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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Choke.

another soulmate au nobody asked for :)

Akaashi Keiji x female reader x Bokuto Koutarou

TW dub-con, implied future non-con

It wasn’t a good day to begin with.

You’re late, rushing through the busy campus hallways to make it to an exam that quite frankly you’re at least 70% sure you’re going to fail, mostly because instead of cramming last night you’d been… otherwise occupied with your boyfriend.

And you really, really just want this whole thing to just be over with already.

With your nose stuck in your textbook, frantically pouring over your notes right up until the very last second, it’s hardly a surprise that you don’t see the two of them rushing down the hallway in the opposite direction until you’re quite literally colliding with the taller of the pair – the broad shouldered one.

Your notes go flying, the last of your coffee too and for one split second, you’re pretty positive that you’re gonna end up flat on your ass with a little more than some bruised pride. But just as you’re about to hit the ground, not one but two hands reach for you, catch you, and the very second they do, you feel it:

A flash of guilt and momentary alarm, embarrassment, you think, and chagrin, each emotion hitting you like a sledgehammer, overwhelming you, one after the other in a dizzying blur that’s distinctly other, and then–

Shock.

Dawning surprise.

A rush of something warm, adoring, a happiness so bright and blinding that it makes you physically jerk backwards, almost slamming your head against the wall in the process. And two pairs of eyes – one a deep, luminous gold, the other a cool, gunmetal blue – stare at you in wide eyed wonder a split millisecond before you wrench yourself free, gasping.

The moment their grip falters, the torrent stops. You can breathe.

Blessed silence, save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Everything fades out around you – the students and lecturers alike bustling through the busy hallway, the humming drone of chatter that’s nearly deafening. Nothing exists but the three of you; caught in your little bubble.

And it’s dread, you think, that seeps through your blood as you stare at them.

They’re both handsome, albeit in their own ways. The taller of the two – the one who’d almost barrelled you over – looks like he could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat. His shirt isn’t exactly clinging to him, but you can see the hints of well defined muscles beneath, and the size of his biceps alone are enough to make your heart skip a beat and your mouth dry up a little. With rippling muscles, spiky black and silver hair, a strong jawline and those round, golden eyes, he looks like a modern day adonis.

His friend might’ve been shorter, his build leaner, but with his softer features, pretty eyes and dark hair, you think he’s perhaps the prettiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. From the fineness of his nose to the gentle curve of his lips and his long, dark sweeping eyelashes, he reminds you of those white marble statues you’ve seen before in museums and art galleries– a beauty so divine, so perfect – so devastating – that it steals your breath a little.

And they’re both watching you, frozen entirely. Smiling in breathless delight, as if they can’t quite believe it either.

Soulmates.

You’ve spent your whole life wondering what it would be like, experiencing somebody else’s emotions. Studies have been done and countless books and articles written about the bond between soulmates; the intimacy of sharing emotions through touch, but nobody really knows why or how it happens.

And for some, it’s a subtle thing. A suggestion, a whisper against their own consciousness, easily brushed aside. Others feel it stronger.

For you, it was like drowning. Choking under the sudden, intense barrage of feelings that weren’t yours. Maybe it’s because there’s two of them – and that much at least you’re sure of. You don’t have the words to explain it, but they’d felt separate somehow, distinctive from one another – kind of like fingerprints, you suppose.

There’s no denying the bond, no denying that they’re both your soulmates, and all you can think of is that you don’t want it. Not here, not now. Not them.

The dark haired one seems to realise quicker than his friend that you’re not reacting how you’re supposed to, you’re just standing there, rigid and tense, gaping at them. And the slight smile that graced his perfect lips starts to waver, his brows drawing together when finally his friend cottons on.

He reaches for you, the beginnings of a pout taking shape on his face, and you move without even thinking, jerking out of reach with a sharp breath. His hand hangs outstretched for a beat too long, a noise like a kicked puppy leaving his lips as he realises that you’re flinching away from him; away from your soulmate. He looks heartbroken, and he’s yet to utter a single word.

You don’t give him a chance. You’re not some cold, unfeeling beast; there’s a twinge in your heart, a heaviness that’s far too close to guilt settling in your stomach, but you just can’t. And with shaking hands you bend over and hastily grab up your things, forcing yourself not to meet their confused, hurt stares when you right yourself.

“I– I’m sorry,” you murmur, and before either one of them can try to stop you, you disappear into the crowd, racing for your exam.

—

The lights are on when you make it back home, the familiar, comforting scent of home cooked food filling your apartment.

“Hey, babe,” your boyfriend calls out as you wearily drop your purse by the door and kick out of your shoes. His back’s to you, attention fixed on the simmering saucepan on the stovetop, but he glances over his shoulder as he continues, “How’d your exam go?”

And you can’t help it, you burst into tears.

Painful, heaving sobs that might’ve had you collapsing onto the floor if he hadn’t swept across the room to snatch you up into his arms. “That bad, huh?” Kuguri jokes, but the words sound hollow.

“I found them,” you mutter into his chest, and the way he stiffens, his grip tightening for just a moment has your heart breaking all over again.

Kuguri doesn’t say much as he leads you to the couch, he just lets you talk. It’s almost worse, you think, the way he doesn’t react.

Because you both knew this was coming at some point. For months you’ve tried to convince yourself that you could feel him when you were together.

You felt his love when he held you, right?

Happy when he was happy?

But you’d known, both of you, that as much as you wished it otherwise, he wasn’t your soulmate, and you weren’t his. And whether it was today or six months down the line, this was always going to happen.

“You don’t have to…” you trail off, searching his eyes desperately for anything other than the gentle resignation lingering there. “I love you.”

He smiles at that, cups your cheek in his hand and brushes away the stray tear that spills. “I know you do, but–” it’s not enough. “They’re your soulmates. Don’t you think they deserve a chance to make you happy?”

He’s gone when you wake the next morning.

—

In a university of thousands, a sprawling city campus, you honestly believe that in spite of everything, you probably won’t see them again. They don’t know your name, or what you study, you don’t live in the dorms like some of the other students; the chances of just randomly bumping into them again are slim, soulmates or no.

Of course, there are facebook groups and pages set up to reconnect lost soulmates, but you’d have to actually want to find them to try something like that.

(Part of you wonders whether they’ve tried)

The universe has a sense of humour, it seems, because when your paths cross next, it’s not at uni, it’s at the little corner store a few blocks down from your apartment.

At 2am in the morning.

And you’re staring intently at the freezer, mentally weighing up exactly what kind of ice cream you need to sate your craving when you hear the sharp intake of breath behind you.

“Holy crap, you’re here.”

It’s stupid, you think, the way your stomach flutters when you turn to find him staring in wide eyed wonder; the taller one, with the spiky hair and those impossibly wide, honey eyes.

He’s smiling, his entire face lit up like a christmas tree at the sight of you. As if you hadn’t run off without so much as an acknowledgement the last time you’d met. As if seeing you here, looking like shit – makeup free and dressed in your old favourite sweats – is the absolute best thing that could have happened.

And when your cheeks grow hot, you’re not entirely sure if it’s embarrassment over the way you look, the fact that he’s caught you buying ice cream that you fully intend to let melt just a little bit before polishing off at two in the morning, or if it’s shame over how badly you’d reacted the last time you’d seen him.

But if he notices your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it, grinning widely as he calls back over his shoulder, “Akaashi!”

You still haven’t uttered a peep, haven’t moved. Just like last time you’re caught feeling like a kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar as your other soulmate rounds the corner, his attention fixed on the ingredients list of the rice cracker snacks in his hands, a basket full of groceries tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Bokuto, I was just around the corner, there’s no need to shout.”

Pretty steel blue eyes flicker up for a split second, then quickly do a double take as he realises that it’s you – his errant soulmate, standing struck dumb, here of all places. “Oh.”

Oh.

Akaashi eyes you for a moment, and you watch as his throat bobs unsteadily, but just as with Bokuto, he can’t seem to help the smile that creeps across his face. It’s softer than his friend’s, not so blinding but warm nonetheless. Genuine. There’s no animosity there, and it should put you at ease – they don’t seem to blame you, at least.

It should, but it doesn’t.

Even now, there’s a little voice in your head urging you to forget your late night cravings, turn tail and run. Nevermind that they’d likely just follow you, much less that you’d look like an absolute fucking idiot, fleeing from your soulmates who so far have done nothing wrong.

It’s not supposed to be this awkward, right? It’s not supposed to be difficult, but even when they’re smiling at you, there’s a tension that digs its claws into you and refuses to relent. Your heart thumps unevenly, like a scared little bunny caught in a trap and the wolves are circling.

If it’s normal, then your parents and every other soulmated pair you’ve ever met certainly kept it to themselves. Maybe it’s the guilt, you think. Maybe you’re just being overdramatic. They’re your soulmates, right? They probably just want to talk, to get to know you, and right now you’re the one being standoffish and rude.

It occurs to you then that you still haven’t spoken, and they’re both staring at you somewhat expectantly. You really are fucking this up, aren’t you?

“H-hi,” you manage to muster, forcing yourself to smile back. Tiny and timidly, perhaps, but it’s a smile.

It seems to work, because Bokuto positively beams at you and Akaashi sets down his basket to slide in closer, a pleased little hum escaping his throat.

Aside from the faint sound of the radio playing in the background and the cashier casually flicking through a magazine up at the register, the store is quiet. It’s just the three of you, except this time there really is no running off and disappearing into the crowd. Which is fine, you need to face them sooner or later, right?

Give them a chance?

Otherwise everything else, all that heartbreak and the lonely nights since will have been all for nothing. So you swallow tightly, take a soft, steadying breath, and press on.

“I, um… I’m sorry about last time. You know with… everything,” you finish lamely, mentally cringing at the sheer awkwardness of it. “I had an exam.”

But again, your soulmates don’t seem to take it personally, the darker haired one (Akaashi, your brain helpfully supplies) nodding slightly.

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” He has a nice voice, calming and smooth, and though the words seem to carry a different weight you find yourself nodding along with him. You can do this, you can make an effort.

This is fine.

You swallow again, tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I’m Y/N,” you introduce, clutching just a little bit tighter at the handles of your own shopping basket.

You don’t extend a hand, nor try to go in for a hug, but standing there rigidly feels wrong too. They’re strangers, yes, but they’re also not, and you don’t quite know how to act around somebody like that, somebody you’re supposedly fated for but know nothing about. All you know is that the last time they touched you, it was too much. It hurt. And even as you catch sight of the slightly disheartened expression on Bokuto’s face, you’re hesitant to put yourself through it again.

“It’s pretty,” Akaashi compliments, and there’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks as he says it. “Suits you.”

Your own probably aren’t much better, with the blood that rushes to your face. You drop your gaze a little, nibbling on your bottom lip, “O-oh, uh… thank you.”

When you glance back up to Bokuto, you find him staring at you again, not with the same hurt expression as before, but something akin to wonder. He seems speechless, in awe of your flustered state, and you wonder how he can bounce that quickly from emotion to emotion without giving himself whiplash. But it seems like your attention is just the thing he needs to pull himself out of it, because he closes his gaping mouth and grins again.

“Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s testing it out, rolling your name over his tongue. “You probably heard, but I’m Bokuto– you can call me Koutarou, though.”

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s quick to add, “And that’s Akaashi.”

“Keiji,” Akaashi corrects, shooting you another gentle smile.

First names. It makes sense, you suppose, but the familiarity of it all still doesn’t sit quite right with you. But now that introductions are out of the way, you don't have a clue what you’re supposed to say now - ‘so, soulmates; crazy, huh?’ doesn’t exactly feel appropriate, given the circumstances.

You’re distinctly aware that it’s the middle of the night and you’re at a convenience store and while this might not be the worst time to run into your soulmates again, it’s not far off.

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though, because at least it kind of gives you an out. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you clear your throat, “I hope you guys don’t think I’m being rude or anything, but it is kinda late…” you trail off, hoping they’ll pick up what you’re putting down.

And while Bokuto’s brow furrows, Akaashi at least has the decency to look a little abashed. “Yeah, no, of course. We’re just so… we’re glad we ran into you again.”

Your cheeks heat again, and to save yourself from having to meet their gazes head on, you quickly spin around, open the freezer door and grab the first pint ice cream that you see. “I just came for this,” you laugh, fighting back a wince at how hollow and fake it all sounds.

“Here,” Bokuto says, and before you can react he’s snatching it from your grip (thankfully keeping his hand from brushing against yours) and places it atop the basket in Akaashi’s arms. “Our treat.”

He beams at you, and you’re honestly too stunned to reply. You don’t really want him paying for it, but if it gets you out of this awkward encounter any quicker, you’ll swallow down your protests and let it go.

And so you trail meekly after the two of them as they head to the cashier, and when Akaashi passes you the bag you’re so careful to avoid his touch, a fact he notes with the slightest of frowns, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“It’s late,” he says instead as the three of you exit into the brisk night air. And then those gunmetal eyes are on you, studying you for a moment. You realise what he’s about to say the moment he opens his mouth again, “Can we walk you home? Or to the bus stop at least?”

Your stomach lurches at the thought of it, of two veritable strangers knowing where you live, but–

He’s not wrong, exactly. It is late, and in hindsight it was probably stupid for you to have come out at this time of the night alone in the first place, whether it was a safe neighbourhood or not. And they’re not strangers, they’re your soulmates.

You have to try.

So you nod. ‘It’s just down the road,” you murmur, but as the two of them fall into step either side of you, sharing a distinctly satisfied look between themselves, you think that it wouldn’t have mattered how far it was. They would have walked with you anywhere.

Yet their expressions of mild surprise (disappointment, maybe?) when you stop them less than five minutes later in front of your apartment block almost makes you laugh. “This is me.”

Bokuto eyes the building for just a moment before his attention returns to you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Lie, that little voice inside your head urges, but you force yourself to ignore it. You have to try. “Uh, not much, I guess…”

Even as you say the words, your hands tighten on your bag, twisting nervously – a sign they either don’t read or wilfully ignore as Bokuto brightens up once again.

“Awesome! Wanna swing by ours to chill for a little bit?”

Like a date, you think as your gaze flickers between the two. Yet Akaashi’s watching you just as intently, those dark eyes far more inscrutable than Bokuto’s, which doesn’t help ease the uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach. There’s really no reason for you to say no, no polite way for you to turn them down. They’re your soulmates, you’re supposed to want this. “Um…”

“Or we can come here, if you want? Or head into the city and do something there, maybe go see a movie or something? Whatever you’d prefer.”

“No!” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them, the idea of the two of them in your apartment, your home just feels like… too much. “No,” you repeat again, quieter, forcing your features to soften into a hesitant smile. “Your place is good.”

That way you can leave if it all gets to be too much. It’s just a casual hang out. It’ll be fine.

Both of them seem to relax at your agreement, and you quickly take out your phone to grab Akaashi’s number – sending him a message so he has your number too.

“Perfect,” he says, his voice a purr that sends a ripple of something running down your spine. “I’ll text you the address in the morning.”

You smile at both of them, thanking them again for the ice cream and for walking back with you, even if it was only a few hundred metres. And you think you’re in the clear as you start walking up the steps, trying to balance your keys, your phone and your bags when the sound of your name being called makes you turn around.

Bokuto’s there, a step behind you, and before you can even so much as blink he’s grabbing at your hand, tugging you forward and kissing you.

Just like last time, it’s instantaneous and overwhelming. You feel it all – his giddy excitement, the stirrings of something deeper, less innocent as he cradles your body to his.

And the love.

Oh god. It’s not mere affection, not some fleeting, superficial thing. It pours over you in unrelenting waves, crushing you under the force of it – you can’t even feel his tongue moving against yours, or the way he sucks on your bottom lip, groaning quietly.

You can’t breathe, can’t think. It’s too much, too much, too strong, too sudden, you can’t BREATHE.

Your trembling hands finds his shoulders, and as your head spins, nausea churning in your gut you don’t waste a second, shoving him away from you with enough force that he actually stumbles back a little.

Though you’ll admit it’s probably more from shock than any strength you actually possess.

And you don’t dare look to Akaashi as tears fill your eyes, a heaving gasp leaving your lips. Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape; he looks confused more than horrified as you stumble back, almost tripping over the last step.

“D-don’t touch me,” you gasp, “please.”

There’s pain in his eyes as your tears well up and spill over and you choke back another sob, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything else. Limbs trembling, you force yourself upright, clutching at the keys in your fist as you skitter towards the door.

You hear one of them, Akaashi you think, calling out your name, but you don’t pause, don’t look back – throwing open the lobby door and slamming it shut behind you.

And your heart pounds as you climb the steps two at a time, and it’s only once you're in the safety of your own apartment, with the door shut and firmly locked that you allow yourself to breathe. You realise distantly that at some point – probably on the steps outside – you dropped the ice cream they’d bought for you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. The first time you realise was an accident, they had no way of knowing you were their soulmate, much less how you’d react when they’d touched you. But that–

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t normal.

Those feelings, that love, you’ve never experienced anything like it, and yet it’s left you feeling filthy; tainted. Scared. It was too much; boundless and abundant, the kind of love that devours and chokes, selfishly strangling everything in its environment to thrive. Overpowering and solely directed at you. How was it supposed to do anything but terrify you. And how can he possibly believe that he loves you like that already?

Soulmates or not, you don’t know him!

This– this whole thing is wrong.

You can’t stop yourself from checking the locks on your apartment another three times before you slip under the covers of your bed, trying to will sleep to find you.

On the nightstand beside you, your phone vibrates, but you refuse to check it, knowing full well that it’s them.

It doesn’t stop.

And with every new notification your blood pressure climbs, and there’s a part of you that’s telling you you have no reason to be reacting like this – whatever happened on those steps, it’s not like they’re going to hurt you.

It was an accident, a misunderstanding.

But they’re still blowing your phone up with notifications and they know where you live and no matter what you tell yourself, you can’t seem to quell the disquiet that eats away at you.

And it’s a cruel thing to do, you know it is, but you don’t know what else to do as you finally give in, swiping your phone up and searching for his contact. The phone rings once, twice, three times and there’s a sinking feeling in your chest when you realise he’s not going to pick up–

“Hello?” Kuguri’s voice is groggy, heavy with sleep and you can almost picture him, sitting up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes, running a hand through his messy bed hair. “Fuck, do you know what time it is, Y/N? Why’re you calling me so late?”

There’s a pause, pregnant and heavy, and the only sound that leaves you is the soft hitch in your breath.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, quieter this time, an edge of worry in his tone.

You haven’t spoken to him in weeks, since he’d left without a word and broke your heart, but he’s the only one you want to talk to right now.

“I-I’m sorry for calling,” you begin, sniffling back your tears. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

—

When you drag yourself out of bed only a few short hours later, your body’s still crying out for a little more sleep, but you can’t afford to indulge.

Like you’d planned, you send the message first thing, ignoring the flood of unread texts above – both from Akaashi and an unknown number you can only assume is Bokuto’s.

I’m sorry about last night, just need some space.

You have nothing to be sorry for – even if it wasn’t for the frankly unsettling emotions you’d felt, Bokuto’d still kissed you without your permission. But Kuguri said it was better that way – they were less likely to freak out and panic or whatever. You hadn’t questioned it too much, it didn’t really matter what you said so long as they knew you didn’t want them anywhere near you… at least until you figured this whole thing out. And you trusted Kuguri on this.

God knows why he’d even answered your call in the first place, but you’re impossibly glad that he did. Gladder still that he hadn’t hung up on you the moment he’d realised why you were calling.

You scoff down a quick breakfast, before hopping into the shower. The scalding water’s a welcome relief, waking you up more than your coffee had and allowing you the space to think.

Kuguri’s got errands to run this morning, but he’d said you were welcome to stop by his place anytime. He’d insisted on it actually, telling you in no uncertain terms to pack an overnight bag.

‘Look, I’m probably being an overprotective asshole, alright, but I don’t want you there by yourself, so either you come here or I’m coming over there.’

And the thought that you’d need somebody there to protect you, that either one of your soulmates would do anything–

But it’s not so much about them, you think, but you. You’d been a mess when you’d called him, and despite how everything had gone down, Kuguri still cared about you – you can’t just turn those feelings off overnight – is it any wonder that you’d worried him?

Distantly, you register your phone going off a few more times as you busy yourself in washing your hair. You assume it’s Kuguri checking up on you, making sure that you’re alright – you pay it no mind, humming quietly as you reach for your conditioner.

And by the time you slip from your bathroom, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel it’s probably closer to mid-morning than you’d like. You don’t bother blow drying your hair or putting on makeup, instead heading to your room to get dressed and grab some clothes to take to Kuguri’s.

Except there’s a knocking at the door that stops you in your tracks.

You hadn’t heard the buzzer for the building’s main door go off, which meant that it was probably just your landlord stopping by, or one of your neighbours. You know the little girl who lives in the apartment next to yours likes to bake with her dad and sometimes drops off freshly made cookies and treats, so you hastily throw on enough clothes to pass as decent.

“Coming,” you sing out, racing across the room to reach the door.

Except when you throw it open, it’s not one of your neighbours standing out in your hallway, nor is it your elderly landlord.

Akaashi and Bokuto crowd the empty space; Bokuto grinning widely, Akaashi’s dark eyes fixed on yours.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he murmurs, a faint frown tugging at his features as studies your face. “We were worried about you.”

And there’s so many things wrong with the fact that they’re here; least of all being how the hell they got into the building to begin with, but you can’t afford to think of any of that. You simply need to get them out of here without causing a fuss. Now.

They’re still your soulmates, you remind yourself as your heart rate picks up. They won’t do anything to hurt you.

“I-I told you I needed space, please go,” you mutter, clutching so tightly at the edge of the door that your knuckles turn white. “Please,” you beg again when neither of them make a move to leave.

“I told you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto says, his smile slipping in favour of a wounded pout, “She’s afraid of us. Her soulmates.”

And you don’t know what compels you to shake your head instead of just slamming the door in their faces, “N-no, I just–”

“She’s just skittish,” Akaashi interrupts, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Overwhelmed – this is all new to her. It’s okay, princess,” he says, addressing you this time with a teasing little smirk, “We’ll be gentle, okay? We’re going to take good care of you.”

It’s the final blow to your tentative politeness. As panic sinks its teeth into you, you skitter backwards, scrambling to shut the front door before they can get in–

Bokuto’s faster. They both are.

Stronger, too.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere akaashi keiji x reader #yandere bokuto koutarou #yandere akaashi keiji #tw dub con #tw implied noncon #soulmate au

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bunny-xoxo · 2 years

Text

“Here, Here, Little Piggy”

-INSTALLMENT TWO-

MINORS DNI 18+

wc: 5.5k

this fic contains dark content

𓂅synopsis: you should really be more careful walking home alone, big bad wolves are known to prowl the area at night.

𓂅cw warnings -> fem bodied reader but no pronouns used, monster fucking - werewolf, fear play, stuckage, dub con, size kink, breeding, biting, chasing, animal death, description of gore, mentions of blood, one use of the nickname “puppy”

𓂅cast: Kōtarō Bokuto as Werwolf

a/n: wow so yes it is March, and yes I’m finally going to continue posting my kinktober pieces LMFAOOO - the ideas were too golden to abandon now that I’m back from my hiatus on this blog! I put way too much work into the prep to completely abandon it 😭 so anyways, just enjoy some smut for bo and lemme know if you guys are down for me to finish off my kinktober works! Ty all and love ya <3 and of course - this fic contains dark content so read at your own discretion

event masterlist

Staggered goodbyes echoed from the welcoming warmth of your friends home up into the brisk night air and were lost somewhere up in the heights of the towering trees surrounding the whole property. The slam and click of their heavy, wooden front door cut the boisterous sounds off abruptly and left you with an eery remnant of the friendly banter until there was only silence.

You’d hadn’t meant to stay so late studying with your classmate, Maya, and you wouldn’t have either if their mom wasn’t so adamant on making small talk with you.

Originally, the pair of you were supposed to meet up at the dining hall on campus and find a nook to work together there - but an unexpected sewage build up, in addition to a sewage spill in one of the nearby bathrooms in the building - put a pause on those plans. If the caution tape that was dramatically taped across all entrances wasn’t telling you your study date was canceled, the smell sure was. But your peer had a better idea.

“It’s only about a 45 minute walk out from here! And we really need to get this work done. I promise my ma won’t mind, she’s super chill and really likes meeting people I know actually.”

Christ, that’s nearly an hour.

If you weren’t so desperate to finish this project off, you would’ve said no and suggested just meeting early in the morning and seeing if it was open by then. But considering neither of your dorms were an option (thanks to inconsiderate roommates both of you had the displeasure of knowing), and the library was always too packed to properly focus, “ma’s house” it was.

Maya’s mom was actually super sweet like she said, even bringing you some snacks & water halfway through on a literal silver platter. You shouldn’t have been surprised by the theatrics of it all though, their house felt like a hidden away manor. For only being a 45 minute walk, it felt like a world away from your bustling college campus.

The stretch up to the home was cutoff from the rest of the city with a thickly wooded area, the majority of it spent on the dirt driveway up to the home. You weren’t sure how far the woods stretched, but you knew it had to be expansive enough for coyotes to feel welcome considering the stories Maya shared with you on the walk there.

“Oh my god, I actually really like it at night when sometimes you can hear them howling. It sounds super scary but really…” the excitement in Maya’s voice faded out as you slowly shifted your focus to the forest’s edge on your right.

You could only see about maybe 30 ft in until the trees became too dense to register what was beyond them, and that was in the dimming daylight. But the blue-greenish hue coming down from the sky didn’t help either, making the colors of the woods muddle together until it was a mess of fog and figures.

It was … off putting. Beautiful, but certainly not inviting. How many coyotes were waiting in there now, watching you two walk, and you not even being able to see them.

You must be psyching yourself out and making your brain imagine things, because at the exact moment you had that thought you swore you saw a flash of something move far back within the trees. The muscles in your legs tensed as a flash of nervous sweat rang out from your body.

Sudden laughter from ahead of you snapped you out of your nightmare-ish daydreams and back to your conversation with Maya, you didn’t realize how far she had gotten.

“Ah sorry, am I freaking you out? I’ll stop talking about it!” She had her lips pursed and her eyebrows raised, a little more than nervous that she was ruining the first time she got to actually hang out with you outside of class.

You shook your head and jogged to catch back up with her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and giving her a warm smile.

“No, no, you’re all good. I’m just not used to being in such a cool place like this. I mean, it’s definitely a little creepy, but it’s just because I’m used to the city more. Keep talking, I like your stories.”

The rest of the time there you spent it studying, and listening to more of her horror- er, interesting, stories, for a good majority of it. Which was all good and fine, until now.

You were left standing in the dark outside of her home, and the trees all around you felt bigger, taller somehow. Ma offered you a ride home but you stupidly denied, saying you wouldn’t want to give them any troubles. It took a lot of going back n forth before she caved, saying you better send Maya a text once you got home safe.

But now that you were out here on your own, you regretted your decision. However your pride got the best of you and you decided that it’d be more embarrassing to go back inside and say you’ve changed your mind after all the hassle you went through to walk back by yourself.

Why did you feel so obligated to put yourself in bad situations to make sure others wouldn’t be inconvenienced by you?

Shaking the thought and reminding yourself you weren’t in a bad situation, at least yet, you turned and began your trek home.

It wasn’t very late. Taking a peek at your phone before shoving it back into the pocket of your coat you read that it was only half past seven; yet it was dark and cold enough to convince you it could’ve been midnight.

You blew puffs out in front of your face and smiled at how noticeable the cloud of breath was, deciding you’d focus on that rather than peer into the pitch black around you. Thankfully, the moon tonight was bright enough to illuminate your path and even a bit of the forest floor on either side of you.

There was only a single streetlight placed alongside the trail a few feet from their home, and it didn’t do it’s job very well, a dim orange glow emitting from it only lit a small diameter around it. At least tonight the moon was picking up its slack, covering the rest of the trail for you as it peeked through the trees overhead.

It was almost comforting, how big the full moon was as you peered up at it. It felt like a friend escorting you on your walk back, staring down at you from its spot in the sky. The bright light changed the whole mood of the walk from dark & foreboding to serene & soothing.

But maybe you should focus on the uneven trail in front of you instead, because before you knew it you went tumbling forward onto the dirt as your shoe caught onto something in the ground, undoubtedly a tree root.

You yelped as you landed on your side, your backpack knocking some on the wind out of you, and your cheek sore from the scrape of the ground. If only it wasn’t so cold out, your hands would’ve been out of their pockets to catch your fall.

“Fuck.” You groaned and pulled out a warm hand to press to the side of your face, hissing at the sting from the contact.

Groaning, loudly, you sat up and onto the ground, it was so cold you could feel the damp chill through your jeans. Tiny specks of red started to appear on the blue denim against your knees, not at all surprising to you with the way they burned, before you sighed and pushed yourself back up onto your feet; you made sure to leave your hands out of your pockets this time.

Adjusting your bag, you took a few steps forward and did your best to ignore the dull ache from the friction of your jeans against your bloody knees.

So much for a serene walk home.

Reminding yourself to keep your eyes ahead of you, making note of any dips or bumps, you looked at your phone once more to check the time.

7:36

You sighed and did the mental math, determining you should be home no later than 8:30 (if you were taking your bum knees into account).

If you were lucky, your roommate might be already asleep. They tended to head in early most nights. It was nice considering that meant your interactions were kept to a bare minimum thanks to your late night study habits. Maybe you should slow down even a little more, just to be sure they-

Snap!

Your head twisted to turn in the direction of the sound. It came from across the dirt road, surprisingly wide, in the blackness of the trees on the other side. All coherent thoughts vanished from your mind, a mantra of run run run run clouding your head instead.

You swallowed thickly and tried to calm your breathing, and your heart beat, as you reminded yourself that you’re surrounded by woods. That twig snapping could be anything.

A fallen small branch, a deer, small rodents, the wind, other various non threatening forest life. It doesn’t have to be a coyote… did coyotes even approach humans?

No, surely they didn’t. You’re a human, the worlds like, “top predator” or whatever.

Reminding yourself that you’re the thing forest animals are scared of, as silly as it felt considering your were one more noise away from wetting yourself and breaking into a sprint, you continued forward - a little more aware of the sounds around you.

Maybe you should put in your headphones? No, it’d only make you paranoid considering you wouldn’t be able to hear if someone, or something, was coming up behind you.

Snap!

You didn’t look towards the noise right away this time, instead your kept your face forward.

The noise came from your left this time, maybe 20 feet deep into the woods. 20 feet too close.

Snap!

It was definitely closer this time.

Should you run? No. What if it wants a chase? Were bears all the way out here? No, definitely not… right? Cause if they were-

Snap!

Any apprehension you had to running was flung out the window as you sprinted forward, jumping over any bulges in the ground and ignoring the steady thump of pain into your lower back from your bag.

You made the decision to not look back, figuring if something was getting close you’d hear it anyways. But really, you just don’t think your heart could take glancing back to be met with a whole ass wild animal chasing you down.

Why the fuck didn’t you have any bear spray on you? Oh that’s right, cause you go to college in the city and you never thought-

Your self scolding was cut short at the rapid sounds of soft pads of feet approaching and branches snapping coming up from your left side.

Holy shit.

“Help! Please!” You don’t know who you were calling out to, considering you still had a ways to go until you were out of the thick woods, and you were definitely too far from Maya’s house to be heard.

You almost puked at the idea of your friend walking out of her moms home to find your mauled and mutilated body.

The running was getting closer, you were tempted to look to your left to try to catch a glimpse of what could be chasing you; But before you could, a second figure emerged from the tree line to your right and disappeared behind you - a harsh wince and yelp echoing in the darkness.

You turned in time to see two figures barrel into the darkness, the noises coming from them - snarling, snapping, growling, wincing, crunching - they all made your stomach turn and bile sit at the back of your throat.

Your steps faltered a little as you came to a small stop - was that a fucking man?

Was that a person that went tumbling with the other mysterious animal? You didn’t care enough to wonder any longer and turned back around to continue running forward, your chest heaving and nostrils burning from the cold night air.

Thump

You heard the sound before you processed what you saw in front of you. Something was flung and landed in your path just a few feet ahead of you. Steam seemed to be coming from the mound.

Warily, you took a couple steps closer until you came to an abrupt halt, it’s a coyote - or rather was. It’s been ripped open; tattered bits of fur are surrounding the open… wound, the moonlight reflecting off the puddle of blood filling up around the corpse effectively confirming it wouldn’t be jumping to life anytime soon.

A world of mixed feelings washed over you: fear, relief, nausea, confusion - but none of them compelled you to move forward, to run home. You were frozen, terrified at the sudden realization that whatever did this was left for you to meet. Was it the thing chasing you earlier, or was that the coyote? Did it - or maybe he - save you? No, it was probably fighting off it’s competition for it’s next meal - you.

The sound of breathing behind you brought you back to the present. You were left with no choice.

With shaky legs and a queasy stomach, you turned to look up at what could’ve ripped that animal apart in a matter of seconds, to be met with… a man? You can’t fully tell in the dark, but whatever it is sets your nerves on edge and your body rigid with terror.

The figure that was towering over you, easily about 7 ft tall, was almost human. Big, broad shoulders rested on top of a pair of thick biceps, and you followed them all the way down to big, no massive, hands. Seemingly normal, minus his height, but something was off.

There were.. claws? Nails wouldn’t describe the silhouette with justice, they definitely looked like claws. You didn’t fail to notice the suspicious liquid, thick and heavy, dripping from the tips of its claws and onto the ground with an audible drip, either. And there was maybe some.. no definitely some hair, although it looks more like light patches fur, across what you’d assume are his- it’s- forearms.

The torso was one of a regular man, an absolutely ripped one, but a man nonetheless. You stopped bringing your gaze down when you saw the light hit a deep, defined v-line and a patch of happy trail that seemed to keep going, afraid of what you’d see if you kept looking down. But when you brought your eyes up, you weren’t put at any ease.

You locked eyes with a pair of bright golden ones, bright enough you didn’t need the help of the moon to see them peeking through tufts of silver hair. The moon did however illuminate the glistening deep red covering the bottom half of his face.

A hand came up to wipe his mouth with the back of it until his face was mostly clean, before he offered you a… smile? You weren’t sure if it was meant to be a comforting smile, or a threatening display of baring his teeth - because that’s all you could focus on. A prominent pair of sharp, white incisors - as well as an even longer pair of canines - sitting behind his lips.

Nothing was said between either of you, just those bright eyes boring into yours for what felt like an eternity, before you decided it was now or never.

Slipping a strap of your backpack off of you as quickly as you could manage, you swung it off your other arm in the direction of that thing with as much force as you could muster before turning to sprint back down the path.

But you didn’t make it far, barely even half a step, a grip on the back of your coat stopping your feet from carrying you any farther.

“Where are you going?” A voice, slightly soft and sounding genuinely curious, comes from behind you.

….. Did he just talk to me?

You were yanked back against his chest with little to no effort from him, and hit a surprisingly softer surface than you were imagining (not that you were imagining what his chest felt like) and warmth - enough warmth for you to feel the heat emitting from him through your puffy jacket.

Your body shuddered at the feeling of him bending down to your height behind you, his warmth surrounding you know, and his hair tickling your cheeks. He nosed at your jaw and neck, his breath also tickling you slightly as he took shallow breaths in.

Was he smelling you?

You whimpered quietly in surprise, and a bit of fear, when your head was yanked back suddenly, your neck now more exposed for him to explore. His tongue slipped past his lips to leave an experimental lick across your pulse, the breeze catching the wet patch and sending more chills down your body.

“Let me go.” You sounded firmer, more sure than you thought you would. But he must’ve read through your feigned confidence, because his grip didn’t loosen one bit, and instead he asked you,

“Why?”

You blinked, surprised your throat wasn’t ripped out as a response instead. Regardless, what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? It’s not as if you were prepared for a conversation, but what does he mean why?

“Because… I said so. And I… I have class in the morning.” You kept your stare up and jutted your chin out, hoping to god you looked unfazed while your mind ran through all possible options of what the hell could be going on right now.

“If I let you go, do you really think you could run from me?” He almost sounded genuine, like he wondered himself if you’d be able to get away from him, as if the answer wasn’t obvious.

You felt like you stopped breathing at his question, because you knew it was really more of a proposition. And his loosening grip only further proved your assumption.

“Go ahead, see how far you can get. I’ll even give you head start. Besides, I liked how you smelt when you were scared.” He made sure to bring his face closer to your neck as he spoke his last sentence before letting you go completely, smiling to himself as you stumbled forward. You didn’t even realize how close he had been holding you.

You jumped to your feet and turned to look at him one last time, a bright toothy smile on his face, before sprinting forward and around the tattered coyote with all your might.

It was almost embarrassing, how hard you were pushing yourself to run. Did you actually think you’d be able to get away from him, whatever he was? It didn’t matter how hard you tried to shake the negative thoughts out of your head - you felt hopeless and you’d barely even started. But the weight jostling in your coat pocket reminded you not all options were lost - your phone.

Pulling your phone out as you continued to run, you held it above your head in hopes of having some bars and - yes, you do! Just one, but one should be-

A tree root, another tree root.

You, and your phone, go flying forward for the second time tonight - but unfortunately not together.

It plays out like a scene out of a movie, you’re laying there on your chest with your hand reaching out as you watch your phone bounce and slide under a fallen log to the side of the dirt path. And when you stretch your head up to look, it’s nothing but overgrown wild berry bushes - bounds of thorns and thistles everywhere in your sight - and your phone was beneath it all.

Shuffling over as quickly as possible, you can barely see the glint of your phone screen in the darkness of the night, and it’s more than an arms length away.

That phone is your saving grace, you have no choice. You won’t be able to reach and crawl through the overgrown sticker bushes, but lucky enough there’s a small dip in the ground beneath the log - just enough for a person to slip through if they really had to.

Slipping your coat off, needing to have as much space as possible to get between the log and the ground, you tossed it across the path to the other side of trees. Maybe he’ll smell your scent and go the other way?

Don’t worry about it, just hurry the fuck up!

You drop to the ground swiftly, hoping and praying to yourself that the sounds of the small twigs snapping beneath your knees weren’t loud enough to call for that man- no, that things attention. Laying onto your stomach, you attempt to scramble underneath the fallen log to reach your phone, but it was a tighter squeeze than you had anticipated. You sucked in a deep breath and held back your winces as you did your best to ignore the pine needles scraping and stabbing into your skin, and stretched your arm until the tendons and muscles began to burn until you realized this was a fruitless venture. And now you’ve just wasted precious time.

Hoping this went unseen and that the damp forest floor beneath your body muffled all noises of your shimmying, you pushed back on your palms to make a hasty escape - but you didn’t budge.

Surely you were starting to get splinters from how hard you started to push your palms into the ground, but you weren’t moving. You took deep breaths and tried to stay calm, but it’s been too long. He’s definitely catching up by now. It’s not like you made it far either.

Pushing one more time, you moved just a tad, but the searing pain that ran across your lower back from the harsh bark of the log scratching you suddenly made you holler - which you definitely shouldn’t have done.

“What are you doing?” A familiar voice chuckled from behind you.

It didn’t take but 5 seconds for tears start to spill from your eyes and down your face, surprisingly the first time you’ve cried so far tonight.

You ball your fists up when you hear him stepping closer to you until he’s standing right next to your legs, he has to be judging by how warm you’re already getting.

A warm hand comes out to lift the bottom of your shirt up, your scratch stinging more as the cold wind whips across it.

“Oh, you should’ve been-“

“Please don’t kill me! Please just let me go - I won’t tell anyone what the hell happened! Or - or what I saw! Th-thank you for saving me from, the um-“

He was surprised, and confused, as you started to ramble, in front of him. It’s not like he was listening all the way anyways, he was far too focused on how compromising your position was.

“Just please don’t kill me, please…” You sniffled and let your forehead rest against the dirt, chest constricting at the thought of how helpless you are like this. You couldn’t even fight back if you wanted to.

“What makes you think I’m gonna kill you? You think that’s what I’ve been planning on doing to you?” A pair of strong hands pull your ass up by your hips slightly, and run along your inner thighs soothingly as they press them apart.

Your eyes go wide at the realization of what he’s implying, yet your stomach flips at the idea, too. You’re silent as you feel him maneuver around behind you…

It’s a much better option than dying, right?

“No- I- just, just let me go!” You do your best to squirm and tell him you don’t want his cock buried deep in you, but your body wants other things.

And you hate the way the thought doesn’t actually despise you immediately, instead a dull throb from your cunt responds to his desires, and he knows it, too. You gasp when he suddenly has his face buried between your thighs and against your jeans, inhaling your scent deeply.

“Oh, you smell better like this.”

It’s not fair - it’s not your fault that he’s not… ugly. And you can’t deny that the thought of how big he is, especially compared to you, doesn’t turn you on at least a little. It’s easier to make yourself think you want this - that’s what you’re telling yourself, that it’s probably just easier to… convince yourself the idea isn’t completely off putting.

I mean, he’s probably huge, so you’ll need to be properly prepared and soaked to take him anyways. You can be sure of that judging by his height alone, and just the sheer body mass of him. Not to mention how thick and broad he was when you first laid your eyes on him…

“Whadya thinkin about, baby? You’re really working yourself up, I’m not even touching you.” He laughs softly and your body goes hot at his words.

You get even more pissed at yourself at the way your body continuously reacts to him, but you aren’t given any more time to yell at yourself when your jeans are quite literally ripped off your lower half.

God, you’re so small and helpless beneath him, and he knows you love it just as much as he does - he can tell you do. He can smell how exciting this is for you, as if the way you’re practically dripping wasn’t telling enough.

He knew he wanted you the moment he saw you walking with your little friend earlier, knew he needed you. Not only that, knew he needed to breed you, make you his. He sat and waited, followed you on your way back and thought about how he should do it. He didn’t want to scare you - well, he thought he didn’t. But then that other animal started to stalk you, and your fear wafted off you in such potent waves, and you smelled so good, he couldn’t stop his dick from twitching as he watched you run.

But you were his to fuck, to play with, maybe even to keep; so he’d be damned if you got hurt.

The thought alone makes anger rise in his chest, but the sight of your damp panties brings him back down to earth and remind him of the goal at hand - to fuck you till all you can think about his how bad you need him to fill you up.

Bokuto growls behind you before dipping his head down to lick against the wet patch on your underwear. He groans at the faint taste of you and sits up to discard you of them completely, surprisingly slowly, and whines when he sees the strings of arousal connect and break from your needy cunt to your long and forgotten underwear.

He grabs onto your thighs with enough force for the tips of his claws to just slightly break the skin, but any discomfort is disregarded when he buries his face in your heat and messily shoves his tongue between your lips.

His tongue is hot and wet, and his eager movements to scoop up as much of you as he can taste makes your toes curl and your eyes clench shut in surprise.

Fuck, this feels really good.

He pulls back and pants, spitting down onto your ass and watches his saliva drip down onto your clenching hole.

“Fuck, already so needy for me to fill you up, huh?” His voice is raspy, and you no longer care how odd or humiliating this all is, how weak you are - you want him so bad.

But all you can do is whimper in response when he bites down onto the fatty part of your ass, surely leaving a mark, before going back to licking long, languid stripes against your cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel him move to start sucking on your clit with a need you’ve never felt any man please you with before.

Your thighs want to squeeze together but they can’t with the unmatchable strength he has, keeping you open and spread for him to do as he pleases to you. His constant sucking and licking on your clit suddenly becomes too much as you feel your orgasm coming close, your stomach clenching and thighs shaking.

“Ahh! Fuck!”

You scream when it hits, he’s relentless and doesn’t stop once throughout until your squirming bad enough to catch his attention, who’s unapologetically pussy drunk. He only stops and pulls away, giving you a break, cause he needs more.

He wants to taste you more, give you more, but he can’t with you stuck like this.

He sits up and wrenches the log off your body, a sigh of momentary bliss leaving your lips, before he pulls you out from where you were by your waist with his other arm.

Your vision isn’t clear from this perspective, you think you’re dangling upside down, slung over his shoulder, but before you know it he has you flipped back around and standing on your own two feet in front of him - and fuck were you right, he is big.

Bringing your gaze up, now eye level with his chest, you crane your head up to look at his face with wide eyes.

“C’mere.” You’re lifted up by the back of your thighs until your calves dangle at the sides of his waist with his arms resting under the bend of your leg, warm hands gripping your sides.

Instinctively, you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pressing chest to chest, irrationally scared that he (yes, the same man who previously tossed a log off your body like it was a twig) might drop you.

But all focus is lost on that thought when you feel the fat head of his cock - the girth of which you don’t even want to imagine right now - slide between your sticky lips, nudging against your swollen clit.

A whimper falls from his lips as he starts to poke and prod against your entrance, his head slowly pushing in and you can already feel the stretch of him. A small dose of fear mixed with an overwhelming amount of anticipation runs through your body. You can’t tell whether it’s your own lust clouded mind or some power he might have over you - but you need him now, greater than your apprehension for his size.

“Need you, need you now. Gotta fill my puppy up.” He huffs down at you and you can’t help but flutter a little around the tiny bit of him that’s made it’s way into you at the use of the nickname.

You nod against his chest and wiggle in his grasp, hoping he gets the idea that right now, that’s all you want, too.

He does his best to slowly sink you down onto him, but fuck the feeling is unbearable - you’re so warm and soft around his cock, and he can’t help but think about how it’s the perfect pussy for him to breed.

Biting down onto your shoulder, he sits you onto the rest of his cock, your cunt squelching and dripping onto his thighs and heavy balls. You yelp a little from the pain of it all; his sharp teeth sinking into your shoulder far enough to leave a scar, with the vague feeling of a small trickle of something warm dripping down your back, and the burn from the way you’re stretching around him. But the first time he lifts you off to slam back into you, all you can think about is how bad you need to come around his cock.

Your head leans back and your jaw goes slack, his pelvis - dawning a furry patch of pussy soaked coarse hair - rubbing against your clit with each roll of his hips. It’s like he’s hitting every spot inside of you at the same time, too, repeatedly brushing against the one that has you drooling and whining: “please, please, please!”

He leans his head down to speak into your ear, panting heavily with each smack of skin, “Yeah? Wanna make you feel good before I fill this dirty pussy up.“

Giving an unexpected tender kiss to your neck, he growls before picking up his pace - thrusting in and out of you hard enough to have your head rocking back and forth.

Fuck, you were so close.

Reaching a shaky hand down, trusting his strength to keep you up, you rub weak but rapid circles onto your clit. Thankfully, not much more effort needed to be exerted from you for you to reach your climax.

Bokuto presses kisses into your mouth, open in a silent scream, as you squeeze around his cock and twitch in his arms.

Leaving a gentle kick across your lips, he groans and whines before his thrusts still - your own orgasm enough to nearly make him pass out from the sensation - as he shoots his hot seed into you. He has so much, the inside of you not nearly enough for it all, as it spurts out onto the sides of his thick cock.

You’re not sure how long he held you in his arms like this, swearing you were going in and out of consciousness by the end, but eventually you feel him pull himself out of you that leaves you with an emptiness you couldn’t begin to describe.

But rather than being set down, you’re still held in his arms. The warmth from him is overwhelmingly soothing now, lulling you to sleep as your exhaustion starts to take over you. There’s only vague murmurs of something sounding like “keeping you safe”, or “keeping you home”; but right now that’s the last thing you care to think about as his hands rub up and down your back.

That’s something for tomorrow you to worry about, just like tomorrow you will worry about where your backpack with all that hard work went. However, you have a feeling deep in your gut that your missing bag will be the last of your worries in the morning.

——————

taglist: @plutowrites @touyaz

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ketsueki-writes · 2 years

Note

hey babes! can i request a yandere bokuto from haikyuu for the aftercare therapy with a fem reader.! glad to see you’re back! 💓

ᴀɴ: ʜᴇʏ ʙᴀʙᴇꜱ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ! ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ <33 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ ɪꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ! ɢʟᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ!

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴛʀᴀɪɴᴛ, ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴄᴀʀᴇ (ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ), ᴡʜɪᴘ/ʙᴇʟᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴇ, ʀᴇꜱᴛʀᴀɪɴᴛ (ᴛᴏᴏʟ ʀᴇꜱᴛʀᴀɪɴᴛ) ᴄᴀʀᴇ

You shuddered, trembling as Bokuto towered over you, your hands still locked in the handcuffs chained to the bed. His wide toothy grin beams down at you as small beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He was breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

“Hey, hey hey... you doing okay?” he said lowly, pulling his cocky from your leaking messy hole, his hands holding your thighs apart as you squirmed trying to push them back together.

You whined looking up at him as tears puddled around your cheeks, dripping down your pretty face. His thumb swiped away the salty droplets as his hand cupped your face. “Shhh, shh that’s okay” he said, moving his hands letting your thighs close as he held your cheek. “It’s okay,” he cooed softly, his damp hair falling over his face.

You watched as his muscled body reached over you, unchaining the handcuffs from the headboard, his chiseled chest just above you before he took your hands into his, his large rough hands holding yours. He kissed the knuckles of your hands, eyes watching you. “See that wasn’t too bad yeah?” he said with a slight chuckle, pressing a kiss to your palms. “You did so good,”

His voice was reassuring, like the roughness he just put you through didn’t just happen. His large towering body reached down, scooping your limp frame into his muscled arms, holding you close to his chest. He sat against the headboard, holding you close, not letting you move even if you wanted to.

“So shaky baby, calm down, I’m all finished for now.” he joked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t deny the notion, the knowledge of safety you had when you were around Bokuto. You knew that he would never hurt you so bad you needed medical attention, and you also knew he’d never let anyone else hurt you. It was a nice little bit, especially since of what you’d been through.

“I love you so much puppy” he said sweetly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he squeezed you tightly. You closed your eyes, relaxing in his hold as your head laid against his bicep.

“I love you so, so, so much”

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touyaz · 3 years

Text

no laughing matter.

pairing bokuto koutarou x gn reader

word count 3,297

notes enjoy !! :) @http-404-error-unknown

WARNINGS dark/ yandere bokuto, mentions of (consensual) sex throughout, implied dubcon/noncon at the end, but there’s nothing explicit.

MINORS, AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.

You look so gorgeous today, even if you look like you could use another hour or two of sleep. Your hair's a little messy, but Bokuto just wants to weave his fingers through and ruffle the strands a little more. Your eyes look a tad swollen — as if you've been crying and haven't slept properly — and he wants to kiss away your tears; he wants to hold you close and lull you to sleep whilst whispering sweet nothings in your ear, keeping you nice and warm in his embrace, where nothing can ever harm you.

The afternoon sun casts a golden glow over you, highlighting the way you shuffle and twiddle around with your fingers, looking ever so dainty and fragile in front of him — like you're nervous, like you're about to do something you shouldn't — and Bokuto can't keep his eyes off of you. He can't tear his gaze away from the way your lips curl and sway as you speak to him, as you call his name in that angelic lilt of yours, as you tell him you love him—

“Bokuto, are you even listening?”

He doesn't want to listen to you. On any other day, your words are gospel to him; he'd listen to you for hours on end as if you were telling him the secrets of the universe, as if all the answers to life's most important questions were hidden behind your chapped lips, and he's the only person blessed enough to hear a snippet of your sweet voice.

Today, however, he's perfectly content with just staring at you, losing himself in the way you shine, the way you squirm.

He doesn't want to listen to you. Not when you keep calling him Bokuto. Not when you're trying to break up with him.

"I'm sorry, baby, you just look so pretty right now," he chuckles, light and airy to dispel your discomfort, but you grit your teeth in annoyance.

You have no right being annoyed when you're out here breaking his heart. Do the other people in this café know what you're doing here? Can they see you tear his heart to shreds with your vicious tongue and sharpened claws? Are they watching as his face falls and tears burn his eyes, but you don’t even pause between spewing venom at him?

Is this what heartbreak is? That dizziness in his head. The ringing in his ears that just about masks your voice. Something tightens in his chest — each callous syllable you spit is another tug on the rope binding his lungs, and it squeezes him until he’s at the point of rupturing. His heart feels heavy, like it’s being pulled down to the soles of his feet, anchored to the dirt you step on; his body feels too weak, but he’s acutely aware of the numbness that falls over him. He feels like he’s floating, he thinks he’s never been more grounded. It doesn’t make sense. His body keeps flipping between hot and cold, focusing on your words then listening to the squeak of leather beneath you, watching you rub a hand across your face then staring out at a dog that passes by. It’s too much and yet not enough. He wants you to stop; he wants you to stay. None of this makes any sense.

He almost wants to laugh, to break down into tears and scream and cry and cause a massive spectacle, so everyone can see the way you wound him with your lethal words. Is that why you invited him out here? Not for a cutesy little lunch date, but so you could have an audience join in as you jeer and snicker at his demise, as you crush his heart in the tender, bruising palm of your hand like it — like he — never meant a thing to you?

He knows you're not like that — not his sweet, precious partner, his dearest, his beloved — no, no, you would never do that, you would never break his heart like this. You love him, like an artist loves a blank canvas, and like a singer needs their voice, you need him just as much as he needs you; he is nothing without you, and you're nothing without him, you can't be anything without him. He won't let you become something without him, because then you won't be you.

"Don't— Stop saying things like that, Bokuto."

Bokuto. Bokuto. Bokuto. God, he loves your pretty voice, but if he doesn't hear a Kou or baby soon, he's going to break the table separating you from him and force it out of you.

"I'm serious" — so is he — "we're done."

He's done with this conversation.

You don't say anything else. You just pick up your bag, turn heel and leave him there. You're so cruel to him — looking away so you can't see the tears welling up in his eyes, leaving him trembling in some stupid café, all alone with your untouched drink.

He spots you in the university hallways the next day. He comes in bright and early to see you, to hug you and laugh with you over the silly prank you pulled on him yesterday, but when he waves and calls you over to him, you don't even look his way before you slip into your lecture hall.

He pouts, thinking you didn't hear him (even though his voice is deafening, more akin to a lion's roar than a grown man yelling) and Konoha — who'd been standing beside him, talking endlessly about his latest fling — snickers at the display.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Bokuto huffs, crossing his arms as he eyes the door to your lecture, debating whether or not he should go in after you. "Nah, they’re just playing a prank on me, but I miss them so much!"

Konoha rolls his eyes, muttering a you're so fucking whipped before he throws an arm around Bokuto's shoulders. "Come on, you can cry about them later, let's get to class."

Bokuto's always hated not having the same modules as you because he loves admiring you as much as possible, for as long as possible. The arrangement does, however, mean that when he sees you at lunch, he gets to hear about everything you got up to without him, and he always loves listening to how your day went. You must not have been feeling very hungry today, though, since you never came to your usual lunch spot. Bokuto misses swiping food from your bento box, and his own meal tastes bland when you're not there to feed it to him, but he thinks you must be very dedicated to the dumb little joke you're playing.

He’s grown tired of it already. If you don't end it soon yourself then he will.

The rest of his day goes by uneventfully, the hours passing dreadfully with you not by his side. Even volleyball practice is draining and he finds it hard to come out of his slump when he doesn't see you in the stands. Even when you both get into a little argument, you still show up, studying and doing coursework as you wait for him to finish practice. Then, he twines your hand with his, shoulders your bag, and you both talk out your woes on the way to your house. The journey is always filled with apologies and promises to be better; he cherishes the sweet sound of you saying yes, I still love you, Kou — what he wouldn't give to hear you say that right now — but more than that, he loves the way you let him mold your body to his once you're in your bedroom, all pretty and pliant beneath him as he shows you just how sorry he truly is.

He brushes off Akaashi when he asks him if he's feeling okay, because of course he's not. He loves you to the moon and back, but you're being annoying, taking this prank way too far, and his heart's aching in his chest. He's the last one in the locker room, and just before he gives up all hope of you showing up, he decides to send you a quick picture. He pulls off his volleyball shirt — because he knows how much you like the sight of his firm, tanned body (and he loves the way you love it) — and he grins as brightly as he can before he snaps a quick picture of himself, and sends it to you.

And then he waits. Fifteen minutes pass and he doesn't hear a word back from you, even though he's said, time and time again, he wants you to reply back in five minutes or less. The picture (and all the other messages he'd sent to you throughout the day) stays undelivered.

The joke has gone on for long enough.

He knows the way to your house — he could walk there blindfolded and bleeding out without stumbling once — and he follows the path down to where you are hidden away in your room easily. He knows your parents are out, that they never come home early on weekdays, and that your siblings are out at work or school or whatever. He knows because on days like these, he'd be in your room with you, pushing away your reading material and dragging you onto his lap so he can make out with you. He'd be up there, stealing food from you and kissing your lips right after. He'd be with you, holding you close, telling you how much he loves you, just you, only ever you.

Today shouldn't be any different to how the two of you spent last week all cosied up beneath your blanket, tongues tangled with his hands down your pants, and there's a certain pep in his step as he thinks about that, rushing to the entrance and using the key you gave him to unlock the door. He can't wait to have you sprawled out all for him, wet and wanting, so he hurries up the stairs when he hears you leave your room.

You're at the top of the staircase when he stands on the first step.

"What the fuck?"

His fists clench at your rude greeting, but at least you've finally given him some attention.

"Baby, I missed you!" he says, bearing a grin as he eyes the way your face drops, the way your hands tighten into fists. "I didn't see you at practice, so I wanted to check up on you! You okay?"

"You need to leave, Bokuto. How'd you even get in?"

"What, you don't want me here?" he asks, a playful pout on his face as he climbs up a few steps. You stumble back, away from him, and his eyes narrow in a dark glare. "You avoided me all day, you know. I don't like what you're doing."

"No, I don't want you here," you state and now your voice is really starting to grate on his ears. "Get out, Bokuto."

"I'm not going anywhere," he retaliates, walking up some more steps, and when he notices you distancing yourself, he jumps over the last few steps. He manages to catch you just before you lock yourself into the bathroom, slamming the door open with such power it leaves a crater behind in the wall. You're tripping over your feet as you move away from him, but there's nowhere for you to go.

You're leaning against the sink, eyes darting around the room for something to defend yourself with, but Bokuto's always been faster than you, and there's nothing for you to grab. Razors and scissors are tucked safely in your cupboard, you left your hairbrush in your bedroom earlier — you wish you were a little more careless, wish there was something other than shower curtains and a toilet at your disposal.

"Where are you running off to, baby?" he says, grin darkening into a spiteful smirk as he knows he's got you trapped in his clutches, just how he likes. His body — built and solid and all dense muscle — fills up the doorway and he's like a beast looming over your helpless form.

"Bokuto, please—"

"And why are you still calling me that?" he asks, taking slow steps towards you, prolonging your misery and terror.

"It's your name—"

"Not to you! You always call me Kou, I miss hearing you say that."

He sounds so whiny and childish, yet the nasty glint in his eyes speaks volumes; he may act like a hyperactive puppy most days, but you know there's a ruthless, bloodthirsty wolf in him that's dying to be unchained.

"Kou, you're— you're scaring me."

"Oh, baby." For a second he seems to soften, reminding you of the old Bokuto that would pepper gentle kisses all over your face, the one that would make butterflies flutter in your tummy with just his smile. He opens his arms to you — the place once a source of comfort, but now his arms swell with muscles that are too suffocating, his hold too much like a cage, like a bear trap. You stay still, clutching at the rim of the sink like it's your lifeline. "Come here, you know I'd never hurt you."

You shake your head. You're cowering away from him, but you can't fall into his arms so easily. You're done with him, and he needs to understand that. Needs to get that through his thick head: you're not together anymore. You don't want him.

"Kou, you can't be here, you need to go."

His arms drop to his side, face falling with dejection when you don't move to him like he wants.

If you won't come to him, then he'll go to you.

"I'm tired of your stupid prank." Your brows furrow in confusion and he answers you before you even open your mouth. "Don't tell me you've forgotten what you did yesterday."

Your eyes widen in realisation. "That— Kou, that wasn't a joke. We're not— I broke up with you, okay? It's not your fault, I just— I really need to focus on uni, and you have volleyball, and we can’t— I just don't think I can handle a relationship right now. I'm sorry."

You're lying through your teeth. He knows because you've never brought any of this up before; he's told you time and time again, he's going to make it big, make a name for himself in the volleyball scene, so you won't have to worry your pretty little head about university or a job, he'll take on the big work, so all you have to deal with is handling your relationship. He'll go out and earn the money, keep a roof over your head, deal with the real world — all you've got to do is make sure you're dolled up nicely for when he comes home. You cook the food he buys, and you spread your legs for him at the end of each day so he can love you right. He'll treat you so well, you won't have to worry about a single thing besides what he'll have for dinner, and what lingerie he'll be tearing off of you for dessert.

He laughs, shoulders hunching over as he lets out deep, unamused chuckles, and the sink digs into your back as you crane away from him.

"We're not breaking up, don't be silly." His word is final. Seriously, he's tired of this stupid prank you're playing on him. He just wants to hold you close and forget this day ever happened. "Now let's go to bed, I'm tired."

"I mean it—"

"I mean it," he interrupts, and his voice is darker than it was just moments ago. "I don't wanna hurt you, baby, but if you say one more thing about us breaking up, I'm gonna get real mad, got that?"

You gulp, nodding stiffly and digging your nails into your palms as you try to hold back the tears springing up. You know about the power that dwells inside him, the way gentle kisses can turn to vicious bites, the way he can carry you around like a sack of junk, the way he can twist and turn your body to his liking as if you're clay, all for him to sculpt and perfect.

"Good," he sighs, a smile forming on his face. "Now, let's go."

His hand laces with yours, forcing you by his side as he takes you to your bedroom. He doesn't let up as he shoves your clothes and bag off of your bed, turning to pick you up like it's nothing before he falls back on the bed, hugging you close to him. He lifts your leg over his, a large hand wrapping around your thigh to squeeze the fat and keep you in place. His grip is so tight, you're sure it'll leave a bruise behind, but you're too scared of him to voice your pain.

"See, this is nice, isn't it?" he asks, burying his nose into your hair after he closes his eyes, finally able to revel in the feeling of your embrace. "Missed you all day. I don't ever want you doing something like that again, okay? It really hurt. Konoha kept making dumb jokes about you moving on when he saw you talking to some asshole after school, but you wouldn't do that to me, would you, baby?"

He waits for you to reply, and you swallow down your unease, trying to keep a level voice. "No, Kou, of course not. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby, I forgive you." he says, sweetly kissing the top of your head, before his lips curl slyly. "But… I do know how you can make it up to me."

You gulp, not wanting to know what he has in mind. You just want to go to sleep, pretend this is all a bad dream, a horrid nightmare but nothing more than a figment of your imagination. The beefy arms wound tightly around your body anchor you to reality.

"How?"

In lieu of a reply he shuffles down the bed, coming face to face with you, and immediately tips his head to lock you in a kiss. His tongue is more than eager to come and play with you, and the hand that was on your thigh moves up to knead your ass so hard you gasp, giving him the space he’s after to invade your mouth.

You're helpless to his attack, unmoving as his tongue explores freely, as he refamiliarises himself with every single taste bud, as he dips into each divot in your molars before finally pulling away. His lips instantly trail to litter wet, sloppy kisses along your jaw, humming as he follows the curve of your neck. He nips over your racing pulse, your heart beating through your ribcage, before sucking hickeys all over your soft skin, not leaving an inch of you untouched.

You get your answer when he rolls his hips against yours, and you feel his hardness poke at the apex of your thighs, rubbing against your sex with unyielding fervour.

You look so gorgeous today, alluring and dazzling as your skin shines with his spit, as you glow beneath his rough hands. He brushes your hair back, kissing over the apples of your cheeks, licking away the tears that fall from your eyes. Bokuto can't keep his eyes off of you. He can't tear his gaze away from the way your lips curl and sway as you whimper for him, as you call his name in that angelic lilt of yours, as you tell him you love him—

839 notes · View notes

mango-bango-bby · 3 years

Note

Hey, I know this one was finished a long time ago, but i was wondering if you could do a 2nd part for 'Test', the poly! Kuroo and Bokuto one. I'm really interested in the punishment they'd give🥰

And like u said we have to give the Haikyuu characters some love too💕

♡ Test: Part Two ♡

(A/N: Been a while since I wrote a punishment fic!!! Or even an angsty fic in general, but it’s fluffy at the end no need to worry!! Bokuto and Kuroo sharing a darling is always in interesting dynamic to write for and I’m not sure I’m to great at it yet!! Anyways I hope you like this and our Haikyuu yans do need more love 🥺🥺💖)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, angst, collars, handcuffs, isolation, fluffy at the end

Summary: Bokuto and Kuroo give you a punishment after your escape attempt (Yan!Bokuto x GN!Reader x Yan!Kuroo)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

♡↞ Previous

“Tetsuro! Kotaro! I’m so sorry!” You sob as loud as you can. You hated it in this closet, it was dark and cramped. Your neck hurt, and your wrist hurt both being bound. Around your neck as a collar with a very short chain that was chained to a closet pipe. And around your wrists are handcuffs that are also attached to the same closet pipe.

You cry out once again, hoping that maybe your captors would take pity on you. They were normally so sweet to you but after your little escape attempt, they weren’t so sweet. Although when they put you in the closet, you don’t even know how long ago, you could see flickers or guilt in both of their eyes.

You feel like it’s been days, even though you know it’s probably only been a few hours that you’ve been locked in here. Your sobs quiet down again, this time just silently crying to yourself.

You don’t know when Kotaro and Tetsuro are going to let you out. You even have thoughts that they won’t let you out.

Maybe you messed up so bad that they hate you now. Maybe they’re just going to leave you in here forever. Maybe they forgot you. So many thoughts like that run through your mind until you hear the click of the lock from the door.

You look up and through tears you can see the blurry silhouettes of both Tetsuro and Kotaro standing over you. “It’s ok, kitty, we’re here now” Tetsuro knelt down next you gently petting your head. You lean into his touch, stray tears still falling down your face. Your voice hurts from how hard you've been crying so you don’t even say anything to them.

“We’re so sorry, baby, are you alright?” Kotaro asks, feeling totally guilty about locking you up but he knows that him and Tetsuro needed to punish you. Tetsuro felt guilty as well but he tried not to show it as much. Both of them hated hearing you crying and seeing how upset you are.

Kotaro unlocks up chain on the collar and then unlocks the handcuffs, not expecting you to practically throw yourself at both of them.

Tetsuro is able to catch you in his arms, you just grabbing onto him and trying to reach out for Kotaro too.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll never do it again” you sob, burying your face into Tetsuro’s chest and holding onto both men as tightly as you can. “Shh, you’re ok now, we’ve got you” Tetsuro comforts, Kotaro almost in tears at your words and actions.

He’s always been emotional and seeing you so sad and clinging onto both of them had Kotaro on the verge of tears. But he knew you needed to be punished.

“I’ll never try to leave ever again” you whisper, still sobbing and hiccuping through your words.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ Thank you for reading, darling!!

#yandere haikyuu #soft yandere #yandere!bokuto #yandere bokuto #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere kotaro #yandere kotaro x reader #yandere!kotaro #yandere!kuroo #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere tetsuro #yandere tetsuro x reader #yandere!tetsuro

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solarisensun · 3 years

Text

Delusional Fool (2)

Yandere! Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

Read Pt 1 here

- Pt 2 is finally here lmao it took me a whole 4 months to finally finish it :0 So sorry for the delay I just suck at writing in general but this piece is over 6k words long (by far one of my longest fics) so I hope it makes up for my shitty update schedule :’) My size kink also really jumped out lmao (it’s there if you squint hard enuf)

Warnings : ‘NSFW’, dub/non-con, breeding kink, yandere themes. (all characters are 18+)

Fukurodani’s ace has a massive crush on you, its a pity you don’t feel the same way.

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Navigation

Honestly, you feel numb. Dead even.

Even the littlest and most mundane tasks seemed to drain all of your energy.

After the incident, you had cranked the hottest possible setting, stripped yourself bare, and sat under the shower until minutes blended into hours and you lost count of how long you’d let the water batter your skin. Trying to forget everything, trying to melt every single touch off your dirty skin, trying to scrub away the violations branded on your body with scalding hot water until you were raw.

It didn’t work. It’s as if you could still hear his heavy breathing over you, feel his lips on your own, the harsh bite of tiled floor on your red knees.

“Gosh, how did you get so lucky?” A playful shove connects against the back of your shoulder, effectively snapping you out of your thoughts and the surprise of it causes you to stumble forward, nearly falling face-down on the concrete floor before you catch yourself.

“Oh crap sorry.” A hand shoots out to soften the impact but you brush it off and right yourself. The thought of something, anything touching you made you flinch. It’s only when you see the culprit – your best friend that the thundering of your heart slamming against your ribs calms down from its crescendo.

“What do you mean?” You know exactly what she means. It only makes your heart swell with dread. Your relationship with him was no longer a secret. To even call it a relationship would be a stretch.

Your friend steps into view from the side of your locker, a broad grin etched on her bright face and eyes dancing mischievously as she waggles her eyebrows in a mockingly scandalous motion. Normally, the sight of it would have prompted you into a fit of giggles but you aren’t sure if you can even reply.

“We all saw Bokuto walk you to class this morning! How long have you been hiding this from us?”

“Oh,” you force yourself to smile, it’s like your lips are curling on their own. “It’s nothing.”

You slam your locker shut, jiggling the combination number at random and give her another (hopefully) less forceful smile. A part of you longed to tell her. Wanted to tell her that Bokuto Kotarou forced you to suck him off in the locker room after school yesterday, used you to his liking to get his dick wet.

But how would she look at you if she sees that picture of you on your knees and looking like a back-alley whore? What would everyone in the school think of you? The thought leaves a bitter taste in the back of your throat.

“Don’t bullshit me,” she gives you another shove - lighter this time, tone dropping down to a dramatic whisper but the admiration still shines through her words. “ The Bokuto Kotarou? Ace and future Japan athlete?”

You smile again, more of a show of teeth than a smile, fingernails scratching a bitter path down the cool metal of your locker in an attempt to steel your fraying nerves at each hideous lie pouring out her mouth. If only she—everyone knew.

“Gosh,” a dreamy sigh. “He’s sooo hot, have you seen his performance in the recent match? All those delicious muscles, especially those beefy thighs imagine him in bed”

Her words were making you sick. You can feel it, a churning pit of dread that swirls in your stomach.

“Hey!” Just as you are about to open your mouth to answer, a loud voice cuts through the conversation and it’s him. Bounding over with that same obnoxious grin plastered on his face. The hallway seems to narrow down as he approaches, like his mere presence overshadows everything else in his path, and it does.

He swallows up everything with glee, basks in it even, the twisting heads and excited whispers that arise at the sight of none other than Bokuto Koutaro, they seem to follow him like second shadow. It was like watching a painting too vivid to be real. From the feverish glint in his golden orbs when you meet his gaze that cuts through the crowd straight to yours, the broad lines of his shoulder rippling upwards underneath the grey uniform when he gives you an enthusiastic wave.

He's so large. Easily towering and cutting through the sea of students with such ease, it helps that everyone does out of their way to congratulate him, exchanging witty remarks and enthusiastic slaps on his back of his excellent performance the other day when Fukurodani trashed the volleyball team in court.

Your heart sinks when you notice that his silent companion - Akaashi isn’t trailing his heels. That meant he was going to drag you away.

It takes everything in you not to flinch when Bokuto drapes a heavy arm across your shoulder and plants an affectionate kiss on the side of your cheek, instead, you hunch over, shoulders curling inwards uncomfortably to minimize any contact. “I missed you,” Bokuto sighs dreamily as his lips graze down your cheek to nuzzle your neck.

You noticed that he likes fighting for your attention, clasps your hand in his, your waist, running his thumb over your knuckles with that sickeningly adoring gaze, or placing himself on literally any little part that he can get his hands on. Like he was claiming a piece of you for himself each time he touches you, taking and taking until there was nothing of you left to offer and you were all in the palm of his hand.

“You saw me last period.” You give him a light push, praying that he would leave. Doesn’t he see you hanging out with your friend? You had spent the entire morning on the walk to school enduring his endless chatter and wandering hands, then breaktime where he bounded over to join you behind school in a (thankfully) secluded spot to have lunch together.

He just wouldn’t shut up, forcing you to nod along and listen robotically to him prattle on and on about how he couldn’t quite do a neat spike when he was under pressure, how he was failing his tests, how he was so hopelessly in love with you.

You thought it’d be enough to satisfy his delusion. Perhaps you could even rush back home before he came searching for you.

It’d been impossible to get a glimpse of his phone, your chances of escape had dwindled down to a big fat zero.

Too late.

Your friend averts her eyes politely at the affectionate display. It makes you want to scream and shake her by the shoulders. The scene must have looked utterly romantic to an outsider, who wouldn’t want Bokuto Kotaro fawning over them like a lovesick puppy? It takes several seconds before Bokuto finally gets the hint and draws himself back to full height. His eyes bore into yours for another few moments too long and you give your friend a weak smile.

He doesn’t leave.

You were definitely going to be sick.

Everyone is staring, some with jealousy, others with admiration and a handful of scattered curiosity. Their stares are drilling mental holes into every inch of your skin and there is a pale flutter of panic that uncurls itself in your chest. Do they know? Why are they staring?

You look up into the sea of gazes, searching for a trace of anything odd. And thank god. There’s no visible sight of disgust. It calms the swell of panic in you. Momentarily.

Until Bokuto starts to guide you in the opposite direction of your friend.

“I’ll see you later okay?” You murmur, not even sure if your friend has heard your words but you definitely catch the sly wink she sends your way. Bokuto is already dragging you away to a more secluded wing of the school, his large palm latched on your upper arm in a solid grasp and you can feel his warmth leaching through the sleeve of your uniform when your smaller strides stumble to match his significantly broader ones. The squeak of your scuffed sneakers against the floor suddenly sounds so damned loud.

“Wait, wait” Your hand flutters up to tap frantically on his bicep. “Bokuto, please wait.” Something in your voice cracks at the last word and he finally slows to a stop, one hand scratching the side of his neck sheepishly at the sight of your flushed face and soft pants. Like he’d finally realise you were no match for his athlete pace.

“Sorry sorry,” he’s mumbling as he caresses the side of your cheek with a small smile, thumb swiping across your bottom lip as he tilts your head to meet his gaze. “I got too excited to see you, couldn't stop thinking of you at practise earlier.”

“Oh,” You aren’t sure if you can reply in coherent sentences. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Every part of him was overwhelming (not in a good way), the only thing you could think of was his phone, your tear stained face and dishevelled appearance. The picture.

“Did you miss me?” Bokuto asks and you nod stiffly. Once again, his face lights up in a childish glow and he catches your hand in his to lift it to his mouth. A soft kiss on your inner wrist, then you feel the blunt force of his teeth grazing your tender skin, each scrape of his teeth has you hissing in pain but it’s impossible to move with his grip and you are simply too afraid to push him off. But as quick as the sting arrives, you feel his cool tongue soothe over the red mark with a simple glide.

You look down to your wrist, the skin already reddening and soon would blossom purple. A mark. His mark.

Bokuto’s eyes are unnaturally dark, dilated as he guides you against the lockers. Your trapped; back pressed against the cool kiss of metal and between his wandering limbs. Your trembling hand is still clutched in his grip and Bokuto gives you another grin before he guides your hand to press your palm against the manhood between his legs.

He’s hard already. The stiff touch of his pants rubs into your palm when Bokuto rocks his hips forward. You let loose a little whimper from the back of your throat at the intruding touch and press yourself further into the lockers, anything to get away from him, to put any semblance of distance between the two of you.

Bokuto laughs breathlessly in your ear. “I need you so badly.” He smells like expensive cologne, probably the type that you would see on TV commercials, it’s sharp and musky, and you wince at how it surges your nose.

Your head was beginning to hurt, like there was something unreal about this. Like reliving a nightmare over and over again.

If only you could wake up from it.

“Why do you smell so good?” He asks, still smiling as he looks down at you. For a brief moment, you are taken away by how good he looks. Angelic even, the soft gleam of his golden eyes and that pure smile casts him like a divine being. He’s blushing, the redness colouring his cheeks when he looks at you. But the thought immediately withers rotten when he opens his mouth. Bokuto leans down again, trailing a line of soft kisses down your jawline, under your chin, his silver hair tickling your face makes you squirm. “It’s driving me crazy.”

“Not here,” You avoid the question, free hand coming up to push against his unmoving muscled chest. It’s like trying to fight a brick wall, he’s so big, so strong. The sense of helplessness floods your veins, reducing your movements to lowly protests and weak attempts of trying to push him off “People might see.” Your worried gaze darts across the empty hallway when you speak, a minuscule movement that doesn’t escape Bokuto’s sight.

“Let them see.”

You wince at the words, ducking your head down to avoid his gaze and the male feels his heart melt. Maybe you were right, it would be better to have a little privacy. Anything to make his princess feel more comfortable right?

Bokuto sighs, a soft breeze that fans across your heated cheeks. His arms move to wrap more securely around your waist, pulling you even deeper into his embrace whilst he tugs you sideways, past the endless yawn of metal lockers, past the empty classrooms. A dreadful sense of clarity seems to descend over you when he pushes open the boy’s toilet and there is the soft click of the metal latch sliding shut that echoes much, much louder than the slam of the door.

There’s barely a moment to rest before he crashes his lips against yours in a hurried frenzy, like a rising tide that consumes everything in its unforgiving wave. He kisses you like it’s the last twilight on earth, like he intends to steal your last breath away, the same dizzying kiss that has your fingers clawing against his chest to draw him in? To push him away? You’ve kissed plenty of guys before, but this feeling; the sheer intensity behind his lips has your heart beating so erratically that it feels as if it’s about to burst out your chest.

Bokuto’s voice is gruff when he pants against your parted lips, golden eyes taking in your tousled hair from his fingers, pouty lips glossy and swollen. You look so cute. It’s driving him up the walls, he can’t wait, can’t wait to spread you on his fingers, spread you on his cock. Feel you cum over him, his pretty princess. He’s thought of this moment for so long, it’s like his ultimate fairy-tale come true!

“You got me all worked up from just that kiss.” A roll of his hips has his hardness pressing into your thigh. “I love you so much.” You feel his sneaky fingers tracing a path down the spine of your back before reaching underneath your buttoned uniform.

It’s happening. It’s actually happening.

You take a step back. He takes a step forward. There’s that feral intensity lined across every contour of his face. It’s too familiar, too much, too similar to an earlier incident. Cold fear prickles across your skin when his hand rests on your skin.

If he notices the panic flashing in your eyes, Bokuto takes no heed of it. Instead, a hand finds its way through the band of your skirt and you feel the material slither down your legs to pool at your ankles. The coldness of the air against your bare thighs makes you shudder, a stark contrast to the warmth when his large palm grounds into your clothed pussy, pressing a finger against your slit and something in you snaps at the contact.

The resounding crack that fills the room is utterly ear-splitting. By some miracle, the back of your hand connects against the side of his face so hard that Bokuto’s head snaps to the side from the sheer force.

You yank yourself free from his loosened grip and bolt.

The situation is useless, futile. All the odds are stacked against you in this doomed situation right now. You know it, but there is still that treacherous little spark of fearful hope that lights up when the exit looms closer to your erratic scramble. It’s so close, just another few more steps……. You’ll scream, scream once you get past the door. The room is spinning, dimly, you hear Bokuto’s muffled curse and stumbling over the pounding of your heart as your palms slicked up with cold sweat.

There are the loud stomps of his feet thundering closer and you don’t dare to risk a glimpse behind, sluggish feet nearly skidding across the tiled floors when you stumble.

Please, please, please.

You don’t even make it to the door.

A heavy force tackles you to the ground, effectively knocking the wind out of your lungs with a shocked yelp. The next thing you knew, your cheek was pressed against the floor, both arms pinned behind your back as Bokuto’s heavy breathing tickles the back of your neck. His hulking weight traps your flailing legs securely enough that the only thing you can do is tremble in fear at what’s about to come.

“What. Did you think you were doing?” The once adoring lilt in his voice is gone, entirely replaced by a cold steely overtone that made the hot tears you had tried so hard to repress spring up. A hardness presses itself into your back and you sob even further, Bokuto’s grunting cuts through your sobs, the press of his erection digging into your ass, separated only by the flimsy material of your panties each time he ruts his hips forward.

“I was being nice,” He has the audacity to sound wounded, settling into the role of the guiltless victim like second skin. “I give us some privacy and you try to escape? Maybe I should’ve fucked you in the hallways huh? Let everyone see that your mine.” The underlying possessiveness in his words sends chills skittering down your spine.

“I didn’t want to bring this up,” He says in a remorseful voice that sends alarm bells ringing in your head. “Or did you forget about our agreement?”

“Wait,” you trash at the touch, desperation fuels your frenzied movements but he merely presses harder, all hard lines and muscle against your soft curves, imprisoning your body under his, you are no match for him, you never were in the first place. And the realization makes your stomach churn. “Bokuto, please.” Even in your cotton filled ears you sound so pathetic, reduced to nothing a whimpering prey under the predator’s grasp. “I’m sorry, please, please let me go, let me go, let me go.” You can feel the cold touch of your tears against the tiled floor with each convulsing sob that wracks your shuddering body.

You can barely breathe. His immense weight is crushing you to the ground, forcing you to pant painfully for each gasp of precious air through your clamped throat. It hurts, hurts like hell and you can feel yourself going light headed from the lack of oxygen.

“Shh,” you feel the pressure on your head vanish and sweet air rushes back into your lungs when you take greedy gasps but you can’t move, still being pinned down at the wrists as his hand wanders down the hem of your uniform, pushing it up so gently that it only settles in when you feel his calloused fingers stroke across your bare stomach. The hand that you struck him with stings, dimly you are sure that the slap hurt you more than him.

He caresses a long slow line down the side of your body, he’s moving so slowly, so carefully, feeling each little goose bump that arises from his touch. “You feel so good,” Bokuto half whispers, you can hear the marvel in his voice, a little part of you basks in the praise, the way he said it so genuinely, the way a lover would utter those same words.

But he’s not your lover. You don’t love him. You are repulsed.

You can still feel his hardness pressing into the side of your thigh when his middle finger swipes across your clothed slit and you jolt, only to press further into his chest. He’s rubbing you, rubbing your pussy in that stupid methodical way that has your wetness beginning to pool through the material. You can’t seem to stop the little twitch of your hips when Bokuto adds another finger to his touch, its building, the familiar sense of electricity and you let out a broken moan when he pulls your panties to the side and you feel a finger prod gently at your entrance before he slips it in.

“You feel that? Your so wet for me baby.” He coos with a deep, melodical chuckle, pushing his finger further into your wetness. You don’t have to turn around to know that Bokuto has that self-satisfied beam plastered on his face and your face burns, burns with equal parts anger and embarrassment.

Still, you remain silent, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his touches are making you want more, making you arch into his back when he curls his ridiculously long digits against your walls. If only you knew, Bokuto would simply take your silence as a challenge.

This time, the whimper that escapes your mouth is loud when he inserts another finger and it’s uncomfortable – the stretch of his finger feels foreign. Even when more of slickness pours out as he buries them knuckles deep in your gummy walls, the stretch has your fingers scrabbling against the floor at the sensation.

“Bo-Bokuto,” Your keen is loud and shrill, neck straining against his other meaty palm that keeps your head pinned on the floor when he curls his fingers in that spongy spot of you.

The sudden withdrawal of his fingers from your cunt has your head spinning and Bokuto flips you on to your back so you’re facing him. You have to watch him now, watching the way his eyes are gleaming feverishly, watch helplessly when he slides his digits back into your cunt at an excoriatingly slow pace. There is a grim sense of satisfaction when you note the faint red print on the side of his cheek from your slap but otherwise, Bokuto remains totally unaffected by your outburst.

“I’m gonna let you go okay?” He murmurs, “Promise me you won’t run away?” it’s not a question.

You nod.

There is a brief moment of tense silence when he surveys you, running an unreadable gaze over your face and you school yourself into nonchalance (or at least, try to) before the harsh grip on your hands disappears and it takes every nerve in you not to run from him. You nearly cower away when his arm reaches to you again. Every muscle in your body tenses instinctively as you forced yourself to remain still.

Bokuto pulls your panties down your legs, a motion that makes you scrunch your eyes shut in mortification until you feel his finger tap on your chin. “Open up, as much as I love to hear you, can’t have you alerting half the school right?” He chuckles like it’s some kind of funny shared joke and pouts when you don’t as much as crack a smile.

“Come on.” Another round of taps on your clenched jaw. Immediately, you let your mouth fall open at the beginnings of annoyance bleeding into his eyes and your obedient compliance causes the dark look to vanish into his usual shine as quick as it came. It’s scarily unnerving, the way Bokuto seemed to flip his moods so quickly like his emotions are merely a trick of light.

You nearly gag when he shoves your panties in your mouth, you can taste yourself on the cotton material. It makes you want to shrink inwards, how did you get so wet from being tackled to the ground by this monster? Nothing about this was remotely arousing, he’s blackmailing you, forcing you to—

He’s fucking you with his fingers in that pleasurable sensation that was driving you off the edge. With your legs now free, you instinctively close them in a feeble attempt to deter his touches. There is a grunt and a large palm digs into the meat of your legs to pin them to the ground and further apart (he’s a big man after all).

You are helpless, the thought flashes in your mind again. Your kitten like bats against his arm makes Bokuto chuckle affectionately. He would never share the picture to anyone, why should anyone else get the opportunity to see you like this? His little angel, his princess. You probably have no idea how delectable you look right now; so soft….so cute, the crystal tears clinging to your sweeping lashes, the smell of your arousal all over his fingers, you’re so small too, it only ignites a sense of protectiveness rushing in him, he would protect you, keep you away from any harm. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since yesterday, one taste of the rush was all he needed to continue his obsession. All his thoughts seemed to run a single train track back to you.

His silver head bends down as Bokuto buries his mouth at the side of your neck, fingers still working a mindless pace in the hot walls of your pussy, drawing out more of your soft whimpers and there is a giddy rush when your hips begin to buck into his erection.

“Mm, mmph!” He isn’t sure your muffled squeal is from the sudden thrust of his fingers or the way he bites into the neck of your skin. Either way, it only fuels his actions. He had wanted to make you pay for your little stunt earlier. It hurt his feeling y’know! How could you act so recklessly? But Bokuto has always found it impossible to stay mad at you.

The angle is awkward due to his immense height when Bokuto all but yanks open your flimsy shirt and bra but he doesn’t mind the slight soreness in his neck when he bends down further to ogle shamelessly at your exposed chest. The mere sight of your breasts has his pants tightening even further than he thought was possible. Even your tits are so fucking perfect.

He’s got to keep calm, before he loses control. Your cunt is so tight, will you be able to take his waiting cock with the way you are already a whimpering mess at two of his fingers? Probably not. That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try.

Your nails dig painfully into his arms when his palm grounds against your clit, lashes fluttering at each little movement but he chooses to let it slide. The hand not playing with your cunt rubs circles over your nipples, making them perk up.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He smiles at the way your chest heaves when he wraps his mouth around your nipples. “Sensitive aren’t you?” Bokuto murmurs against your skin, teeth latching to brand another imprint on your skin before soothing the mark with his tongue.

Your skin looks better when covered in his hickeys. Plus, everyone would know you were his, no more of your friendly desk mate, no more of the way he’d seen the soccer team leer at your legs when you walk home after studying extra hours in the library.

He can feel your walls tighten when Bokuto curls his fingers experimentally and he bites back a groan. “Fu-fuck princess, feel so good around my fingers. Can’t wait to bury my cock in this pretty pussy.” It’s the tipping point for him, his pelvis rocks forward, longing – dying for any friction on his painfully hard cock.

Bokuto adds a third finger and the cry you let out is barely muffled by the panties. “Don’t know if you can fit more.” He huffs, watching your little cunt being stretched out on his fingers. The sight of it unlocks something utterly primal in him.

He doesn’t realise he’s humping your thigh like a dog in heat until he feels the cotton material of his trousers go damp when his stiff cock twitches with a throb and soft grunts spills from his throat at his sudden climax.

He just creamed his pants like an overeager teenager.

Even so, the onslaught of his fingers doesn’t stop, curling and pressing them just right against the sensitive spot in your cunt that he had memorised earlier until your writhing and crying in soft uh’s underneath him. You’re probably saying something underneath the makeshift gag but he just can’t focus right now. It’s mesmerizing, watching you come undone and you cum, cum so hard that he realised your squirting. Your slick dripping down his fingers and forearm to mingle with his sweat and it’s so fucking hot, he’d only seen this in porn videos but to see you do it? For him?

It only makes his love for you grow stronger.

There is a wet sound when Bokuto slides his fingers out, watching your hole clench desperately around nothing (what a needy little princess) and because he’d always been one to follow his carnal instinct, he laps a curious tongue over his soaked fingers. The taste – your taste makes his eyes roll back. He could probably live in between your legs for the rest of his life, it’s unfair really, how a simple taste has him keening for more.

He's nearly tempted to bury his fingers in you again, just so he could draw out another intoxicating orgasm from your trembling body. But the ache between his legs couldn’t be held back anymore, especially with how he’d been edging himself for ages with the sweet friction of your soft thighs.

With eager fingers, he slides his pants down and its nearly comical at how large your eyes widen when his cock bounces free. His shaft is coated in his own cum, glistening oddly under the lights and Bokuto slides an experienced hand over his cock to pump it in repeated motions. Your reaction is immediate, the fingers once curled around his biceps are now scrabbling free as your little hands rest against his broad chest and push.

“Hey, hey.” Your actions are no match for his reflexes as he catches your wrists in a single hand, holding them tight enough that your movements still down.

You are staring at him, the unshed tears covering your bright eyes in a sheen of gloss. Gingerly, he wipes away the traces of drool that has soaked out of your panties with a careful hand. The last thing he needed was to spook you any further.

“I’ll go slowly,” he promises and your head whips to the side in a clear indication of ‘No!’

Undeterred, he tightens his grip on your thighs - a warning, and you flinch visibly at the pressure. “Relax,” he coos, lining the tip of his throbbing cock against your entrance. You look so tiny, with his cock resting on your stomach. He’d have to work to fit him in. The mere contact sends a jolt through him and he’s gripping your thighs so hard that there are sure to be ten finger shaped prints seared on your smooth skin in a few hours.

“Ah-fuck, princess.” Bokuto nearly chokes on his saliva when the tip slides in. Even after you’d just cum, it’s a ridiculously tight fit. “Relax.”

Gently, well, as gently as possible as he can when his cock is wrapped by your velvety walls and fighting against the rising tide of pleasure, he slides more of his cock in, noting with satisfaction at the way your hands once again find purchase on his arms and your hips ground upwards to relieve the ache.

As he leans forward his cock pushes slowly into your cunt until he’s fully sheathed. God, Bokuto draws his eyebrows together in a pitiful attempt to focus, it was all he could do to stay still for a few moments, let you adjust to his size. Your hot walls were practically sucking him in despite your stuttering gasps that were a clear indication that you hadn’t been ready for the immense stretch of his cock in your body.

His gaze flickers up to peer at your face, your eyes are screwed shut in ecstasy as more of your slick pools out to stain your thighs and he can’t help the proud grin on his face. As much as you had tried to fight him off earlier, you are clearly enjoying this as much as him.

He was right, you had wanted him all along. Maybe even as much as he wanted you.

It set him off, his hips pulling back (met with even more resistance) so he can finally rock forward in steady movements as the last few inches of his cock enters your pussy. It didn’t take long, Bokuto was never a man of self-control anyway, he’s already thrusting forward, slamming his length into the addicting sensation of your cunt clenching around every ridge of his cock. The walls of your cunt fluttered around him and you ground up toward him, begging silently for more pleasurable stimulation. It reduces him down to his core, strips away all of his humane assets until the only thing he could focus was the rhythmic piston of his cock into your pussy so he could feel your body tremble and the way your cavern feels like wet hot heaven. A sin and a blessing in one.

“Good—good girl,” He lets out a dark laugh, lifting your limp legs over his shoulder with ease so he could get a better angle to jackhammer deeper, faster. By now, the lewd mixture of his precum and your wetness practically coated his cock and your slit, making it all too easy for him to shove into you faster and faster, eliciting more of your sweet muffled moans that would have been drawing a lot of unwanted attention if he hadn’t gagged you with your panties at the start. Noisy little baby.

Much to his delight, your arms reached up willingly to wrap around his neck and he leans down to plant a trail of sloppy kisses up your neck, the brush of your nipples against his chest merely adds to the intense haze of pleasure. You are close, he feels it, can feel your walls clamp down like vice on his cock each time he slides out and he growls, one hand detaching from your hip to rub messy circles on your swollen clit.

“Fuck, gonna cum?” He grunts, snapping his hips forcefully against the plush resistance of your walls and the utterly obscene sound of his balls smacking your ass fills the room. You nod desperately, little strangled mewls from your mouth sending thrills into his veins as your hips grounding down to meet his thrusts and fingernails digging sharp indents into the base of his neck. You look so desperate, every inch of your pretty face lined with lust and longing from the way his cock was splitting you open.

He bet no one had made you feel this way before. Reduced you to a drooling needy slut just from the feeling of their cock in your cunt. He would be your first and last.

“Cum for me, cum on my cock huh? This pussy,” Another forceful roll of his thumb on your puffy clit has you writhing and trembling. “It’s mine you get it? Mine.” He huffs out a laugh when you go limp, body shuddering from your own orgasm and the harsh pressure of his cock knocking into your cervix that melds the pain into pleasure.

He takes it as hint to chase his own climax, hiking your legs back up, pressing onto your chest to get a deeper angle as he feels the familiar coil of pleasure unwinding deep in his stomach. The feeling of your smooth bare skin across his own only sends him further into cloud 9, you are so smooth, the contrast against the hard lines of his muscle accentuates the power he wields and Bokuto loves it. You were shivering as he drove relentlessly into you, every inch of your sweaty skin still hyper sensitive from the post-orgasm afterglow.

“Gonna cum inside you, ruin this pussy, fuck-fuck stop tightening like that.” He snarls, missing the sheer panic that crosses your face when he utters those words, too lost on the way your pussy is drawing him in deeper, as if you were holding his cock in you. He needs to come in you, wants to cum so badly it’s driving him insane.

“You’d look so good as a mummy” Bokuto is rambling in a delirious frenzy, strong torso working to pump his cum in you as he reaches his euphoric climax.

He’s sure he cums so hard that stars explode across his vision, sweat dripping down his brow when his spasming cock spills his hot seed into your cunt. “Fu-fuck, oh, shit, princess that’s right, take it all, take my cum in your pretty pussy huh?” There are a few more jerky thrusts as he pushes his cum in you (not that you were able to take it all because he could see white dripping from your pussy), relishing the way your overstimulated cunt shuddered around his shaft from the force of his jackhammering.

Finally, he slides his now soft cock out of your pussy, watching the string of white from the head of his cock break off to join the milky mess at your thighs. Sheer joy seemed to flood his veins when he saw his cum in your pussy, he could already envision your swollen belly in his mind, how darned cute would your kids be?

Reaching up, he pries your soaked panties out of your mouth. “You came inside me.” Your voice is quiet yet baleful, slightly shaky from the orgasm.

“I did,” he coos, oblivious to the way your stomach drops with despair as he slides your panties back up your legs to keep anymore of his cum from leaking out despite your weak protests. “Gonna have to fuck you more huh? Make sure you take all my cum in your body.” Still recovering from his own high, his breathing is ragged against your skin.

Strong hands skate up your stomach to worship your breasts with his mouth and you whined softly at the feeling of his tongue tracing wet circles around your nipples, fingers tangling into the tufts of his silver hair, you were simply too tired to fight him anymore. “You’d look even prettier with swollen tits you know?”

Just when you’d thought he was done (you were a fool to assume that this was over), there is a soft rustling that forces your bleary eyes open and you catch him fishing his phone out of the back pocket of his trousers.

“Smile baby!”

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Navigation

#tw: noncon #tw: yandere #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #just a deluison #haikyuu bokuto #yandere #anime fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #lemon

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midnightlee25 · 3 years

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Predators and their prey (yandereMafia kuroo x reader x yanderemafia Bokuto)

When you first moved to Tokyo you didn't expect to end up singing at a bar for money but it was the best you could find for now. It paid well and you didn't have to worry about too many creeps you just wished it was in a better part. Even though the bar you work at was a neutral zone meaning that anyone who came into the bar didn't have to be afraid of getting their head blown off by someone from a different group. That didn't mean that the area around it was safe with the yakuza running wild, cutting the land into. in pieces to make territories for themselves Tokyo there were two major groups the Nekoma and the Fukurodani both very powerful, lucky for you you've never come across any of the members or so you thought.

You never notice but there were always two pairs of eyes glowing in the darkest corner of the bar watching you intently whenever you were on stage. They were the most powerful men in Tokyo and they weren't afraid to throw their weight around to get what they wanted. So, when you started getting gifts that were life in your dressing room, if you could call it that it was more like a walk-in closet than an actual room the only real furniture being a small table with a mirror. They were the normal stuff you would get sometimes flowers mostly but then they turn from innocent to vulgar in the matter of two weeks.

From the most beautiful flowers you have ever seen to clothes that hardly cover anything at all along with letters that were sweet at first but at times turned most threatening. The more it happened the more stressed you became so one night as you sat at the counter thinking about possibly moving out of town with what little money you had two men approached.

“Tough day?” you looked to your right to find a young man he had deep red dress shirt with a black tie, vest, dress pants and shoes.

“Tough crowd tonight?” looking to your left there was another young man who wore something similar to the one on your right but his shirt was yellow with a white vest.

“You guys don't know the half of it.”

“Will we have nowhere to be and the night is still young so we can lend an ear for a while.” said the man on the right.

You smiled and figured if they were willing to listen then what the hell so you went on to tell them your woes of the past few weeks.

“So, a crazed fan huh?” said Bokuto , while talking to the two young men you learned their names.

“Pretty much, I'm thinking of leaving if it doesn't stop soon.”

“Think they may pull something?” asked kuroo.

“Who knows people around here seemed to do a lot of crazy things.”

“We could help you if you want.”

“And how can you do that?”

“Will,” started kuroo “me and my friend here are in the business of protecting other.”

You raise a brow knowing where this was going “and what would it cost?”

“Just seeing you safe is enough for us.” said Bokuto along with seeing whoever it is bloody and broken.

You were wary of the idea but if they couldn't help then you'll just leave like you planned to. However, after about a month everything had stopped: no more letters, flowers, nothing. Sadly, there appeared that less and less people came to the bar anymore which meant less money. The two men you've become friends with are really the only ones that come around anymore meaning that you may still have to leave even if you didn't want to. You're planning on telling them on your last day here hopefully it won't be too sad of a good bye if they let you that is.

#yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere mafia #mafia x reader #reader x haikyuu #reader x kuroo #reader x bokuto #mafia kuroo #mafia bokuto #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo #yandere bokuto x raeder #yandere bokuto #kuroo tetsurou #yandere kotaro bokuto #kotaro bokuto

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deluluass · 3 years

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Attention

Since requests are open again, can i request a yan!bokuto developing a crush with one of the other teams' managers during their training camp? 👀

for: @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa. hi bestie 😔 this is late (again), but i hope u like it 😍

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; underage drinking; (slight) sub!Bokuto👀; mild footplay

Three minutes.

Three minutes and forty-five seconds, to be exact, before the truth came for you like a ball careening towards your blindside:

You’re not supposed to be here .

Granted, the thought had already slinked its way into your brain ever since you’d overheard the coach crying on his phone, his wife on the other side of the line, that if he hadn't groveled and appealed to his college friend’s sense of honor, as he’d sniffled, they wouldn’t have even considered the team ( your team) to be worthy of receiving an invitation to this training camp.

Ignoring the worries that came after that was supposed to be easy. It shouldn’t have come at all . It’s irrational and it doesn’t help anyone. What was the point in fretting? Your boys are more than deserving— more than capable in fact —of going toe to toe with some of Tokyo’s best.

It’s also a given that those people don’t know anything about your team. You do live in a town half a day’s ride away from the capital. And how could you expect city folk to recognize a team that hails from a place where the cows outnumber the people three to one?

They’re bound to not know.

But the needless unease stayed and soon took a life of its own, the weight of it becoming heavier and heavier over the course of the weeks that you waited for that dreaded day, like a hungry beast that you diligently fed with your little what-if’s.

What if that place eats us alive?

What if they make fun of us?

What if, despite trying our hardest, all we do is lose?

What if these people take a single look at us and think that we’re not good enough?

What if they’re right?

The deep chasm on the scoreboard tells you exactly that, plain and without a hint of artifice.

Shinzen High has already scored five points.

Your team is still stuck at zero.

And the clock continues to tick.

“Chance ball!”

Your captain's voice was feeble against the noise of the ball being passed from one hand to another.

Odd, that.

Itsuki's not the type to pull his punches. Especially in the middle of a game; always one to use his entire chest when launching back at his enemies with a guttural roar.

You looked at the players standing on your side of the court— really looked at them, in a way that you should have instead of wasting your time entertaining those doubts— and found nary a trace of your teammates among those too-stiff, too-quiet boys that bore an uncanny resemblance to a bunch of rabbits caught in the headlights.

A chuckle erupted from your chest, surprising even you.

"Something funny?" the coach asked, his glance turning wary when you convulsed in a fit of shrill giggles.

"Yeah," you told him, shaking your head. “There is, Coach.”

From the bored expressions on your opponents’ faces to Shigeru’s (failed) attempt to set for Koyama, all the way to an audience that wasn’t even looking, who were, frankly, much more interested in what's on their phones than what’s in front of them.

How can you not find this funny?

You were worried about... this ?

You sighed, your head the clearest that it’s ever been in a long while, and stood from your seat on the bench.

The coach called out your name in a harsh whisper. You ignored him, not even bothering to explain yourself. After all, you’ve already spent too much of your energy on the wrong things.

And so, in the most polite way that you could, you shouted:

“Hey! What the fuck is this!”

Everyone might've gawked; the coach may have pulled you back to the bench with a strength that you didn’t know he possessed. There’s something much more important than being respectable, though.

“None of us ever cared about what these assholes think!” you pressed on, staring down at Takami, whose dad never fails to remind him that he’ll waste away his life fooling around with that useless club . “So, why,” you ask with a clear voice, “Why are we starting now?!”

Of course, just like any of your spur of the moment ideas, that hadn’t ended the way you hoped it would.

They still lost (they also did in the following game). All of the coaches (including yours and excluding the one from Nekoma High; that one just patted your back) had expressed their disapproval over what you did. You couldn’t regret it, however, no matter how humiliating their rebukes made you feel.

Because you don’t think you’ve seen any of your teammates look the least bit happy since you set foot into this place. But, now— even with the fact that all they've achieved so far is keep the floors clean with their diving laps— now, they do.

With that, it seems to you then that this place isn’t so bad, after all.

A day.

A day and ten hours, approximately, had already passed when Bokuto felt your presence acutely like the stinging red imprint a hurtled ball leaves on his skin. And just like the circumstances that lead to that bloodied, angry marking, you made your existence known with just as much force as a player spiking for the kill.

Some of them guffawed, out of disbelief and sheer delight both, because in all the years that they’ve trained together in preparation for the interhigh, they don’t think anyone has ever called them a bunch of “assholes” before.

They didn’t think much about that new team that arrived too late. So, yeah, Bokuto wanted to laugh, too, just like others. ‘ What a way to make an impression, huh?’ he wanted to say.

That wasn’t what he said, though.

Bokuto wasn’t even able to say anything.

He was too busy staring at your mouth, the resoluteness in your lips as if you knew exactly what to say; the way you looked at your teammates, like there was nobody else more astounding, more unbeatable at this game than the boys before you (though, surely, even you can see that they’re far from being any of those things).

And yet, there you were, your eyes incandescent; they might as well have been on fire, blazing with so much awe and unshakable faith and it was so clear for everyone to witness and— and Bokuto did not know what to do with it.

It was so embarrassing, truth be told. Bokuto may not be the most secretive guy around, but when the others eventually pointed out that he looked scared at the thought of facing them ( you ), he just couldn’t help but sulk.

“We’re not half the cheerleader she is, Bokuto-san,” Yukie teased him, patting his shoulder as she did, “but rest easy, we’ll try our best to boost morale.”

He just groaned, immediately locking his legs at a stand still when the others hooted, ‘Look at him! He looks like he’s about to piss himself bouncing his legs like that . ’ Really, what was he supposed to say?

Because, when he finally faced your team with that net in between and as he felt the ball against his palms when he aimed for a clean hit towards the floor, it’s not even fear that rushes through him.

Not even close.

Beyond the defeated faces, of the exhaustion slathered all over your team’s barks after each point he snatched under their noses, Bokuto saw you looking at him.

Just a flicker; a passing peek before that determined gaze settled back on the others. But it was there all the same: the pause in your breath as the ball detonated against your teammate’s frail arms, clutching the edge of the bench with your fingers as if it took everything in you to keep yourself from running towards the court.

To rush towards him.

To— to what ? Exactly? To scream at his face the same way you did earlier? That he's going too rough and hurting your precious friends?

There’s a part of him that wishes to stop. A strange, alien feeling that he supposes comes from the discomfort at the sight of you so troubled and wound up.

Oh, but you're just starting to understand!

That if there's someone who's truly astounding, unbeatable, and staggeringly brilliant at this game, it's him . And Bokuto wanted to drive that point home like he's never wanted anything else in his entire life.

His body stopped feeling like his own by the second set.

His legs were too light to be his, like there were coil springs underneath his feet that carried him higher and higher he swore he could brush the roof with his fingertips.

There’s a thrumming in his flesh that propelled Bokuto to move faster, to push that ache over the edge until there’s nothing left but the breathless exhilaration of seeing his opponents kiss the ground.

The air is getting thinner, like he’s scaling towards a mountain top as he sprints towards the other side of the court, long strides eating up the floor, uncaring for the sweat pouring down his cheeks.

Bokuto was willing to let this thing go on forever and ever and ever , for as long as he feels the searing heat of your eyes on him.

Until he turned his head in your direction.

You were smiling at something a spectator said.

He couldn’t hear it, but whatever it was it had pushed you to make a teasing remark to your team.

A banter ensued.

The referee blew his whistle as a warning.

You giggled.

Why?

“The ball, Bokuto!”

Why aren’t you looking?

His hands were two weights keeping him down, made heavier by that sinking sensation in his chest.

When did you stop looking?

It was too much, too unbearable that he could cry. The indifferent way you'd removed him from your line of sight was a sucker punch that's not as painful as the shame it leaves him with.

Were you even looking at all?

And he wonders with a shuddering exhale as he finally gathered the strength to raise an arm, Bokuto wonders what would happen if, just this once, he shot the ball towards y—

“Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi was calling out to him.

“Bokuto-san, we already won."

The ball within his grasp dropped.

Bokuto watched it bounce on the floor until it rolled over to somebody else's waiting palm.

He took a deep breath— in and then out, repeated it until everything came into sharp focus —and raised his head to squint at the scoreboard.

22-3

So they did.

The other side of the court was already empty, your team assembled to one corner; you were out of sight.

Everyone started to gather around him.

They took Bokuto along with their cheers and reprimands and accusations, like a strong current that carried him from the bench to the shower room, laughing as they handed him a towel, having noticed that he’d been too out of it to do anything else but stay half-naked in front of the sink.

“Are you alright, Bokuto-san?” he heard Akaashi ask over the teeming excitement surrounding them.

Blinking, Bokuto paused from wiping his bare torso as he replied, “Me?”

Their setter only nodded.

“Yeah!” Bokuto exclaimed, a tad louder than he ought to. “Yeah, dude! Of course! Never been better!”

“You were a man possessed," Masaki, still fresh from the shower, suddenly drawled from behind him.

“You were... quiet,” Ubugawa’s captain continued, reaching for the toothpaste laid next to Akaashi. “It was unlike you.”

Bokuto was about to say something, somewhere along the lines of “Really? I didn’t notice” when Daiki made his decision to wring the wet shirt in his hand, brandish it like a belt, and strike Bokuto’s back with it, the impact cutting across the room.

“You little..!” Bokuto turned with a snarl, poised and ready to throw the boy over his shoulder.

“Let it go, let it go,” Daiki chortled, grabbing Bokuto by his damp hair. “That’s for not giving us a warning, alright? Crazy bastard.”

Daiki shook his head as he walked away. “Never seen the idiot go hard like that,” he mumbled.

“That’s our ace for ‘ya!” Haruki echoed from his cubicle, to which the others responded with wolfish howls and sharp whistles, completely transforming the shower room into a tiled rainforest.

And Bokuto wanted to join along, because although the game still felt like an abrupt, fever dream, he’s well aware that he did something that he’s going to be proud of in the days to come. But somehow— for some unknown, beguiling reason, all he could do was stand there and make himself vulnerable to Kuroo’s antics.

The Nekoma captain looked at Bokuto through the mirror, clicking his tongue before lamenting about “ those poor country boys ” and their “ ill luck ”.

“Go easy on us small fries sometimes,” he added. “You were pretty scary back there.”

Kuroo gave his nape a quick pat before he went for the lockers, leaving Bokuto to stare at his reflection, features obscured by the fog.

Scary , he said.

Scary, huh.

A man possessed.

Bokuto wonders about its meaning, what coach had meant earlier when he’d jokingly called him a beast. He contemplated what about him had led them to think that way, tried his best to be perceptible of any changes.

His eyes were the same, although the pupils in the middle were large pools of tar, widened and leaving only the slightest space for the honeyed rim.

His hair was the same platinum color and still streaked with the same black lines, although untamed and in a disarray this time, with the strands sticking to his forehead.

Although flushed, his face was the same, over all.

Everything seems to be right where they’re supposed to be.

Although he’s huffing and puffing, creating more mist to cloud the mirror with. And when he tried to reach for the glass, he realized that his fingers were still trembling. His blood still surging as if his body had never left the court.

Then, it struck him.

Bokuto holds his breath in anticipation, the truth of it right in front of him.

There’s no monster here.

No man possessed either.

Only a guy who’s helplessly, foolishly in love.

Announcing to an entire room of strangers that one is of the opinion that they're assholes, as it happened, was an effective way of making new friends.

Of course, there was that awkward day-long explanation that you had to do for Yuki and Kaori and the others. An affair that wasn’t too different from a one-woman press conference that involved you expressing your regrets, revealing that, sometimes, when backed against a wall, you can be an impulsive clown with a glaring lack of filter (like: "No, no..! I didn't think you guys were actually- you know- ass- it just spilled-" and "Ah, geez, this is embarrassing.The heat was getting to me. I didn't mean it, really!" )

But the girls had been kind enough to let bygones be bygones, assuring you that all they ever felt was a joyous combination of relief and wonder. Ubugawa's manager, Eri, (who'd shook your hand while holding back tears) even told you that seeing another girl in a veritable sausage fest that is the training camp was a miracle in itself.

"It was fun, actually," Mako once said when the two of you were assigned to carrot chopping duty. "You gave us something to talk about for a while."

And even when the novelty of being a bumpkin with the mouth of a sailor soon faded, the bond that quickly bloomed between you and the other managers hadn't.

It was unexpected, although not unwelcome.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself. How silly you'd been: coming into the city expecting a den of wolves and hunters armed to the teeth.

In the span of two days thoughts of survival were replaced by the confidence that your boys would pull through; by a sense of ease that you didn't need to win all the time and that this place is not a battlefield, but a fertile ground for growth and learning. You didn't need to constantly be on your guard— knuckles up and gearing for a fight, you realized.

Well —

For the most part, at least.

Serving spoon in one hand and potholder in another, you reluctantly paused from preparing your team’s meal to whisper under your breath. "He's doing it again," you hissed.

Kaori only gave you a preoccupied “hm?” as she plucked the ladle to fill the plain white ceramic bowls before her. “Who is?” she continued.

“Your captain,” you replied, taking care not to let him know that you're on the verge of melting under his not so subtle scrutiny.

The lovely Fukurodani manager didn’t even miss a beat; without lifting her eyes away from the food, she raised her voice, just loud enough, to address the creature (spying) standing idly by the door.

“Say, Bo-kun,” Kaori called out and you watched, amazed, as he coughed out the water that he’s been making a great show of drinking. “Your mama must not have taught you that it's bad to ogle.”

Bokuto Kotaro, Fukurodani’s ace and captain— a volleyball player that sits atop everybody else in this training camp, whose name is almost always followed by “one of the very best in the country”— quailed as his manager, the Great Kaori Suzumeda, blessed him with a smile veering on beatific.

“Oh-who-me?” he prattled, hands pointing at everything and nothing as he choked on his own words. “Didn’t see you there! What’s up! I was just passing by!”

“In the middle of practice?” Kaori snickered. “ You ?”

The boy released a laughter that resonated in the empty cafeteria.

She sighed, dropping the ladle, and told him to “Just go, Bokuto.” He obediently complied, thank the gods, but not without an overzealous goodbye to Kaori, as if he’d never see her again when lunch was just half an hour away.

He didn’t say anything to you. He didn’t need to, anyway. The lingering gaze that he directed towards you was enough.

“Thank you,” you exhaled once you made sure you’re no longer within his earshot, plopping your head against Kaori’s soft arm.

Her chuckle fluttered towards you, causing you to smile as she asked, “Is it that bad?”

You could only nod, both as an affirmation and an effort to shake those golden, hawk-eyes out of your system.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said after a few seconds of comfortable silence, the firmness in her voice making you stand upright and level with her.

Common decency tells you that you should say no, to stop her and tell her that she didn’t really have to; that you shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. But, you’d never really been one to listen to what that part of your brain dictates.

Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a light squeeze, incapable of doing anything else to convey your gratitude with a sob lodged in your throat.

“He’s not a bad guy, our Bokuto,” Kaori soothed. “And for what it’s worth, he’s never been like this with someone he likes.”

A grin lit up her face as you snorted, remembering the time someone had finally caught on to Bokuto’s newfound fixation. The uproar that it’d cause in the field when everyone was out enjoying slices of ripe watermelon. The unnecessary and, frankly, embarrassing anger that it’d pulled out of your boys after it's been revealed to the whole world. The infamous blush on Bokuto Kotaro’s face as he desperately tried to deny the accusation.

And the cold, spent feeling it left you.

“Normally, he’d be all over them,” she continued, mimicking his owl-like way of moving, bobbing her head to and fro as she circled around you.

“Kaori!” you squealed, pushing her playfully by the shoulder.

“Bokuto would be like—” Kaori pumped her fists in the air, “ Hey, hey, hey! Talk to me! Talk to me! Compliment me! Love me! ”

You simply hummed, folding your arms against your chest as you commended her spot-on performance.

She didn’t need to tell you all that, though. The guy had a personality so big it’s a miracle how this city contains him. And you’d known from the very beginning that Bokuto Kotaro doesn’t seem like the type to do the whole “pining from a distance” thing.

But, they even said that he’s half in love with you already, with the way he follows you with his eyes and flails and stutters and acts like he’s never had a mouth and a pair of hands before whenever he’s around you. And that, somehow, he plays even better than he already does when you’re in the audience ( especially when it’s against your team).

You don’t bother to correct them and say that no, this might not be a silly little crush.

Because you don’t think that anyone but you would understand that there can never be any love nor infatuation in a stare that traps you with its expectations. Even if you did tell them that, you’re the only one who knows what Bokuto’s gaze really makes you feel like: A plaything that he’s been gifted to and was told would sing and dance for him just so he’d stop crying.

And you know what temperamental children do with toys that don’t work the way they want it to, don’t you?

“Trust me.”

Kaori’s gentle voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“He’s just an idiot,” she told you. “You’ve seen him— especially last week!” Kaori’s eyes bulged out, leaning closer to you, both of you gasping at the memory.

Tears sprung out of your eyes as you laughed harder, your stomach aching when Kaori began to recount the events that had turned the entire training camp on its head, forever planting itself in its history as the worst ordeal it’s ever faced:

A piece of the wall in the girls’ sleeping room broke off, revealing a large, Lovecraftian nest of cockroaches.

“If you’d only seen his face!” Kaori cackled, struggling to finish as she clutched onto you for support. “He burs- bursted into the room only for him to- to-”

“Pass out when a roach flew to his nose! I know !” you screeched and slapped the table with her, ignoring that you’re almost knocking over the food and chortling until you were close to having a heart attack.

“Oh- oh , I can’t breathe,” she groaned. Your laughter tapered off into heaving as you fixed her mussed bangs.

You smiled.

“See,” Kaori finally said, pinching your chin a little. “Bokuto’s a meathead. Just a meathead. Guy can’t get a clue. But he’ll come around once he realizes that he’s being weird.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, giving her a weak nod. "I'm sure he will."

You didn't know if you meant to say that with a hint of irony; if that scared farm girl is rearing her ugly head again and pointing a pitchfork at a monster of her own making.

A monster that, you're convinced, would do something more than just look once you're within its reach.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Bokuto even had it all figured out in his head. C’mon, he's got the looks, doesn't he? And he's not lacking in charm. In fact, he's oozing with it! That's why Bokuto had expected that he had this one in the bag. His game plan was foolproof:

Talk to the girl. Get the girl.

After that, you’d be together for the rest of your lives and your fiery, unrelenting support for that lousy team of yours would never go in vain ever again. Because it’d all be directed to him. All that “ Good job! ” and “ You were amazing back there! ” and “ Don’t be scared! I’ll be right here rooting for you! ” would finally be given to someone who actually deserves it.

All you had to do was see what he had to offer and baby— oh baby , how you'd love him. No force on Earth could have prevented Bokuto from making you his.

So it's all the more sobering now that Bokuto’s witnessed that the said force turned out to be him of all people. And what he could actually give you was a few stumbling lines and compliments that didn't even make any sense (“ Y-your face smells nice ” for example)— all (preferably) uttered a few feet away from you.

The others teased him for looking like a jilted witch casting a spell on an indifferent lover. “What are you? Speaking in tongues or something? Is the Great Horned Owl that desperate?” they poked at him. He didn’t mind them before, but now he’s not so sure.

" Tone it down, okay? " Kaori had reminded him again earlier this afternoon. That stern talking-to from their manager was an ice-cold bucket of water that doused what’s left of his optimism.

But, tone what down? What , exactly, is left to tone down?

He couldn’t even talk to you without losing his ability to string coherent words together, let alone get close to you. Eye contact, too, he’d deliberately restrained himself from doing (if only you knew how much this is hurting him!) and not just because he’d been deemed a complete and utter creep.

Bokuto couldn’t look you in the eye ever since that incident.

“ She’s helping the other girls carry their stuff to the other room, I saw them just now ,” Yamamoto had discreetly passed on as soon as he woke up from a terrible concussion. “And if you want to redeem yourself, my friend, after that humiliating performance, you’d better go out there and lend a hand. ”

Because Yamamoto, being the love expert that he proclaimed he was, told him, “ Look, I feel for you. But it’s simple. You just gotta show her what you’re made of. That you’re a man she can depend upon, ” Bokuto then persevered to follow through.

Only for him to be met by an empty room with bits of crumbled plaster scattered across the floor. And your bag in the furthest corner just...lying there.

Maybe you’d forgotten about it. Maybe you were too busy catering to your friends' needs that you'd forgotten about yourself.

Either way, Bokuto promises that it wasn’t on purpose.

Bokuto had good intentions, really! He just wanted to take the bag with him so he could give it to you, is all! It wasn’t his fault that some of your stuff was peeking through the half-opened zipper. It’d already been in that state when he saw it.

And- and it’s not his fault that he adores you too much.

Bokuto reminds himself as much as he propped his forehead against the bathroom wall, water from the shower pouring against the taut muscles on his back as he wrapped your underwear around his cock.

The baby pink fabric, every inch of it soiled now over the days that he's used it, rubbed against his balls when he began fondling them, his other hand caressing his nipples, rubbing and pinching at the peaks until they stiffened between his calloused fingers.

His cock grew hard and heavy in his hand as he started pumping into his fist, fucking your soaked panties until precum dripped from slit.

And with nobody else in the shower room, Bokuto allowed himself to grunt and curse and call out your name, digging his nails into his skin until it stung and made him want to cry.

"Make me cum, princess," he whined, shutting his eyes to watch you on your knees, fingers between your legs as you looked up at him, never taking your eyes off of him even as you took his cock down your throat.

"Please, please ," Bokuto groaned,"Please let me cum."

Here, you don't turn away nor brush him off without even saying anything. Here, you call him your baby and you chuckle as you ask him, " Good boys deserve to cum, don't they? "

He bit his lip, pressing his cheek against the freezing tile. "Mmhmm, I-I've been-" Bokuto moaned, feeling himself creep closer and closer, the pleasure at the pit of his stomach building, "I've been so fucking good for you."

The contrast of your pretty little underwear around the thick veins of his cock made his head spin. And as he squeezed his shaft tighter, Bokuto knew that he did, in fact, deserve so much more.

Because he's endured so much just for you. Now, it's time to get what he's due.

Scouring high and low for a pair of cotton panties that have seen better days wasn’t how you wished you’d celebrate the last night with your newfound friends.

Yuki had advised that you abandon the ratty, old thing (though you did say it wasn't; ratty, that is) and leave it here as a parting gift— a mark of your impact on their lives, if you will— but you’d quickly laughed her off and set out to find it. She was drunk, anyway.

Although, so were you. If not, then just a tiny, itsy, bitsy, bit tipsy.

You hiccuped, giggling as the sound echoed through the poorly-lit hallway. The world was spinning beneath you and you prayed that it wasn’t worse for poor Yuki, having chugged half of that horrid concoction.

Kaori almost threw her out of the window after that stunt. Mako scoffed at her for being an arrogant ass. The girls who weren’t drinking sat back and chose to enjoy the unfolding chaos (while also being kind enough to be on the lookout).

And you...well...right now you’re on the verge of breaking down as you make your way to the shower room.

Mostly because you’re just realizing that you might never see them again if your team doesn’t survive the Inter High. Partly because you’ve been dumb enough to not notice that you’ve been missing an underwear for a couple of days now.

God, it's so ridiculous. You're ridiculous. You're glad that you went on your own and rejected their offer to accompany you. Imagine if they saw you like this:

Oscillating between sobs and strained laughter while swaying on your feeble legs; the very picture of a lunatic out in the streets in the middle of the night.

You only hoped that you're not scaring the living daylights out of that guy who probably just went out of the boys' room to pee. Maybe you have already spooked him, with how still he's gotten.

Cupping your palms around your mouth, you saw fit to save his sanity and cried, "Heyyyy! I'm not- hic - a ghost!"

"Oh!" you gasped, raising a pointing finger to shush yourself, "Oh, yeah, sorry, shhh-"

He didn't run the other way screaming and crying, which was good, instead he approached you hurriedly, making you squint to get a better look at him.

"Koyama?" you whispered, struggling to recognize the tall boy with a sturdy build, his navy blue hoodie casting a shadow on his face. It didn't help that your eyes were doing something funny, as if they were busted camera lenses that went uncontrollably in and out of focus.

"Good evening, my dear! I daresay you're looking quite bur- burl- blurry tonight."

You cackled, immediately following your greeting with a slurred apology.

"Why- Why are you still- um- up?" he asked. And before you could volley him with a question pointing to his weirdly different voice, he brought his head down to sniff at you. "Wait- have you b- are you drunk ?"

"What! No! Of course not!" You pouted and airily slapped his cheek, drawing a lopsided grin out of you when his skin glowed pink, bright enough to light up the entire place. It was so remarkably adorable that it made you squeal and pinch both cheeks, rocking his face as you did.

"Look at our big boy!" A sheepish, almost disbelieving chuckle shook his large chest as you resumed your baby talk, your grabby hands bringing his face towards you. "Who would've thought that our stwong, wowdy ace could bwush wike so? And what's with this siwwy hoodie, huh? Where did you get this, bunnycakes? I've never seen you wear this before!"

You wondered, also, why and how his jet black hair turned pallidly gray over the few hours you hadn't seen him. You even brushed the mildly damp locks out of his forehead, unsure if they're even real as you tried to right your smudged vision.

And you wanted to blame it all on the alcohol.

It's the reason for that dramatic change in his tone and manner of speaking and hair color and...those eyes .

The very same pair that followed you everywhere, sometimes even in your sleep.

"You love me, after all," he breathed, the statement a thin sheet of glass that could blow into smithereens at just the wrong response.

That had been enough to drain the inebriation out of your body. Like being branded, you pulled away from Bokuto with a harsh curse.

"I- I have to go," you said. "Sorry, I thought you were Ko- my teammate."

But Bokuto had already laid hold of your arm with no intent of letting go.

"Stay!" Bokuto called out, repeating it with please and listen despite your outcries, shouting for Kaori and Yuki and Mako and Shigeru and Takami and Coach and Koyoma and anyone, help me, anyone.

Until he tugged you to his chest, wrapping himself around you and turning his entire body into a concrete prison as he fervently told you, "I love you. I love you so much ever since the first time I saw you and I know, I know you feel the same so if it's the distance that's keeping you from me I can come to you I'll follo-"

"Nothing's keeping me from jackshit!" you gritted out. "I don't love you! I don't even care about you!"

He didn't say anything to that.

Bokuto had gone quiet. It wasn't only until he nuzzled your neck, pressing his face snugly down the crook, that you decided to kick him with all your strength, breaking yourself free as your heart thundered out of your chest.

You didn't look back.

You dashed through the long, endless hallway with the air in your lungs dangerously running low and keeping you from screaming.

But the remnants of the alcohol were lead that weighed your feet to the ground, betraying you further by morphing your surroundings into a hazy, dizzying scape. You teetered and wobbled, desperate to reach that staircase that will lead you out of this floor, but each step that you took was not fast enough, not nimble enough, as if you’re wading through knee-deep water.

And before you know it the monster has caught up and is ready to pounce from right behind you.

“Get your hands off me!” you wailed as Bokuto heaved you by the waist and carried you over his shoulder.

The sudden upending of your world was so nauseating, you didn’t even notice that he’d already taken you to an almost pitch black classroom, its heavy curtains drawn together and the empty chairs and tables pushed to the side.

His large, sprawling hand was gripping your ass, your stomach lurching when you felt him caress it. Yet that didn’t deter you from hitting whichever part of him that your knuckles and feet could touch, ignoring the trail of your own spit that dripped on your face as you howled and thrashed and fought to keep yourself together because no one was hearing you.

What’s left for you, now? Your captor was so strong, much stronger than you, that even when he tripped on his toes, Bokuto was able to catch himself and drop you on the nearest table in just a single breath.

“Stop fighting me..!” he panted, holding you down as he knelt before you. “I’m not gonna hurt you! I- ow! Don’t-”

Bokuto’s grip on your wrists was unbudgeable. So, you didn’t miss the chance to bite him when he covered your mouth with his palm. Teeth chattering, you broke the tough flesh, sunk them sharply until the taste of salt and iron flooded your tongue.

You expected that it would push him away. Give you the leverage to escape.

That turned out to be a mistake.

His honey-gold eyes glinted as he stared deep into yours. Every hair on your body stood on end when the corners of his lips slowly lifted, eyes still fixed on you as he released a bubbly, childlike laughter.

“I've always wanted to do this to you," he sighed giddily.

The helplessness chipped at your insides bit by torturous bit when all you could do was rock the table with your flailing, while Bokuto had already crouched lower— low enough to pull the hem of your thin shorts with his teeth.

He watched you weep with a sickening display of dejection, like he's some dog that's been shoved around by his master.

"Please don't cry," Bokuto whined, peppering soft kisses all over the insides of your thighs then licking off the beads of sweat that covered the goosebumps.

You’re not giving up.

You couldn’t give up.

You pushed and gnawed and tore skin that you’re sure every inch of his palm is littered with fresh bruises, but this only seemed to encourage Bokuto, drawing out his drugged out moans as he spat on your clothed cunt, drool leaking down to your folds before he lapped at the wet spot. The moistened fabric scratched and rubbed against your clit to the point of quivering and writhing in his clutch.

“Oh, I know , baby,” Bokuto murmured, using the tip of his tongue to flick at the swollen nub. “I’ll make you feel real good soon.”

Shaking your head, the unwiped tears gathering around your eyelids dropped to his long, calloused fingers. And you wanted to screech, to tell him to go to hell as he swirled his tongue all over your embarrassingly slick hole.

No, you wanted more than that.

You wanted to drive your bare hands into his chest.

But that’s not what you did, is it?

When Bokuto finally removed his hand from your mouth, what slipped past your lips wasn’t the sound of a woman ready to kill. Instead, you sounded like a little girl begging to be carried home. And that hadn’t been the part that scared you, really.

It was the fact that no matter how much you tried to scream, nothing was coming out.

“L-let me go,” you wheezed, your voice cracking. “Or- or else.”

“Or else?” Bokuto replied, eliciting a gasp from you as he sniffed your throbbing, wet cunt. “Look at me, princess.”

“ Look at me ,” he repeated pleadingly, frustration giving his tone a rough edge, as he brought the hand that once suppressed your attempts to call for help to skim past your thigh and stroke the sole of your feet. “Just this once. See me.”

You kept your eyes closed, even as he kissed your toes and brought it down to his crotch, forcing you to dig your heel into the bulge jutting out. He rocked his hips, gyrating slowly, his cock hardening under your feet, as he whimpered into your leg.

“Please, please fuck me, please ,” Bokuto mewled. “I’ll do any- anything for you.”

Profanities rushed out of you, but no one could hear them. Not even you. Perhaps that's why he didn’t flinch when he lugged you down to straddle on his lap.

“Use me, baby,” he whispered, grinning wide as he snaked his other hand to your back and dug his nails around your nape, laying on his back and taking you with him as he did, your tits crushed to his chest.

With your arms dying in his grip, Bokuto easily stripped his pants along with his boxers. Violent trembles wracked your body as he dragged your pussy along his thick shaft, back and forth, your damp panties riding up every time he thrusted upwards.

His hot breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine as he giggled lowly, “Wanna cum inside you so fucking bad . Will you let me, hm? Please let me.”

Of course you didn’t want to. It’s not like you’d stop struggling, either. It’s just that Bokuto would never listen to you. Even when he whimpered and babbled, “You don’t want to- fuck, your pussy’s all nice and wet - oh, you don’t want to? That's okay, that’s okay, baby,” Bokuto still slipped his cock inside your underwear.

It slid past your lips up to your clit. And you’d never hated yourself more in your entire life when all you could do was stay limp and cry as the fat tip finally nudged your twitching hole.

“No, no, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, scattering kisses on your neck, “It’s just the head- just the head.”

As Bokuto groaned and rutted against you, all you wished for, in that moment, was for dawn to peek through the curtains and signal the end of this torment. But, still it went on with Bokuto stretching you open.

And as he split you in half, you detachedly realized that you were right.

This place did eat you alive.

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x female reader #Dark content haikyuu #yandere bokuto kotaro

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oreosmama · 3 years

Text

Darling Traps Them in a Room to Escape (Yandere Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

Ushijima and Oikawa Version

Sugawara and Kuroo Version

Tendou and Hinata Version

A/N: Man have I been wanting to write so bad lately. Here’s a lil thingy cuz I’ve really been into the thought of yandere hcs these past couple days. Enjoy!

Word count: 1996

Bokuto Koutarou:

Sobs ring throughout the apartment as you dig through nightstands and other drawers in sight.

“YN please don’t do this to me! Please, please just let me go so we can talk about this!”

A lump formed in your throat as you shuffled through pens and papers faster, hoping, dreaming that you could make a noise loud enough to block out his cries.

For a man who had been serious enough to plan your kidnapping for months, he certainly seemed quite immature when it came to that plan backfiring in any way shape or form.

You’d only been searching for bobby pins for a whopping five minutes and in that time Bokuto's managed to wail his voice to pieces and give you a headache. You’d compliment him on the newfound talent but you felt it would excite him too much.

“Bokuto, shut up will you?” Frustration had you wanting to rip your hair from your scalp, and Bokuto’s constant howling only made the idea more tempting.

You know the words struck a chord when he gasped from within the closet. Silence followed, with only the occasional sniffle to keep you company as you rifled through the bathroom. A small whoop escaped your lips when you located a small package of bobby pins Bokuto had no doubt purchased on your behalf.

A thousand times over did you thank your old habit of boredly watching lock-picking videos on YouTube--who’d have thought it would actually be useful?

“So… you don’t love me anymore. Is that it?”

You sat crouched next to the front door, scratching the rubber ends off the pins when you choked on your own spit at Bokuto’s question.

“I- what?”

“Please, YN, think about what you’re doing.” If his voice earlier had been an elephant, his voice now would be a mouse. Soft, whispered, gentle.

Heartbroken.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this for a while now Bokuto.” You swallow and return your gaze to the lock, pressing the bobby pins into the keyhole with pursed lips. “The only one who hasn’t been thinking about what they’re doing is you.”

“So you’re just gonna leave me here.” Ah, you were wondering when the waterworks would return. “All alone? Did you ever even love me?”

Delusional. The poor boy you had liked in high school was now so, so delusional. Insane enough to kidnap you from your home, and crazy enough to think you had been okay with it. Six months of unreturned affection should have told him otherwise, but it seemed Bokuto was a lost cause all the way around.

You kept your lips tightly shut, focused more on each click of the lock than whatever grief-stricken words were leaving Bokuto’s mouth at the moment.

“You didn’t?” His voice was clogged with unshed tears. “Not even for a moment?”

Maybe once.

“I’ve loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you, YN.” His voice returned with a new vigor, quiet all the same and yet with new undertones of will. “I know you feel the same way.”

Slam!

An involuntary squeal left your lips at the sound of the closet’s door tearing away from its hinges, crashing to the ground with an ear splitting bang.

Bokuto stood in the doorway, black and white hair in disarray as an emotion swam in his golden gaze. You couldn’t put your finger on it exactly.

Perhaps it was anger.

No.

Maybe sorrow?

Nope.

It was…

“YN.”

Each step he took toward you matched your heart as it pounded, his legs making quick work of the distance as he bounded toward you. Strong arms yanked you to your feet before pulling you off the floor completely. A hand under your knees and one on your back, Bokuto hauled you bridal style back to his bedroom without so much as a grunt of effort.

The emotion. It was fear.

Pure, unadulterated fear.

Fear made tears trail down his cheeks, made his fingers tremble and twitch as he held you, made his heartbeat so quick you could hear it pulsing next to your ear.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you, YN.” Back to the bedroom. “I love you too much.” To the same bed you’ve been stuck to for months. “And I know you love me back, baby.”

No matter how much you twisted and struggled in his grip, he still managed to lock the cuffs on each one of your wrists, forcing your arms up and above your head with your legs free and kicking on the mattress.

Not again.

Quickly, Bokuto straddled your legs, restricting their movement while he ran a hand down your face. “I know you love me too,” he whispered once more, dazed eyes taking in your face.

Those two bobby pins sitting just in front of the door, along with the rest of them, would no doubt be disposed of. Knowing the bad memory that came attached to them, Bokuto would have no qualms about burning every last bobby pin on Earth in order to terminate such a reminder.

“No, no,” he shook his head at himself. “I know you love me. But maybe you just need a reminder that I love you, baby.”

His eyes brightened at the thought at the same time yours widened.

“No-”

“Shhh,” he pressed a finger over your lips, a smile now taking over his face. “Was that why you tried to leave? You thought I didn’t love you anymore?”

“Mmm!” You wriggled and shook against your restraints, not willing to acknowledge just how useless the fight was.

“Don’t worry, YN. Of course I still love you!”

His eyes darkened. Then his tongue peeked out to run over his bottom lip.

“But I’ll happily show you that if you still don’t believe me.”

Kageyama Tobio:

Trapping Kageyama in the bathroom was hard. Even harder than you expected.

However, with one swift kick to his behind, he stumbled inside just enough off balance that you could yank the door shut and slip the chair under the knob before he had time to right himself.

“YN!”

Since then, he’s been silent. Or, silently fuming. Every few seconds, you heard a huff or a grunt or a growl. It appeared he was none-too pleased to be locked up.

Huh. Wonder how that feels.

And yet, you could find no devices to help you escape. The only furniture that even seemed strong enough to use as a battering ram was either too heavy to move or was currently stopping your kidnapper from escaping.

Nonetheless, you kept searching.

No keys held in obvious places. No sticks skinny enough to pick the lock. Nothing.

Kageyama wasn’t the only one with a temporary vow of silence--even you knew not to poke the bear during a time like this. Over the last few weeks, you had learned that a silent Kageyama was worse than a loud one.

Right now, he was a ticking time bomb behind closed doors, which meant you had to get out now or never.

Do or die.

Should he somehow escape to get back to you, you had no doubt you were in for some serious payback tonight. Though Kageyama had never laid his hand on you before (even while he held you captive), you had a feeling he would lose that level of restraint once your five minutes of fame were over.

Which meant you had to escape some way or another.

There were no windows in the house that weren’t either barred or made of glass even a bullet couldn’t get through, so those weren’t an option.

The front door… it seemed plausible. Battering ram or not, there wasn’t actually too much to it aside from a lock and chain. Maybe your own brute force was the best way to go.

Pain erupted through your shoulder after the first attempt. Then the second.

Third, fourth, fifth.

Crack!

The hinges began to splinter from top to bottom, and you knew the next hit would be your last.

Stepping back farther this time, you readied yourself for impact before-

“YN.”

Kageyama’s voice, still muffled through the door, was firm and loud.

“I will come after you.”

You stopped in your tracks, gulping at the thought.

“Y-yeah? I’d like to see you try.”

He huffed before you heard a thump.

“Just don’t do anything stupid while you’re out there, okay?”

“You best believe I’m gonna-”

“Be safe, dumbass,” he hissed.

Your heart twinged. Oh.

You wanted to hate him for everything he’s done. You really did. But… you couldn’t find it in yourself to do it. Before, when you were just the average boyfriend-girlfriend couple, things were great. When he started getting more possessive was when you worried, and when he locked you up was when you panicked.

But it was only now that you remembered this was still the boy you loved, to some degree.

“I will… asshole.”

Kozume Kenma:

Kenma was never affectionate.

In fact, he hardly ever touched you. In the soundproof apartment he had you trapped in, he usually minded your space, so much so that you even wondered why he bothered with you in the first place.

Maybe you were going crazy yourself, but you couldn’t stand it anymore. Aside from the occasional forced cuddle or hug, Kenma didn’t ask for anything of you, only that you didn’t leave.

It was some kind of mind game he played with you. When you realized he was manipulating you into breaking away from all of your friends and family, he also realized you noticed.

And so, he locked you up to… just keep you around?

You were sick of it. Done. Tired of the mind games.

So while he finally let you off his lap so he could take his habitual bathroom break from gaming, you shoved his rolly chair under the door and began the search for the key.

If I were a lazy psychopath, where would I keep my keys?

“YN, are you really doing this right now? Come on, I was in the middle of my game.”

Of course that was all he could think about. Standup guy, that one.

“There’s a simple solution to this, Kenma. Just let me go and you can go back to your goddamn video games.”

“YN, I don’t… I didn’t want to let you go just yet.”

“What am I, a dog? You’re a freak, Kenma, just tell me where it is!”

“YN, please, can’t we just talk about this?” His voice was no different than usual, soft-spoken and untroubled as always.

You hated it. It was like he had the situation all under control.

Well, he did but you didn’t like to think about that.

“Kenma, please, can’t you just see this from my point of view? I don’t understand why you keep me trapped here 24/7 for no reason! Can’t you at least tell me why?”

He stayed silent for a second, then you heard a small clink.

A key slid out from under the door, all the way out to the tips of your toes.

Your jaw almost dropped at the sight. That was all it took?!

“...Why?”

Why? Why take you away only to let you go so easily? Why hold you captive only to rarely be around you? Why did he do any of this?

“Because. Because I know someday you’ll come back to me.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you’ll never be the same after me. And one day you’ll realize the only one who ever really cared about you was me.”

You open your mouth to respond, only to find yourself at a loss.

Without another word, you slip through the door, gripping the key with all your strength.

He’s wrong… isn’t he?

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duskamethyst · 4 years

Text

possessive.

a/n: i feel like there aren’t a lot of yandere bokuto so i decided to write it myself

word count: 2k

genre: smut, nsfw

warnings: noncon, yandere behavior, overstimulation

pairing: yan!bokuto x f!reader

summary: bokuto isn’t a fan of being the second place in receiving attention, particularly yours. bokuto hates it when you (unintentionally) ignore him, keep him out of the conversation (that doesn’t concern him in the first place) when you talk to his teammates and those seem to be the main problem of the unwanted situation you’re facing going to face. to conclude, even outside the court, bokuto craves for attention.

konoha is your assigned partner for the class assignment but it takes so much more of your time than the other’s since he’s more devoted on his volleyball practices after school than the whole thing. thus, the only time you can manage to talk to him further besides during lunch and class is during his practice.

“okay, so i’ve already finished most of my part so for your part, you’ll need to--” you begin, but only to be cut off by a shout of your name.

“hey, you didn’t even say hi to me?” bokuto runs up to where you and konoha are standing with a frown on his face.

“oh, hi, bokuto.” you smile before turning to the other male beside you. “anyway--”

“what are you guys doing?” he shifts closer, peeking the notebook you’ve been holding to show konoha your progress.

“i’ve told you before, bokuto. we’re partners for our class project!” konoha beams, patting your shoulder and pulls you closer to him in a friendly manner. “you work so fast, i feel bad though.”

bokuto glances at the hand resting on your shoulder but quickly averts his gaze to his friend, “then you better pick up the pace too, huh? so you won’t give her a hard time.”

“yeah,” konoha smiles apologetically. “hey, how about we go to the library tomorrow so we can finish the whole stuff?” you nod and smile at him, the thought that he is not entirely hopeless sends a wave of relief in you.

“can i come?!” bokuto chimes in with puppy eyes. both of you blink at him in confusion.

“nope! it’ll only be the two of us!” konoha laughs, “come on, break time’s over.” he walks away to the center of the court, pushing the sad bokuto along with him.

checking in your bag half-way home, you suddenly realize that you have left some of the materials you need to go through for the assignment tomorrow with konoha. it will be such a drag if you have to stop by school first tomorrow so you lazily walk back to your class and go through under your desk. the door of the class slides open and you turn around to see no other than bokuto.

“oh, hey.” you smile, walking towards the door. “i’m just about to head out. finished practice?”

“oh, yeah-- kinda.” he replies shortly.

“kinda?”

“i told them i wasn’t feeling really well.” he says, sliding back the door close behind him. the thought of bokuto-- this bokuto, is ill is rather absurd to you. you’ve watched him play, and there was not even a single time that this man had gotten any injuries. not even a broken finger from blocking a hard spike from the opponent. he had never even missed a match from being sick. the only time that he seemed “sick” was when he was in those mood swings and he would usually get back up on his feet. nonetheless, he is still human after all.

“you seemed fine earlier.” you exclaim, trying to get to the door but he shifts his body in front of you, blocking the door instead. when you move the left, he moves to the right, vice versa. you look up at him questioningly but you can’t really conclude the expression written on his face and it’s very unusual.

“maybe if you weren’t ogling konoha, you would’ve noticed.” he mutters lowly under his breath but loud enough for you to hear.

“what?” you shake your head. “first of all, i wasn’t. and secondly, if you haven’t noticed, you’re blocking my way.” you reply matter-of-factly, stepping to the side again before he grabs your shoulders and turns you around to pin you against the door. you look at him in horror, realizing that his build is solid and muscular up close and if he wants to hit you, you would definitely get knocked out.

“i really got sick after seeing you and konoha, you know that?” he has the same look on his face and a sly grin comes up across his face afterwards. “of course you don’t. but since we’re alone now.. i can finally have you all to myself.”

he smashes his lips onto yours, the kiss is hasty and rough, his hands begin to wander all over your body before one of them makes its way under your skirt to grab your ass. your trembling hands try to push him away but he doesn’t falter. instead, his grip goes harder.

“don’t even try to resist me.” he warns as his sharp teeth starts to nip on the delicate skin of your neck, leaving harsh purple marks.

“s-stop.” you beg when the hand on your ass moves to rub circles on your clit. it hurts, it’s uncomfortable but as every second passes, even you can feel that you begin to pool under his touch-- let alone the jerk who’s grinning from the results of his work.

“wow, you’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles, rubbing the wetness between his fingers as if feeling it through your panties isn’t enough to convince him. “but i can’t help but to wonder how you taste.”

he easily lifts you up and lays you down on the teacher’s desk before pulling down your panties and puts it inside his pocket. bokuto leans down and pushes your legs up before spreading your slits open with his fingers and sticks his tongue out to lick your clit.

you feel embarrassed when his golden eyes meet yours, watching you as you squirm while his tongue laps up the juices from your sloppy cunt. you recognize the proud look on his face, you’ve seen it when he successfully delivered a cross-court shot over the net during the tournament but never in a million years you’d expect to see the same grin between your thighs.

“you wanna cum don’t you?” he coos as he slides in his finger inside you.

“no..” you whimper, trying to close your legs but his strong hand pushes them further apart.

“well, i’m gonna make you.”

bokuto slides in another finger and starts fingering you continuously, persistent to make sure you’ll cum for him. he curls his fingers and you begin to find a wave of pleasure slowly building up inside you and you hate yourself for it.

“oh? you look like you wanna cum.” he chuckles as he watches your body writhing on the desk. the room is filled with heavy pants and sloshing sounds from your pussy. you start to feel that you’re pushed to edge as bokuto presses down and rubs your clit with his thumb.

“i’m-i’m gonna cum..” you say between breaths.

“it’s okay, baby. cum for me.” he whispers encouragingly as he watches you throw your head back, soft moans slipping out from your pretty lips. bokuto continues with his pace before your body shakes from releasing an orgasm.

“such a good girl.. you wanna make me happy right?” bokuto leans down to kiss all over your face but your mind is too numb to even respond. “say you want me to fuck you.”

you shake your head slowly, you wish for nothing but to end this torture-- but you should’ve known better. bokuto shifts back between your legs and starts to lick your throbbing cunt again. he watches you as your body starts to writhe again, though his gaze is rather intimidating, much different from earlier.

“please, stop.” you plea but fall into deaf ears instead.

“say it.”

seeing how you refuse to “please” him, he continues to lick you while fingering you, overstimulating you while taunting you all at the same time to push you further to edge.

“f-fuck me, bo--” the words are like music to his ears. bokuto quickly stands up and takes out his cock and almost immediately slides into you. a moan of pleasure escapes from his mouth as he starts to thrust his hips and pushes his all of his thick cock inside you.

“you feel so good, baby.” he compliments-- almost too genuinely. he gazes adoringly at how his glistening cock easily slips in and out of your wet hole despite how you denied him earlier and you can feel how he grows impossibly bigger inside you.

you turn your head to the side, not wanting to make unnecessary eye contact with the man violating you, the one making you feel as if you’re nothing more than just a sex doll.

“i’m good aren’t i?” he asks. if it isn’t for the fact that he’s assaulting you, you’d say that the question sounds very innocent.

you refuse to answer as you persistently stare at the wall. your blood boils at how this man has the audacity to shamelessly ask you such a thing. you know how he’s like, you’ve heard it from konoha himself. he tells you how the whole team carries the responsibility to cheer him on while playing in court to ensure that he gets riled up and how he lives off from being praised by them. you thought that it’s ridiculous but who would’ve thought that you’re also experiencing it first hand, only with his cock plowing inside your guts.

the lack of response irritates him. he needs to hear you say that he’s doing a good job, he put so much effort in this. this is what he had always wanted. he would’ve played it nice but seeing how you were all over his friend earlier, how you subconsciously ignored him, made him do this. it’s your fault. you can’t be mad at him. he’s finally alone with you so why can’t you stop staring at the wall and pay more attention to him? you’re making him upset.

bokuto mercilessly picks up his pace and gets rougher, making sure that you know that he is in balls deep. you finally turn to face him, his brows are knitted together, his expression is no longer compassionate as he focuses on making you cum together with him. bokuto knows that he’s giving a brilliant performance when he starts hearing you moan but now he just needs some compliment.

“i never knew you’re this stubborn.”

you bite down on your lips hard and close your eyes as you feel the coil inside you begin to swirl around, threaten to snap but bokuto is quick to pull away and circles your sensitive clit with his thumb. you open your eyes to see him staring back at you as he waits for you to beg for him.

“bokuto, please..” your voice croaked. he slides in his cock again and gives one deep thrust.

“say it.” he pulls out and rams back in once again, the process repeats itself all over until you eventually start to give in.

“y-you make me feel so good.” you whisper. bokuto’s eyes lit up again and a proud smile creeps up to his lips as he starts to fuck you again.

“that wasn’t so hard was it?” he leans down to nibble your neck as your body arches and your legs slowly wraps itself around his waist. “only i can make you cum, right?”

you let out a shaky ‘yes’ to answer his question, though your mind is rather occupied on how his throbbing cock fills every inch of you and your walls wrap so tightly around his.

“so-- fucking tight,” he hisses. “tell me whose cock is making you feel this good right now?”

“yours!” you wail, hands clutching firmly on his shirt. you feel so close and you know that he feels the same from the way he picks up his pace to chase after his high. with a few more “encouraging” whispers slipping from your mouth, bokuto groans as he finally cums inside you and just as what he wishes for, you reach your second orgasm with him. bokuto pants for air while leaning down to the crook of your neck, his cock still twitching inside you to release the last few drops before he’s sure that he’s empty.

“you can only look at me, and only me.” he murmurs and tilts your head to face him before crashing his lips onto yours once again.

deep down you’ve always known and maybe you shouldn’t have underestimated that even outside the court, bokuto craves for attention.

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yanderesleepybutwriting · 4 years

Text

Headcanons for: “Haikyuu!!”

_____

Darling Has ADD

_____

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader | Bokuto x Reader | Kuroo x Reader | Sugawara x Reader

Request: “Heyo! Can I get Suga, Akaashi, Bokuto, and Kuroo (if that's too many then I apologize, you can write for who you want) headcanons with a gn!reader who has A.D.D or A.D.H.D? Thank you in advance if you end up writing this! -Anonymous ”

Notes: I just went with all of them because why not? Thanks for the request! Heads up, yandere themes are ahead [Controlling, Manipulation, Obsessive, Stalking, etc.]

_____

+ Because of Bokuto, Akaashi is a little better at handling easily distracted/hyperactive people than most

+ He knows just how to help you when you start becoming disorganized or unfocused

+ You’ll be freaking out, thinking of everything you have to do, and he’ll notice in an instant that you’re stressed

+ “What’s wrong, Y/N? Is everything alright?”

+ “Just a little overwhelmed. That’s all.”

+ He’ll help you create a plan, so you’re not so buried in your work, while at the same time planting the idea that you should quit

+ It worries him seeing you get so stressed over something that shouldn’t even have to be an issue to you

+ After all, he made enough money for the both of you to live comfortably, so he didn’t see the need in you having a job

+ “You don’t need to work. All your job does is stress you out. Let me take care of you.”

+ Bokuto is just as guilty for getting distracted as you, so he’s the worst person to help you get focused

+ Anytime your attention isn’t on him, he get’s so pouty until you stop whatever you’re doing and show him some love

+ “Baabbee, you said you we’re almost done an hour ago. Can you please massage my back now? I’m still sore from our game last night.”

+ “Bokuto, I told you I have to finish this project. I’ll do it when I’m done.”

+ Will not listen

+ He’ll go sulking on the opposite end of you. Sending you sad glances every now and again that guilt trip you into stopping what you’re doing

+ He want’s you spending every second of everyday with your attention on him, so every time you get distracted, he get’s a little upset

+ The same goes if he’s telling you a story about his day, or his game, and you start dazing off

+ He takes a personal offense to it, even though it’s not your fault

+ He’ll give your hand a gentle squeeze followed by a “Are you even listening, babe?”

+ You worry him with your constant forgetfulness

+ One time he texted you, and when you didn’t respond within half an hour he tried calling you only to still receive no response

+ He kept calling you repeatedly until he become so stressed he ended up going over to your place to check in on you, and make sure you weren’t in trouble

+ You had been so hyper fixated on your work, that you didn’t even notice he had been trying to get ahold of you

+ “I’m sorry, Kuroo. I’ve just been so focused on this Essay that I have to get done, I guess I just didn’t notice.”

+ “Since this morning? It’s already 6:00pm. Have you even eaten today?”

+ “No, I didn’t realize it was so late. I must’ve just forgot.”

+ It stresses him to the max. He doesn’t understand how someone can just forget to take care of themselves

+ After that situation, he immediately insists that you move in with him

+ (I mean lets be honest, this guy isn’t taking no for an answer. He’s not risking you forgetting to take care of yourself again and ending up in the hospital)

+ He wants you next to him at all times to make sure you’re doing what you’re supposed to

+ Oh Suga. Sweet, patient, Suga

+ Your ADD makes you all the cuter in his eyes

+ The way you passionately go off talking about any and every random little thing

+ He could listen to you talk his ear off for hours

+ One day he sent you to the grocery store to pick up some food for dinner, and you came home with everything, but what he asked for

+ He went to the grocery store with you everyday after that, and still teases you about it

+ Whenever he senses you getting bored, he’ll always do his best to keep you entertained

+ Even if that means directing your focus on something else

+ For example, if he’s out with the team, and someone is telling a story and he can feel you zoning out, he’ll softly and subtly kiss you on the temple to bring your attention back

+ If you start getting fidgety he’ll place his hand and run it up and down your leg, almost to calm you, and make up some excuse for the two of you to leave

+ He just wants you to be comfortable, and will do anything in his power to make that happen

750 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 3 years

Text

No Strings Attached

A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕

Bokuto Koutarou x female reader

TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)

Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy.

Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-

You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face.

Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.

You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”

And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.

So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.

Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.

You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-

If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek.

—

If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest.

But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.

It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach.

The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.

And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.

“D’ya like it?”

The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind’s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone.

Not that he’s ever that patient.

“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–

“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?”

It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in.

“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down.

Dinner, and everything else for that matter.

A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.”

And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine.

—

“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.

“He… asked me to meet him.”

Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”

“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.

One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat.

“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.

A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”

She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”

“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”

She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.

Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.

Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful.

It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.

Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.

But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.

Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)

—

There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.

First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.

You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.

The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-

But that didn’t make him your boyfriend.

You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt.

—

Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes.

Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week.

“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”

The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”

You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”

You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days.

“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.

You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”

The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”

This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”

“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”

Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”

“All mine, hm?”

You smile, “All yours, promise.”

He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”

As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later.

When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.

Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.

“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.

The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”

An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything.

“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.

Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone.

He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”

Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.

He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.

Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.

You don’t want them to know.

Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.

But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.

Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”

Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers.

—

For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.

You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.

Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out.

It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.

He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.

—

You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely.

A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.

In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you.

And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning.

“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.”

God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement.

He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do.

Not your sugar daddy.

But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”

He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.

Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”

And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually.

Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask.

Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch…

… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek.

Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”

Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.

—

The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence.

“Move in with me.”

You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.

But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.

The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.

He’s joking, right?

“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”

It feels right??

“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”

“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.”

Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs.

“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”

Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.

Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”

Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-

“I love you.”

—

39 missed calls. 72 unread messages.

Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open.

Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”

But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her.

“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.

He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.

There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?”

Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”

You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.

You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.

That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.

Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.

And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely…

How had you not seen this coming?

“No,” you admit.

The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”

And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true.

I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore.

You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.

—

A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account.

For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.

It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.

I need to see you. Please.

You transfer the money right back into his account.

—

Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job.

Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.

Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff.

It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.

You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.

On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one.

You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave.

One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile.

“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”

To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.

Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-

“Hey, baby.”

Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto.

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.

Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you.

“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?”

He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.”

He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’.

But that was then.

You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.

That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.

The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-

-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake.

Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.

It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.

Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.

Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper.

“Bokuto…”

As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.

Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere bokuto kotaro x reader #yandere bokuto koutarou #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere bokuto koutarou x reader #tw manipulation #tw toxic behavior #tw kidnapping

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