#yandere bokuto kotaro

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General Yandere! Kotarou Bokuto Profile

Yandere! Kotarou Bokuto x reader

TW: kidnapping, possessiveness, mentions of stalking, mentions of masturbation, allusions to somnophilia, Stockholm Syndrome, emotional manipulation, Ko uses you as his emotional support system, delusional behavior, nonconsensual physical affection/touch, vague allusions to non-con, mentions of physical abuse, Kotarou is extremely emotionally needy and physically touchy and just generally quite a handful, mentions of insecurity, fem reader, MDNI

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

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE: 

Introverted  

Koutarou is a lot. He knows it, his team knows it, hell, the entire league knows it.

His energy is difficult to match; he’s a ray of sunshine, blinding yet impossible to look away from, someone with boundless amounts of energy, someone friendly and extraverted to an almost extreme.

Because he is so rambunctious and loud, he would actually really enjoy a partner who mellows him out a bit more, someone who isn’t constantly hyper and talkative and wanting to spend hours on end with other people.

He works well with Akaashi; who is quiet, calm and not as talkative, and his darling would likely reflect that in many ways – the serenity, the sense of peace and calmness, the idea that they aren’t constantly jumping with energy, constantly bursting at the seams to go do something.

Ideally though, he’d enjoy a partner who is still willing to talk, who’s willing to indulge him in conversation and compliment him and give him that adorable smile, just not a social butterfly like himself. It makes him feel privileged, special because his darling wants to speak to him, that they’re using their precious social battery on him him him.

He’s in awe that they start conversations with him; his darling, who so often doesn’t utter a word around crazy people such as himself, who sees someone as hyper as him and immediately run for the hills.

It makes his ego flare, and he can’t deny how adorable they are when they get embarrassed at his attention, when they roll their eyes and shove his shoulder lightly, when they freeze and cower as he loudly proclaims his love for them in the middle of the movie theater and everyone looks over.

He loves it, and it’s a nice bonus that it cuts down his competition - less dirty work for him, something Koutarou is very thankful for.

Creative

Volleyball is Kotarou’s life, and as a result he hasn’t had much time to explore anything outside of it. He’s never really tried his hand at painting, playing an instrument, baking, or really any other hobby.

And of course he loves the sport dearly, but there’s something alluring to the idea of a darling that’s invested in something so completely different from himself.

It doesn’t matter what the hobby is - cooking, drawing, writing, singing, it could be anything at all.

But once Kotarou finds out his darling enjoys it, suddenly he becomes obsessed with it, wanting to learn as much as he can and hone as many talents within it as possible. In his eyes, everything his darling does is perfect, so the thing that they love most (aside from him, of course) must be amazing, right? It must be worth his time to learn about it and become familiar with it, if only just to impress his darling, if only just to share even a scrap of the love they feel for it.

He’ll beg and pester his darling to teach him, constantly asking questions and carefully watching their answers.

Because rally, while Kotarou develops an interest in the activity because of his darling’s love, he also becomes familiar with the hobby because he lives for the way their eyes light up when they’re concentrating. They look absolutely gorgeous, even more beautiful than normal, something sparkling in their eyes.

His knees grow weak when he sees them biting their lip or sticking out their tongue in concentration, his feelings only growing ten-fold and becoming stronger because it’s just so incredibly endearing that his darling has something they love enough to be this devoted.

They get this ethereal glow about them and Kotarou genuinely can’t take his eyes off of them when they’re in that mode.

And so instead of listening to their instructions, he finds himself drifting into fantasies of them finally getting that glow and radiance when thinking about him. It’s what fuels him, what gives him energy.

He just wants his darling to adore him in the way that he adores them.

Nurturing

If his darling is anything, they have to be supportive.

Poor Kotarou is in constant need of reassurance, and his darling has to be willing to put up with that. They have to be willing to deal with the emotional labor of constantly praising him, of telling him wonderfully talented he is, how funny, how charming, how handsome, any and all compliments they can think of.

Their kind words go straight to his heart, making his body feel fuzzy and warm, an unstoppable grin stretches across his face and his words excited as he asks them really? Are you sure?

He’s overwhelmed by the idea of his darling thinking such thoughts about him - they think he’s strong? They think he’s talented? They think he’s amazing?

Needless to say, a few simple words of praise from his darling are enough to get Kotarou’s entire mood shifting, his metaphoric feathers ruffling and a pleasant, gooey feeling in his heart making him feel lighter than air because oh, they think he’s attractive and fun to be around?

He loves how easily they’re able to make him feel good about himself, and he can only hope to return the favor.

As a result, he’ll compliment his darling often, completely out of the blue and about odd, but strangely endearing things. He just wants them to feel how good they make him feel, and he’ll do anything to get them there. 

Competitive

While his darling needs to be someone capable of spilling praise at a moment’s notice, Kotarou also finds himself attracted to those who has a healthy sense of competition in life.

As a professional athlete, he takes competition very seriously, and is also the type to find that a bit of competition is the perfect thing to spice up a relationship. He loves the idea of having a friendly rivalry with his darling – perhaps at something entirely stupid, like mini-golf or slugbugging or something equally childish.

Regardless, he likes the idea of his darling and him being playful together, of having someone he can establish that teasing rapport with. Besides, while he can sometimes be a bit of an emotional wreck, Kotarou finds emotional intelligence extremely attractive.

Thus, having a partner that’s capable of gracefully winning and losing is wildly attractive to him – they’re able to regulate themselves and put others’ thoughts and feelings into perspective.

He cares too much about other people to have a darling with little to no awareness of others’ feelings, and to have a darling that manages to merge in this awareness alongside a healthy appetite for competition and teasing?

Well, Kotarou finds himself falling hard and fast, loving the idea of a darling who’s so mature yet so wonderfully immature – perfect for someone like him.

(And, though he isn’t consciously thinking about it, perfect for a mother – he won’t explicitly bring up the topic of marriage and children, but he enters every relationship with the thought in mind, always hopeful that perhaps he’s finally found the right woman. And lucky him, he has – his wonderful, wonderful darling.)

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

He’s naturally quite affectionate with those around him, for better or worse. He’s always looking for someone to talk to, hang out with, goof around with, and once his feelings for you form, so lovely and horrible and overwhelming, this trait is only amplified.

It only increases monumentally with the absolute need to constantly be around you, to have your attention solely on him because god, seeing your pretty eyes focused on him makes his heart race so fast he thinks he’s dying.

He wants you to be looking at him at all times, thinking about him every minute of the day, be craving him as much as he craves you. He wants you to daydream about him smiling at you, making you bite your lip and stare at the ground while you fight back a flustered, school-girl-esque grin because god, isn’t he just so dreamy?

He wants you to be fantasizing about hugging him, feeling his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your body while he nuzzles into your neck, whispering your name in a hoarse voice that gets you shivering and nudging your thighs together because fuck, how can anyone sound that good?

Honestly, the idea of you thinking of him is enough to have him grinning with his eyes squeezed shut, a slight flush on his cheeks as he pumps his fist and lets out a victorious laugh.

(There have been quite a few instances of you patting him on the back, albeit awkwardly, to which he responded with a resounding hey, hey, hey! that sounded much too close to a moan and raised his fist to the sky – you’ve never understood why his voice gets all high and shaky like that, but somehow it seems you’d rather not know the answer.)

He thrives on your physical touch, your sweet words and glossy eyes staying fixed on him, and you’ll quickly notice how Koutarou always seems to just be around, how those golden eyes never really seem to leave, his gray and black hair standing out in your peripheral, followed shortly by a cheerful yell of your name and a bone crushing hug that makes you wheeze and shiver as you realize there’s something pressing into your thigh, oh god why is he hard and nuzzling his face into your neck and is he sighing?

It’s almost flattering at first – not expected, but sweet that he seems to feel so close to you, until it’s happening every day, every time he sees you – he’s always hugging you, holding your hand, ruffling your hair, calling you so cute, isn’t she Akaashi? Makes me wanna eat her right up!

It’s endearing and you’ll be flattered that a famous, attractive professional athlete is so obviously interested in you, but it becomes less and less endearing as time passes. It becomes less cute when he’s making some offhand comment about how you must’ve changed your shampoo – he distinctly remembers your hair smelling like strawberries, and now it has more of a lavender scent; but don’t worry, you smell great either way, cutie!

It becomes less flattering as he tells you while you’re being forced to sit in his lap as the team puts up the volleyball nets that you seemed like you were hesitant to come to practice with me today – is there something I don’t know about? Are you seeing someone else? What aren’t you telling me? It’s not nice to keep secrets from boyfriends, you know.

Quickly you’ll come to realize that Kotarou’s level of dependence on you is completely unwarranted for how close your relationship really is, but there isn’t much you can say to change this fact – he’s clingy, he needs your affection and attention, and when you ask Akaashi or Atsumu about it, about why he seems so needy and so obsessed with you, they’ll both write it off as Bokuto and his fleeting feelings, just his childish nature at work.

And when you try to confront him about it, to tell him that you’re uncomfortable with him suddenly springing up on you from behind, pinning you against a desk with his body looming over you while he inhales deeply and whispers about how pretty you look in your new skirt, he’ll just frown, pouting down at you while he whines about how he isn’t trying to be weird, that he just wants to show you how much he cares, how much he loves you.

He’ll only lean more weight on you, hug you tighter and whisper about how he knows you want this just as bad as he does, that it’s only normal for boyfriends to want to touch their girlfriends, to want to spend time with them and hear their compliments and care for each other.

It’s natural, he explains, to be always by your side, for you to never leave his field of vision – which is why you’ll find yourself coming to most MSBY practices and games decked out in the #12 spare jersey he not so subtly demanded you wear (that still very much has the fresh scent of a recent workout in it – something about pheromones and marking you, Kotarou had explained, with words too quick and slurred for you to really understand).

You’ll find yourself spending most of your meals either by his side or in his lap (trying to ignore the way a certain hardness presses against your ass if you move too much, if you’re squirmin’ so much cutiepie, you okay?).

You’ll be walked home everyday from your job and convinced to spend the evening with him, though he spends more time staring at you than watching the movie you’d thrown on.

And really, you can tell yourself every day that you’ll finally stand up to him, that you’ll finally end this bizarre, possessive behavior coming from a man you aren’t even dating, but each time you bring it up, those soft golden eyes will have you feeling like you’re kicking a puppy, his entire aura being shut down in a heartbeat at your stuttered I-I think we need to take some time apart…

Kotarou isn’t doing it on purpose, but you’ll be extremely hard pressed to ever really change the way he acts around you – it makes you feel too guilty, like you’re spinning the situation into so much more than it really is.

So, when you bite your lip and shake your head, giving him a shaky smile and telling him that you changed your mind, he’s beaming and letting out a cheer and scooping you into his arms to swing you around in circles, despite your demands that you must be too heavy to carry, that he’s making such a scene and the entire restaurant is staring and god, he just loves you so much, he knew you were meant for him and your acceptance only proves this!

It’s not so big a deal, right? Kotarou is mostly harmless, doesn’t mean anything weird by his touchiness, his desperation to be with you, right? It’s just a short term thing, soon his attention will move on, right?

Possessive

Kotarou, while incredibly empathetic and intuitive to other peoples’ emotions, does not handle his own especially well.

He’s terrible at stopping himself from having extreme highs and lows over the pettiest things, and this doesn’t stop at just volleyball, at just his normal life – no, his love for you is most definitely affected by this as well. Namely, in the form of jealousy; he’s a firm believer in faithfulness and loyalty, in the idea that you have one and only one partner, that they should be enough for you and that other men and women are essentially just background noise for the real one, the one that makes your heart race, your palms sweat and a lovely sort of nervousness to grow in the pit of your stomach.

He’s always believed in this, and once his infatuation with you forms, this philosophy most certainly doesn’t change; if anything, he clings onto the idea with frantic fingers, clutching at the concept of you looking at no one else for any reason whatsoever.

He’s plagued with the fear that someone will try and interfere with your relationship, that someone will come along and try and tear the two of you apart – he’s terrified of losing you, of losing who he genuinely believes to be his true love to some other man, to some other loser who decided you were pretty and would be a fun catch.

Kotarou is self-aware enough to know that he isn’t the ideal man, that you likely don’t love his mood swings, his habits of switching emotions quicker than you can likely keep up. He knows this, which is why it makes it so much more painful when that coworker of yours starts talking to you more, looking at you with such light and happy eyes, staring at you with what Kotarou is absolutely sure is a blush on his cheeks, when he’s leaning in way too much.

His possessiveness flares up especially in his sadder moments – when he’s already spiraling into a fit of self-doubt, it’s easy to read too far into any situation in which your gaze flickers over to another guy, easy to over examine the way you quickly apologize after bumping into a player on the opposite team in the hallway.

It’s so fucking easy to feel like his place as your rightful partner, as your lover and boyfriend and future husband is being threatened when he sees literally anyone approach you – because really, Kotarou can’t help but wonder if you’d like them more, if maybe you’re only nice to him and letting him hug you, compliment you, and everything else because you feel sorry for him, because you’re pitying him.

And it’s those thoughts that drive him to march up to you and pull you into his chest, to press your ear against his heart while he buries his face in your hair, tears streaming down his cheeks as he asks in a whisper if he’s still enough, if you’ve found someone else, if you even really love him.

And really, as disarming and disorienting as it is, there’s some part of you that will feel bad for him, that will want to comfort this man so obviously in need of praise, so obviously in need of someone to tell him that yes, he’s enough, yes you love him and you’ll always love him.

Even if it’s not true – even if it’s just something you’re saying out of a misplaced sense of guilt, even if it’s something you’ll find yourself horribly regretting the deeper into delusion Kotarou sinks. And so, as you promise that you do in fact want him, that you need him as badly as he needs you and that you’ll never, ever leave him, Kotarou slowly begins to relax, melting into your arms and trying to calm his ragged breaths, the racing of his heart, the tears flowing down his cheeks.

It’s difficult, but as he pulls back and sees your confused, beautiful fucking face, a small smile makes its way onto his lips, the knowledge that you’ll never leave him ringing in his head. Because really, how could he ever ask for anything more?

All he needs is you you you, and now that you’ve promised him, he’ll hold you to it. And when you’re trapped by his side some time later, those strong arms wrapped suffocatingly tight around your waist and his grin big and dopey and scary as he promises to never, ever let you leave his side, you’ll really only have yourself to blame. Because really, while Kotarou’s jealousy manifests mostly as self-deprication and an increased need for your reassurance and praise, ultimately you’ll be the one to push forward his dependence on you.

You’re the one telling him that he’s wonderful, that you’re not interested in any other men, that he’s every girl’s dream. It’s small things that slowly build up, feeding into Kotarou’s delusions until he’s too far gone to really even listen to you anymore; picking and choosing what he wants to hear from you, twisting your words into some grand declaration of love that gets him smiling like a fool, crushing you into his arms and leaving your lips bruised with the ferocity of his kisses.

You’re just so perfect, huh?

Delusional

But in an extremely specific way – on his own, Kotarou isn’t a particularly delusional man. He’s tied to his beliefs, yes, but he’s grounded and lucid enough to understand the importance of seeing multiple perspectives, of listening to others, of staying in touch with reality and not letting himself get too carried away.

And this is still true in the beginnings of his obsession – he knows that you’re just friends, that you have a budding friendship that he’d like to progress into something more, something deeper and more romantic in its origin. And he’s strict about this for a long time – going to Akaashi for dating advice or asking the ever-grumpy Sakusa how he thinks Kotarou should approach you.

(Akaashi gives much, much more insightful advice than his teammate, of course – telling Kotarou to take things slow and listen to what you want, to let you guide the pace and direction of the relationship. Sakusa merely scoffs and tells him to stop being loud and irritating, and you might have a shot.)

And Kotarou sticks to this advice well in the beginning – establishing a positive connection with you and letting you get comfortable, your friendship blossoming and growing into one that you can foresee being one of your most cherished.

But then elements of his infatuation begin developing, and suddenly that advice gets a bit warped, his understanding of your intentions slowly crumbling away because of one critical, crucial factor: Kotarou grows an incredibly strong sense of attachment towards you.

He’s already quite physically touchy and needy as it is, but as his obsession with you progresses, this dependency morphs into not only the more tactile side of things, but his mental state as well. He quickly grows to absolutely need you in every sense of the word; you’re something that keeps him tethered, grounded. Your love and attention is something that he needs in order to survive, in order to wake up everyday and get himself out of bed because he knows that he’ll get to see you today, to hug you and touch you and maybe even kiss you if he can catch you off guard enough.

Within the span of a few months after he recognizes that his feelings for you are more romantic than platonic, Koutarou’s entire mental health and wellbeing revolves around you and the attention you give him.

The advice of his friends still rings through his head, but he instead begins interpreting your actions as you wanting to foster this dependency of his. He thinks that you’re aware of his brewing feelings, and that you feel the same way – surely that’s what you mean when you always praise him, right? His every action comes back to you; he hits a spike in a match he got you exclusive, front-row player’s box seats for?

Well, he’s immediately peering up into the stands, golden eyes frantically searching for you, and once he spots you he’s waving like a madman, blowing obnoxious kisses at you, proudly exclaiming that was for you babe! And he’ll keep going until you acknowledge him, until you give him a thumbs up and a toothy smile, until you yell back that you’re so proud of you, Ko!

(Of course, the phrasing of ‘babe’ is a bit suspect, but you’ll blame it on mishearing him in the loud, packing stadium.)

When he tries out a new recipe for a particular dish he knows you love, he’s eager to call you, begging you to drop whatever it is you’re doing and swing by his apartment to try because he really, really needs you to say you like it.

(He’ll be watching with rapt attention as you hover the fork to your lips, practically not breathing as he watches you chew and swallow, his palms so sweaty and clammy that he nearly drops the pan in excitement when you compliment the food. Don’t pay attention to the way he gulps loud enough for you to hear, nor the way he grabs you by the waist and spins you around, laughing that booming laugh of his and seeming much too joyous for a simple well-cooked meal.)

Everything comes back to the basic principal that Koutarou just wants desperately to impress you – he thrives on your praise, seeing you proud of him and happy to call him yours, and he’s leaping at each and every possible chance to achieve that, to make you laugh and wrap your arms around him, to whisper into his ear that you’re so proud baby, I know you worked so hard, now what’dya say we go home and I reward you for all that hard work, just how you like it?

He’s committed to being your dream partner, to being someone you can proudly call your own, and he quite literally needs you praise and validation in every aspect of his life to solidify his delusions about the way you feel for him – your opinion is something he values over his own life, your presence something he genuinely believes he can’t live without, and so to have you by his side constantly, always smiling at him and making him feel so giddy and happy is something that Kotarou really honestly needs.

The bottom line is that his entire emotional and mental state rests firmly upon your shoulders, firmly upon your reactions to the things he does for you – so keep that in mind as he rushes up to you with the excitement and energy of a puppy, ranting and raving about how he managed to hit one of Atsumu’s new kinds of tosses or block one of Hinata’s best spikes.

Keep it in mind as he presses you flush against his body, his face buried into your neck, his audible inhale and whimper that vibrates against your skin making a shiver shoot up your spine in anything but pleasure. Keep in mind that now it’s your responsibility to keep Kotarou happy, that your job is essentially to make sure that he stays at least somewhat stable.

(With the pressure coming from the entire management staff of the MSBY team, who’ve realized that Kotarou has a bit of a massive crush on you – you, who isn’t doing the best financially, who could very much not survive a class-action lawsuit for ruining one of their star players.)

And once he’s stolen away, it’s your responsibility to keep him happy so that he keeps leaving the apartment, leaving you, making sure that you have enough food and water to survive, so that his depressive episodes don’t cost you your life.

So really, have fun; because eventually the emotional toll will hit you, but don’t worry because Kotarou will be right there to help pick you up again.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Because his jealous streak is really quite strong, Koutarou has a tendency to misinterpret nearly every single interaction you have with a member of the opposite sex.

He’s automatically assuming that everyone is interested in you, that everyone wants to date you and make you smile and kiss you and fuck you, all of which are things that only he should be allowed to do. He’s jumping to conclusions before things really even happen, sure that you’ll somehow be manipulated into leaving him, into leaving the happy, loving relationship you share with him.

It’s a fear that permeates his every moment when he’s away from you (something that is admittedly quite rare, but still), that seeps into the back of his mind no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that you love him, that you’d never cheat on him or trade him in for someone better.

 Of course, he trusts you enough to not immediately act upon his jealousy when he notices another man in your vicinity. Rather, he’ll start demanding your attention even more, trying to keep you physically turned away from the stranger and keep your eyes focused only on Kotarou, because if you can’t see the man, the man can’t see you, right?

It’s poor logic, and Kotarou panics the entire time he tries to stall, only able to imagine the way you’d look by this new man’s side.

And at the end of the day, that’s really it – Kotarou knows that he’s not perfect. You, with your lovely figure, beautiful face, wonderful personality, and many talents, could really get any guy of your choice. So why would you want him?

He seems confident, like he has no doubts about himself and his abilities, and for the most part he doesn’t, but there’s just something about you that makes him constantly reanalyze himself, that makes him wonder if he’s really enough, if he could ever really be enough for someone as perfect as you.

Sure he’s athletic, friendly, handsome, kind, but he’s not the number one hitter in the league, not the brightest, not the most charming, not the best looking or most mysterious or funniest or any number of other things that you might find more attractive.

And as time passes this eats away at Kotarou’s mind, driving him insane the longer it occupies the back of his thoughts because he just can’t shake the image of you in another man’s arms, laughing and kissing them and just being so fucking happy without him.

He’s dependent on you to an unhealthy degree, absolutely fixated on the idea of needing you in his life, and so Kotarou doesn’t really hold back in terms of trying to control his jealousy – he knows he needs to step in before you even get the chance to be lulled in by some other man. He needs to interfere before he loses you forever, and while he knows you’re probably embarrassed by how he barges in anytime you talk to someone else, Kotarou doesn’t let it hold him back.

Nothing can hold him back in the face of something as terrifying as losing you.

You’d never pegged Kotarou as one for video games, but when he’d dragged you to the new arcade that opened up a few blocks from his house, he practically seemed like a child in a toystore.

With his hand wrapped tightly around yours, he’d led you through row after row of game machines, golden eyes wide as he pointed to each and every one, promising you that he’d beat this one in two tries, or that one with his eyes closed. It’d been endearing in a way, watching how excited he’d gotten, before he dragged you over to a game in the far corner with especially bright lights and all sorts of noises coming from it.

He’d challenged you, telling you with a booming laugh that he’d bet you couldn’t beat him, a challenge you eagerly accepted. And really, while he’d been mildly embarrassed to sheepishly admit he’d run out of quarters after his fifth try through the game, it didn’t stop him from practically sprinting up to the ticketing counter, digging in his wallet for the largest dollar bill he had on hand to trade in. Leaving you alone at the game, biting your lip and reading over all the cartoon-style text decorating the game’s exterior.

You were so engrossed in the game’s appearance that you didn’t hear the blond man’s calls to you, shy little excuse me’s falling on deaf ears. Soon a tapping at your shoulder tapped you out of your reverie, spinning around to come face to face with a man you’d never seen before. Sandy blond hair and thick rimmed glasses sitting atop a rather brightly colored dress shirt and dark jeans.

Do you know how to play? Even his voice seemed timid, and while you were a bit shocked at his question, you’d only smiled and said no, hoping the man would drop some hints on ways to beat Kotarou – hearing his boasting was worse than hearing his moping, after all.

The man seemed relieved, moving forward to restart the game and talking you through the level, telling you tips on when to jump, which treasure chests were worth more, tricks on how to move the toggle piece, even telling you that the game would sometimes glitch and delete off ten seconds to your total time if you moved just right.

You’d thanked him profusely, excitement brewing in your chest at the thought of how you would crush Kotarou, but the sudden feeling of being watched washed over you and left you stiffening up, no longer paying attention to the stranger’s words.

In less than a moment, you were suddenly pushed from behind, spun around so that your back was pressed against the arcade wall, the breath knocked out of your lungs and Kotarou’s face – fit with a scowl – filling up your entire view.

Your surprised yelp was cut off by him suddenly lunging forward, his lips settling onto yours hard enough to make you flinch a bit. He kissed you roughly, loudly, the sound of wet smacking filling your ears and surely the stranger’s, if his facial expression was anything to go by. With red cheeks and a shocked look spread across his features, the man was quick to stutter an apology and speed off, trying to avoid the sight of Kotarou pressing you tighter against the wall and the sound of his groans and grunts.

As soon as the man was out of sight, Kotarou pulled back, licking his lips and looking at you with something akin to hunger swirling in those golden eyes.

Who was that?

Is all he got out, hands still firmly placed at your waist.

Your shock barred you from answering right away, before a resounding smack rung through his ears, the mild pain of your slap to his chest leaving him winded, the pleasant sensation of you touching him numbing out some of the hot, angry envy in his veins.

What the hell was that, Kotarou? You practically yell at him, the sound drowned out by the ringing of a few games nearby.

Kotarou only sighs, squeezing your sides and fixing you with an unblinking stare.

That man was bothering you, couldn’t he see you were here with me?

At your bewildered look, he merely laughed, one hand coming up to teasingly ruffle your hair. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure he’ll leave us alone for the rest of the day. Now c’mon, I got more quarters – watch me win!

And just like that, he seemed to have forgotten all about the rather heated, intimate moment he’d instigated – all smiles and laughter and taunts for the rest of the day as you shakily and wearily settled by his side, trying to rationalize that perhaps it looked different to an outsider.

Perhaps Kotarou thought the man was bothering you, and was worried he’d only get the hint through extreme measures. And he’s always been a bit extreme and exaggerated, surely he meant nothing by the kiss – even if it had been rather graphic, even if he’d been practically moaning at just the taste of you.

That must be it, you decide, as Kotarou whines and pouts about losing the level once more, begging you to give him just one more try. The small, half-hearted smile you give him is enough permission for him, and just that look settles the raging jealousy in his heart.

You were looking at him again, just as you should be – him and him only.

(And later that night, that’s what’s falling past his lips in a mantra as he vividly remembers the feel of your body in his hands, your lips pressed against his own, the smell of you clouding his every breath.)

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Kotarou’s infatuation with you is, in most ways, strange.

He’s utterly obsessed, of course – his every waking moment is either revolving around volleyball or you, often times mixing and jumbling up so that he’s imagining all sorts of things that get him grinning like a fool, his cheeks bright red and his breathing too heavy to be considered normal.

(Things like seeing you wear his jersey, for example, or having you toss him a ball that he smacks so hard it hurts, seeing your impressed and flustered expression as he teases you about how strong he is. The kind of thing that makes his chest swell with pride, that makes him bite his lip and clutch at his covers late at night when he’s dreaming and wanting and needing you.)

His feelings for you carelessly breach any sort of trust or boundaries between the two of you, and for the most part Kotarou doesn’t see an issue with this.

Of course you probably don’t like when he checks the tracker he’d installed into your phone, but it’s just for safety and he’s sure you’ll eventually understand! It’s unsafe to let someone like you travel around alone at night (or in the day, or in crowded streets or public parks or even in the safety of your own home-).

He’s just taking an extra precaution to make sure someone’s got an eye on you – he’d be more than happy to install a tracker into his phone for you to keep tabs on his location too, if you’d like. (And oh, he wishes you’d like that.)

You’re probably not the biggest fan of when he wraps an arm around you in public, beaming and planting a wet, long kiss against your temple as he greets you, walking to your favorite coffee shop with his arm still wrapped around you, migrating down to your waist and making walking uncomfortable while he prattles on and on about his latest training regiment.

(And sure, maybe he’s exaggerating just a hair about how much he can bench press, or how fast his serves are, but those golden eyes of his are constantly scanning your expressions, looking for even the slightest hint of awe, analyzing any signs that you’re impressed with his physical prowess, his dedication. Impressed by him, really.)

And so really, Kotarou breaks every physical and intangible barrier and wall that you have down, slowly and bit by bit until you’re so desensitized to his antics and his behavior towards you that you stop questioning it. You’re not exactly supportive of the possessive, overly clingy way he treats you, but it’s just Kotarou, so really how harmful can it be? He’s just a silly, overgrown puppy of a man, and why should you ever be afraid of him?

And Kotarou’s feelings towards your living situation reflect this sentiment – that is, he absolutely does not want to kidnap you.

Not only does he find the term entirely unapplicable to your situation if he were to steal you away (because he’s convinced that on some core level you’d actually be pleased, like you want him to whisk you away and keep you wrapped up in his apartment as his little housewife), but it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth to imagine keeping you cooped up in one place all the time.

He loves to be out with you, to take you to markets and restaurants and movies and all sorts of other things – he likes having you out in public. It stresses him out a bit, yes, constantly being vigilant and aware of any man that tries to approach you, but by and large he finds that he enjoys your company most and enjoys showing you off most when you’re not all alone at home.

That isn’t to say that he dislikes cozy movie nights spent on his couch with now-cold takeout sprawled across the table, but there’s just something special about seeing you laugh so hard you cry because of him in a busy, sunny street café where everyone can see just how entertained you are by him.

(Those cozier evenings are of course favorites of him, though, because he gets to see a more intimate side of you – when you get sleepy and your eyes start drooping, he has to physically hold himself back from cooing and squishing your cheeks. And especially when you fall asleep on his shoulder or shift just right so that he worm his way into your arms, noticing how your flimsy sleeping shorts ride up just a hair to expose the lower curve of your ass, his mouth is left watering and his own shorts feel uncomfortably tight – something he'd be absolutely crazy to dislike.)

And so, Kotarou will hold off for as long as possible on stealing you away, just for the selfish reason of being able to drag you to all his games, to pretty dates (that you aren’t aware are dates, of course, but that’s just a technicality), to keep you happy and excited and free by his side.

But if things were to go south and you started to really critically analyze his behavior and decide that you don’t want to remain in his life?

Well, Kotarou has never quite felt panic like when you swing by his apartment one last time to announce that you’re moving away. He’s never quite felt a level of dismay like when you tell him you’ll be blocking his number because he’s made you uncomfortable, or when you tell him you’ll be crashing at a male friend’s place.

And really, that last portion is the kicker – it sends Kotarou’s mind spiraling, panic engulfing him and leading him to grab you, his hands shaking as he holds you, eyes flashing as he drags you to his bedroom, holding you down on the bed and using a spare t-shirt to tie up your wrists and ankles.

He’s never known fear like this before, and as he stares down at you – writhing, looking at him with tears in your eyes, looking at him –

He’s never quite known excitement like this before, either.

As a captor, Kotarou isn’t terrible – with one glaring exception: he’s needy. You’ve known this for as long as you’ve known him, but once you’re trapped in his home this is only amplified, the clinginess getting worse and worse because you have no way to dissuade his touchiness, no way to distract him away with outside people and activities.

No, now it’s strictly you and him – which is heaven for Kotarou, exactly what he’s been fantasizing about come to life.

Unfortunately for you, this means excessive time spent together and a lot of physical contact. Though his delusions aren’t quite deep enough to fully mask the fact that you’re unhappy, Kotarou is able to chalk up your lack of enthusiasm for things you did pre-kidnapping as you simply being moody, shy, womanly.

It’s infuriating how much he blames your behavior on your hormones and menstrual cycle.

He’s practically impossible to deal with once your period begins, his touches soft and gentle and nearly scared, treating you like you’re some breakable, delicate piece of treasure that can’t do anything on your own.

He’ll cook meals for you, then promptly bring the chopsticks up to your mouth and say ahh, smiling like a fool as he guides the ramen past your lips, nodding enthusiastically when you chew.

He’ll hold your hand and help you walk around the apartment, big eyes wide and worried when you near any corners, terrified that you’ll somehow hurt yourself because you’re distracted with cramp pain or simply having brain fog. And really, it would be endearing how earnestly he’s trying to make you comfortable and provide for you during your time of the month, but there’s something truly humiliating about the level of disregard he feels for your complaints, simply smiling lopsidedly at you and telling you don’t worry, I’ll make it all better! I’ve got some of that chocolate you like, you want some? I can heat up your heating pad too, and we can watch some old reruns of my games – you’d like that, right? You like watching me play, yeah?

And really, that’s the main thing with Kotarou – the level of care and attention he both gives to you and demands from you is incredibly draining.

The constant feeling of walking on eggshells around him is enough to have your mind running in circles, constantly worried that you’ll say the wrong thing about his personality or his actions and have him moping, convinced that you’re just being mean because you’re disappointed in him, that you’re just playing hard to get because he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve. And so how does he respond to this?

By giving you more attention, swamping you with questions and touches and all sorts of things for the two of you to do together. He’s always forcing you onto the couch to try out a new video game Akinori mentioned when he last ran into him, or watching a scary movie and clutching onto you for dear life at every jump scare.

(He thinks it’s romantic, but the slight bruising left on your thighs and sides from his very, very tight grip are less sweet.)

He’s just generally so very out of touch with how you’re feeling that it’s infuriating – but you have to be careful, because everything you do and say will only cause him to grasp onto you tighter, clutching onto you with more strength than you can handle because his entire mental wellbeing is still resting firmly on your shoulders. He forces you to sleep in bed beside him, waking up to you tangled in his arms every morning, starting his day off right and making it slightly easier to leave you for early morning trainings.

(He has to wake up with you every morning or else he feels like something’s off, his performance severely lacking and the only thing that can fix it being excessive affection from you – something a bit difficult to come by.)

He forces you to share meals with him because it gives him a reason to unabashedly stare at you (though he does this anyway, frequently) and watch as you eat the food he provided you. He has to be the sole one cooking or buying you take out, because it feeds the narrative he’s crafted in his head that he’s your provider, that he’s taking care of you, that he’s being a good male partner and spoiling his perfect little wife.

(Of course, you may not be married yet, but to Kotarou it’s just a matter of time – you’re already entwined in every possible way, living together and spending every waking moment together, so why bother with formal ceremonies and official titles when he can just buy a diamond and slip onto your finger with a toothy grin and a much too long and much too detailed declaration of his love? Of course, if you want the ceremony he’d be more than willing to give it to you, but he’s content with the knowledge that you’re his and his alone already.)

So really, if you can handle his hands constantly being on you, his lips always pressed against your skin, his voice always ringing in your ears, and his presence always a looming shadow over you demanding your praise and attention and time, Kotarou isn’t terrible.

There’s shades of genuine love in how he treats you – the gentleness in his touches, the tenderness of his compliments, the way he’ll moan into your ear the most adoring, utterly pathetic things as he settles himself between your legs.

There’s evidence that he truly loves you in some horrible, twisted way, but it all just feels like too much. Too forceful, too desperate, too passionate, too him.

But no amount of trying to get through to him will ever change the way he treats you, or ever persuade him into loosing the metaphorical lease he keeps you on – you’re his, and no matter how hard you try Kotarou will always firmly believe that fate has brought you together.

And isn’t that so romantic?

PUNISHMENTS:

In general, it’s rare for Kotarou to get genuinely angry at you.

Of course he has his highs and lows – he may be unwilling to seriously listen to your complaints or insults hurled at him, but he’s not inhuman. He still knows that you’re being mean – criticizing him and visibly displeased with him, and just that fact alone has his eyes drooping, guilt, self-pity and shame resting heavily on his shoulders.

His delusions about your feelings for him bar him from fully comprehending that your anger lies in the fact that he’s kidnapped you rather than not cuddling with you the night before, but he can still tell that something is amiss. He doesn’t like when you aren’t smiling and happy, when you’re bothered and troubled, when you aren’t acting like you used to, back before he relocated you to his apartment.

It’s upsetting, really, and it leaves Kotarou desperate to figure out how to get a grin back onto your lips, how to make you laugh, how to please you again. A lot of Kotarou’s anger and punishments stem from a place of insecurity and worry about your perception of him – he’s really quite sensitive, especially coming from someone he idolizes and reveres as much as you, and so his solutions to any sort of non-desirable behavior from you is to simply try harder.

It’s seemed to have worked in his career – hours upon hours upon hours spent lagging after practices to work on his spikes just a bit more, to serve just a few more balls, to get just a bit better.

And he applies this same principle with you – he’d rather pull his nails off one by one than physically hurt you or deny you of food and water or leave you all alone or any number of things he could do to force your codependency on him to become stronger.

And so, Kotarou wracks his brain for any and all possibilities on how to get you to like him more, on how to make you happy, on how to be a better boyfriend.

And frankly, it results in a much, much worse time for you.

If you thought Kotarou was clingy before you yelled at him for installing locks on his windows, then he’s downright glued to your side afterwards, his breath constantly fanning on your cheeks and his voice seemingly never ending as it rings over and over and over in your ears.

If you thought being in the same room as him was difficult before you slapped him across the face for giving your ass a playful squeeze, it’s nothing compared to how he plants more and more kisses onto your unwilling lips, leaving pretty dresses and lacy lingerie out on your (forcefully shared) bed for you, the way he starts piling on the compliments with such frequency and urgency that it nearly makes you sick.

Kotarou has always been a lot, truly, and once his feelings for you are thrown into the mix he becomes too much – and when you’re angry at him, ignoring him or hurling insults at him or denying his affection?

Well, the sadness quickly dissipates into fear, anxiety eating at every inch of his body because what if you hate him now?

You’re meant for one another, sure, but what if he’s messed it all up by not being enough for you?

It’s the stuff of nightmares, and in order to correct it he’ll instead become your nightmare.

You hear him before you see him – his keys jingle loudly in his pocket, the rhythmic noises of the padlock on the front door locking back up sounding too familiar now. You’re sitting at the dining table, staring down at the new book Kotarou had gifted you a week ago – you’ve read it twice already in that span of time, but as his footsteps approach the kitchen area, you resolve to read it once again.

His voice is loud as he calls your name, and you can hear the smile on his face as his footsteps quicken, his pace nearly turning to a run as he approaches you. His arms are around you before you can stop them, his words already pouring out as he starts telling you all about his day, rambling on about how Meian and Hinata had promised to take Kotarou out to a new bar later this week.

He’s still hugging you as he goes on to tell you that it’s supposed to be super good, I’ll have to let you know how it is! Maybe I can bring something home for you – I know your favorite’s always been –

Your mouth is moving before you can even really stop yourself, the words seeming to burst out without your control. Don’t tell me about all your plans in the outside world – not when I’m stuck here wasting away in this fucking apartment.

Your voice is low, uneven, and immediately Kotarou tenses, his eyebrows drawing together into a pout. What are you talking about? I just want to bring you a good drink and maybe we can watch that trashy rom-com you love and –

You cut him off again by harshly shaking off his arms from around you, moving your elbows out in an attempt to get him off of you.

Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to get me a drink! I don’t want you to do anything for me – you need to let me go, Kotarou. You can’t keep me stuck here forever! I should be out there getting a drink too, and going to the fucking store and seeing my friends and living my life! You’re – you’re a terrible person, and I hate you!

Your chest is heaving by the time you finish your spiel, having started off in that same low tone but eventually getting to a yell. He’d backed off of you, watching you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, his mind racing and trying to understand what you could possibly mean.

Stuck here? What were you saying?

You were happy here – you always return his hugs and his kisses and let him pull you closer to his chest at night and laugh at his jokes and smile at him and say you love him to and and and –

He moves back towards you, going to wrap his arms around you again, but this time you stand up and scurry off to the other end of table and now Kotarou can see the way your eyes are glossy, how you’re on the verge of tears and your lip is trembling.

Leave me alone, I can’t stand you! Not after what you’ve done to me!

And with that, you turn tail and run off to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Behind the door your hands shake, the tears finally falling as you slide down the wood, landing in a sitting position and cursing Kotarou for not putting locks on the interior doors.

A fresh wave of tears falls down your cheeks as you realize you can’t even use the toilet in peace, not without the constant, lingering threat of him watching you. It’s too much, and soon your head is in your hands, sobs wracking your body.

 Meanwhile, Kotarou is still standing frozen, his heart and mind racing because you’re obviously upset. He doesn’t know why you’re overreacting like this, but the image of you with tears in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings, prompting him to rush and grab his car keys once more, flying out the front door and practically speeding to the nearest store, his grocery cart full.

He’s home roughly twenty minutes later, tears already pooling in his own eyes because the more he’s thought about the state you’re in the more he comes to the conclusion that it’s his fault, that he must’ve made you angry or sad and now he has to fix it.

He has to show you that you don’t hate him – you’re just having a rough day, that’s all. You’re just sad that he’s been gone all day and hasn’t been home to give you the proper love and care that you deserve. His fingers grip the steering wheel tightly even to leave his knuckles white, his teeth grinding and gritting together as he presses down on the gas gauge just a hair harder, desperation and guilt weighing heavily in his chest because god, he hates seeing you so upset.

And as he races back up to the apartment with all the groceries in his arms, he’s quick to wrap his fist against the bathroom door, asking in a breathless voice if you’re okay or if you’re hurt.

You’re still quietly crying, sniffling heavily and trying to ignore him as he knocks again. He knows he could bust the door open, easily overpowering you and giving him direct access to you, but the hurt look in your eyes flashes through his mind again and he decides against it. No, he needs to prove that he’s good enough at reading you and figuring out what you need – he needs to prove himself to you, to make you like him again.

He calls your name through the door again, before resting his forehead against the wood and wincing. I’m sorry for whatever I did, baby, I promise I didn’t mean it!

 He hears you scoff at that, and bites his lip.

You know me, sometimes I just get carried away! I never meant to make you upset, you’ve got to know that. He pauses, shifting around the bags in his arms. You mean so much to me, I love you. I love you more than I think I should, but it’s okay! I’ll be better for you, I promise. I’ll be a better boyfriend and I’ll make you happy. Just – you just have to let me try, okay? Please baby, let me try.

It’s silent for a moment, and Kotarou’s chest feels tight.

Please, he tries one last time.

And although you know you shouldn’t and that you’ll regret it, some small part of you almost feels bad as you hear him sniffle through the wood, the sound of him crying obvious. You bite your lip, a small voice in the back of your head quietly wondering if you should believe him.

After all, does he really make you that unhappy? He’s always so eager and pathetically excited when you smile at him, and is it really so bad to have someone give you all their attention and time? You’re ashamed to admit some part of you almost likes it, and soon your body is moving before you can stop it.

The door opens and Kotarou’s heart is in his throat, the sight of you with red, puffy eyes and your lip caught between your teeth making something between a sigh of relief and a whimper slip from him.

The multitude of bags precariously balanced in his arms immediately have your eyes widening, the names of your favorite snacks peeking through the sacks and making that same pang in your heart twist again, the knowledge that he went out and bought all of this for you just because you were sad forcing you to take a step forward.

You don’t say anything, and Kotarou stares at you with wide eyes, a wild sort of look overtaking his parted lips and pink cheeks, and when you mumble something small, he has to physically strain himself to hear you.

You repeat your favorite drink, swallowed harshly and struggling to make eye contact with him. He mouths it back to himself, before slowly, shyly, smiling down at you.

You won’t regret, I promise! He laughs, the sound relieved, dropping all of the shopping bags on the ground and immediately scooping you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you nearly can’t breath, all the while that familiar, chiming laughter fills your ears.

I love you, I love you, I love you he repeats into your ear, keeping you close and occasionally squeezing tighter.

And even as something crumbles up inside you, you find yourself wrapping your arms around him too, shoving your face against his chest and nodding, your words muffled as you murmur the smallest  I love you, too back.

And Kotarou can only beam down at you, repeating the phrase over and over until all the words start slurring together, until all you can do is slowly relax into the warmth of his arms, into the feeling of someone completely and utterly loving you.

OVERALL DANGER:

6/10

Kotarou is less dangerous and honestly more pathetic than anything else.

He’s a fully grown man who’s desperate for someone to love, whose desperation becomes so deeply ingrained in his feelings towards you that he clutches onto you and never lets go.

Reading into your feelings festers delusions about how you feel towards him, feeding him pretty lies about how you really feel and what your actions really mean.

He builds a relationship between the two of you in his head, growing closer and more intimate with you than socially acceptable for a friendship, becoming more and more dependent on you and the praise you so willingly give him.

It’s heaven, really, and it leaves Kotarou blinded to the ugly side of his obsession.

He’s clingy and overly possessive, always touching you and calling you his and making sure that everyone sees the two of you together – that everyone knows that you’re his woman and he’s your man.

He wants to make sure that your relationship – fake or not – is idyllic, that you’re so happy with him that you could never even dream of wanting another man, never even entertain the notion of needing anyone else because Kotarou is everything you could ever want.

And while he won’t explicitly acknowledge any behavior that clashes with the pretty image of you and your love that he’s crafted in his head, he’s not immune to your negative reception of his touches and his rather aggressive affection.

You’ll have to walk on eggshells around him, careful to keep him from falling deeply into a spiral that could lead to your own slow demise being trapped under his thumb.

It’s stressful, a lifestyle that’ll leave you haggard and spent, tired to the point where slowly it will stop feeling like an act to return his hugs, to compliment his muscles, to tell him that you missed him while he was away at work.

It will feel less and less like a lie, the words slipping off your tongue so easily that it’ll leave you scared.

Because really, while Kotarou is overbearing and quite honestly scary with the way he barrels forwards and takes whatever he wants from you, eventually you’ll find yourself less and less angry, and more and more complacent. It could be worse, couldn’t it?

You have a warm bed to sleep in, a roof over your head, and food to eat.

And the man that holds you flush to his chest in said bed, pays the rent for said roof, and hand-selects only meals he knows you like can’t possibly be that bad, right?

After all, doesn’t it feel good to be needed?

[hotvinimon]

Prank

Bokuto Kotaro x Reader

A/n : "You are annoying prank" Images are not mine. Credits to the owner. Likes, Comments and re-blogs are appreciated. Please don't steal my work. Enjoy ;) Warnings - English is my second language, tears, kisses

Master List

Before saying yes to a commited relation, you always wondered what love looks like or feels like. Is it all pink like in movies ? Or totally unexpected like in dramas.

You couldn't stop chuckling to yourself as you whipped up some grub for your beloved boyfriend of 3 years, the bathroom rockstar.

Imagine this: a sunny summer day, Bokuto belting out tunes like he's on a world tour in the bathroom. While you made your Inari Sushi masterpiece, you stuck a cute flag in the tofu, thinking he'd devour it like a hungry legend.

Your kitchen shenanigans turned breakfast into a daily concert, and you were here for it, front-row seats and all!

Chilling on a kitchen stool, you snuggled up, scrolling through your phone and killing time. As you swiped away, you got hooked by a hilarious prank video of a couple.

Just then, the bathroom door clicked open, and Bokuto emerged, attempting an elegant pirouette, until he saw your unimpressed look from your kitchen perch.

He pulled off an epic gasp, covering his mouth with flair like a melodramatic actor and shouted, "Oh, behold the grand entrance! My precious! My drop-dead gorgeous darling baby!" With giant strides, like he's auditioning for a comedy troupe, he sauntered over on the wood floor, leaving just enough room for an over-the-top bow. You couldn't hold back your giggles.

"Wowza! Check out the size of that Inari sushi! Just what the doctor ordered! I must've won the karma lottery. Now, what else? Hmmm... Oh, I know! A good morning smooch to kickstart the day!" Ignoring any objections, he grabbed your face with his big hands and planted a juicy kiss. "As a token of my thanks, I'm whipping up some coffee, my sweetie pie!"

Late mornings are rare in your apartment due to both of yours busy schedule. But due to graciousness of your manager and Meian, you finally got some time to catch what's slipping up.

You watched his coffee-making skills, both of you sipping from cute matching mugs, and that coffee scent filled up the kitchen. He plopped your mug down, and you gave him a quick kiss. As he sat in his chair across from you, he eyeballed the yummy breakfast you'd whipped up with an eager grin.

He zeroed in on the sushi like a ravenous sushi monster, his lips dancing with excitement. Taking a huge bite, he made sure that sushi didn't stand a chance. You couldn't help but soak up his dramatic, operatic hum, followed by an award-winning moan.

It was like a foodie's Shakespearean theater! As he devoured, you remembered that prank video from earlier. You leaned in, resting your head on your left hand, grinning mischievously.

"Listen, babe, you know I adore you, right? But..." Bokuto's eyes locked onto yours, begging for more. Despite his heartstring-pulling expression, you kept going. "Maybe, just maybe, ease up on the childishness. It's starting to get a tad bit... well, you know, annoying."

His eyes got as big as saucers, and he froze mid-bite, never breaking your gaze. He blinked once, then twice, and a puzzled frown crept over his handsome face. He practically inhaled his food, trying to get words out, "You think I'm... annoying? Really?" His voice quivered, barely louder than a whisper, breaking your resolve.

Your hand reached out for his, but it was game over – tears welled up in his eyes. Panic mode activated, and you sprang up, cursing your snap judgment. "No, no, no, my bad, baby! I was just messing around! None of that was for real. I watched this dumb video of someone pranking their partner, and I thought it'd be hilarious to see your reaction…"

You pulled back and gently grabbed his chin. "Hey, look at me." You swiveled his head to lock eyes with you. "I'm so sorry, babe. I'm head over heels for you, you know that, right?" He zipped his lips for a sec, steering clear of eye contact. "You're so cruel! Why'd you do that to your lovely boyfriend? I really believed you were going to leave me..." His lip wobbled, a cute pout forming on his lips.

"Like, never ever would I want you to change! I'm all about your goofy vibes, you get me? I'm genuinely sorry, honey... Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? Cross my heart, I'll make it up to you!" Your thumb stroked his cheek, sending a silent plea.

"Okay, but swear you won't pull something like this again!" He crossed his arms and huffed. "I swear!" You nodded big time, showering his face with kisses. You started with his forehead, then both cheeks, and finally, a smooch that lingered on his pouty lips. You milked that last kiss a little longer, feeling the corners of his lips curl up. When you finally pulled away, your grin was on fleek, and your way happier boyfriend looked back at you.

"Well, now that you promised to make it up to me, can I cop some of your sushi too?" you deadpanned. Maybe this was all part of his plot to score extra breakfast, and you were totally down with it, especially when he gave you that cheeky, smug grin.

Before saying yes to a commited relation, you always wondered what love looks like or feels like. Is it all pink like in movies ? Or totally unexpected like in dramas.

Maybe this is what love looks like. A drama queen hogging your breakfast with dried fat tears on his blushed cheeks.

V-Chan's Dilly Dally

You can skip this part.

I really hope you guys would like it. I kind of changed the theme. I'm working on an akaashi fic and a gangster fic.

If you have any request, I would love to serve.

Comment down for tag list 😉

B-Bye

Love you all

💗

[missmiyao]

Trapped (Bokuto Kotaro)

This is my first time posting fanfiction here. Please, be kind to me and my bad grammars. This is a story of Haikyuu!! Bokuto and you. Yes, no name mention but the story emphasize heavily on female reader.

Warning: Dark content, use of drug, rape, non consensual, blackmailing, cursing, use of alcohol, mention of making out, yandere.

It's such a blurry night. You don't even know where you're now. Hell, you don't even remember why you're here in the first place. The loud music, the sensual and awkward movements of people dancing, the way some people tried to grind on your ass- men and women, makes everything feels more hazy than before. 

Ah, you're in a nightclub. Finally, you remember.

You're not even want to be here in the first place. It's just some stupid reunion of Karasuno High School Volleyball Club. Hitoka Yachi, one of your closest friend and senior during high school- also your other partner as manager when she is in second year, begging that you would come with her.

Today is the day of the match of MSBY Black Jackals versus Schweiden Adlers and almost everyone from the high school club is here, celebrating in the nightclub. Also, there are a few members of Black Jackals around and you hate it. You want to go back home.

Now, you don't even know where Yachi is. Perhaps, she went to the bathroom. Perhaps, she's having one of the best hook up with her life with who's the guy again? Ah. Yamaguchi. Whatever it is, it's not your place to judge.

Everyone is now legal, you just turned 23 a few days ago. You barely finished your degree in college. Now, you just want to find a better job than you're working right now because your boss is such an ass even though you're just started working. Hell, you're in the company less than 3 months and chaos already ensued.

Your head feels throbbing, as if it's going to explode in a minute. You need to leave.

As you walk on the dance floor, just wanting to exit through the front door while pushing people that keep dancing and annoy you to no end, someone pulls your arm. You want to yell, really. Your head is pounding, and this person might be the cause if you drop dead right here and now.

"Hey! Going home already?" Someone calls for your name and seriously, you don't even know this guy well. Yes, he's someone in Black Jackals team but who cares?

You don't reply to his advances, simply shove away his hand that might be gripping way too hard on your arm. It's really painful or maybe, it's just an exaggeration? Maybe, you just drink too much tonight and need to call it a night.

"Hm." You said that after you feel he keeps tugging you, as if he didn't want you to leave. Perhaps it's just your imagination.

"Hey, you okay? You don't look good." Urgh, just fucking leave. You hesitate to answer now, but still, you pull away your arm from him before walks away. Maybe it's the heels you are wearing. Maybe it's just the alcohol but somehow, with the way you walk, you could even tell that you're not walking straight.

You wonder why.

The man immediately grab your waist as he noticed you're about to fall on your knees on the dance floor. He looks worried.

"Let's leave. You should sober up." You feel confuse all of sudden. Your legs feels wobbly. You're yawning too, you're sure of it. Yet, the feeling like you are about to collapse to the ground are also there.

You let the man brought you. You could not think of any way to survive this. He carefully hold your waist, slowly helps you to walk with him. Hm, did he called for cab? You didn't know. You could see he's using his phone but you could not even read the juggling words on the screen. 

You feels like the world is collapsing. Fuck, why everything feels so confusing?

Now, you're in a car with him. You could smell him since he's too close to your body. He's way taller, bigger than you but he hold you with such care. You leans to his chest, without any intention because your head hurts once again. You might be whimpering without you noticed too.

Somehow, your visions darkened right after the car stop.

*

You don't even know what is happening. The soft material of the duvet and the bed sheets greet your back and you feels like you're going to fall asleep. Deep slumber if you could. Some muttering from someone- the man that brought you here earlier is not something you could catch. You could not even hear shit. He's mumbling and you are sleepy.

You just want to sleep, that's all.

"So pretty... Finally, I could have you all by myself." 

Did you hear that wrong? Perhaps not. Maybe, you're really sleepy and start hearing things. Stupid drink, stupid alcohol, stupid reunion party. Stupid people that doesn't even want to hear your super pathetic life after graduation from high school.

You feel something pressed your body deeper into the sheets. It's very heavy. You feels like you're losing your breath at this moment. Although, the last thing you see is him- smiling like a psycho as he's going on top of your body. No way.

This must be a dream.

You hope so, but you immediately passed out.

*

It's the sound of fucking loud alarm that wake you up in the morning. You feels hazy a little, but otherwise, it is a good sleep. That's okay, until you feel the soreness coming from the lower part of your body. Confused is all you feel right now.

You don't want to think any of it, especially when you see a man is sleeping right next to you on the same bed. You want to yell, you want to scream at him. You want to hit him tons of times but you couldn't. Instead, you start crying, confused and feels vulnerable at this moment.

Whimpering mess, very, pathetic of you.

He suddenly woke up because of your damn crying. He looks irritated when his sleep has been interrupted, but when he sees you, he smile.

He smile as if he had done nothing at all.

"Good morning, sweet girl. How's your sleep?" He sounds so sweet like he always do. He always speak softly and sweetly to you when he meet you before. Even during high school. 

"I- I- what... What did you..." You can't say more words. Every syllable that you want to spit and throw at him stuck in your throat. Burning sensation is what you feel in your throat now.

"Shush, sweet girl. It's still early. Stupid alarm that Tsum Tsum set as prank for me. Let's just go back to sleep, okay?" He tap your cheek with both of his palms. He act as if you two are in relationship.

"Bokuto... I-"

"Shush. No worries. Everything will be all fine, ya?" No, it will not. What crack did he took?

"Why- why I'm here with you?" You could only speak as slow as your voice could get. Perhaps he didn't hear anything but at least you got your words out your pathetic mouth and that's an accomplishment.

"Oh! I brought you here." He smile. The curtains flapping a few times, so you could see the that the outside of your room you're now in is still dark. Indeed, it is still early.

"No. I mean, why I'm here- naked, under this sheets with you?" You feel like your heart is about to burst when you ask that question. Tears start forming in your eyes. It's such a surprised for Bokuto to see you cry so fast like this.

Never in his life he ever see you cry like that, not even when Karasuno won the third place during your second year in high school.

"Ah, that. Well listen sweet gi-"

"Did you raped me, Bokuto?" You cut his sentence, as your breath is going faster and faster each second. The dread of waiting for him to answer is not something you like. It's like a knife cutting your neck deeper and deeper each second passing.

"I would not call it rape, okay! We made love, and that's what happened last night." He wipes your tears, cooing you at the same time. His tone is stern, contradict to the soft acts he is doing now.

"No- No. Fuck, no! We did not make love or anything- I passed out. You- You took advantage of me during my vulnerable state!" You yelled at him, pushing away his hands away from you or at least your face. You feel disgusted.

Yes, you're not a virgin but this is not okay at all.

"Of course you passed out. You took a medicine." He pout when you hit his hands away. He moves a little bit, making the duvet fall from his upper body- showing his naked chest. 

"I took a what? Medicine? No. I did not do such thing. I don't even have medication that I should take!" You're tired talking to this man. You wanted to leave, but you feel weak. Your body could not move and your tears are flowing even more.

"Shhh. No, sweet girl. You did take a medicine. I put it in your drink last night. It worried me if it's not working but hey, it is!" He sounds way too happy. You wipes your tears, shaking your head in disbelief.

"You spiked my drink?!"

"That's a harsh way to put it in words, but I did put something in your drink." He didn't look guilty. You feel disgusted by this man- perhaps you should call him a pig, a menace to society and he should just die. 

He should-

"Don't even think that you can even leave me, or even tell anyone about this." His tone change and that scared you. It makes you shiver and you feel it up until your spine. You are just about to leave the bed, wanting to find at least pieces of your clothes.

"W- what? What makes you think I would keep quiet about this?" You stare at him, and he chuckles.

"I must say, you're really pretty even though you're sleeping. I could jack off of your pictures, video or anything that involves you for years. Hell, even forever." His words makes you cover your mouth. That's when you find a camera, resting just at the vanity table. You could see an indicator from the camera that it is still recording.

"Bo- You recorded us?"

"No one will ever see that if you keep your mouth shut, sweet girl."

*

"Woah, you two are dating? Congrats!" Yachi gives you a hug and you somehow managed to fake your smile and hug her back.

"Yeah..." It's such an awkward reply. It's so fucking awkward. 

Today is the All Star Special Match between Team A and Team B. The match doesn't start for a few hours but you're already here. You don't even want to be here in the first place. Yet, because of one thing... You're trapped. You're entangled to him to death or perhaps until he's bored of you.

"Woah, really? Congratulations Bokkun!" Atsumu suddenly appear out of nowhere with another member of Team A. You already feel embarrased. No- you want to kill yourself. Can the ground under you collapse and trap you underneath?

"Hahaha! Thanks. We might as well getting married sooner." What? Marriage? The fuck he's high about? You don't even agree on this stupid relationship in the first place. Why he insist of trapping you further?

You wants to cry, really. You look at Yachi in the eyes, hoping she see your 'help me' face but somehow, she looks excited. She looks beyond happy for the announcement of your so called marriage.

"What? Who's getting married?" Washio arrived too after he put away his phone- just after he called his older sister that wished him good luck.

"Bokuto." Kiryu tap Bokuto's shoulder, as if congratulating him and you.

Fuck, it's like everyone congratulating you and happy that he drugged you, raped you, blackmailed you and now, he wants to marry you? 

"Woah, congratulations. I didn't know you two have a thing for each other. Although, Fukurodani always know that this man here always looking at you." Washio smile a little bit and that's when you know, he's obsessed with you since high school. 

You never talk to him unless he speak first, but you only reply by gesture, too scared to talk to him because he look at you like a predator. Hell, he's not even a high school student during the first time you see him. He only came because he wants to see a man named Akaashi and during that time, he is in his semester break. How does little interaction leads to this?

What did you do in life to make him interested in you?

"Really? That's so sweet man!"

"Ya two don't even from same prefecture. Congrats again eh?" 

"Must be from training camp! Woah, love is blossoming!" 

No. It is not.

You want to yell at them that they are wrong. You want to tell them that Bokuto is a big fat liar, manipulator, rapist and he drugged and has a dirt of you. You see the video by yourself and you're not happy about it. It's real, and he has tons of back up when you tried to delete it from before.

Yet, you could only smile. Fake your smile, fake your gesture and such because in the end...

You're trapped, with him.

End

[apollodarling-writes]

yandere bokuto please please please ty 😩

YANDERE! BOKUTO KOTARO HCS!

tws: stalking, manipulation, forced intimacy, gaslighting, attention seeking behavior, self harm, suicide threats, murder, gore, kidnapping, underwear sniffing, breaking and entering, noncon/dubcon, verbal/emotional abuse, domestic violence, mind break,

Bokuto would develop these feelings extremely quickly. He wouldn’t exactly know that these feelings/urges/thoughts are wrong, either.

Bokuto absolutely hates your friends. He hates that they take so much of your time; the solution? He kills them.

When Bokuto kills for you, it’s messy. Very messy. He’s quick to clean up evidence and will always leave the body somewhere the authorities can find it- though, they’ll have to search a bit.

Despite Bokuto’s seemingly air-headed nature, he’s very knowledgeable about forensic science. He finds it very fascinating (it also comes in handy).

When you begin to lean on Bokuto, he’s over the moon. All of his hard work is paying off!

If he lets out a few suspicious words, he’ll gaslight you into thinking that you heard him wrong. He didn’t mean it that way [Name]!

If you distance yourself from him, he’ll cut himself in a few places that are noticeable and when his sleeves ‘accidentally’ ride up around you, you’ll end up taking care of him more often

Bokuto manipulates you into leaning on him more often and will re-wire your brain into thinking about him and only him.

Bokuto is the type of yandere that will wholeheartedly research things that you’re interested in so that you’ll like him more.

Bokuto will mold himself into your ideal guy- why? Because you’re everything he wants and he wants to be everything you want!

Bokuto will break into your house at night after learning to lock pick and steal a few pairs of your underwear and shirts/hoodies. He just loves your scent so much.

When you seem to be making more friends, or even doing homework more than you’re talking to him, he’ll call you saying that he’s scared and that he’s been ‘in his head’. That he’s worried he might hurt himself again and ask if he can come over for the night.

If you try to distance yourself, no worries. He’ll just kidnap you. He’ll lock you in his basement, in the portion of the wall that he’s sectioned off and soundproofed so that you’ll never leave him again.

Bokuto is kinda delusional, so he thinks that when he’s taking advantage of you and he hears a few whimpers, that you do want the treatment he’s giving you.

Don’t even think of escaping. He’ll break your legs and arms if he has to.

He’ll force kisses, hugs, cuddles, sexual intimacy, and make you say that you love him. If you don’t… god help you.

Be very cautious about what you say to him. He can go from happy to furious in the blink of an eye. You don’t want to see him angry, either.

Bokuto’s punishments are always physical. He’ll bruise you, break your bones, use your body for his pleasure, deny you food and water, the list goes on.

When you begin to submit, Bokuto will fee quite smug. His efforts are once again paying off.

When stockholm kicks in, and you finally say ‘I love you’ first, Bokuto will shower you in love.

“[Name]… I’m sorry to burden you so often… but, do you think I can come stay over for the night? I’m having those thoughts again…”

“Shut the fuck up. I’ll break your fucking jaw if you say another god damn word!”

“[Name], I love you. I love you so so so so so so so much. You love me too… don’t you?”

“God, fuck, you feel so good, baby… hah~ don’t clench down on me like that-“

[shingo-naizuke]

•~•My Masterlist WIP•~•

•°Ikemen vampire°•

Arthur Conan doyle

Vincent Van Gogh

Theodorus Van Gogh

Napoleon Bonaparte

Leonardo Da Vinci

Isaac Newton

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Jean d'Arc

Le Comte

'The cruel Prince'

Cardan Greenbriar

-*Shatter me*-

Kenji Kishimoto

Aaron Warner

○Bsd○

▪︎Armed Detective agency▪︎

Dazai Osamu

Ranpo Edogawa

Kunikida Doppo

Atsushi Nakajima

¤Port Mafia▪︎

Chuuya Nakahara

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

♧Decay of Angel♤

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Nikolai Gogol

Sigma

•~Hunting Dogs~•

Jono Saigiko

Tetcho Suehiro

♥︎Guild♠︎

Edgar Alan Poe

Francis Scott Fitzgerald

{Haikyuu}

~•°Karasuno°•~

Tsukishima Kei

Tobio Kageyama

Hinata Shoyo

Yamaguchi Tadashi

Koshi Sugawara

Yuu Nishinoya

●Aoba Johsai○

Toru Oikawa

Akira Kunimi

¤Nekoma¤

Kenma Kozume

Lev Haiba

Tetsuro Kuroo

☆Fukurodani☆

Kotaro Bokuto

Kenji Akaashi

◇Shiratorizawa◇

Wakatoshi Ushijima

Tsutomu Goshiki

Eita Semi

Satori Tendo

♧Inarizaki♧

Shinsuke Kita

Osamu Miya

Atsumu Miya

■Genshin■

Scaramouche

Diluc

Kaeya

Venti

Tighnari

Kaveh

Heizou

Baizhu

Childe

-~•°Honkai star rail°•~-

Blade

Dan Heng

Jing Yuan

Gepard

Sampo Koski

Loucha

Welt

Arlan

Genre i write

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Comfort

What I don't write

Rape

Yandere tendencies (I will write it sometimes, but to my liking, I won't write yandere tendencies like non-consensual or things like that)

Smut with minors (all characters will be grown up)

Kinks like pissing or vomiting

Torture

Character x character

Oc x character

Toxic relationships

Requests are open :)

English in not my first language so, sorry for any mistake

[h8ani]

Updated Rules List

With my new updated list I’m going to be listing all the requests I’ll be accepting, what fandoms I write for and how you should go about requesting them :)

But also if you are an ageless/blank blog or a minor please do not request me, follow me or interact with me as you will be blocked. thank you.

I also write both nsfw & sfw content, I also label it on my writings I post. I don’t shy away from anything really so if you’re unsure just send me a message and I’ll clarify if I do!

Things I’ll write for: yandere, noncon/dubcon, fluff, angst, smut, age gap, stepcest, professor/student, sensei/student, spanking, choking, slapping, torture, abuse, female x male, drug use, use of sex toys, issues with eating, etc type shit

Things I won’t write for: anal, piss/shit play, boy x boy, girl x girl (I’m not super comfortable in my writing yet to write for same sex couples yet I hope you guys understand!)

Fandoms I write for:

Attack on Titan - Levi Ackerman, Eren Yeager, Zeke Yeager, Armin Arlert, Reiner Braun, Bertholdt Hoover, Erwin Smith, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Porco Galliard

Hunter x Hunter - Chrollo, Feitan, Shalnark, Kurapika, Leorio, Hisoka, Ging, Illumi, Wing, Kite, Pokkle

Naruto - Naruto Uzumaki, Sasuke Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha, Obito Uchiha, Shisui Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, Minato Namikaze, Shikamaru Nara, Gaara, Neji Hyuga, Kiba Inuzuka, Deidara, Sasori, Pain/Yahiko, Iruka Umino, Shino Aburame, Hidan, Kankuro, Sai, Genma Shiranui, Izumo Kamizuki, Kotetsu Hagane, Hayate Gekko

Tokyo Revengers - Takemichi Hanagaki, Manjiro Sano, Chifuyu Matsuno, Shuji Hanma, Takashi Mitsuya, Kazutora Hanemiya, Tetta Kisaki, Atsushi Sendo, Nahoya Kawata, Souya Kawata, Ken Ryuguji, Shinichiro Sano, Ran Haitani, Rindou Haitani, Naoto Tachibana, Izana Kurokawa, Inui Seishu

Tokyo Ghoul - Ken Kaneki, Hideyoshi Nagachika, Uta, Ayato Kirishima, Nishio Nishiki, Koutarou Amon

Ouran Highschool Host Club - Kyoya Ootori, Tamaki Suoh, Takashi Morinozuka, Hitachiin Hikaru, Hitachiin Kaoru,

Wind Breaker - Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Kyotaro Sugashita, Hayato Suo, Mitsuki Kiryuu, Ren Kaji, Hajime Umemiya, Toma Hiragi, Choji Tomiyama, Jo Togame, Kota Sako

Haikyuu - Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, Kei Tsukishima, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Daichi Sawamura, Koshi Sugawara, Asahi Azumane, Yu Nishinoya, Ryunosuke Tanaka, Keishin Ukai, Tooru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Tetsuroo Kuroo, Kenma Kozume, Kentaro Kyotani, Kotaro Bokuto, Keiji Akaashi, Eita Semi, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Yuji Terushima, Naoyasu Kuguri, Shinsuke Kita, Atsumu Miya, Rintaro Suna, Osamu Miya

Fruits Basket - Shigure Sohma, Kyo Sohma, Kureno Sohma, Yuki Sohma, Hatori Sohma, Hatsuharu Sohma, Momiji Sohma

Demon Slayer - Tanjiro Kamado, Zenitsu Agatsuma, Inosuke Hashibira, Genya Shinazugawa, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Gyomei Himejima, Muichiro Tokito, Kyojuro Rengoku, Giyu Tomioka, Tengen Uzui, Obanai Iguro, Muzan Kibutsuji, Doma, Akaza

Prompt Requests/Writing Requests in general:

I will usually have a link of the prompts to request from, from the original post.

If you’d like to request something I wrote just state what content you’d like and who the character is/member he is

I default by writing in fem! reader pov so please state if you’d like gn! reader

Reaction Requests:

State the type of reaction you’d like (example: reaction of them kissing you mid argument)

For any anime reactions just state the anime, boys you’d like the reaction for

[reikaaokii]

→ NAVIGATION

— “SNOWING, FALLING AND GATHERING, A NOBLE HEART! I’M CURE BEAUTY!”

hi, my name is evangeline !

i write fanfiction for multiple fandoms (found below)

my carrd is here to know more about me

if my inbox is closed, it means requests are closed !

the divider is from @/cafekitsune

→ GUIDELINES

i do not write smut or any dark themes such as abuse, yandere themes, cheating, toxic relationships, etc. (i'll only write cheating/toxic relationships if the character/reader is not those actions.) i may write for a few dark themes under specific circumstances.

i don't write major character death. i may write near-death experiences.

i have my own life outside of the screen, so requests may vary on how long they take. please be patient with me.

please be respectful with your requests.

please be specific with your requests, especially with gender/pronouns. if not specified, i will default to a gender-neutral reader with they/them pronouns.

→ MASTERLISTS

reverse: 1999 masterlist (wip . . .)

demon slayer masterlist (wip . . .)

haikyuu masterlist (wip . . .)

the umbrella academy masterlist (wip . . .)

→ CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR

reverse: 1999

blonney, click, diggers, dikke, horropedia, jessica, medicine pocket, pavia, sonetto, sotheby, tennant, the fool

demon slayer

giyu tomioka, mitsuri kanroji, obanai iguro, gyomei himejima, muichiro tokito, shinobu kochou, kyojuro rengoku, tanjiro kamado, kanao tsuyuri, inosuke hashibira, genya shinazugawa, aoi kanzaki, tamayo, yushiro

haikyuu

daichi sawamura, koushi sugawara, asahi azumane, tobio kageyama, shoyo hinata, kei tsukishima, tadashi yamaguchi, tooru oikawa, hajime iwaizumi, issei matsukawa, takahiro hanamaki, kentarou kyoutani, tetsurou kuroo, kenma kozume, lev haiba, kotaro bokuto, keiji akaashi, shinsuke kita, aran ojiro, atsumu miya, osamu miya, rintaro suna, wakatoshi ushijima, satori tendou, tsutomu goshiki

the umbrella academy

luther hargreeves, diego hargreeves, klaus hargreeves, ben hargreeves (☂ & 𓅪), viktor hargreeves, sloane hargreeves

[ketsueki-writes]

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 ᴀ��ᴅ 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” 

come and join our event! 

like this story? you might like this one!  

[seijorhi]

Unprofessional

as promised, the MSBY manager AU 💕 

MSBY Black Jackals x female reader

TW non-con, smut, gang-bang, nsfw(ish)

You second guess yourself, now that the Captain’s right here in front of you, fidgeting in your seat like a little kid sent to the principal’s office.

In all fairness, you were the one to ask him to come in early, figuring that it’d be easier to say what you needed to before everyone else arrived, rather than having it eat away at you while you waited for practice to end.

Yet under the scrutiny of his dark eyes, you wonder whether you should have just let it slide. At least for a few more weeks. Taking a formal complaint to the higher ups was a step too far, and you hadn’t wanted to bother the coaches this close to the start of the season for something so… trivial. Meian seemed like the better choice. He’d listen to you and be able to help; you trust the Captain and you know the team does, too. If he told them to back off, they would, you’re almost positive. But now that he’s here, there’s this nagging feeling of-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you flinch at the sudden contact, jerking back to the present. 

“Hey,” he says, a slight frown marring his features. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me - don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been a little out of it lately.”

There’s nothing but concern in his eyes - no judgement, or irritation, and something inside of you eases just a fraction. This is Meian, right from the moment you signed onto the team - granted, only a few months ago - he’s done his utmost to make sure you’ve felt welcomed and part of the team.

You take a breath, offering him a small, tight smile. “I-it’s um, some of the guys- well a few, I guess…” your fingers twist in your lap, and Meian squeezes your shoulder lightly in response. 

“Miya hitting on you, right? Getting a little outta hand?” he surmises. 

And for a split second, you’re surprised. But really maybe you shouldn’t be. Miya’s the one who’s overt about it, drawling stupid, cheesy pickup lines whenever you walk in, slinging an arm around your side and dragging you close, all the winks and the innuendos about as subtle as a tank.

Of course Meian noticed, but that’s just how Atsumu is. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it because nobody but you seems to mind. And maybe, if that’s all that it was, you’d be able to grin and bear it, but it’s not. 

“Yes and… no.”

His brows draw together. “No?”

Taking another deep breath, you begin to tell him everything. Miya’s incessant flirting, all the hugs and touches that fell just the wrong side of what you considered professional. They’re a tactile team, with one notable exception, and you understand that, but the way Bokuto, Hinata and Miya feel comfortable just grabbing you and dragging you around, interrupting you in the middle of whatever task you’re doing to make you pay attention to them is a little alarming. 

And then there was the incident last week, when Inunaki had caught you smiling at your phone during their cooldown and called you on it, which drew the attention of the rest of the team - only to have Bokuto snatch it out of your hands and start reading through your messages. Of course, Meian was there for that, putting a stop to it only when the wing-spiker had started reading them aloud, much to your mortification.

But he hadn’t been there two afternoons later, when an old friend of yours had swung by to pick you up and you’d had to deal with half the team glaring daggers at him over your shoulder like a pack of overprotective mother hens.

Even Sakusa, who usually kept his nose out of the others’ nonsense, stood off to the side with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, glowering at your friend until you both disappeared from sight.

The texts that blew up your phone in the hours that followed crossed so many lines, it honestly scared you a little. 

Meian doesn’t say a word as you talk, the words flowing easier the more you tell him. It’s not that anything they’re doing is wrong per se. They’re not hurting you, and you think that aside from Miya, the team’s attitude is coming from a good place - some protective, irritating big brother kind of thing. 

There’s nothing wrong with it, except the fact that you don’t want any part of it. You’re a professional and this is a job - a new one, an important one. If you ever want anybody to take your dreams of coaching a pro team seriously you cannot have so much as a whisper of anything less than absolute professionalism. God forbid, if rumours start spreading that you were sleeping with somebody on the team you can pretty much kiss your dreams goodbye. 

At the end of it, Meian’s chin is resting on his fist, faint dissatisfaction pinching at his face, and for a moment, you’re worried that he’s about to chew you out for wasting his time - you know he’s stressed with the start of the season only days away - but he only sighs, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

“Thank you for telling me, I’ll talk to them.”

And it’s like this huge weight just falls off your shoulders and suddenly you can breathe easy. “Thanks, really,” you tell him, and the smile on your face is genuine this time.

“Anytime.”

—

You don’t know when he finds the time to pull them all aside, but the next morning when you walk into the gym and Bokuto catches sight of you, golden eyes widening in delight, he starts to bound towards you-

“Bokuto.”

-and stops mid-stride, face falling like a kicked puppy. His shoulders slump, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain, watching the both of you through narrowed eyes.

He doesn’t say another word to the wing-spiker, turning back around to continue his conversation with Adriah - something about tightening up their blocks before the game against the Adlers - and despite the fact you can see half the team’s attention drawn towards you both, none of them say a word either. 

It’s strange, compared to the last few weeks, it’s suddenly like you’re a ghost. They thank you when you pass them their towels and bottles, and for once Hinata sits still when you help him tape up his ankle, though his eyes still follow your every movement with unnerving focus.

They’re polite and respectful, but unless you’re directly addressing them or they need something, it’s like you don’t exist. 

Even Atsumu manages to keep his comments to himself when it comes time for the team to stretch out, though judging from the scowl on his face whenever he glances towards the Captain, he’s not particularly thrilled about it. 

There’s one more day before game day, and they’ve got bigger things to worry about, but for you it’s like you can suddenly breathe easy. You don’t have to tiptoe around your own discomfort, you can just do your job and help them. It’s not that you hate them, not even Atsumu - though he does grate on your nerves at times - you just can’t afford to let them fuck this up for you.

They’re your team, and you’ll help them and you’ll stand on the sidelines and cheer and support them until you’re red in the face. You’ll celebrate with them and commiserate if they lose, but there has to be a line. 

And maybe finally they’re realising that.

Meian sends you home while the others head off to the showers with a clap on your shoulder. “Go home. Today’s been long enough, and you need your rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

You don’t fight him on it, already feeling the exhaustion creeping through your body. 

But after months in this job, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to find that by the time you’ve had a quick catch-up with the coaches about tomorrow’s training, changed and gathered up your things, you find yourself falling into step with Sakusa, freshly showered and also on his way out. 

Dark eyes find yours, but he doesn’t say a word - at least until the two of you reach the big double doors at the gym’s entrance. “Do you need a lift home?”

It’s rare of him to offer, but you suppose that it’s later than you’d normally leave, the sun already disappearing beneath the horizon. Nevertheless, you shake your head, “No, it’s only a ten minute walk, I’ll be okay,” you say. And almost as an afterthought you smile and add, “Thank you, though.”

He regards you silently for a moment, but simply shrugs his shoulders, “Fine.”

Sakusa turns to leave, heading off to the carpark when a sudden thought strikes you, and before you can think better of it, you call out to him, “Your lineshots were incredible today, by the way. You played well. And please don’t forget we’ve got an early start tomorrow!”

It’s a pointless statement, on both counts. Sakusa doesn’t crave praise the way some of his teammates do, and you can imagine how little it means coming from you of all people. He’s also the most punctual, usually the first in, preferring to get stretched and warmed up before the rest of the team arrived. But the change in plans was kind of last minute and a reminder never hurts.

Sakusa pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you once more over his shoulder. “I know,” he says, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear there’s something different in his eyes as he stares back at you. Not angry per se, but… you can’t quite put a finger on it. It’s odd, you think, out of character for the usually aloof spiker. “Captain told us.”

—

It’s still dark when you arrive at the gym, and the lights are all off, not a soul in sight. That in itself doesn’t strike you as odd though, checking your phone you see that there’s still twenty or so minutes until you were all supposed to meet, but you would have thought that the coaches at least would’ve been here, or Sakusa maybe, if not Meian.

“Mornin’ princess,” a familiar voice drawls, and you jump a little at the sudden weight of his arm draping over your shoulders.

Atsumu’s smile is far too wide and upbeat considering it’s only a little after six in the morning. You’re used to a dead-stare, don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-had-caffeine Atsumu, and it’s almost startling enough to make you forget the arm he has around you.

Either that, or you’re just bewildered that he’s actually arrived early for once in his life.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you mutter, trying to shove his arm off of you as you walk in tandem towards the gym. It’s a pointless endeavour - he replaces it a moment later, tugging you closer. “And early. Do you normally do this the day before the season starts, or can we expect to see you bright and early every morning for training?”

The corner of his lip quirks into a lazy smirk, and Atsumu laughs, “Nah, I’m actually late. All the others are already here.”

You’re halfway through fishing for the keys when he just pushes the door open, and you falter. “Wait- they’re here already?” you glance inside, and the lights are all still off and there’s not a soul in sight, but- “I thought Meian said we were meeting at 6:30.”

There’s something in the way that his smirk widens that’s almost unsettling, but he’s already pushing you forward, flicking on the lights as you pass.

“Oh, he did.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but it’s too early and you’re too tired to try and decipher Atsumu’s cryptic bullshit. He already has you on edge with how close he’s got you - you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne invading your nose. “Fine, whatever. Just- just put your stuff away, grab the others if they’re here and I’ll see you on the court in a few minutes.”

You try to shrug off his arm, but his grip only tightens, “Nope,” he says, firmly steering the both of you in the direction of the locker room.

“Miya,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut. You can already feel the beginnings of a headache taking root in your skull, but Atsumu just chuckles lightly, patting your shoulder. 

“Relax, wouldja? Jeeze, yer so tense!” 

With no other sound but the eerie echoing of your footsteps across the linoleum floors, his laugh is too loud, too grating. It sets you on edge, and you have to bite back a scowl of your own and remind yourself that you only have to put up with him a little longer - just until Meian gets here. Unperturbed by your silent irritation, Atsumu continues, “We know how hard you’ve been working lately. We came in early to say thank you, y’know, for everythin’ ya do for us.”

And for one split second, regret fills you, snuffing out the spark of irritation simmering through your veins. Here you are, seconds away from slapping the setter when he is - for the first time in his life - actually trying to do something nice for you. You sigh quietly, smoothing your expression over as he slows down and pulls you to a stop.

He lets you slide out from under his arm, your back to the locker room door, moving so that he’s standing directly in front of you. You open your mouth to speak, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but once again, Atsumu beats you to it. “Yer the best manager we’ve ever had.” He takes your hand in his, twining long fingers with yours and steps closer.

Too close.

“Atsu-”

“We really do care about you - love ya, even -  which is why it kinda felt like a kick in the balls when the Cap came and told us ya wanted some space. Said we were bein’ too ‘overbearing’ and ‘inappropriate’, just cause we want ya nice and close.” Dark eyes harden, “It hurt us, baby. You gotta realise that.”

The grip he has on your hand is painfully tight, but you don’t have a moment to focus on that. Not as Atsumu sweeps forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours. Hungry. Demanding. A tongue snaking between your lips, melding with your own.

His arm snakes behind you to open the door, and for a moment you’re stumbling backwards into the dark-

Only it’s not dark, not as the blinding fluorescent lights flicker on around you, and you’re not stumbling, not as you collide with a warm, muscular chest and strong arms find your middle to steady you. 

“You took too long,” Bokuto whines, and you’re yanked from Atsumu’s hold and spun, barely having a second to register the gleaming golden eyes before he’s dragging you into a needy kiss of his own.

Dizzy, lightheaded, your heart thumping erratically, you can’t think straight as his hot, wet mouth moves against yours. Greedy fingers grope and squeeze at your body - utterly frozen in shock, pliant under his touch. 

“Aw, quit yer whining, Bokkun,” the blonde growls as Bokuto finally pulls back enough to grant you a few precious gulps of air, gazing at you with a kind of love sick adoration that makes your stomach clench. 

A scoff sounds behind Bokuto, “A bit rich, coming from you, Miya. The two of you just are as bad as each other.”

It’s then that you realise the three of you aren’t alone. Wide eyed, on the edge of hyperventilating, you glance over your shoulder to find two pairs of eyes watching; russet eyes blown wide, enraptured, and swirling black depths, narrowed and glaring over at the blonde. 

Hinata and Sakusa.

It doesn’t feel real. Even with everything they’ve done so far, their possessive behaviour, their smothering affection - even the kisses, it feels like a fever dream. 

Even as Atsumu’s fingers are tugging your jacket off and Bokuto drags you forward, you can’t bring yourself to accept it, to properly fight back against it.

(Not that it would make a difference. They’re professional athletes, and there’s four of them against one of you.)

When your eyes fill with tears, Hinata’s there to brush them away, smiling down at you as he shrugs his own shirt off. “Don’t cry, angel. We’re gonna make you feel amazing, just wait!”

His words don’t fill you with ease. They can’t, not when he has that manic excitement bleeding through his expression - the same one you know he gets when he’s lost in the game, flying across the court like the laws of physics don’t apply to him. 

Hands are on you everywhere, teasing and exploring, too many to keep track of. Your clothes are pulled off, tossed aside and discarded without a second thought, and theirs follow suit. Fingers are tweaking your nipples and palming at your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your ass and trailing between your legs to play with your clit. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, ain’tcha? Our pretty girl, gonna be such a good little cockwhore for us.”

There’s lips against yours, at your neck, trailing down the column of your throat with a pleased hum. And between the kisses, you think that you’re crying, pleading for them to stop and let you go, but nobody listens as you’re manhandled onto one of the benches.

Your legs refuse to obey you, trembling as you try to kick out and wriggle away, only for rough hands to find your hips and drag you back. “C’mon, baby. Be good for us, you’ve already made us wait so long.”

Somebody smacks your ass and you jolt, crying out, only for a hand to soothe over the welt, another squeezing at your hip in a mockery of reassurance. “Don’t make us have to hurt ya, sweetheart.”

It’s easier, you think, to just close your eyes tight and pray that any second now, you’ll wake up in your bed to the blaring of your alarm. But the moment they flutter shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip as fingers dig into your thighs, warm breath ghosting across your sex, a low voice whispers in your ear, “Look at me.”

And you have no choice but to obey, forcing your eyes open to find Sakusa standing to your side, stroking his cock. It’s pretty, you distantly think, and you suppose that it suits him. Well groomed, long but not terribly thick with a slight curve, flushed pink at the tip and glistening with the pre-cum beading at his slit. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, cupping it with a gentleness that feels out of place, considering the hunger burning in the black depths of his irises. 

He doesn’t say another word as he coaxes your mouth open and guides your head forward to take his cock into your mouth, but the low moan that escapes him as your lips wrap around his length makes you shiver. 

Sakusa isn’t gentle as he fucks your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek as fresh tears well, but it’s hard to focus on that alone when Hinata’s face disappears between your legs, his tongue laving at your cunt, eager for a taste of you.

It doesn’t take long for the other two to join, and you’re manoeuvred between them, forced to sit on Bokuto’s lap, his thick cock stretching you out while Hinata sits between your legs, diligently slurping at your folds, sucking at your clit, one fist wrapped around his own length, lazily pumping it. Sakusa continues to use your mouth to get himself off, uttering backhanded praise between instructions, hissing in pleasure when he hits the back of your throat and you choke around him, while Atsumu has one hand playing with your tits, the other gripping yours, forcing you to jerk him off. 

It’s too much for your brain to take. 

Your sobs and whimpers, already muffled thanks to the cock in your mouth, are lost to the symphony of grunts and moans, lewd squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin. There’s too many hands touching you, too much pain fused with unwanted pleasure, overwhelming you as heat and panic and terror build up inside of you, and it feels like there’s an inferno burning beneath your skin, and you can’t breathe and you just want it all to stop, you want to wake up, and-

Suddenly, the door to the locker room snaps open, and all five of you freeze in place as the Captain stops dead in his tracks and eyes the scene before him. 

There’s no possible way for Meian to misconstrue it, not with everything you told him. Not with your face flushed and teary, your eyes glazed over and all but broken from the sick, twisted debasement his teammates have subjected you to. You’re naked, your body littered in love-bites and bruises, spread out before him like a feast.

And still, your eyes meet his, silently pleading for him to say something and stop this.

Meian takes a single step forward and a muffled whine leaves your lips as the cock inside of you twitches insistently. Sakusa draws his hips back, pulling himself free from your mouth, and despite the burn in the back of your throat, you swallow and try to speak.

“Please.” It’s little more than a squeak, hoarse and choked, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. 

The Captain barely acknowledges that you’ve spoken at all, his attention fixated instead on your body; the way your pussy’s clenching around the base of Bokuto’s length, the tremor of your thighs under Hinata’s rough hands, the way your tits rise and fall with every quickened breath, your lips, swollen and beautifully fucked, glistening with spit before finally, those dark eyes meet yours once more.

And slowly, a grin breaks across his face. “You’d better hurry it up, the others aren’t too far off.”

[deluluass]

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.

[duskamethyst]

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.

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[volley-yan]

Hey, sweetheart, long time (4 days) no see! Hope everything is alright in your life! What about Hinata, Kozume and Bokuto with a famous youtuber s/o meeting fans during a date? 🌱🌱🌱

[Hinata Shoyo]

He gets so annoyed. Shoyo is small, but he’s vicious.

He’s very proud of his darling, and he of course knows that they have fans (why wouldn’t they, they’re amazing), however it gets in the way of their dates all of the time.

He gets flustered and despite wanting his darling to get the recognition that they deserve, Shoyo will try to pry his darling away from the mountains of fans trying to talk to them.

If his darling tries to tease him about it later, he’ll act like a kicked puppy and beg for their attention. He’s possessive, so he can’t really help himself.

[Kozume Kenma]

Promptly acts like he doesn’t care, but he definitely does.

It’s har to tell that Kenma is even a yandere, he’s that good at hiding his possessive behavior.

His darling knows him quite well, though. He’s uncomfortable around big crowds, so his darling being the angel they are, drag him away after telling their fans something about being thankful for their support.

Once they get home, Kenma is all cuddles. His darling is too busy napping so they don’t notice him moving their computer abd such around. He disables their stuff. He’s petty.

[Bokuto Kotaro]

He’s the worst out of the three of them.

Kotaro will lead his darling away from their fans, however he makes a big deal out of everything. Shouting about how they belonged to him and how he didn’t need to share them with anyone.

He’s manipulative, he’ll convince his darling to leave their electronics alone for awhile so they can spend time together. His darling falls for it, he’s pretty good at making them feel bad.

If his darling ever notices how he purposely manipulated them, things will get ugly.

{THIS IS SO LATE, I’M SO SORRY!!!}

[yoichichi]

“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

[sugawarassoulmate]

Help, that yandere bokuto ask got me THINKIN SOME THOUGHTS

You talked bout him tossing reader over his shoulder and like... yes. But imagine you get in a fight with an ex of his or something. She's like "I bet he doesn't even like you that much, has he ever even touched you?" And reader is about to say something but Bokuto comes up behind reader and picks them up, throwing them over his shoulder. He doesn't even realize they were arguing, he just wants to go out to lunch with you. As he's walking away, you just flip the girl off.

You're eating lunch together and reader is just "Can I say something kinda weird?"

"Go for it, babes"

"That was really sexy"

He fucking chokes on his food

oooooh yan!bokuto so utterly obsessed with u that he doesn’t even process that you were talking to his ex. he just saw you and wanted to have alone time so over his shoulder you go 🤭

but you’re so heated over what that bitch said to you that you’re not even worried about bo’s increasingly worrying behavior. in fact, you’re encouraging it.

“god, it’s just so hot how you treat me like a rag doll sometimes, kou,” you say and bokuto’s heart is racing!!!

he’s gonna wanna pin you to every surface he can now or pull you to his side when you’ve strayed too far away. and if you start complaining about how much you need space, he’ll just throw you over his shoulder and take you somewhere private to fuck those bad thoughts away 🥺

[touyaz]

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—

[mango-bango-bby]

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!!