the same taste in music.

But wouldn’t that be creepy? They realized that too. Akaashi could be subtle, sure, but Bokuto was not a good actor by any means. Too eager to please, they both knew too well.

Their minds turned to kidnapping a little too quickly. But, after all, they were stalking you. It was the logical next step for them both.

It’d be easy to sweep you away, considering how strictly you followed your routine and the fact that you lived alone. But there was the worry that they would have to keep you locked up, constantly worrying about being put behind bars and keeping you from becoming depressed.

They had an idea or, rather, Akaashi had an idea and Bokuto agreed. It was an awful, cruel idea.

But to them, it was a necessary one.

When you next woke up, you’d be in an unfamiliar bedroom in an equally strange house with even stranger men. You’d be frightened, sure, but you’d soon find it was easy to escape. They wouldn’t stand for keeping you locked or chained up, after all.

While escaping their house was easy, escaping their small private island was not.

When you stared at the vast ocean, face drained of all blood, and swaying unsteadily, you end up looking back at the two men who casually followed you outside, wondering if they knew that you were deathly afraid of the ocean. That you’d never dare try to cross it or so much as wade your toes in it.

Only to be met with smug, knowing grins.

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!!#yandere one shot #one shot #yandere x reader #yandere akaashi #yandere bokuto #akaashi keiji #bokuto koutarou

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midnightlee25 · 11 months

Text

Yandere Profile: Keiji Akaashi

Meeting:

Meeting his darling was like a dream come true with him just about Falling for them the first time he saw them and getting to talk to them made him fall even deeper under their spell. It really did feel like they had cast something on him for every time he was around them, he felt calm and comforted even if they weren’t trying to.

Stalking/After Meeting:

There are a lot of just so “happened meetings”. It happens a lot even after they’ve got into more of a friendship than just acquaintances; he just can’t help himself but be around them as much as he can while also not coming off as creepy in order to maintain the trust that he has built up with them.

Kidnapping:

There is a small chance of him actually kidnapping them but that doesn’t mean he won’t use other methods for making them stay with him.

Punishments:

His type of punishment is “match the crime”.

Relationship:

It has a high chance of being normal with how will he hides his yandere side.

Random headcanons:

He can be harsh or soft with his darling even a mix of them two if he needs to.

He remembers everything about his darling even to the point of keeping notes on them just in case he actually does ever forget.

If he has to, he will make situations happen in order for him to get closer to them. (Ex: their friends Turning their backs on them.)

AU:

Childhood friends:

There is not a chance in hell he will ever lose contact with his favorite person ever. In this scenario he is a bit more lenient when it comes to them having other friends because he knows he can never be replaced… no one knows them better than he does for all.

Future:

He just wants a peaceful future with his darling one where they are both happy being together and he will make sure that happens no matter what road he has to take.

#yandere #yandere profile #haikyuu #haikyu #yandere haikyuu #akaashi headcanons #akaashi x reader #yandere akaashi #akaashi keiji

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martellprincess-writes · 2 years

Text

0NE NATI0N UNDER BL00D AND H0NEY

SERIES MASTERLIST: HAIKYUU FULL-LENGTH FIC

synopsis. At an all-women's college, soldiers take siege during martial law.

aesthetics. psychological thriller, 80's/90's japan. haikyuu!! soldiers vs. female students, martial law, hostages, war-torn society, dark academia, stockholm syndrome, military AU, tragedy, loss, angst

warnings. EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT // 20+ // minors + under-20s DO NOT INTERACT please // NONCON // GRAPHIC CONTENT // PHYSICAL VIOLENCE // nsfw, abuse, twisted and toxic relationships, stockholm syndrome

pairing. various haikyuu boys x multiple f! characters

authors note. this is my attempt to bring more full-length fics to this fandom and to explore more depth with original female characters instead of x readers. one-shot x readers … i’m tired

auth. note 2. links go to ao3 because i’m not putting myself through the hell of posting a full fic on this site

status: ongoing

CHAPTER LIST ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━ ━━

01 ━━ WIND BEFORE THE STORM: AKAASHI, BOKUTO

02 ━━ WE'LL SAVE YOU: MATSUKAWA, IWAIZUMI

03 ━━ CALL US LUCKY: IWAIZUMI, MATSUKAWA, AKAASHI, DAICHI, MEIAN, ENNOSHITA

04 ━━ CAN'T SAVE YOU NOW: ENNOSHITA, OSAMU, KAGEYAMA, IWAIZUMI

05 ━━ NOWHERE TO CALL HOME: IWAIZUMI, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, DAICHI, AONE

06 ━━ SO MUCH INNOCENCE: ENNOSHITA, MATSUKAWA, BOKUTO, TANAKA, AKAASHI, ATSUMU

07 ━━ NIGHT HAS COME: BOKUTO, AKAASHI, TANAKA, ATSUMU, MEIAN, MATSUKAWA, OIKAWA

08 ━━ tbd

09 ━━ tbd

10 ━━

11 ━━

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu longfic #haikyuu x oc #hq x reader #iwaizumi hajime #matsukawa issei #daichi sawamura #oikawa tooru #tanaka ryuunosuke #osamu miya #hq smut #akaashi keiji #bokuto koutarou #meian shuugo #ennoshita chikara #miya atsumu #tw noncon #yandere haikyuu

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colourstreakgryffin · 8 months

Note

Hi babes I was wondering if I could request yan! Atsumu miya, Yan! Akaashi keiji, and if you write bungo stray dogs.. Yan! tecchou (if you don't then you don't gotta write him) with a reader who is like a totally bimbo, thank you!!

Big hoooraaaay! First Haikyuu request! But sadly, I don’t know Bungo Stray Dogs so I won’t add Tecchou(since you said I don’t have to, if I don’t know it)! Otherwise, will happily do this! Thank you!

Yandere! Miya Atsumu

Atsumu is reckless and does whatever comes to mind. He won’t bother trying to hide himself or whatever he does, that means he’ll happily threaten and beat the actual shit out of his rivals. He has fists for a reason, he’ll use them to shoo anyway all the problems trying to keep his lover away from him

Atsumu is partly selfish by nature so his possessive nature over you is overbearing. He clings into your waist and demands you spend time with him. He hates it when you look at anybody but him, he’s better then any of those other men. And he will openly say this, he doesn’t care how bad he seems

Do you think he is transparent? No. He lies, Osamu has confirmed it. Atsumu lies and lies about everything he does, and lies about why he needs to be around you constantly. His lies aren’t convincing at all but he does it anyway, in hopes his puppydog eyes will manipulate your feelings into trusting him blindly

Atsumu is very protective— no— overprotective. He isn’t the biggest man but he will happily roll up his sleeves to defend you when he sees fit. He is rude and aggressive to everybody around you as to make sure they won’t try take you away from him.

Yandere! Akaashi Keiji

Keiji has a impressive analytic side to himself. He is a overthinker, that could be a problem for him but when it comes to you. It’s not, he takes mere seconds to pick the right choice in response to what you say or do

Keiji’s obsession feeds his mind rotten flesh until it cracks. He is intelligent but he can’t see the reality of how you really feel for him. He wholeheartedly believes you love him since you support him. He doesn’t know that you’re terrified of him

Keiji will never try hurt or kill his rivals. Getting blood on his hands is too risky so he prefers to intimidate and/or threaten them so they run away and hide from you. In one big plan, he is scaring everybody who loves you until you’re alone and begging for him to stay with you

Keiji knows everything about you that it gets so bad. His head is more full of you then it is of basic life skills since he cares for you to be apart of his life, much more than anything. Yes, he stalks you on every ounce of his free time since you’re on his mind 24/7

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milaisreading · 2 years

Text

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

If someone has any requests, please send :)

Rules:

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

Tag list:

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

MASTERLIST:

Characters I write for:

Karasuno

Kageyama Tobio

Hinata Shoyo

Sawamura Daichi

Sugawara Koushi

Azumane Asahi

Nishinoya Yuu

Tanaka Ryuunosuke

Yamaguchi Tadashi

Tsukishima Kei

Seijoh

Oikawa Tooru

Iwaizumi Hajime

Matsukawa Issei

Hanamaki Takahiro

Nekoma

Tetsuro Kuroo

Kozume Kenma

Yaku Morisuke

Haiba Lev

Yamamoto Taketora

Fukurodani

Bokuto Koutarou

Akaashi Keiji

Shiratorizawa

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Tendou Satori

Semi Eita

Goshiki Tsutomu

Yamagata Hayato

Shirabu Kenjiro

Inarizaki

Kita Shinsuke

Aran Ojiro

Suna Rintaro

Miya Osamu

Miya Atsumu

Itachiyama

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Komori Motoya

Kamomedai

Kourai Hoshiumi

Sachiro Hirugami

MSBY BLACK JACKALS

Shugo Meian

Schweiden Adlers

Hirugami Fukuro

Romero Nicollas

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mango-bango-bby · 2 years

Note

Hi sorry if I’m bothering you but I really like your work. I was wondering if you could right akaashi with a darling that has been emotionally neglected their whole life having the most responsibilities as the oldest child and supportive mom friend they never had the chance to talk about how they feel so they have a hard time communicating when their sad or depressed. I’ve only just realized I have this problem so I’ve been crying a lot to myself and I just need some comfort

♡ Here For You ♡

(A/N: I hope you’re feeling better now, doll. People who are the ones others depend on often don’t have anyone to depend on themselves. I hope you find someone who you can lean on when you need comforted 🥺🥺 Snd if you want, I’m always here to talk 💘 )

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, crying, just comfort

Summary: You’ve always had to be strong for the others around you, and now you have someone to comfort you when you never have (Yan!Akaashi x GN!reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You were strong. You always were strong, mostly because all your life you had to be strong for others. You were the one others depended on so you were never the one to be comforted. Until now that is.

You had no one else in your life except for Akaashi. And you had no one to comfort so you now had to face your own problems. You were the one being taken care of now and it was so strange.

You try to keep yourself quiet but you can’t keep the tears from leaking out of your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. You’re not even sure why you’re crying. Or maybe you just don’t know how to describe why you’re sad or what you’re feeling.

Akaashi is not exactly a deep sleeper, so at the sounds of your soft sniffles and sobs he woke. He looks over at you, seeing your silhouette sitting up in the bed as you try not to cry to loud.

“Darling? What’s wrong?” Akaashi asked calmly sitting up with you, gently places his hand on your back. You only sniffle. You had no idea how to explain your feelings. You kept in all your feelings until eventually you’re feelings bubbled up until you began to break down.

You don’t say anything, simply looking over at him, leaning into his touch as you rested your head on his shoulder. You continue to softly cry, feeling Akaashi soothingly rub your back. You had to admit you liked being comforted, you’ve never got to be held like this before.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Akaashi whispers, trying to keep you calm. You think for a moment. “I don’t k-know how to exp-explain it” you stumble through the sentence, your vision still blurred from your tears.

“That’s alright, love. You might be able to explain how you feel but if later you find the words, you can tell me. Or you can not tell me. Just know I’m here for you” Akaashi says, his words causing you to cry even harder.

Not from sadness though. You just never heard those words before. You’ve said them to others so many times but never heard them yourself. You still softly cry until eventually your cries die down.

Akaashi looks down at you once you stop crying only to see you asleep again. He only softly smiles before gently making you lean back onto the bed. He would be with you until you found out how to explain your feelings.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

#yandere haikyuu #soft yandere #yandere comfort #yandere akaashi #Yandere!Akaashi #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere keiji #yandere keiji x reader #yandere!keiji

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summer-dxd · 1 year

Text

Oikawa x Akaashi x Fem reader (sort of yandere??)

Istg if y’all don’t read this and love it ill murder you in your sleep. Anywaysss i thought of this on the toilet while i was watching lilsimsie on YouTube and listening to music so cut me some slack ^-^ (the song is linked in this post)

Also slay this is so cringe, jk jk but the writing could be better ngl. Idk i didn’t pay attention to synonyms in class.

———

The door bell rang. Two attractive young men stood before me, a brunette with chiseled features and a slim physique and a tall, handsome boy with gorgeous eyes and dark hair.

“Y/N I presume?” The first boy said, grinning at his partner.

“Yes… who are you?” I curiously asked, staring intently at the both of them. I noticed a slight tension between the two. I recognised a symbolic pin on the dark-haired boys coat.

AKAASHI?! Like a member of the mafia family, Akaashi?! OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL?!

The brown-haired boy gripped my hand, pulling it up and placing a gentle kiss to my finger tips.

“Oikawa, Oikawa Tohru” He smirked, pulling on my wrist tightly. I couldn’t believe it… a boy who uncle runs and owns one of the largest global companies ever and another boy whose father practically runs the mafia in Tokyo. I laughed hysterically.

“I’m sorry… WHAT?!” I choked out loudly, seeing the boys share puzzled looks, “THE Oikawa family heir?! And who are you? Akaashi Keiji, The soon-to-be mafia boss once dear-old daddy passes?” I shot a half glare in Akaashis direction.

“Yes” He answered, staring blankly into my eyes.

“W-well come in then” I mumbled pulling the grand doors of my fathers manor open. Nine bedrooms and twelve bathrooms, our families income and pretty much limited wealth funded all the up keep of the mansion. It was huge, equipped with an indoor, heated pool, theatre, bar and bowling alley in the basement. It was modern and costed almost fifty million Australian dollars.

“So… are you here to see my father? Mr L/N?” I continued walking up a marble staircase in the entry way, the two boys in suit.

“Mhm! That’s right sweetheart!” Tohru smiled as he spoke, “Very clever man you know, rich and smart, A perfect business partner and father in L-!” Keiji elbowed him harshly in the stomach.

“Shut up” He yelled angrily, still following me. I paused and turned around.

“Huh?” I tilted my head, confused. Tohru ushered me along after shooting some dirty glances at Keiji. I was confused but kept walking to my fathers study. I stepped up to the doors and three times, rhythmically.

“Come in” an annoyed, monotone voice said from the other side.

“That’s our cue” Keiji said, opening the door for me and Tohru.

“My daughter!” Mr L/N grinned, his stern facade disappearing, “And my sons in law!” He hopped out of his seat, arms outstretched and wrapping the boys in a warm embrace.

“Father??” I questioned, trying to make sense of the scene before me, “What do you mean sons?” I was absolutely puzzled.

“Why, you are going to be engaged to both of them next month, sweet girl!” He beamed, letting go of the boys and wrapping an arm around my shoulder, “My little girl getting married to her childhood friends.” He started to tear up but quickly wiped his eyes and sat down. “These two will be staying with us til the wedding, then you’ll have access to your mothers inheritance and become the wife and property of these two, wealthy gentlemen.”

“PROPERTY?!” I yelled, shocked at what i was hearing.

“Don’t worry! They’ll take care of you and give you a good life on the conditions you show up to all gatherings and lavish parties they attend and make good use of their names and your rising fame in acting.” My father went dead serious as Tohru piped up.

“Plus! If its a poly-amorous marriage imagine how much better Keiji and I would look than just a normal gay couple, with connections and immense wealth!”

“Doesn’t sound that horrendous I guess… BUT what about the huge target it would put on my back and the paparazzi you guys deal with daily?” I thought deeply for a moment.

“What about it? Are you forgetting who i am? For such a pretty thing you’re quite dense my dear” Keiji adjusted his jacket as he interrupted my trail of thought.

“Let me consider it… Give me one week” I couldn’t lie, both men were stunningly hot and probably would make wonderful husbands but did i really want to marry people I BARELY knew or remembered, like obviously Akaashi didn’t still play with lego and Tohru wouldn’t cry if he saw a roach in the corner of the room. Unless… they did??

#haikyuu #yandere #oikawa tōru #akaashi keiji #x reader #x you

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

Text

┌─ “ ! „ LOVER, LOVER

tw. noncon, somno, implied size kink, praise, possessiveness, panty stealing, breeding, thoughts of violence, unreliable narrator, yandere esque wordcount. 4.8k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by a follower who i'm so very grateful for ♡ thank you thank you thank you for the commission!!! clingy bokuto is just such a joy, i love him so much and i hope you do tooooo!! i really hope you like where i've taken your idea and that you enjoy reading my love! ♡♡♡ and ty ty ty to rhi and yuli beta-ing!

bokuto koutaro x fem!reader

There’s a little glimmer in Konoha’s eyes— but he’s quick to swallow his laugh. “So you’re telling me there’s no you and Bo?” he confirms, thin brow raising high on his visage to almost comical effect.

“There’s no me and Bo!” you quickly say back, trying not to laugh too when the gray haired man’s pretty eyes flick up to meet you. Bokuto’s talking, his loud voice raising the energy in the room to a peak, and you happily watch how he lights up everything around you. There’s so much happiness in his smile, and the way he carries himself, but it’s unmatched by the way he looks when he’s looking at you.

It’s only when you feel the full force of Bokuto Koutaro that you can truly, deeply appreciate him. And the force of nature he becomes when he’s in his element.

“I love him like a friend! But… I’m happy right now. I don’t want to ruin an amazing friendship for something more.” You admit it all while watching him wave his hands around while talking, brighter than anything else in the room. “He knows! I’ve told him.” As if always sensing your eyes on him, he stares back at you for a second, before his cheeks pull up even more and he scrunches his nose your way. And the ashy blond by your side slowly takes a sip from his drink, until you look back at him.

“Did Bokuto retain that info? Because…” he trails off, and shakes his head. You continue to look at your mutual friend for what feels like a while, as he slurps the coke through his straw with an unneeded amount of noise.

“Thank you so much,” your voice barely travels loud enough for the bartender to smile, watching you carry the plate all the way towards the table. Koutaro had thrown the biggest fuss when you so much as suggested staying home tonight, and- you don’t often have the heart to tell him no. Your best friend is splayed out in dramatic fashion over the tables of your booth by the time you make it back— full ‘woe is me’ as he’s about to break the tables under his weight. Something Akaashi is clearly doing his best to avoid, with the white-knuckled grip on the edge of the furniture as he sends you a desperate glance.

“Bo, you’re going to break it,” you just give them a little shake of your head, but it’s enough to have the silver haired giant perking up and looking over his shoulder for you. It’s a surprise even to you that he even heard you over the noise— less of a surprise when he’s picking the plate out of your hands before you can place it down and shoves the thing in front of Atsumu’s nose, and grabs your arm to pull you into his side.

“There’s my favorite girl! Don’t run off without me, I miss you,” he pouts down your way, and you can’t help but wonder how it’s possible that a muscled, grown man like Bokuto is as childishly needy as he is tall. And he is very tall. Despite it though, you’ve only ever known him to be gentle and kind to everyone and everything, a bundle of sunshine on two very muscular legs, and a massive pushover for- well, you. You met Bokuto when you got paired up with Akaashi on a final project— stressed to hell under last year of high school pressure. Keiji was the hardworking, quiet type; and finding Bokuto attached to your hip afterwards was just kind of par for the course.

It didn’t shock you when the light-haired, boyish extrovert took a liking to you— as the type of guy to see the good in everyone. It does still shock you a little that years later, he’s the one claiming the title of your best friend. Even with all the unbridled chaos he carries with him. The -lock pinkies and tell secrets in the dark- type best friend.

Atsumu takes a quick glance your way before holding out a shot toward you, and grins. “Yer goin’ first, aintcha? How’s about ya try outdoin’ Bokkun or Omi Omi for once. C’mere, I’ll make sure ya don’t have to hang out with that sap all night.” It’s just a joke, you know Atsumu well enough by now to know so, but an arm tightens around your waist.

Koutaro’s leaning into your body but staring down at his years-long teammate with a silence uncharacteristic of the tall spiker. His big eyes narrow the slightest bit as the uncomfortable void grows thick. Atsumu isn't even looking, already prompting others to take their own shots in the short time it took for him to get more than tipsy, with a healthy flush and lidded eyes. But you are looking, and it’s strange enough for you to give him a questioning frown over your shoulder.

“Bo?” He doesn’t say anything. “Earth to Bokuto?” you try again, attempting to laugh it off. There’s a thoughtful sort of glaze over his eyes before he grabs your cheeks in his hand and makes you look up at him.

Bokuto’s always been touchy. It’s a fact you had to get used to extremely quickly, when on only your third time meeting, he’d flung his arms over your shoulders and kissed you, backing you against a wall right in the middle of the very busy halls. It had taken Akaashi a lot of back and forth explaining to fix that one, but you like to think you became better friends despite it all. It was forgiven a long time ago. But the way he holds you now, no enthusiasm boiling over, or as much as a smile, feels off. “Don’t listen to him. Don’t drink like that tonight.” The serious tone in his voice throws you off even more, and you roll your eyes.

“Why not? It’s the weekend- We’re with friends.” Whatever he hears in your voice makes his brows tense more. And it makes you mutter softer, “Neither of us are driving either.”

He licks his lips with a strange sort of disdain. You can’t quite place where you’ve seen this version of Bokuto before, but it makes you feel a bit apprehensive, and you say his name again. This time he nods, and even puts on a smile; though it doesn’t reach past his cheeks. “Why get wasted when we can do that any other time, though? I wanna have a good time with you. And I can’t enjoy myself when I constantly have to search the dance floor for you- or check which freak is hitting on you, or trying to do something— You know you become so defenseless.” His voice gets pouty and exasperated quick, and you know he probably doesn’t get that what he’s saying might be hurtful.

It’s fine. This is Bokuto Koutaro, the guy who spent three whole years using every single free opportunity to impress you with his thoughtfulness, and to get you to admit he really was ‘your favorite person’. Even kittens have their claws, so it’s fine. “I’m not planning on getting wasted— and even if I did, I’m a grown woman.” He opens his mouth to talk more, but you’re quick to cut him off by taking his hand and squeezing his fingers with a softer sigh. “I appreciate your worry, Bo, but I’m allowed to have fun.” You expect that to be the end of it.

Bokuto is good at pushing boundaries, but he’s also softer with you. Always was so willing to listen. So you are more than a little shocked when he doesn’t settle down, getting more up into your face instead by staring down with a scorching fire in his eyes.

“No, you can’t. Not when they’re around,” Koutaro harshly replies, low in volume. You slowly brush his hand away to look back at Atsumu for support. The blond surely didn’t hear what was just said, but you’re not sure you’re comfortable with what it’s implying. If it’s implying anything at all— and you look back at your friend with more confusion. But before you have the chance to ask, Kuroo Tetsuro, mutual high school acquaintance and ever the disrupter of the peace, chimes in with a loud cheer and swoops you up into his arms to slam two whole shots down before you with a grin.

“Chug ‘em, or you have to get up on stage with me.” Bokuto’s face fades from your view with Kuroo’s exuberance, the light in his tone instantly calming your anxiety. You don’t want to fight with your best friend over nothing, your thoughts quickly chant, and Kuroo’s a great way to pick your mood back up. “That strip pole is calling our names.” You snort as he slides the glasses even closer, dragging out the scraping noise, and forget about the weird interaction almost as soon as it came.

You’re just being friendly. Bokuto knows this, knows you’re inherently, deeply wired with the ability to make it seem like the person you’re talking to is the most interesting thing you’ve laid eyes on all day. And sure, it definitely wasn’t the first thing he noticed— that probably would have been the way your eyes glistened like two fire beacons with those long, long lashes aimed at him, and then your fine fucking body; he’s a healthy, young-blooded man after all —but it was definitely a prominent factor. Despite your quiet, reserved nature, he’d been glowing coming off of the first time talking to you, like everything he was saying was just so… interesting.

It’s a stretch to call you naïve, because you’re not. You’re smart, like Akaashi is, and you managed to pull the two of them through the disaster of a final assignment upon just meeting them. But there’s something in your smile, in the way you look at the world through wide, inviting eyes that seems to beg for his attention. It makes him want to squeeze you and never let you go, if he’s being honest. He knows he’s supposed to take it slower, knows that for all your kindness, you’re not one to rush into things.

But he’s been more than patient in his eyes, and because of it, you’re now staring up at Kuroo with those pretty giggles and nods that sure as fuck made him fall head over heels for you. He’s not unreasonable. He cares about you enough to allow his friends to get near. He’s trying, truly! But Kuroo’s arm around your waist is a bit too much, blood boiling as he balls his fists so tight his knuckles turn white. The instinct to land his fist straight into Kuroo’s teeth is pushed down with a deep breath, before he wipes those sweaty palms on his pants and makes his way to you with a plastered-on smile. It falters only a little when you look up as he calls your name, and it makes his stomach tie into tight knots.

You’re so fucking good, so pretty, so— perfect; it’s really no wonder everyone else tries to cut in. If he didn’t always feel like his heart was about to swallow him up, he’d understand. You’re magnetic, a vision of his future. If he loved you any less, he might’ve already beaten Kuroo’s face bloody. He likes the guy a whole bunch, but not enough to give you up. He can only dream that you feel the same.

That you think of him when you fall asleep, when you wake up, when you glide your dainty hand into your panties and rub— “Hey, Bo,” you smile at him, before giving him a poke in the chest. It’s an adorable display of how drunk you’re getting, and he has to fight back the glare he longs to send Kuroo for getting you this far in the first place. What if he wasn’t around, if he was preoccupied and hadn’t been watching you like a hawk all evening? But then you lean in a little grin. “Came to find me?”

Of course he did, his mind chants while taking your hand in his, he’d fucking chain himself to your side if you’d allow it. He doesn’t need to say that for it to be clear to anyone watching, right? You’re teasing. So he just pats your head, and pushes himself between you and Kuroo against the wall. “You ran off without me,” his pout is back, and you give a soft ‘sorry’.

“I was going to give ‘er back, Bo,” Kuroo chants to his side, but he doesn’t waste a second looking over. If he does, he still might plant his fist into his face— and you’d get upset with him. And he’d rather hurt anyone who so much as looks at you and then himself than have you upset with him; he really does love you a whole lot, you know? There’s other ways to get you out of here— and you are so very sweet to him when he plays it off. Something about a taxi and an incoming storm is enough to have you collecting your stuff and waving everyone goodnight, letting Kuroo squeeze you in a hug much too long for his liking.

He must show it on his face, because Akaashi’s dark, questioning eyes meet his; and he takes that as the sign to get out of there. He’s getting antsier by the second. And can’t help but get handsy, wrapping his arm around your waist as soon as Kuroo’s releasing you. He bumps his friend aside and smiles over his shoulder without the slightest bit of regret. “G’night, guys!” You don’t get to say bye, and that’s just fine by him. The way he has to hold you up a little to get into the taxi is too, preferable even.

He’s so glad you’re just a little thing, really. Every part of him shows you up size-wise, and selfishly, it makes him think that he was really made for you. To protect you, hold you close. Shelter you under his body when the first drips become a full on shower. He thanks whatever deity it is that starts the downpour then, because a few raindrops run down your lashes and the tip of your nose when you look up at him getting under the overhang. He’s getting too excited, it rolls in waves off of him until he can barely contain himself. You look like everything he’s ever wanted— fuck, and how you smile at him. His hands are itching to push you up against a wall and kiss you until you’re crying out his name, maybe hike your legs up onto his shoulders.

You don’t seem the exhibitionism type, but then again— he doesn’t think you’d fight him on it. Would you? But he holds it in, and waits for you to get out from under the umbrella created by his arms. “Come on in. It doesn’t seem like a good idea to let you head home like this,” you breathe out with a sniffle, pushing at the door to your apartment. You go find some towels, leaving him in the middle of your house with adrenaline running through his veins. Now, he might not be the brightest, but this is an opening, isn’t it?

Akaashi said something about boundaries, and all he can think is that if you’re letting him into your house without a second thought, something must’ve changed. It must’ve. You might’ve turned him down once that while ago, when he was claiming your mouth in the hall— but that was then, and you both are older now, closer. He can’t help but snoop as you search through some back closet for spare clothing; entering the dark bathroom with a little sigh. Like he expected, your products are neatly displayed in the cabinet, hand towels freshly washed and folded, everything seeming more like a hotel than a house. His eyes land on the basket next to the bathtub, and a hot shiver runs up his spine.

Some lacy, frilly panties are just visible sticking out next to the sweater he met you in this morning— going tingly and burning all over his skin. He already can’t help but imagine you bouncing on his cock and tearing up at the stretch when you pout; knowing that this was underneath it is enough to set him up in flames. He glances over his shoulder, before quickly picking out the panties and bringing them up to his face. It smells of feminine products and laundry soap, but there’s a musk that's unmistakably you, and his cock twitches hard in his pants. You wore these for him, didn’t you? He feels himself chub up more the longer his thoughts wander—longing to just wrap the panties around his fist and fuck into them.

But your steps are returning, so he pockets the lingerie with quick hands and puts on his best smile. You peek your head into the door after knocking, cheeks a little shiny and warm as you hand him a towel and some fresh clothing. Big… clothing— that most definitely isn’t yours. It’s fine though, he bites through the sting in his soul, you can’t know how much he adores you, and loves you, and needs you all to himself. He hasn’t exactly made it clear, and you’re also unaware of just how fucking attractive you are, right? “It doesn’t look like it’ll clear up any time soon.” Your smile is gentle when you nod. “So you can stay over if you want to. I don’t mind!”

God, he could kiss you stupid.

His hands are restless by the time the lights are all off, tossing and turning every second longer he has to remain on the extra mattress. Don’t you have any idea of how crazy you’ve made him now walking around in your short, loose fitting pajamas? It’s a domestic dream, and you’re front, center and back in every single thought. As he lays in the silence, there’s the soft sound of your chest rising and falling, of breaths softly slipping out of you— and for the nth time this night Bokuto has to admit to himself that he’s so in love with you it’s making him feel a bit sick.

You didn’t exactly make things easy on him. He still remembers calling up Akaashi every night for weeks after you rejected his advances, when you were struggling to meet his eyes after. And sure, he’d been a bit too enthusiastic. He knows that now, knows he scared you away; you’re shy, he understands. But this time is different. This time he’ll do it right. He sits up on the bed, can see how you’re slumped into the pillow. He could eat you up with how fucking cute you are. But he’s still careful as he calls your name, twice, before slowly getting onto the bed. You barely move, letting out just the faintest breath.

And Bokuto can’t help himself, he’s already leaning in to brush his thumb over your pouty lips. It’s not bad to look. He’s allowed to look. He does that all day already, studies your face like you’re his own personal universe. You would too, if you saw what he sees. Of course, it is a little different, because his cock is straining against the confines of his boxers every second longer he’s touching your soft skin, close enough to place a kiss on the tip of your nose. You breathe out, and he can almost convince himself it’s a moan. It’s enough to have him gripping himself through his shorts and biting his lip, hard. “God, f-fuck, baby.”

He nudges your head a little closer to him, and before he knows it, he's kissing you. There’s so much he wants to tell you— spill all of his love onto you without stopping, but he figures there will be time for that later. He holds himself over you into the kiss, chest heaving and foot tapping nervously up and down. His tongue swipes over yours, claiming you once again, and moaning into it when a little puff of air dusts over his skin. Could you be any cuter, any hotter? Even asleep you’re making him so hard it hurts, one hand moving down to squeeze his balls. It’s embarrassing, isn’t it, and he chuckles into your mouth when you move under him a little. “Sorry, I’ve just wanted you for so long,” he admits, pulls back and lines your neck with kisses too.

All the while your lids stay shut, and he’s careful to untie the front of your pajamas with the softest motions he can manage. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby, I swear. Give you everything.” As he trails his fingers down your body, you wiggle aside a bit, but not enough to escape his now greedy fingers. His cock bops between his thighs when he lands between your legs, and ever so patiently pulls the shorts down the softness of your thighs, swallowing through the tightness in his throat. “Oh, shit—fuck.” You’re perfect, and a shiver goes down his spine at the idea he might be a tight fit.

He can’t help it, he’s already dipping to kiss down your pussy, rubbing you up and down with first one finger, then two. You definitely moan though when he lays a lick on your covered clit and sucks it from the hood, his hips rutting against the bed with a low, rumbling whine. Precum is making his boxers stick to the head of his cock, but he’s much too preoccupied lapping up your folds and making them all messy and wet with his enthusiasm. He’s basically shaking, but how can he not be? He’s been picturing this for fucking years. Through every date, every hookup he’s had— you’d laugh if you knew.

He sucks harder, and slides his long fingers inside you to stretch the clenching, soft walls of your pussy apart; and fucks slowly into the soft of the pillows until that turns too excruchiating to continue. So instead he shoves his boxers out the way and takes the time to fully peel your panties off your legs, then places them apart. His cock is rock hard, flushed and throbbing an angry shade of red at having to wait, before he wraps his hand around himself and allows a few lazy pumps. Just enough for a clear drop of pre to bead at the tip before he’s lifting up your one thigh over his and lining up.

Your pussy is so hot, wet by his doing, and your face scrunched up just the slightest bit. It’s agony, really, baby. His thoughts are barely a strung together mess as the head of his cock slides between your bottom lips, neck and back tight from the adrenaline. This is what you do to him. Every night. He’s gonna cum if he keeps going— and he can’t, he can’t do that to you, not when he’s been dreaming of having you for so fucking long. But leaning down to kiss you doesn’t help, and you let out the prettiest whine when he starts pushing into you.

His breathing speeds up, sweat collecting on his brow. “Oh, baby. Baby, I— fuck, I wanna go slow,” he moans back against your mouth, tasting your tongue, grabbing your tits with one hand. Everything’s fuzzy. But once the head pops in, it’s like a whole other world. You’re so fucking hot, pussy so soft and sucking him in like he belongs there— any thought of taking his time is gone. It’s impossible, his hips start pushing and pushing until he’s bottoming out and your slick, gushing pushy squelches when he pulls back. You’re godly. He clamps a hand down over your neck to keep you from bouncing too much as he pushes back in and drives himself as deep as he can go.

And back out, and then you’re making more noise. “Hmm-ugh?” Your face scrunches up hard when he fucks back into you, driving you open so deep he can feel where he’s hitting in your tummy, and moan long and high. “Ah—agh, Kou? Boku- to, wh—” you struggle to regain your consciousness when he pushes your knees back to your chest and uses his body to fuck even deeper, deeper— clenching around him so tight it’s making him lightheaded.

“I know, baby, I know. S’gonna feel good, I swear,” he’s clenching his teeth together so hard it hurts watching his fat cock push into your tight, little cunt again and again and again, watching slick gush out around his length. He can tell by your strained expression that whatever is going on in your brain is outnumbered by the way he’s pawing at your tits, or bumping his pelvis against that puffy nub.

And you do manage a stuttered, “Bokuto, s-stop,” but it’s hardly anything to be concerned about when you squeal and tear up at the circles he rubs into your clit. “What’re y’ doin, Bo?” Your tears bead so prettily at your lash line. Your body shudders under his when he raises a leg and uses it to fuck into you faster, driving the air out of you with each wet ‘pap’ of skin meeting skin. His balls hit your ass each time he bottoms out, and make his cock feel like it’s going to explode, but he couldn’t stop if he tried. With your brows screwed together and your face all hot and cheeks glossy, it’s hard to think of anything other than fucking you full of his cum.

Of bouncing you on his cock until you’re crying out for him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you so much, ‘m almost there.” He wants to give you everything— fucks deep and hard like maybe that’ll convey his thoughts better. He’s just not that good with words, you see, he’s tried and failed that so many times. But this, rutting into you like your pussy is his personal heaven; and that’s what it is— it leaves you breathless and reaching to dig your nails into his shoulder. He moans and grunts, whispering your name, fucking into your warm clutch until his balls pull tight and his thighs start aching. “Gonna cum, angel. Gonna fuck y’full- you like that, right? You want it?”

He’s rambling out without any collected thoughts, just focussed on watching as you suddenly pull tight like a bow and unravel before him, trying and failing to push his hand from between your legs. “Ohh-fuck— ugh-fuckk~” You cum with an adorable, little whine that makes it impossible for him to hold it any longer. He slumps over you as cum spurts into you, emptying his balls in your tight, little pussy until every last drop is inside. When he pulls back, his hot, white cum runs out like you’ve been entirely fucked full of him— and it makes his tongue drop out to lean in and kiss your cunny until he dies between your legs.

He could go happy, you know? But as he tries to hike your thighs over his shoulders, you must finally regain some of your situational awareness, because you’re placing a foot to his shoulder and pushing him away from you with wide eyes and tears running down your cheeks. “What are you doing, Bokuto? Wh- I- why would you—”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he’s instantly cooing, grabbing your ankles and keeping you in place despite your struggling. It’s so cute, but you don’t have to be scared of him. He adores you, baby— wouldn’t hurt you for anything. Everyone else, but never you. “I’ve got you, don’t freak out.” He allows himself to snuggle up to your body, pulling you in nice and close despite the way you’re glaring through your tears. It’s the stress talking, of course, but you’ll be fine. He’ll make sure of it. “You want to come again?”

“No,” you instantly snap, and though you’re pushing at his chest, it’s so easy to keep you nice and warm pinned between his strong arms and chest. You huff a little, and look between his face and your bodies, before breathing out sharply. “Bokuto, please, I—”

“Stop wiggling, baby,” his voice comes out a little too low and sharp for his liking. “Just lay here with me for a bit. And then in a second, I’ll help you clean up, and make you something warm to drink. The whole nine yards, I promise.” He’s smiling, so fucking wide it’s making his cheeks ache. But he can’t help it, you see? You’re such a dream. “I’m so happy, baby. So, so happy, you have no idea.”

As he squeezes a little more, kinda, sorta forcing your face to rest against his collarbones; you finally stop pushing back against him, and let out a soft whimper of his name. “You’re my favorite person in the world, y’know that? I know I say it a lot, but— I really do mean it.”

#bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutaro #bokuto smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #tw.noncon #tw.yandere #tw.somno #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.bokuto

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saigethearies · 7 months

Text

saige’s terrortober presents…

break

a heartbreaking betrayal leads you to seek comfort from the very person that plunged you into this nightmare.

serial killer!keiji akaashi x fem!reader

contents/warnings: murder and extremely dubious consent, reader goes through a trauma and starts making questionable decisions, angst, oral (m!receiving), pussyjob, unprotected vaginal sex, slight bondage, praise, reader’s ankle gets a lil hurt but she’s okay, blood, slight yandere(?)

wc: 2.9k

18+ MINORS DNI

it was supposed to be the best weekend of the year.

you, your boyfriend, and all of your shared friends had been planning this getaway since last year. everyone ensured to get the time off, saved up to get the nicer rental, even splurged on a pontoon boat to be able to piddle around on the water. this lake trip was supposed to be one for the books.

you supposed it still technically would be.

you just didn’t think it would be something straight out of a horror novel.

slowly, you made your way through the hall, grateful for the homeowner’s decision to carpet the upstairs so that your footsteps could be muffled- even though much of said carpet was now stained red. you kept your eyes trained straight ahead, refusing to look into the bathroom on the left even though you could still see the limp body of one of your friends in your peripheral.

you had to save all your tears for later. if you broke down too soon, there’s a big chance you wouldn’t be getting back up. he’d make sure of that.

the wine cellar is how he must have snuck in. your group had read about in the list of amenities, but no one bothered to notice that it had a door that led outside. it was the only entrance to the house that wouldn’t have been locked. one small act of negligence and now your vacation home had been turned into a hunting ground.

you weren't sure how many of your friends were still alive. out of your original group of eight, you’d passed three bodies so far. it was out of pure luck that you managed to escape his onslaught of the second floor. you hid the second you heard your friend’s bloodcurdling scream after she’d left to go shower. dashing into one of the vacant bedrooms and yanking the window open, you’d perched yourself on the roof outside while listening to his heavy footsteps explore the room. you’d never felt so terrified in your entire life. the term ‘frozen in fear’ didn’t do it justice. it felt as if liquid nitrogen was circulating through your veins.

as soon as the coast felt clear, you quietly slid through the window and padded into the hall, bringing you to your current whereabouts.

a pained yell pierced the stillness that had blanketed the house, sounding off from somewhere near the kitchen downstairs. you paused near the top of the stairs, huddling up against the wall to stay out of view in case he happened to pass by. you couldn’t help but wonder which of your friends was the one getting butchered this time, morbid curiosity bringing a cloudiness to your frantic eyes.

you squeezed them shut. crying comes later, remember?

you couldn’t hear the shouting from below anymore, and you took a deep breath to gather your wits. you needed to find your boyfriend. you cared deeply for everyone here, but the love of your life needed to come first. this is the man you were discussing spending forever with, starting a family with, growing old together with.

even if you did make it out alive, you wouldn’t truly survive unless he did too.

there was only one clear escape route. he had already slashed everyone’s tires, so the cars weren’t an option. however, the pontoon boat was out of view, hidden within the boathouse out back. there’s a possibility he didn’t know it was there, meaning that a water getaway was your best chance at the moment.

which also meant that to get to the backyard, you needed to go downstairs. where the killer was.

every muscle in your body was trying to lock up, refusing to carry your legs down into imminent danger. your brain knew better, however. you needed to move.

wobbly legs took you down the first few steps, stopping for a second to try and tame the shakes wracking you. it was during that pause that you saw movement in one of the living room windows that gave you a view into the backyard.

it was your boyfriend.

he was creeping through the patio with his roommate, one of them monitoring the inside of the house while the other kept his eyes on the boathouse. they must share the idea that you have about an escape. you couldn’t help the smile that came onto your face. your lover was always on the same page as you. even when facing disaster, you proved you were perfect for each other.

you were prompted to move forward again now that you saw fellow survivors, this time moving swiftly. not seeing him in the surrounding area at the bottom of the staircase, you dashed to the backdoor, opening it as fast as you could without making too much noise.

“babe!” you called softly, stepping onto the patio.

your boyfriend turned to look at you, an expression in your eyes that you couldn’t quite grasp. he frantically beckoned you forward, his roommate having an impatient look on his face. you didn’t take it personally. everyone was petrified right now.

you ran towards them, joining them in the middle of the yard. the boathouse was just down the gentle slope of the yard. you could easily reach it in under a minute, especially with how fast everyone seemed to be moving. safety wasn’t too far away.

that glimmer of hope crashed along with the bloodied body that was sent careening into your group. the three of you scattered, your eyes tearing up at the wounded, torn version of your former classmate laying crumpled on the ground before you.

another thump sounded off to the right of you, and you turned to see him now standing directly behind your boyfriend. he had jumped down from the second-story balcony, when he’d gotten there, you had no clue. what you did have a clue about was that your lover was in serious trouble, because your attacker was raising his ax.

“oh, fuck!” your boyfriend’s roommate screamed. “behind you!”

he turned around just in time to see his assailant swinging his ax down, blade aimed straight for your boyfriend’s neck.

your brain hadn’t even registered your movements, deep ingrained need to protect your loved one leading you to grip one of the folding lawn chairs in your hand. you ran towards him, not even caring for the fact he could overpower you easily, and flung the chair against him with all of your might. you watched his steely blue eyes widen in surprise, clearly not used to having someone fight back, his balance breaking as he stumbling backwards, ax now lodging into the ground near your boyfriend’s feet.

a victorious grin broke out on your face. you did it! you saved your man!

the three of you took off towards the boathouse, wind whipping your hair as you ran faster than you ever had in your life. your group had a headstart of a few seconds, the killer having to unstick his ax from the grass. he was able to gain on you shortly after, though, and you figured this man had to have some sort of athletic background. no average man could pull off the feats you’d seen him do with ease.

you could see the pontoon boat, the two men a few steps ahead of you already within reach of it.

almost th-

crack!

your foot must’ve landed on a dry-rotted piece of wood, a panel of the boathouse dock breaking and sending your foot below the floor, stuck.

hearing the sound of something breaking, your boyfriend turned to see your predicament. you saw him pause, turning towards you slightly.

“help me!” you cried, eyes locked on his.

he began to take a step towards you, about to come rescue you like you had him not too long ago, until his roommate’s voice yelled out to him.

“dude, we have to fucking go now! there’s no time, leave her.”

when the words reached you, your heart dropped.

and then, when you saw the guilt come onto your boyfriend’s face as he turned and clambered onto the boat with his friend, your heart broke.

the sound of an engine whirring sent your ears ringing, watching the two of them speed away from the hell they’d willingly left you in.

your chest tightened, breathing becoming jagged as the reality of your situation tightened around you like a python squeezing its prey to death.

he left you.

the man you were supposed to marry, to have children with, to sit on front porch rocking chairs with years from now, left you to get picked off so that he could escape. after you’d risked your own life to rush at a murderer to save his.

the burning started at the corners of your eyes, spreading through your lashline before it became so unbearable that you shut your eyes, face scrunching as the drops began their descent down your cheeks.

you saw so much death, so much bloodshed, yet held it all in for the sake of being reunited with your love amidst the chaos.

for the first time that dreadful night, you allowed yourself to cry.

the sobs that wracked your body left your whole frame weak, body slumping towards the dock as you fell onto your knees, not even bothering with your foot still trapped under the wood. it wouldn’t make a difference, anyway. your biggest motivation to survive just cut you deeper than he ever could. there was no fight left in you.

god, you just hoped he’d make it quick. yet, after you threw a fucking chair at him earlier, you figured that wouldn’t be the case. damn, why did the events have to unfold like this?

you wondered what you did to deserve this?

apparently, someone else seemed to be having a similar thought.

“what a selfish bastard,” the voice, cold and cutting said from behind you. if you weren’t so numb, you probably would have flinched when you felt his hand come onto the top of your head. “you poor thing, you didn’t deserve that.”

his tone took on a sort of sympathetic note, confusion forming in your jumbled mind. was he trying to mock you? add insult to injury before he hacks into you over and over again?

the feeling of this thumb gently stroking the top of your forehead brought you to, blinking your tears away as he kneeled down beside you. his other hand then dropped his ax, fingers coming to grip your chin so gently that you almost were sent into denial that these were the same appendages shredding your friends earlier.

you hated how the word “beautiful” came to mind when you saw his stormy eyes, blood streaked all over an admittedly handsome face. the softness that had come across his features had you even more puzzled. he was trying to mock you, right?

“you’re such a sweet thing,” he said, crimson coated hands continuing to delicately hold your head, as if he knew you were fragile right now. you could feel the warm stickiness from his fingers getting onto your face.

“not many people have the courage to face me,” he said with a small chuckle as if he was taking a quick stroll down memory lane, reminiscing on all the people he’d hunted before. “but you did, because you were trying to help someone. i’ve seen so many people show their true colors while facing death, and none of them have been as good-natured as yours. you should be proud of yourself.”

your stomach started to sink.

his rambling sounded genuine. he wasn’t mocking you, he actually felt bad for you. the fucking murderer felt sorry for you, that’s how screwed over you just got.

and worst of all, his words were actually comforting you.

his palms moved to cup your tear-stained cheeks, you leaning one of them into his touch absentmindedly. so warm.

“he-” you hiccupped on another sob. “he left me. for dead.”

a frown came onto his face as he began to shush your cries, thumbs wiping your tears away, painting your cheeks scarlet. “not for dead, sweetheart. you’re good. i don’t kill good girls.”

you blinked, swallowing slowly as you replayed his words over and over again. “you…you don’t?”

“mhm,” he hummed. “like i said, true colors, angel. a lot of the people i’ve taken out were just as shitty as me. i just can’t be bothered to hide it anymore.”

maybe it was the care he was treating you with, or the nice words, or the fact that he was honestly gorgeous, but whatever it was made his words start to make sense in your scattered mind.

his attention turned to your stuck foot, moving to lift it out from under the wood. he examined your ankle closely. “it might be sprained, but i don’t think it’s broken. try not to put any pressure on it, yeah?”

he scooped you up with ease, holding you in his arms as if you were something precious to him. the two of you looked at the purple and pink hues of the sunset, spotting the departed pontoon boat that was now a mere speck on the horizon of the water.

“some people are so cruel,” he said with distaste, as if the onslaught he’d unleashed upon your friends earlier had been anything other than cruel itself. you should have made a note of the irony, but instead you leaned your head against his chest.

you found yourself gently laid down on one of the deck chairs near the boathouse, the man remaining standing as he came to your side, your face level with his waist.

“you were so good earlier,” he said, tipping your head back with his fingers to look up at him. “be good for me one more time and i’ll reward you, yeah?”

he began to undo his belt, and you should have screamed. cried. felt disgusted at his implications. but instead, you nodded your head, staring up at him like he had designed the constellations himself. he had been so kind to you, so comforting, during your lowest point. how could you deny him?

he took the leather belt he just removed and wrapped it around your wrists, keeping them tied in front of you. he chuckled. “just a precaution, sweetheart. you did hit me with a chair earlier.”

you watched on in awe as he pushed his pants and briefs down enough to free his cock, which was as pretty as the rest of him with a flushed pink tip.

“open up, sweetheart.”

you did as you were told, accepting his hard length into your mouth and sucking. he kept a grip on your chin, moving your head up and down his dick the way he wanted. you kept running your tongue along the underside as you were bobbed, drinking in the pleased sighs you heard above you.

“so good,” he breathed out. “so good, such a good girl.”

he started to move you faster, cock slipping in and out of your mouth rapidly as his high neared. he suddenly stilled, removing himself from between your lips.

“did great, sweetheart,” the praise sent tingles down your spine. “but i only like to cum in a pussy, so it’s time for your reward.”

removing his pants the rest of the way, he pulled your own little shorts off.

“sir-”

“keiji,” he corrected. “you can call me keiji.”

“o-okay,” you said. “keiji, are you gonna…you know…”

“what is it, sweetheart? don’t be shy, you can ask.”

“are you gonna prep me?”

he gave you a small smile. “of course i can get your pussy a little wet first, angel.”

he peeled your panties off, bringing his hard cock between your folds and starting to rub between them. the sensation was new to you, little moans leaving your lips. he held your hips in place, bloody fingerprints marring your skin as he continued to slide between your labia.

his cockhead started to hit your clit, increasing the volume of your sounds as the pleasure started to build in your gut.

feeling all the slick gathering on his dick, akaashi figured you were ready for him. ceasing his movements, he positioned himself at your entrance. “alright, pretty girl. deep breath.”

he felt so good filling you up, giving your walls a delectable stretch as he bottomed out in your soaked cunt. you watched him take a deep breath.

“never felt a pussy this good. you truly are special, aren’t you?”

he set a pace that was deep and steady, cradling your head against his chest as he speared you repeatedly. pants and mewls left you, his cock feeling so amazing, the nirvava it provided being the perfect distraction from your heartbreak. the calm after the horrific storm you experienced earlier, brain too weary to care that the very person providing the satisfaction was the hailstorm himself.

it didn’t matter.

nothing you thought you knew mattered anymore.

all that mattered was how good keiji made you feel, a particularly hard thrust leaving you shaking and cumming around him.

you didn’t even realize you were crying until he was cooing at you, rubbing his hand against your back almost lovingly. you weren’t sure if it was your tears or your orgasm that pushed him over his own edge.

“you’ll be okay, sweetheart. i’ll make sure of it.”

_____

saige’s terrortober masterlist

#saige’s terrortober #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #akaashi smut #akaashi keiji smut #akaashi x you #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi #hq x you #hq x reader #hq smut

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