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xobrattymoonxo · 4 months

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Bokuto x Fem!reader

Summary: Bokuto doesn't want you to walk home in the rain.

AN: I left this pretty open, but if I get a few people who want a part two, I will write one!

TW: Noncon, Dubcon, forced sex, forced blowjob, sex toys, restraints, double pen, dildos, barley any lube, If I missed anything lmk!!

Word count: 2.2K

Third Person POV

The rain came down harder as Y/n stood under the awning. MSBY had just finished practice and as their manager, Y/n had just finished cleaning up the net and balls as she thought most of the team left already.

“Hey Y/n!” She jumped up a bit, being startled by the voice behind her.

“Oh, hey Bokuto!” She smiled warmly.

“Whatcha waiting for?” He asked.

“I walked here today. I didn’t know it was going to rain.” Y/n rubbed the back of her head feeling a little silly.

“How about I drive you home?” Bokuto offered.

“Oh I don’t live too far away, I can walk.” Y/n said.

“Not in this rain, come on.” He grabbed her hand and began running to his car. He pushed her inside the passenger seat door as he pushed her inside the car. Bokuto ran around the car and into the driver's seat. Bokuto started the car and began to drive the car.

“Do you need my address?” She asked.

“Nope.” He simply said.

“Do you know where I live?” She asked, growing nervous.

“Nope.” He said again.

“Then where are we going?” Y/n asked.

“My place.” He was acting like it was no big deal.

“I want to go home, Bokuto.” She said, “ I am cold and wet.”

“Don’t worry, it will be okay.” Bokuto turned and smiled at her.

Y/n grew more and more nervous as the car drove on. Bokuto pulled the car up into the driveway of a house. He quickly got out of the car and rushed to her side of the car. He grabbed her hand and pulled her from inside the car. Bokuto dragged her through the pouring rain. He held her hand on his porch as he unlocked the door. He opened the front door finally, Y/n soaking wet, he pulled her inside.

Once inside the door, Bokuto started peeling back layers of clothes. He started with his jacket, then pulled off his shirt. He looked at Y/n.

“Are you going to join me, or stay in those wet clothes all night?” He teased.

“Can you take me home?” Y/n asked.

Bokuto moved closer to Y/n.

“Come on, Y/n. Don’t be like that… you know you want me as much as I want you.”

Y/n moved back as Bokuto kept moving closer.

“Hey now, why are you acting so scared?” He asked her. His hands went to the bottom of her hoodie and began to take it off.

“Bokuto stop!” She warned.

He didn’t listen, instead he pulled it off successfully. Y/n was standing infront of him in a bra and wet jeans now only.

“Look how sexy you are.” He purred out.

“Bo!” She was on the verge of tears.

Bokuto pulled her closer, against his chest as he pulled her into a passionate kiss. He kept kissing her, but she wouldn’t kiss back. Bokuto let his right hand slid up her stomach from her hips. He slid his hand up over her bra.

“Kiss me back.” He said, sounding more of a warning. Y/n felt a ping of fear in her stomach, she began to kiss him back. “Good girl.” He whispered.

His hand didn't stop slowly moving up her chest. He grabbed her breast hard as she let out a gasp. This was the perfect opportunity for him to slip his tongue into her mouth. He began to fight her for dominance as he could feel her try to pull away. He moved his hand that grabbed her breast to behind her head as he deepened the kiss once again.

“God you are perfect, Y/n.” He whispered into her lips. Y/n felt a tear roll down her cheek. Bokuto wiped the tear from her eye. “Don’t cry baby.”

Bokuto’s hands slipped down and began to undo her jeans.

“Bokuto, please don’t-” He cut her off as he pulled her jeans down.

“Listen Y/n, I have wanted you for a while and I always get what I want, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” He warned once again. Y/n gulped. “So what will it be, hmm?”

Y/n didn’t answer, instead she thought she would show him with an action. She now pulled him in for a kiss.

Bokuto pulled back and looked at her with a smug expression.

“Oh so now you want to play a game, huh?” He asked her.

“No? I thought you’d be okay with that.” She nervously played with her hands.

“Well…. I think… hmmm I don’t think I am okay with you acting out.” He places his hand on her cheek. “I think you deserve a punishment… Don’t you?”

“Bokuto… please don’t do this.” The tears streamed harder down her face.

“Kotaro.” He said. “Call me Kotaro from now on, okay?”

Bokuto reached out and grabbed her hand, he started to pull her out of her pants, leaving her in her bra and underwear. He began to walk and forced her to follow. He lead her into the kitchen and into the basement door that was there. He dragged her down the stairs by the hand and led her into a dark room off the main room.

“This is your room, for now, until you learn how to properly behave.” Bokuto smiled at her.

Y/n shook with fear.

“My room?” She asked just above a whisper.

“Yep! I designed it just for you.” He turned on the lights.

The room was an odd shade of red. It looked like it was just painted recently. Around the room were various things, a bed, chains, whips, an odd chair that was bent up at 45 degrees with cuffs attached to it, dildos lined the one wall as well as vibrators and other toys. Bokuto grabbed her bra straps and slowly began to peel her bra away. He pulled her bra off successfully leaving her exposed everywhere but her pussy. Bokuto walked away slightly.

“Come here.” He motioned for her to come to the oddly angled chair. Upon further inspection, she noticed there was a large opening in which she assumed was for him to still access her more pussy.

“Bo….”

“Y/n, I told you to come here. If you don’t listen, I will make the punishment worse for you.”

Y/n began to slowly walk towards him. He patted the chair.

“Lay with your stomach on the leather.” He said.

Y/n followed directions as she laid down on the chair. Bokuto instantly grabbed her wrists and strapped them down. He moved around to her back side and grabbed her panties and pulled them off. He cuffed her ankles down after her panties were removed.

“There we go! Now you can’t move away from me.” He smiled at her.

Bokuto walked over to the wall of dildos, he grabbed a large red dildo. He reached into a box and pulled out a large black vibrator wand as well as a thick green plug.

“Tell me, Y/n. Have you ever taken something this big?” He asked, holding up the large dildo. Y/n shook her head no. “I definitely have to prep you then since I myself am over 7 inches.” He said in a bragging voice.

Y/n’s eyes widened as he talked about his size. Bokuto took his wet pants off now in front of her. She could see the outline of his dick.

Bokuto grabbed some lube from what seemed like out of nowhere. He covered the plug in lube and began to rub it along her pussy lips. Y/n couldn’t see what was happening exactly but she felt a few fingers run along her clit.

“You must be enjoying yourself if you are this wet already.” He said with a sly smirk. He forced her hole open as he shoved the thick plug inside her.

Y/n let out a moan as she was suddenly stretched out quite big around the plug. Bokuto stood up as he grabbed a leather belt from the wall. He made it as tight as he could with the vibrating wand tucked inside it. He turned it on the lowest setting as he lined it up with her clit. Y/n moaned out again as she squirmed the best as she could given her cuffed down position.

“Are you enjoying it baby?” He asked her.

Y/n did not respond, instead she moaned out a little louder as he turned up the speed to medium.

Bokuto grabbed the lube and walked behind her. He spread her ass cheeks as far apart as he could.

“W-what are you doing?!?” Y/n asked obviously panicked.

Bokuto didn’t answer her. Suddenly she felt the tip of his tongue enter in her puckered hole.

“Stop! Please! I have never had anything there before!” She exclaimed.

“Exactly why I have to prep you.” Bokuto said.

Bokuto continued to lick around her puckered hole as she cried out for him to stop. Bokuto pulled back as she sighed in relief. It was very short lived as she felt something hard poking at her back entrance.

“Stop! Please! Don’t do this Bokuto!” She yelled out.

“This is your punishment, Y/n.” He said as he gave the 6 inch dildo a hard push. She let out a scream in pain as he continued to shove it in her ass. He didn’t stop till the dildo was fully inside her asshole. She was crying in pain asking him to take it out. “I told you to call me Kotaro.”

Bokuto moved around the chair and in front of her face. He began to pull his boxers down as his member sprung out. He roughly grabbed a fist full of her hair.

“Open.” He demanded.

Y/n did as she was told and opened her mouth slightly. He took no time at all to shove his member into her mouth and down her throat. Y/n choked on his dick. She began to gag as he moved himself. He began making her head move back and forth forcing her to take his long and girthy member into her mouth and throat. He had tears streaming down her face as she cried out. Every once in a while she’d let out a moan allowing him to go even deeper.

Bokuto reached under and turned up the speed on the vibrator. She was moaning more than before, allowing him to slip over 6 inches down her throat. The way he was forcing her had him getting closer and closer to finally cumming.

A few moments later, he let out a hot stream of cum down her throat. She gagged as he pulled back. He forced her mouth closed.

“Swallow it.” He commanded her to do so.

Y/n swallowed his hot cum that remained in her mouth. Bokuto then walked away. She could hear wheels and something being set up behind her, but unable to turn she had no idea what was in store next.

Bokuto came up behind her and began undoing the belt holding the vibrator to her clit. He then pulled out the plug. She began to drip with arousal.

“Look how much my good girl likes being shoved full and forced to take my cock in her throat.” He said.

He then went to her leg cuffs and undid them. He waited till just before undoing her wrist cuffs to remove the large dildo from her asshole. He helped her stand up finally as she was a little wobbly.

“Just come this way.” He led her over to a metal table she didn’t see before. He helped her up on the table and strapped her down once again. There was a large split in the table, he slid a sex machine in between her legs. “I don’t think you need any lube, but since I am a nice guy, I will help.” He ran his fingers through her soaking pussy lips and over the large dido on the sex machine. He smiled as he lined it up with her back entrance. He began to slide it in as he turned the machine on a low setting. It slowly started to go in and out of her puckered hole as he climbed on top of the table. He watched the machine a few times as he lined up at her pussy entrance. Once the machine's dildo bottomed out, he began to force himself into her pussy. He successfully bottomed out as he moaned out.

“You’re so tight, Just for me.” He moaned into her ear. He reached behind himself and turned up the sex machine to full power. He matched the rhythm as he went deep inside her.

Bokuto was enjoying himself as he heard her scream out in pain and pleasure. He continued to pump inside her as the machine did. He smiled deviously as he felt himself already getting close.

A noise could be heard from outside the room as Y/n cried out for help. The door suddenly opened as Hinata was standing inside the room now.

“Aww Ko, you started without me already?” He whined.

“Just wait till I finish and you can have a turn.” Bokuto said.

Y/n had a feeling this was going to be a very long night ahead of her……..

Taglist: @itsmearia01

TAGLIST OPEN!! Dm or comment to be added! I have a LOL taglist as well so please let me know what you'd like to be tagged on!!

#tw noncon #tw dark fic #haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu dark content #haikyuu yandere #haikyuu noncon #tw dubcon

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cowboylikebarbie · 1 year

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Guy I’m really desperate here ! I want to find a suna smut where I read in maybe 2020/2021, reader is lesbian/queer and she’s in love with Aran sister or girlfriend ? or something , suna is her bsf and he kinda tryna fuck/turn her straight it was noncon/dubcon

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #suna smut #haikyuu noncon #haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere

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seijorhi · 22 days

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Oleander

Oikawa Tooru x female reader x Iwaizumi Hajime w.c 8.6k tw: yandere, mentions of child abuse and neglect, references to underage kissing, murder, horror themes, pseudo-cest (foster siblings), blanket dub/non-con vibes for a good portion of this

The patisserie smells of sugar, vanilla and freshly baked croissants. In a word; delicious.

For several minutes now, your brother’s been standing bent at the waist, studying the display case stacked full of cakes and desserts with an intense kind of focus. Considering. Deliberating. Inadvertently placing himself, and by extension you, as an obstacle for other people trying to do the same.

“Alright, the crepe cake or the fancy looking chocolate one, the…” Heisuke squints at the display case, trying to decipher the label, “gateaux? Or should we go for the red one with the strawberry mousse thing?”

Bingo. You hold back a smile.

“Go the strawberry one.” Nobody loves strawberries like your mom loves strawberries.

“Ok, great. We’ll grab that, a bottle of nice wine, hit the florist and I think that should do it.” He nods to himself, satisfied. “She’ll be over the moon.”

He’s not wrong. The woman you’ve called a mother for the past ten years would fall over herself for something as simple as a birthday card, regardless of the fact that your dad insists on going all out every year.

“She’s already over the moon; you’re home for the week.” The admission’s soft, hesitant – poking a little too close to an open wound for you to feel entirely comfortable voicing it. Hei gives you an odd look, but it mellows into something more genuine when he realises you’re not taking a stab at him.

Baby steps.

Finally, Heisuke steps up to the counter to order. Within minutes the cake’s boxed up, with little ice-packs slipped in to keep it cool, and paid for, and the two of you head out, you holding the door open for Hei to carefully maneuver his way out without jostling the precious, expensive cargo.

“You’re good at this stuff, y’know,” he says as the two of you fall into step together.

“At… picking cakes?”

He snorts, “No. I meant the whole… I don’t know. You’re good at remembering stuff, the cakes mom likes, dad’s weird habits. You probably already know what flowers we’re going to pick for her, don’t you?”

This time you don’t bother hiding your smile – peonies, pink ones.

You go to tell him as much when a loud voice calls out your name. On instinct, you both spin to the source, and when you meet those piercing, olive green eyes, bearing down at you from the other side of the street, your heart leaps into your throat.

A ghost.

You can’t breathe. For a moment you can’t even think. Your hand stretches out, blindly seeking Heisuke, an anchor, anything–

Before your fingers can brush his sleeve, a hard, lean body collides with yours, sweeping you up into a crushing hug. Not Iwaizumi, though.

Oikawa, taller, broader than the last time you saw him, smelling of citrus, summer and salt lets out a breathy noise, halfway between amazement and disbelief.

“There you are,” he beams, setting you back on unsteady legs.

Found you, the glint in his eyes seems to say.

Rather than let you go, step back and give you some much needed space to breathe, his palm instead slides to rest on your hip, taking your chin between the index finger and thumb of his other hand in order to look at you properly, dark eyes poring over you for signs of anything amiss – bruises, tear-tracks, red eyes, swollen, split lips.

Your mouth goes dry.

On one side, there’s your brother, bewildered, arm half outstretched as if he can’t make his mind up whether he should be intervening or not. Iwa’s already jogging across the street, snarling at a driver who lays on his horn.

The weight of Oikawa’s appraisal is as familiar to you as it is oppressive, and while his touch is delicate, featherlight, it burns to the marrow. Suddenly you’re fourteen again, trying to duck past him before he can notice the state of you.

‘It’s nothing, Tooru, don’t worry about it!’

And just like back then, there’s a knot in your chest that doesn’t loosen until satisfaction melts the too sharp edge to his grin – right as Iwa joins you two. Three, you suppose, because while Heisuke remains in stunned silence, eyes darting between you and Oikawa, he’s still party to this, still a witness, and the thought makes you want to curl up into a ball and disappear forever.

(You shove down the fleeting rush of warmth at the relief you find there, the voice in your head that coos that he still cares enough to check. You don’t want him to care.)

“Holy fuck,” Iwa laughs, and Oikawa’s shoved aside, both of you ignoring the indignant grumbling as your rigid body’s pulled into his chest, his hand finding its way to the back of your head. He breathes in slow. Deep.

He still smells the same, earthy and masculine, the faintest tinge of his last cigarette still clinging to his jacket. Back then, he used to steal them from your foster father. You imagine that now, he probably has the money to go off and buy his own.

“I’m sorry, who are you? What– can you let her go, please?”

If it wasn’t them, the sheer absurdity of the moment might’ve made you giggle. Heisuke’s ears are bright red, a flush that extends down his neck. He doesn’t look angry per se, uncomfortable, absolutely, but from the pinched expression on his face, it’s clear he’s fighting the urge to bite out something far less polite.

None of this, least of all the way they’re tugging you between them like a rag-doll, feels very polite to begin with.

As it is, Heisuke’s interruption has the intended effect. The fingers wound in your hair twitch, the cage of his arms drawing you closer. You almost expect the baring of teeth, a possessive snarl, yet it’s a small, almost imperceptible thing. He retreats – reluctantly – turning to glance at your brother, Oikawa by his side.

Judging from the stony, almost bored expression he levels at Hei, he’s not impressed.

“Friend of yours, imouto?” Oikawa’s purr skitters down your spine like ice. Unlike Iwa, there’s nothing less than friendly curiosity on the surface. He’s even smiling.

Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you find your voice.

“Hei, this is Iwaizumi and Oikawa,” you say, gesturing at each respectively. “We were in the same foster home for a while.” Sparing the two of them half a glance, you continue, “We’re actually right in the middle of something, if you’ll excuse us.”

The explicit dismissal’s bolder than you feel, but you’re proud that your voice doesn’t waver. You can’t say the same for your hand when you reach for Heisuke’s spare one, uttering the words that’ll only damn you further, “C’mon, nii-san. Mom and dad are waiting.”

Heisuke doesn’t blink. His hand slips into yours, the two of you sidestepping the pair and walking off towards the car without a backwards glance.

Neither one of you speaks until you’re buckled into the passenger seat, Heisuke adjusting the rear-view mirror, the cake safely stashed away in the back. Until you’re pulling out onto the main road and there’s distance between you and them.

If only the gnawing, unsettling feeling in your stomach would go with it.

“Sorry,” you mumble, blankly staring out the window at the passing scenery. At the clouds hanging overhead, dark and threatening. Funny, that. Fitting. The skies were clear when you left home this morning. “About the nii-san thing, and grabbing your hand,” you clarify, because whether it was rude or not, you’ll be damned before you apologise for brushing them off.

That’s not your relationship with Hei. It’s never been that.

He eyes you for a beat. “You know, I never understood why mom wanted to adopt so bad. Dad too, but mom was always the one pushing for it. We were happy, the three of us. I wasn’t a screw up, their marriage was solid. I couldn’t understand the need to bring someone else in. Our family was fine, perfect the way it was.”

His thumb taps against the steering wheel, his shoulders loose and relaxed. You can’t quite pin the mood he’s in, where he’s going with this.

“Oh,” you say, mostly because it feels like he’s waiting for you to acknowledge it.

None of what he’s saying is news to you. None of it’s anything you haven’t wondered yourself a thousand times over. It’s just that Heisuke… you’ve never talked about this. Your adoption, your relationship with him, none of it. This sort of honesty is brand new territory for you both.

You’re not so sure you’re loving the development.

“When they committed to it, I thought they’d bring home a baby, a kid, not some weird, skittish fourteen year old who wanted nothing to do with me.”

Ah.

Your cheeks heat, and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere but here. If Heisuke notices how you shift in your seat, the small tightening of your expression, he plows on regardless.

“You wouldn’t look at me, would barely talk to me. Hell, you acted like I had the plague most of the time. You didn’t hate me, I don’t think, you just… didn’t want to be anywhere near me, and it bugged the hell out of me. I couldn’t figure it out; who wouldn’t want an older brother to look out for them?” His next words hit you like a sledgehammer, cracking at something vital in your chest. It hurts before he opens his mouth.

“It was them, wasn’t it? The reason you steered clear ‘til I moved out of home.”

“Heis–”

He cuts you off with a look. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he demands.

“Can we just– it doesn’t matter, alright? Can we move on?”

From the unhappy set of his jaw – the first true sign of discontent he’s expressed since getting in the car with you – it’s obvious there’s more he wants to say. You can’t blame him for that, curiosity’s only human.

But you’re still too raw. It’s too soon.

You’ve spent too long burying those secrets deep to rip yourself apart to bring them to light.

“Please, Hei. Let’s focus on mom’s birthday.” You force a smile, tiny and wrong, “The florist is next, yeah?”

You get a grunt of acknowledgement and not much more than that, your brother’s attention pulling back to the drive. The silence that settles in the car should bring some relief. It’s what you wanted, and yet, amongst the churning feeling in your guts, the prickling at the back of your neck that hasn’t left you since you first spotted Iwa across the road, there’s a sense of discomfort that has nothing to do with crossing paths with your past life.

Like a slap in the face, it hits you that you’re floundering for something to say, something – anything – to bridge the sudden, stark divide between you. Something that won’t sound hollow and meaningless.

This thing you have with Heisuke. It took years, and maybe it’s skin deep and miles from what it should be, but the thought of losing it leaves you feeling oddly panicked.

It’ll… hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, because it’s about all you can give him right now, a tried and true method of soothing egos and hurt.

Heisuke doesn’t say anything for the remainder of the drive, and you resign yourself to the very real possibility that in the course of a single conversation, you’ve managed to fracture this fragile thing between you two.

Until you go for the door, and a hand on your wrist stops you. “Hey. I’m glad they did.”

—

When you startle awake a little after midnight, it’s because he’s yelling again.

Mr. Furukawa had been in fine form at dinner, already three beers deep. You can only begin to imagine what’s set him off now, hours after lights out. His wife, probably. Although it’s equally possible he’s caught the oldest sneaking back in from seeing his girlfriend, or the twins trying to break into the pantry for a midnight snack. Or he tripped and stubbed his toe, or thought someone stole the rest of his beer when in reality he’d already swallowed it down.

The reasons don’t really matter when he’s been drinking like that, in the same way that the initial target of his ire doesn’t matter. Once his voice reaches that slurred, furious pitch, anyone’s fair game.

There’s a pair of headphones in the top drawer, you have every intention of yanking them out and putting on one of your sleep playlists, drowning out the noise of your foster father’s drunken raging until he wears himself out or you fall back to sleep when you hear the thumping of his feet on the staircase.

“Where’s that fucking bitch?”

Eyes wide in the darkness, clutching at the comforter, your pulse jumps.

Again, it’s possible he’s talking about Mrs. Furukawa, or one of your foster sisters – the older one hunched over in the bed opposite yours, watching you shrewdly.

“Well go on then,” she sneers. “Run to your big brothers.”

You don’t bother to respond, any hesitation you might’ve had over leaving her to fend for herself shrivelling up under the mocking bitterness she’s sending your way. Fine, whatever. You don’t care what she thinks, scrambling from the warmth of your bed and hurrying for the door.

He’s halfway up the staircase when you reach their room. You’d knock – it’s the polite thing to do – except you definitely don’t want to be out in plain view when your foster father hits the landing.

“Hajime?” you whisper into the darkness, slipping inside and shutting the door behind you, “Tooru?”

“Shit, c’mere.” At Hajime’s voice, the calloused, rough hands that guide you onto his mattress, the vice around your chest loosens. He won’t come in here, not after Hajime socked him in the face after catching sight of the raised, discoloured flesh of your cheek from your last run in. You’ve gotten better at using make-up to conceal the marks since then, but there’s also been less of a need for it.

“Can I stay for a bit?” you ask. Until he calms down and passes out. Until the sun rises and you can sneak back into your room. Until you feel safe again. It’s kind of a pointless question, considering how many times you’ve done this before and how many times they’ve let you. You ask it anyway.

The scoff that sounds moments before the mattress dips on your other side is answer enough. “You should probably just move in at this point. We’ll kick Iwa out, he can go sleep in bitch-face’s room.”

Although you know you shouldn’t, a not-so-nice grin tugs at your lips, nestling into Tooru’s side under the arm he offers, “She’d drive him homicidal in a week.”

“Doesn’t she already?” Hajime mutters. “And fuck off, if anyone’s moving out it’s you.”

“You’d miss me too much.”

Absentmindedly, he rubs at your arm like it’s second nature. “In your dreams, Shitty-kawa.”

You can still hear Mr. Furukawa stomping around outside, snarling and snapping at no-one and nothing. Your pulse skitters, an inbuilt panic response. But the lights are off, you’re not being too noisy, and he’s wary of the other two.

He won’t come in here.

“Relax, we’ve got you,” Tooru breathes, his nose nudging at your temple. “Where were you this afternoon?” His voice is so soft, a soothing rumble that it takes you a second to register what he’s said.

“This afternoon?”

“Mm. You didn’t come home when you were supposed to. We were worried.”

He’s pouting, you can tell. Which– he can’t be genuinely bothered by it, it was only a few hours, and the Furukawas don’t care where you are or what you do so long as you’re back before curfew. You were.

A distraction then?

“I went out with some friends. We hung out at the arcade for a bit,” your expression brightens, thinking of the lights and the laughter, your feet blurring as you hit the sensors on Dance Dance Revolution… poorly. “It was actually pretty fun!”

Tooru hums again, “Which friends?” at the same time that Hajime says, “You didn’t tell us you were going out.”

“I didn’t realise I had to check in.” And because the slightly bitter and very defensive edge to your tone catches even you by surprise, you sigh, softening. “I’m allowed to have friends, aren’t I? A social life?”

You’ve been in this home for a few months now, and this is the first time any of your classmates have invited you anywhere.

This time it’s Tooru who sighs. He coaxes your face upwards with a hand on your cheek, peering through the dim light at you, “I’m not saying this to be cruel or hurt you, but… I need you to be more careful, okay?”

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His thumb glides across your cheek bone, hesitating on whatever it is he wants to say– at least until Hajime huffs and mutters, “Just tell her, dude. You’re the one that brought it up.”

“Tell me what?”

“You’re a foster kid,” he reminds you, as if this is vital information that’s somehow slipped your mind. “That’s all they see when they look at us, all they’ll ever see. No money, no family, nothing worth wasting their time on. We’re charity cases at best, at worst…” he trails off, the sentence dangling in the air.

He thinks it’s a trick, you realise. He thinks they’re setting you up in an elaborate joke where you’re the punchline.

Bright blue eyes and a crooked grin flash in your head. Cheeks dusted pink and the warmth of his hand in yours.

“That’s not true,” you defend, though the words sound weak even to your ears.

Now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, the gentle, pitying expression on his face twists at your insides like a knife. You hardly notice Hajime scooching closer, shifting the blankets so they cover you both, too busy staring at your foster brother with wide eyes and parted lips, a thick lump of emotion lodging itself in your throat. Tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, and you blink them back.

You won’t cry in front of them over this. You refuse.

“No? You’ve been here for months now. If they wanted to be your friend, truly, genuinely wanted that, why haven’t they made an effort before now? I’m not trying to be a dick,” he murmurs when your breathing hitches, “The kids in this town, they’re assholes. I just can’t bear the thought of someone hurting you.”

Hajime nods. “We only wanna protect you, imouto.”

But you don’t need to be protected. Omori isn’t like that. His friends aren’t either.

—

When the last bell rings for the day, you walk down to the gates to find Hajime there, leaning against the brickwork with a pilfered cigarette dangling between his fingers.

That in and of itself isn’t a surprise. Lately they’ve taken up the habit of ditching their last period to make the half mile trek to your school in order to walk back home with you. Most days, you don’t mind. Today, however–

“I sent you a message at lunch, you didn’t need to come all the way down here, I’m going to a friend’s place to study. Sorry, I thought you would’ve seen it before you left.”

He drops the cherry red remnants of his cigarette to the ground and grinds the butt under his heel, eyeing you slowly from head to toe. “Which friend?”

“When did you become so nosey?” you laugh, a touch uneasily. “It’s only for an hour or so, I’ll be back before dinner, promise. I’m all yours after that.” The last part’s meant to lighten the mood a little, yet something flashes in his eyes, a twitch in his jaw, and you get the sense that he doesn’t find it all that funny.

“Which friend? That slimy piece of shit you were hanging out with last weekend?”

Omori? How does he–

You frown, “We went to the movies, Hajime, it’s not illegal. And he’s not slimy or a little shit, he’s my friend.” A friend who sets butterflies loose in your stomach and makes you weak at the knees, but Hajime doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, I’m sure he wants to be your friend,” he mutters darkly.

Your cheeks burn hotly, “Why are you being like this? He’s a nice guy. Besides, it’s not him. I’m going to Masako’s to work on a group presentation we’ve got due in a few days. I didn’t think you’d make such a big deal out of it!”

“Your mistake,” he says, as if you’re the one being unreasonable here, and before you can spit out a retort, his hand is curled around your bicep, tugging you down the road. “C’mon, we’re going home. Tell your little friend you can work on your project tomorrow at lunch.”

“Ha-Hajime!” His too tight grip on you doesn’t relent, his stride doesn’t falter. Nervously, you dart a glance around, half hoping that someone will intercede, all the while praying that no one’s actually noticed him dragging you off like a misbehaving toddler.

As always, you’re not that lucky. The sight of your classmates pointing your way, giggling behind their hands sends a hot pulse of shame flooding through you.

“You know you’re not my actual brother, I don’t need your permission!”

That does stop him, turning back around to throw a scowl at you, “No? Because I don’t see anyone else lining up to stop you from spreading your legs for the first asshole who comes sniffing around. Jesus Christ, weren’t you listening the other day?”

“I’m fourteen!” you shriek, ripping your arm away from him. “Stop being gross and leave me alone, I already told you I’m going to Masako’s. We have a project. For school!”

In an instant, he closes the gap between you. Hajime isn’t as tall as Tooru, but at two years older, he still towers over you, all broad shouldered and intense, and while he’s always cut an intimidating figure, it strikes you that this is the first time you’ve ever looked at him and felt afraid.

A split second later, and he exhales with a mumbled curse, the tension deflating from his body like a pin’s been pulled. In a quieter voice, hooking an arm over your neck to press a fleeting kiss to your hair, he says, “Sometimes it feels like I’m losing my damn mind trying to keep us all safe and sane and fucking together.”

It’s not exactly an apology. Still…you shift on your feet, nibbling at your bottom lip. “I’m sorry for snapping,” you mumble – an olive branch, even if you’re not feeling particularly charitable right now. The problem is, you do understand where he’s coming from. In two years, they’ll both age out, free to go and do whatever the hell they want. There’s a not insignificant part of you that’s terrified that when that time comes, they’re not gonna hang around another two years waiting for you.

You’re not sure you can hold them to that promise.

And that’s if nothing happens before then. Foster kids in group homes get shuffled all the time, there’s no guarantee all three of you will still be with the Furukawas come their 18th birthdays.

Of course he’s over-protective. Of course he’s being a little nuts about it.

Hajime nods, pats you on the head and gives you a rare smile, “Good. Now get your ass moving, we gotta get home.”

“Wait, but I thought–” you’d apologised, he’d admitted he was overreacting… sort of. Isn’t that enough?

“Social worker’s coming by this afternoon. Furukawa wants us to play happy families ‘til they’re gone. Your friend’s gonna have to wait.”

And that’s that.

Dejection washes over you, trudging back home with Hajime – trying not to be childish and petty and hold it against him.

The social worker never shows, but there’s a message waiting on your phone when you finally manage to pry yourself away from Hajime and Tooru.

Your brother’s a dick. Raincheck? ;)

Butterflies erupt.

—

You’ve been biting your lip again.

The raw, chapped evidence stares back at you in the mirror.

A few days ago, they were a little swollen, rough and reddened. The sight of it sent a giddy sort of thrill through you, a physical – if not sore – reminder of your afternoon spent kissing a cute boy with very pretty blue eyes.

Now, the state of your lips is the least of your worries. You’ll bite your lips, gnaw on your fingernails right down to the quick, pace and think and pace and think, fingers tap, tap tapping at your side.

“You look tired.”

The arms that loop around your shoulders, dragging you back into a loose hug don’t bring the sense of comfort they usually do. Things have been weird between you. Off.

Ever since Tooru caught sight of your face that day, saw the messages on your phone.

‘I never took you for a liar, imouto.’

The resultant argument left you choking on sobs, heart-broken and beaten down in a way that you haven’t felt since you found out your parents died.

It’s a strange, alienating thing to be cut so viciously by the only people who give a damn about you.

At first, you had Omori there to help pick up the pieces. He wasn’t allowed over, of course, and even if he were, you doubt it’d do anything but throw a whole gallon of kerosene on the fire. Still, being able to message and vent to him felt like a lifeline.

And then he simply… stopped replying. Your last message sitting there for two days on read.

You tried not to feel hurt. Maybe this whole thing was too intense, too quick. My god, you weren’t even dating officially, he was just, you were–

It was fine. Not everyone’s tied to their phone, and he doesn’t owe you anything. Maybe something came up, maybe his phone died.

But then, come Monday, he wasn’t in school.

On Tuesday morning, sitting in first period maths, a grim-faced man in a dull suit informs your class that Omori’s been missing since Saturday morning. You’re passed a business card with the detective’s name and phone number printed in crisp, black font and encouraged to contact him if there’s anything you can think of that might help them.

Uneasy looks are shared. No one says a word.

Which brings you to today, to the hug Tooru’s drawn you into and his voice murmuring at your ear.

“Aren’t you still mad at me?”

His laugh rumbles at your back, “Maybe I miss you too much.”

You should tell him to shove it. Whether you’re in the right or the wrong, it’s not fair of him to play hot and cold with you like this. Being at odds with your brothers is painful enough on its own, dealing with that on top of everything with Omori – it’s too much. You’ll drown under the weight of it.

And so you turn, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying yourself against him. “I don’t wanna fight anymore. I’m sorry.”

While he doesn’t say anything back, he does squeeze you that little bit tighter. You’re content with that, soaking up the affection and comfort you’ve sorely been without. It’s an apology, yes. It’s also forgiveness.

“Where’s Hajime?” you ask after a little while. They aren’t inseparable by any means, but you don’t think you’ve seen him this afternoon at all.

Rather than answering you, the brunet pulls back enough to meet your gaze, a twinkle in his eyes, “We’re going out tonight.”

The words bring you up short. “But–”

“Furukawa won’t know a thing. It’ll be fun, pinky promise.” He holds out said pinky, the grin on his face infectious enough that you offer a tiny one of your own, locking your finger around his.

He winks.

—

“Sweetheart, shall we open the wine?”

She hasn’t stopped beaming all afternoon, delighted at the flowers and the gifts, your dad humming away in the kitchen, cooking enough to feed a small army.

Heisuke’s already plucking a bottle from the fridge, glasses set out on the counter. He lifts a questioning brow in your direction and you nod with as much of a smile as you can muster. Nothing sounds more appealing to you right now than a drink.

Several of them, actually. You’ll start with one.

“Thanks,” you murmur when he passes it to you.

Quietly enough that your parents won’t hear, he asks, “You good?”

“I’m good,” you reassure him, lying through your teeth. His knuckles knock against yours, and when you glance up, there’s a wordless promise that the two of you aren’t done with this.

He’s been watching you ever since you got home. Not in the predatory, possessive way they used to, just… you very reluctantly gave him crumbs – not even that much – yet he’s staring at you like you’re a piece of a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. He’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

It makes you nervous.

“Did something happen between you two?” The quiet voice at your side startles you – perhaps you’re more on edge than you’d like to admit, because your whole body flinches, the wine in your glass sloshing up over the rim, just barely avoiding your dress and the edge of the couch.

You hadn’t even noticed your mom had sat down.

Cursing under your breath, you jump up before she can, snatching some paper towels from the kitchen, paying no mind the slight, disapproving tilt to your father’s mein (the one which, to his credit, he does try to hide) to mop up the mess on the floor.

“Sorry,” you throw out, both for the spill and for swearing, because that too is something neither of your parents are fond of, but your mom’s quick to wave it away.

“Nonsense. You’re fine, sweet girl. Come, sit!” She pats the seat you’ve vacated. “Relax.”

Your dad’s in the kitchen, laughing with Hei. Your mom’s still happy – it’s slowly leaching from her eyes the longer she looks at you, the more she sees. Relax.

Today’s supposed to be a happy day.

Relax.

You can’t.

They know some of your past. Bits and pieces.

In ten years, you’ve never uttered a single word about them. Not to anyone.

The more you shove it down, the more it fights back, bubbling away inside of you like the tempest of a storm. You can feel yourself cracking, unshed tears burning at your eyes.

You can’t.

“… Mom–”

A knock cuts through the rising tide of emotion battering through you, and all four of you start.

Your dad moves first, drying his hands and striding on over to answer it. On his way, he glances to where you and your mom are sitting – instinctively. Unthinkingly. He glances her way a thousand times a day – to check in, to see what she’s doing, to catch those little expressions she makes, only this time he isn’t met with the picture of a happy wife and daughter. You see it when it hits him, the tension, your wrought expression, the hand your mom’s slipped you in the seconds since, holding you tight and keeping you tethered.

You see it when he does a double take, sharp surprise quickly overtaken by alarm.

Another knock at the door. Louder.

His head snaps back towards the door, glaring at it like it’s personally wronged him. “One sec,” he mutters to no one in particular, and your mom squeezes your hand as he yanks it open with a touch more force than necessary.

“Yes?”

The air punches out of your lungs.

From where you’re sitting, the door cracked ajar, your dad’s frame blocking the gap, you can’t see who’s there. Not until he peeks over your dad’s shoulder, his charming grin widening into something shark-like and predatory when he spots you, delighted.

An elevator careening out of control, your stomach plummets.

Ignoring your dad – your family as a whole – entirely, Oikawa addresses you. “You dropped this this morning. Clumsy girl.”

Iwa passes him something, your wallet, you realise when he holds it out to you, waving it like a dog treat.

Your wallet with your ID, this address, tucked away inside.

The wallet you absolutely, in no way dropped.

Primarily on instinct, shaking like a newborn foal, you start to rise, to stumble forward and take it from him, only it’s Heisuke who moves first. Angrier than you think you’ve ever seen him, he plants himself between you, one arm outstretched as if to keep you back, his withering gaze fixed on the duo.

“Thank you for returning it,” he bites out. “You can leave now.”

For your parents, already on edge, suspicious by their familiarity and your reaction to it, it’s enough to set their hackles up. Gone is any semblance of politeness when your father snatches your wallet from Oikawa’s fingers, “Go.”

Up until now, Oikawa’s paid them all the attention one would a gnat, an annoyance maybe, but one hardly worth acknowledging. That changes as his head tilts, dark eyes appraising your father.

“What’s the rush?” he asks, reaching behind him. You can’t see it, what with your dad and now Heisuke standing between you, but there’s movement, your dad lets out a sudden, choked off gurgle, lurching back inside.

Your eyes widen, a bone chilling horror taking hold of you as you spy the sleek black handle of a knife sticking out his gut, a slow stain of red seeping out around it.

“We’ve still got so much catching up to do.”

—

You’ve never been this far into the woods before.

Stars glitter overhead, condensation from your breath puffing out with every exhale. It’s cold out. The path you’re walking isn’t one of the trails they lay for hikers and tourists, and you’ve been walking for a while.

Still, Tooru’s hand is warm entwined with yours, and there’s that wicked thrill in your belly that comes from breaking the rules, doing secret, exciting things in the dead of night.

“Is Hajime waiting for us?” you ask, when you can hold the question back no longer.

“Always Hajime with you, isn’t it,” he teases. “Y’know, a guy could develop a complex with all this favouritism being thrown around.”

You’re pulled closer into his side even as he says it, and you go happily. You’ve got your brothers back – tonight you’re only thinking good thoughts.

Tonight he promised you fun.

A giddy bounce in your step, you follow where your big brother leads until you spot a glow in the trees ahead, smell the smoke on the mid-autumn breeze.

Tooru grins in the dark, “Have you ever been to a bonfire?”

You shake your head.

It takes another few minutes before you can see the fire in all its grandeur, Hajime standing off to the side, warming his hands against the flames. They dance through the clearing, bright and high and hot, hot enough that you briefly consider shedding the jacket Tooru swaddled you up in before you left.

A bonfire?

They built this for you?

You look incredulously to Tooru, “This is where he’s been all day?”

“More or less.”

“Do you like it, pretty girl?” Hajime calls out when you’re closer. Your hand slips from Tooru’s as you leap forward, allowing him to catch you in his arms and tug you against him, and like earlier with Tooru, it eases some of the hurt weighing you down. He’s here, he’s not angry anymore, you can fight and argue like siblings but they aren’t going anywhere.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing down your hair. “It’s pretty cool,” you tell him with a decisive nod, making him chuckle.

“Maybe we should add more accelerant,” Tooru says, eyeing the flames with a considering look. “I don’t know if it’s hot enough.”

Hajime scoffs, “We don’t need any more accelerant.”

“But–”

“It’s fine, dumbass. Leave it.”

Heaving out a long suffering sigh, Tooru takes the space on your other side. In the Western movies you’ve seen, these bonfire things usually have more of a party-like vibe. There’s music and dancing. Drinking. This is something wholly different.

You don’t mind the quiet, though, sitting between your brothers on the fallen log they dragged over. Listening to the crackle of the fire. Watching red embers spark and fly off into the night.

You’ve missed this. Them.

In the hypnosis of the fire, the heat that covers you like a blanket – burning strongly enough, despite what Tooru thinks, that down to a tee-shirt, leaning into Hajime’s side, Tooru playing with your fingers, you feel you could so easily drift off to sleep, sated and content.

“You love us, don’t you?” Tooru says it so quietly, so off-handedly, that for a moment you don’t hear the stinging accusation beneath the words.

When it does, whatever fleeting contentment you’d managed to wrap yourself up in is ripped away, leaving you cold and exposed.

A slap in the face might’ve stung less.

You gape at him. At the both of them. “How can you ask me that?”

Tooru shrugs, casual and cruel, “I dunno. You lied to us. Multiple times.”

“Snuck around behind our backs,” Hajime adds.

“Kept things from us. Don’t think we haven’t noticed the new lock on your phone, imouto. Doesn’t sound like love to me.”

“I– I’ve already apologised.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but with every word that pours out of you, the faster your heart beats and the more distress leaks into your tone. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I went behind your backs, I’m sorry I kissed him! I don’t know what you want from me, I don’t know how to fix this!”

Hot tears spring to your eyes, stinging as you ferociously blink them back.

If you start crying now, they’ll probably just mock you. That, or they’ll claim that you’re trying to manipulate them into feeling bad with crocodile tears and hiccuping sniffles.

In a tiny voice, you say, “I didn’t do any of it to hurt you. Please,” you beg helplessly. “You can’t keep holding it over my head and punishing me for it.”

“You think we’re punishing you?” Tooru asks, still in that cold, flat tone that makes you want to sob.

Aren’t they? Sure feels like it.

Hajime lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head and staring up at the night sky. “You still don’t fucking get it.”

Hands slip under your armpits and without warning you find yourself hoisted onto Tooru’s lap. It’s whiplash, especially when he curls around you, those lithe arms caging you in, and presses a kiss to your burning cheek. “Iwa, brute that he is, is right. You’re not listening to us. This isn’t punishment. You can pretend to hate us, cry, yell, fight. You can try to shut us out if that’s what you feel you need, but this,” his chin juts out at the bonfire crackling merrily a few feet away, “this is love.” He shivers as he says it, voice like honey. “We did it for you, and I’d do so much more.”

Your head’s still spinning, reeling from being yanked from one extreme to another. Hot and cold. Spiteful to affectionate. You stare at the fire, but you don’t understand.

“Yeah, like you didn’t enjoy the hell out of it,” Hajime snorts, which makes even less sense.

“…You mean the– the bonfire?”

Tooru laughs. His nose skims along the shell of your ear, earning him a shiver of your own. “Hm, almost.”

So you peer at the fire like it’s supposed to give you the answers you need. There’s nothing. It’s a fire, there’s nothing special about…

Oh.

You learn forward – as much as the cage of his embrace will allow, at any rate – squinting a little. Nestled beneath the stacked logs and kindling, there’s an oddly shaped lump, black and gnarled, with ridges and a scooped out hollow that kinda looks like–

Your blood runs cold.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he croons. “You’ve been so sad all week, wondering where your friend up and disappeared to. Aren’t you glad to see him again?”

“No.” Whisper soft, the noise lost to the crackling of the fire. You shake your head, “This– you’re being cruel. Stop it, it’s not funny.”

But the tears you’ve so valiantly held back are falling, your breath coming in short, panicky gasps. The skull in the fire doesn’t look fake, and if this is a prank, it’s gone beyond too far.

Your head grows light and all too heavy at the same time, “That isn’t– you didn’t– you… you– you wouldn’t–”

“No?” the voice at your ear questions, low and dangerous. “You think I wouldn’t stab the little fuck after you kissed him?”

“Stop it,” you tearfully beg, squeezing your eyes shut. The skull’s still there, burned into the back of your eyelids.

No, no, no. Omori isn’t dead.

Omori isn’t dead.

Your heart slams against your ribs, a violent chorus to the swell of sick dread and fear you’re desperately trying to tamp down. Omori isn’t dead!

“STOP IT!”

They wouldn’t kill him.

The crunch of footsteps sounds, and you don’t need your vision to know that Hajime’s now crouching in front of you. When rough fingers seize your jaw, holding you in place, and he leans in close, almost nose to nose, they fly open regardless.

“You ever try that shit again, and next time we’ll drag you by the fucking hair and do it in front of you,” he promises, calm despite the fury that rages in his eyes.

Caged between them, Hajime appraises you, taking in your hysteria, the tears dripping down your face, your bottom lip quivering – as though he’s committing the sight to memory. His eyes dart to Tooru’s for a brief second, the latter squeezing your side, before he speaks. “If you’d listened to us in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. Don’t make us into monsters, sweetheart.”

Your fault is what you hear.

There’s a loud pop from the fire, and you lose it entirely.

You explode. Elbows flying, kicking, clawing. A wild, terrified, desperate thing, and it takes them by surprise – enough to catch Tooru in the gut, loosening his grip. Enough to knock Hajime back onto his ass. A gap, however small, for you to scramble to your knees, violently kicking back when a hand snatches at your ankle, and flee through the woods in the dark, away from the furious shouts, the raging footsteps chasing after you.

You run and your lungs burn, heaving for every breath.

The light of the bonfire disappears behind you, plunging the forest into an inky black, and the shouts and yells turn into calls of your name, then coaxing pleas, almost sounding worried. Eventually, those grow distant too, and fade away altogether.

You keep running, uncertain of where you’re going. No, blind to it entirely. All that matters is keeping out of their reach. You’ll run to the ends of the earth if you have to.

And so you push until your legs scream for a reprieve, until you taste iron on your tongue and when your body can keep the pace no longer, you stumble through the underbrush, tripping over roots and branches instead, pausing every once in a while to lean against a tree and catch your breath.

As your adrenaline fades and the sweat dampening your clothes cools, the cold night air bites like needles at your skin, you start to shiver, rubbing at your exposed arms in an effort to generate a little warmth. Bitterly, you remember that the jacket that you’d brought, the one Tooru had all but forced on you before you’d left, is back at the bonfire, slung over a nearby log. Useless to you now.

But the shivers that wrack your body aren’t solely from the dropping temperature.

Every snapping branch, hoot of an owl, rustle of leaves sends a fresh wave of terror spiking through you. You think of Tooru’s cruel smirk and Hajime’s bruising grip, of Omori’s skull staring back at you from the fire, flesh melted to the bone, black and twisted, and a ragged, distraught sob brings you to your knees.

Hopelessly lost, cold, frightened and alone, you curl into the dirt and cry.

—

Hikers find you at dawn.

Emergency services are called – an ambulance to take you to the nearest hospital to be poked and prodded, police to question why a fourteen year old girl was wandering the woods alone at night.

They treat you for dehydration and mild hypothermia, a few small cuts and scrapes, and when a soft spoken nurse pulls the curtain around your bed and gently asks if you’d like them to perform a rape kit, you blanch and shake your head. Eventually, they allow the detective into the room. In his late forties, bespectacled, a smattering of grey dusted throughout his close cropped black hair, he pulls up a chair beside the bed and patiently asks how you’re feeling.

If you were a better person, you’d tell him everything. The Furukawas’ abuse, your foster brothers’ increasingly overprotective behaviour, sneaking behind their back to see Omori and the fight that followed that nearly ripped you apart.

The bonfire.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

Omori deserves that much. His parents should know what happened to their son.

Your jacket lying forgotten by his bones.

“Please don’t take me back there,” you mumble, tears shining in your eyes.

Back to the woods, or the Furukawas. Back to the boys you’d loved who’d murdered for you.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter that that’s all they can get out of you. A traumatised teenager found miles from home without a single soul raising the alarm would be one thing. When that traumatised teenager’s a girl supposedly under the care of government approved guardians, it raises red flags not even they can ignore.

By lunch, they’ve arranged for you to be placed back in an all-girl orphanage until a more suitable, long term solution can be found.

—

Some nights you dream that you’re back there, in their bedroom at the Furukawas’. It’s dark and cozy, there’s an arm slung over your waist and you find yourself drifting off to the steady beat of the heart behind you, soft snores by your ear.

They’re nice dreams. You feel safe, loved.

Tucked away in your subconscious, nothing exists but the sanctuary of them, and when you inevitably feel that tug of awareness coaxing you awake, you sink your fingers in and cling to it for dear life.

Just another minute. Another few seconds. Please.

Right now, you’d give anything to wake up and have this be nothing more than a nightmare you can banish.

But there’s no escaping this one. Your dad’s on the living room floor by the couch, hunkered over, pale and sweaty, pressing what was once a clean dish towel to the wound in his stomach. The coffee table’s been pushed to the side, Heisuke and your mom sat on the chairs Oikawa dragged into its place, ankles zip-tied to the legs, wrists bound, duct tape slapped across both of their mouths. Between the knife Oikawa idly toys with, still wet with blood, the handgun held loosely in Iwa’s palm and your dad slowly bleeding out on the floor, they’ve been compliant.

Much like you have, although you’re neither bound nor gagged, sitting in the armchair Iwa ushered you to, arms looped around your knees with the man himself perched against the backrest.

The only one of you making any kind of noise at all is your dad, his voice a slurring mumble, words near intelligible. He’s begging, you can tell that much. Pleading through gritted teeth for them to let you go, not to hurt you, your mom, Hei.

You desperately wanna tell him to save his breath, but you can’t even look at him – at any of them – without wanting to throw up.

“Do you still love us, imouto?”

Your eyes track Oikawa as he leans over the two chairs, the edge of his knife carelessly poised above Heisuke’s shoulder. From your periphery you see him flinch and stiffen, the sharp uptick of his breath smothered by duct tape, but you don’t dare shift your attention from the brunet smiling genially back at you.

Your heart squeezes, clenched by an invisible fist. Buried deep beneath the guilt and the paralysing dread, a slightly hysterical part of you almost wants to laugh.

“Do you think I could ever stop?”

Surprise flashes in his eyes and his grin widens. “You ran,” he accuses.

“You ran again this morning,” Iwa adds, sounding far less amused.

“I was scared.”

“Of us?” Iwa slides off the back of the couch, straightening up. In an instant, his hand’s wrapped around your throat, the broad pad of his thumb forcing your jaw upwards. “You think we’d ever fucking hurt you?” he growls, looking genuinely angry.

Distantly you register the sound of Heisuke’s muffled indignation, another gasping wheeze from your dad, but all that fades to the background as Iwa’s mouth crashes against yours.

He doesn’t kiss you sweetly. It’s invasive, rough. His hand flexes around your throat, forcing a gasp to drive his tongue between your lips, and you can feel every ounce of possession, of pent up need and frustration as he drags it on despite the awkward angle.

When he does break away, eyes darkened and simmering, he holds your gaze, ignoring the pointed throat clearing from the other side of the room. “Never,” he swears, waiting for you to nod before finally relaxing his grip. “Good girl.” To Oikawa, watching you both with a barely constrained hunger, he says, “Enough screwing around. Do it and let’s go.”

Oikawa huffs, rolling his eyes, “Fine. Should’ve known you’d get all impatient after you had a taste.”

“Like you’re not?”

There’s not enough air in the room, your heart’s doing somersaults in your chest, your pulse hammering through your veins. Oikawa stares at you, head tilted, the corner of his lip slowly curling up as you start to tremble, shaking your head, tears beading at your lashes, “I guess we could hurry it along.”

“No, please–”

“Shh, sweet girl. It’s okay.” You try to stand up, but Iwa takes a hold of your shoulder and forces you back down. “Me and Iwa, we were gonna give you a choice. Let you pick. If you could kill one of them, we’d let the other two go.”

A strangled sob rips its way free, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. We’re not gonna make you do that,” he comforts, side-stepping your now thrashing brother to make his way over towards you. “Cause the thing is, they kept you from us. Lied to you. Manipulated you. Whether they meant to or not, they hurt you. I don’t think they deserve that kind of mercy, do you?”

“No, no, no, please! Please don’t, please don’t hurt them–”

Abandoning his knife, he drops to a crouch in front of you, “We’re gonna make it right, and then we’ll go home, okay? We’ll take care of it.”

“Please, Tooru! I’ll do anything!”

There’s a kiss pressed to the crown of your head, the cushion behind your back being tugged free. “You don’t need to do anything,” Iwa says, the cold cocking of his gun echoing like a death knell.

“We love you. This one’s on us.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere iwaizumi x reader #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon

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bunnykawa · 1 month

Text

all mine (sakusa x f. reader)

summary: Big brother Sakusa has to deal with his flirty little sister. word count: 6k? warnings: 18+, sexual themes, incest, noncon/dubcon/rape, voyeurism kinda, some yandere themes, sakusa is delusional a/n: just a little thing i wrote out of nowhere to let out some steam and because battle of the garbage dump got released in japan and yeahh i just thought about my handsome man LMAOO. sorry if it's not that great since it's been like how long?? but enjoy!! also no this isn't a part 3 to my fic from 4 years ago lolol and excuse any of my typos 😵‍💫

Sakusa doesn’t know if he should be mad or not. The glow of his alarm clock is illuminating his dark room with the soft moonlight slightly peeking in through the blinds. He runs his hands through his curls before he sighs and puts his pillow over his face.

He can hear you. The soft moans and suppressed whimpers coming from plump, swollen lips can be easily heard through your thin walls. If he closes his eyes and really focuses, he could hear how wet your pussy is as you get drilled right next door—right next to the wall, too, because he knows that you prefer your bed in the corner of the room and the sound of the bed creaking is getting unapologetically louder and louder. He was supposed to be asleep an hour ago for early volleyball practice the next morning, but instead he’s listening to you. Every little noise, every creak, every word that slips out of your clenched teeth as you try to be as quiet as you can—”Please,” you beg in a broken voice, “Y-you’re so big, ‘Tsumu.”

’Tsumu; the little nickname that makes his blood boil and all he can think about is how much of a fucking asshole he is. Yeah, he should be mad—he has every right to be angry, he thinks. Sakusa has to see Atsumu Miya’s cocky face and disgustingly bleached hair at volleyball practice every week and now he has to hear the fucker himself fucking his little sister into oblivion in the next room.

And now it’s getting hot in his own room! He scratches the side of his neck in irritation. Why does it feel like his comforters are suffocating him? Sakusa throws his pillow across the room and rips the blankets off of himself. The tip of his hard cock is peeking out from one of the legs of his boxers, almost as if his body is mocking him for feeling this way—for getting hard at the sound of his little sister getting split open. He grimaces for a second, but the guilt and shame can hit him later. Right now it’s too fucking hot.

So, he’s angry because he hates Atsumu—hates how Atsumu has managed to infiltrate his professional life and personal life in such a gross way. Why is Sakusa bitterly pushing his boxers down around his thick thighs? His cock springs free and he grips the shaft harshly.

“Fuck,” Sakusa mutters. He starts slowly, gently pumping his hand around his cock. It’s warm in his hand and twitching at the small bursts of pleasure, enough to allow a pained moan out through gritted teeth. When was the last time he even had someone over to use their body how he pleased? He wishes he could ignore it—ignore you—but all he does is pick up his pace as he listens to the sound of your cunt getting destroyed and your sickeningly sweet begging for Atsumu to fuck you harder.

Oh, he’s mad—so mad that everything is throbbing from his head to the head of his dick. He hisses at the pain in his temples but it does little to stop him from continuing to fist his cock.

“‘Tsumu!” he hears you cry out. The sound of your headboard slamming against the wall is getting even louder, accompanied by the slick noises coming from between your legs and skin slapping against skin. The room feels like a sauna at this point, but nonetheless, Sakusa squeezes his eyes shut as he picks up speed and fucks into his own hand like a pervert at the sound of his little sister.

Would you be scared of him if you knew how badly he wanted to be in Atsumu’s place? How he wants to rip Atsumu away from you and make you cum on his cock the way he wants to? His skin is getting sticky from his sweat—his arm is getting tired from how fast he’s pumping his cock, desperate to release his frustrations in a stream of hot white liquid and how he wishes he could paint your face with it. He imagines how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock—if you would beg for him through watery eyes and tear-stained puffy cheeks trying to put all of him in your mouth. Is his cock too big for you? Is your pussy as warm and sopping wet as he imagines it is?

“I’m gonna cum!” you scream, “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” Your voice cracks when you chant for Atsumu. Sakusa’s whole body tenses, every single nerve and muscle in his body on fire because damn it, he wants to be the reason why you're screaming and convulsing and crying from pleasure like a whore.

Then with a few more strokes of his cock, he releases his cum in heavy streams that land in a sticky mess on his sheets and lower abs. He groans as his cock twitches against his aching fingers. After a few seconds, he lets go of his shaft and lets it fall against his pelvis. It’s like the whole world has stopped—there’s no more erotic noise coming from your side of the wall. It would have been completely silent if it weren’t for the sound of labored breaths and giggling. He wonders if Atsumu is going to cuddle you to sleep and stay the night or if he’s going to run away and leave you yearning for more.

Embarrassment creeps onto his cheeks with how fast he came, but as fast as the embarrassment comes, the guilt suddenly settles deep into his stomach, into his joints, into every muscle of his being. Sakusa is disgusted with himself for letting his lust take over during a moment of weakness—lust for his imouto who doesn’t know any better, who is in the prime of her life to fuck around and find out without much of a care in the world, who doesn’t think about the consequences. Sakusa can’t do that like you do, it’s not built into him except for the few times where he did let loose—although he’s not as sloppy as you. Sometimes it feels like you were raised in different households. It shouldn’t be a surprise to him that you flirt and fuck with his volleyball teammates—or anyone that breathes in your direction for that matter. It shouldn’t—but for the first time in his life, he asks himself that if you undress for anyone…then why not for him?

He curses to himself. His expectations are too unrealistic. You’re siblings! And he knows that you both could and should never unless you wanted to ruin your relationship and test your morals. He reaches over to the towel hanging on his desk chair and quickly wipes away the mess he made. A nice, steamy shower pops into his mind, but he’s too tired to wash away his sins.

The room gets colder and his transgressions have nowhere to go, marinating into his skin, reminding him that he’s a shitty big brother for wanting to ravage you from the inside. As his mind goes hazy from how sleepy he is, he also hears a door open and shut followed by heavy footsteps and another door—your door and the front door. A small smirk finds its way across his lips. Sakusa may have a sick attraction to his little sister that he may have recently discovered, but at least he’s never lonely. You, however—

You can never make them stay long.

“Omi-nii~!” Sakusa hears you sing, bouncing through the hallways of your shared apartment until he feels you wrap your arms around his naked waist. He’s in the kitchen warming up the leftovers you cooked earlier in the day over the stove, looming over the counter and scrolling away at his phone.

He scoffs and leans away from you in mock disgust, “Weren’t you sick last week? Get off me before you give me your disease.”

“I don’t have one! I’m clean!” you whine with a pout, squeezing your arms around him tighter. You press the front of your body against his back, a gesture that makes Sakusa feel fuzzy, especially when you also press your nose against his bare back to inhale his scent. There’s something so intimate with the way you’re not even scared to hold him while he’s not wearing a shirt. His skin is fresh from the shower and his hair is slightly damp. He pulls away to look at you when he notices how nicely dressed you are.

With a raised brow, he asks, “Where the hell are you going this late?” You pull away from him to adjust your dress. He turns to face you, his eyes going up and down your body with sick thoughts beginning to cloud his brain—sick, twisted thoughts that should have never crossed his mind.

“First of all—” you say, rolling your eyes at him, “—it’s not late. It’s literally only six-thirty, you weirdo.” Sakusa narrows his eyes as he begins to scowl. But despite his obvious look of you better not be going out like that, you happily ignore him. “Second of all, I’m going out on a date!”

“A date with who?” he asks sharply, folding his arms against his chest and straightening his posture. He always does this to tower above you, to hopefully make you feel smaller than you are. It worked much better when you were both younger.

You bite your lip before giggling his name, “Atsumu.” You seem to get bubbly as his name rolls off of your tongue naturally with a smile playing at your lips and warm cheeks to accompany it. Maybe his heart aches a bit with jealousy when you say that stupid name, a feeling that makes the guilt settle heavily again. The last time he heard you say his name—moan his name—was a few nights ago when he did something no brother should ever do, separated by a few inches of thin walls. As quick as he is to question you, he is also quick to shake those damning thoughts out of his head before they manifest into something more and he ends up losing it in the kitchen you share. He’s scared that he might never forgive himself if he does.

“Since when the hell did you get so close?” Sakusa shoots you another question with furrowed brows. As monotonous as Sakusa usually is, the distaste is present in his tone and his stance.

“I don’t know,” you sigh so dreamily, “It just happened. I didn’t know he could be so sweet.” He could vomit if he had the chance. Out of all people—Atsumu? Really? Sweet?!

“Well, I guess you do have a disease then,” he retorts, sticking his nose up in disgust, “He’s sick in the head, (Y/N). I thought you had better taste in men but here you go fucking around with my teammate—”

“Omi-nii...” you pout.

“—like he’s the only guy you know. I expected better from you,” Sakusa continues with a puff of his chest. He turns away from you to turn the stove off. “He’s always sick, too. Always getting a cold and then going to practice like he’s not contagious.”

It’s Atsumu taking his little sister away from him that angers him more than he could ever imagine—but it’s also knowing that he will never be the one between your thighs that makes him so disappointed. There’s a silence in the room that creeps up his back.

“You’ve been so out of character recently, Nii-san,” you ponder behind him, placing your finger on your chin to pretend that you’re thinking, “It’s not like you to lose your cool over a guy. Are you…

…jealous?”

No.

He’s just looking out for you—he’s your big brother after all! But he doesn’t know how to respond and stands still, holding his breath. Deny, deny, deny. He turns his head to look at you in his peripherals; you’re staring right at him with the same sweet eyes that he remembers from your childhood. Maybe he has been out of character—did you really notice? As it feels like some kind of tension is suffocating him and the ground is going to swallow him, you crack a wide smile and start giggling uncontrollably, which instantly makes him frown.

This is why you two are complete opposites—Sakusa; as serious as ever and always playing the voice of reason like a good older brother, and you; the first to laugh when it’s quiet and always being the fun little sister when things get too serious for your liking. You skip towards him and wrap your arms around him again with the biggest smile on your face, snuggling your nose into the skin of his back.

“You’ll always be my favorite, Omi-nii. I love you more than any boy in the world,” you hum. He wonders if you can hear his heart beating louder with each syllable of your words.

Sakusa could laugh. Usually he would, before pushing you off and scolding you for getting too close to him. But his heart continues to thump and his voice gets stuck in his throat when your hand slides down his abs and brushes lightly over his twitching cock. It’s not like him to lose his composure like this. You place a saccharine kiss on the curve of his back before you hastily let go of him and walk away.

You didn’t touch him enough for him to say anything—to reprimand you for touching your Onii-san like that—but just enough for your touch to linger where it shouldn't.

A soft knocking at Sakusa’s bedroom door stirs him awake. He groggily twists and turns under his bed sheets, irritated that someone would wake him so late at night. He hears the ‘click’ of the door knob and the hinges creaking as the door opens.

“Omi-nii?” you whisper gently from your place at the door. Sakusa ignores you easily, choosing to keep his eyes shut in hopes that maybe you’ll leave him alone and let him have his peace.

“Omi-nii,” you call his name louder and more firmly, “Onii-san, are you awake?”

What a stupid question, he thinks to himself, but Sakusa figures that you’re not going to leave his room any sooner, so he finally opens one of his eyes slowly to see your head peeking into his room. It’s dark—you’re almost just a black silhouette in his blurry vision, but he can make out your soft and surprisingly tired features just enough. “What, (Y/N),” he groans, his voice gravelly with fatigue.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Your voice is timid when you ask—it brings Sakusa back to when you two were younger and you were just as shy to ask him the same question—and the same question is what prompts him to suddenly sit up, letting his bed sheets fall to expose his lean upper body. He rubs at his eye before looking up to gaze at you, clad in a shirt of his (that he begrudgingly noticed went missing months ago) engulfing your figure.

Omi-nii’s shirts are way more comfier than mine, you would whine. He would roll his eyes and snap at you, usually, but would still let you take his shirts anyway. The perverted part of him secretly loves how his clothes fit you.

Sakusa doesn’t ask and figures that it’s best that he doesn’t. He sees the way you’re twiddling with the bottom of his shirt between shaky fingers. He could tell you that he was right all along, laugh in your face, anything to rub it in—instead, he pulls the covers aside and scoots over, creating an empty space for you, just for you.

“Come here,” he mutters, loud enough for you to hear. You move instantly, your feet delicately pitter pattering against his hardwood floors. The mattress dips lightly as you climb into his bed. You pull his blanket up to your chin instantly and Sakusa grabs whatever he can get. “Go to sleep, (Y/N).” Without another word, he turns away from you and settles into his sleeping position on his side.

After a few moments of silence, you mumble something Sakusa can’t quite make out. And when he chooses not to respond, you say it again, “Can you hold me, Onii-san?” Then his body completely stiffens in response. He always said yes when you two were kids—hell, even when you were teenagers and it was definitely considered inappropriate by then. Would it be weird if he said no now?

But he sighs, knowing that he can't just say no. He turns around and drags himself closer to you, lifting his arm so that you can move underneath it and press yourself into the front of his body. His breath hitches as you do, an all too familiar heat igniting in his stomach as the curves of your body fit perfectly against him.

When he wraps his arm around you, he suddenly feels so complete and so awful, almost having to hold back on how tightly he wants to really hold you. This time he can inhale the scent of your hair—a mixture of whatever shampoo and conditioner you keep in your rotation and your favorite leave-in conditioner. The skin on your arms is soft from your lotion, your legs are smooth and buttery against him, and fuck are you so warm. He could absolutely eat you up right here if you’d let him. Maybe in your vulnerable state of mind…you wouldn’t say no.

Sauksa doesn’t know what demon has decided to possess him. He’s been thinking too much for the past few weeks for sure. A little earworm is corrupting him, whispering in his ear and daring him to do something and destroy you.

His hands are moving on their own. They slip underneath your shirt—hot fingertips caressing your skin so carelessly and trailing up and down your hips. He wants to laugh because you’re only wearing panties. How obvious can you get? If you were thinking about him the same way he thought about you, you could have just said something.

You tense up at his unexpected touch, but don’t move away from him—you don’t even say a word, not when his hand slides up to cup one of your tits to pull you closer to him, not when he decides to press his hard cock against your ass, not a single word.

Sakusa thinks he’s been too hard on himself recently, especially with how his feelings about you have changed so drastically. You’re not ready for him like that, that much is obvious with how much you’re shivering, but he deserves this after all the mental anguish you put him through because of how stupid you are.

First, you fuck his dumb teammate in the apartment that Sakusa pays for. And out of all the teammates, you choose the one who used to have piss blond hair back in high school and still slurs his words. Second, you have the audacity to touch him and kiss him and tease him, knowing that he can never have you the way that he wants. Third, you wake him up in the middle of the night to sleep in his bed in one of the shirts he’s been looking for for months and just your thin panties that leave so little to the imagination—

“Omi?” you quavered, knocking him out of his thoughts. Oh, he didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing you or how rough his grip is on your perky tits. He also didn’t realize how he started grinding himself against your ass, wedging his covered cock between your covered asscheeks in an attempt to feel the warmth from your core. The guilt should have been settling in him again, yet to his surprise, he feels…nothing. All he wants is to hold you down against the bed and wreck your insides until you bleed and beg for him.

“Omi-nii!” A panicked gasp escapes you and suddenly Sakusa is on top of you, holding you down by your wrists. You gaze up at him, lips parted in shock, eyes so wide, and the first thing that goes through his mind is beautiful. He leans down and presses his lips against yours, leaving you so shocked that your entire body freezes.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, and his words flip a switch in your brain. You’re already fighting against him, desperate to escape from his hold on your wrists and the sins he’s planting on your lips and for the first time in your life you’re actually scared of him.

Sakusa grips your wrists even tighter and hisses as you squirm, “I said hold still.”

Then you force yourself to relax with no choice but to let Sakusa explore your mouth. Your hesitation is obvious (of course, it is) and instead of pulling back and knocking sense into himself, he’s offended—out of all the guys you let violate your body, you won’t let your own brother do the same?

He disconnects from you to grip both your wrists above your head, holding you down easily with one hand. Then his other hand quickly pushes the bottom of your shirt up to your stomach to display your bottom half and grabs the top of your panties. You’re horrified as Sakusa effortlessly rips your panties off of you and throws the shredded pieces off to the side, exposing you to the cold air and to your brother’s eyes.

Your brother’s eyes. You can feel the bile coming up to your throat at the realization. Your brother is going to do something to you against your will and you can’t do anything to stop him because he’s bigger and stronger than you and you live alone together. As you make eye contact with him, it’s like you can’t even recognize him. You jerk your body away in a feeble attempt to free yourself, but it’s no use.

“Stop!” you cry, ashamed, scared, and so confused, “Nii-san, stop!”

He splits your thighs apart with his own muscled thighs and you feel so weak trying to close them again, to hide that part of you that your big brother should never ever see.

But to Sakusa, it’s a sight that he wishes he could see over and over again and he has no problem taking his chances if it means that he can have you—he’s already gone way too far, past the point of return, and he doesn’t want to care anymore about what consequences his actions might bring. A small smirk appears on his face as he looks down at you, so vulnerable and small underneath him. He doesn’t want to waste time—his boxers are already down his thighs and his cock is free. You’re looking down at his cock with pure fear on your face—fuck, he’s big, so big that you’re dumbfounded that he’s even real. But he’s also your brother. You literally grew up together and he still takes care of you and you see each other everyday.

You want to look away but you can’t. Although your vision is blurry due to your tears, you can still see him and only him. “This is why you asked to sleep with your nii-san tonight, right?” he breathes, looking down at you with a hunger in his eyes that you’ve never seen or noticed before. You’re shaking your head no. Never. You were just sad and needed your big brother to comfort you without asking any questions.

“Stop lying to me, (Y/N). You know what you’re doing,” he scoffs, “I’ll take care of you. Just like I always have.” Then, he grabs the back of your thigh with his free hand to hoist one of your knees up against your chest, exposing you even more than you already are. Before you can even process it, the head of his hard cock is pressing against your entrance so delicately and so carefully but it’s terrifying all the same.

A loud gasp escapes you and you attempt to yank yourself away from him again. Tears are fully streaming down your face now, dampening your hair and the sheets. Your chest is tightening— you’re so scared. You don’t even know what Sakusa is talking about so you're even more puzzled. As far as you know, you’ve been the same as you’ve always been. “Don’t d-do that,” you beg with a crack in your voice, “Omi-nii, please.”

But Sakusa is pleased to hear your broken voice—irritated that you don’t want him to continue, sure, but pleased nonetheless. He’s always wanted to see you like this underneath him and he finally has you. Your legs spread wide open for him to feast on is something that seemed so unobtainable yet you’re in his bed, exposed and ready.

Please.

He pushes through the tight rings of your pussy until he completely fills you up—the tip of his cock is fighting its way through plush walls to kiss your cervix and you swear that your world has shattered into a million tiny pieces. A sob breaks free from your throat.

The room is ice cold. There’s no more air in your lungs as you convulse around him. You can hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears but everything is so silent. Sakusa lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding and suddenly everything is okay now—he knows that there was no demon possessing him to think about you in such a dirty way because it was really him all along. All his sick fantasies and insatiable desires, dreams of devouring you, and all those sleepless nights imagining what you would look like with his cock so deep inside you that you couldn’t breathe—it was just him, so painfully in love with you even if he can’t have you. And now he’s inside of you. He’s actually inside of you.

“Fuck,” he curses in a strained voice, “You’re so fucking tight, fuck.” It feels as if your mind and body are attempting to recover from the shock of Sakusa forcing himself inside your cunt but there’s no time for recovery at all—hell, you’re both surprised that he even managed to slide into you as easily as he did.

Then he starts moving, slow and steady to open you up more. The sting of him stretching you is enough to make you let out a few wails between quivering lips. You can physically feel your walls shudder around his length and your nerves are practically screaming, ringing your inner alarms, knowing that this is so fucking wrong.

“Get the fuck off of me!” you sob, attempting to jerk your wrists away from his one-handed grip. You’re not even sure when you became so weak, even with adrenaline coursing through your veins. And you’re even more shocked when he lets go of your wrists for a split second only to hold you by the throat firmly.

“You need to shut the fuck up sometimes,” Sakusa breathes with a hint of annoyance. Your shaky hands find their way to wrap around his wrist, nails clawing at his skin, hopelessly trying to loosen his grip. His cock is still moving dangerously inside you, filling you up and then leaving you empty with just his tip, only to fill you up again. The slow rhythm of his hips pressing against yours is tormenting—your skin is crawling with every moment that your hips meet and you wonder if he moved more then would time go by faster?

Labored breaths and wheezes are the only sounds that you’re able to let out with Sakusa’s hand on your throat. There’s fatigue creeping in your bones yet you feel the energy in your veins and it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing makes sense and everything hurts and just—why?

“C-Can’t…breathe,” you manage to gasp out. As much as you want to stay awake, afraid of what your older brother might do to you if you pass out, you can see your vision starting to blur and your brain beginning to turn into mush. Your hands are loosening their grip around his arm that’s holding you captive. He’s squeezing your throat tighter and tighter.

You just needed someone—needed your onii-san to help you during this fucked up time between you and Atsumu. Usually he’d be on top of you like this, fucking you until you cry for him and cum all over his cock. You’d moan and drool and beg—anything for him to claim you over and over again. Instead of seeing stupid bleached hair and flirty eyes, you see black curls and dispassionate voids gazing at you as you’re about to pass out and it’s like he doesn’t even fucking care! You just wanted to feel better and to feel your onii-san’s comfort again and he decides to touch you and—

He presses his forehead against yours all of a sudden, and you can barely hear him when his lips start moving. “...What?” you choke out through wheezes.

“If you want me to let go, you have to let me fuck you as hard as I want,” he repeats himself firmly. You don’t realize that he’s stopped moving inside you, leaving you feeling oddly empty. All you know is that you need to breathe and maybe that desperation is what makes you attempt to nod your head in agreement. A smirk appears on Sakusa’s face and before you can even register what's going on, he’s straightening up to thrust his cock even deeper into your core and he finally lets go of your throat.

You’re coughing and sputtering, oddly embarrassed at how much saliva you’re spitting out, and you’re hyper aware that you have him inside you again, deep inside you and painfully stretching you to the point where you’re afraid that he’s going to rip you in half. Sakusa grabs the backs of your thighs and presses both your knees against your chest again, leaving his hands there to hold you down once more and to expose your pussy to the cold air. You feel the warmth spread across your cheeks from how embarrassing it is to be on full display and how repulsive it is that it’s Sakusa between your legs to ogle at you as much as he pleases. You wonder what changed between you two—has he always felt this way? It makes you sick to your stomach to imagine that your brother that you love so dearly and looked up to your whole life wants you and it’s diabolical how this is what he wants from you.

And when he starts thrusting harder than before, slamming his cock into you with such a force that your body lurches with his movements, your brain is back to turning into mush and a part of you wishes that you did pass out—at least you wouldn’t have to be conscious to feel everything. You can’t help but let out quiet whimpers and gasps that don’t even sound like you. It hurts—the stretch of his thick cock is so unbearable and his hands on your thighs are sure to leave ugly bruises.

“You feel so good,” he almost laughs, like he can’t believe this is happening. You are as soft as he imagined, maybe even more, and how easily your pussy starts creaming around him makes his heart skip a beat. When he presses his forehead against yours again, you want to recoil even though you physically can’t. You don’t want to look him in the eyes yet you can’t bring yourself to look away. You don’t even know if you can hate him after this and Sakusa knows that—how you love him so much, even if it’s not the way that he wants you to—

—because you need him.

It’s nauseating how much you still need him. It’s horrifying how your legs are beginning to shake from how deep he is and how he’s shoving himself against your cervix unkindly. Most of all, it’s disgusting how you can feel—even hear—the puddle pooling from your cunt, forcing you to stretch to accommodate his size—and maybe in the midst of your hysterical state, maybe Sakusa feels good, too.

You can’t admit that—you definitely don’t want to—but for fuck’s sake, you know what your body likes and although it’s Sakusa punishing you in the worst way possible, you recognize that tightness in your stomach—the corrupt feeling that makes you scream and cry and beg, that makes your body writhe in desperation to have more. Fuck, it’s morally wrong but at the same time, your body loves to feel full and stretched to its limits. You’re so sad that Atsumu “broke up” with you (you weren’t really dating in the first place) because Atsumu knew your body so well and his dick was huge. You really shouldn’t be comparing since the thought is so sickening, yet the way Sakusa is splitting you open is different—so different from Atsumu with no gentleness, no delicacy, just pure lust and a desire to fuck you until you faint and it’s…better. It shouldn’t be better, shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but it's better.

When the realization hits you, the shame and embarrassment floods your stomach, too—how could you let your own brother fuck you like this and how could you enjoy it? And now you’re angry at yourself, for how Sakusa is making you feel, how your body is reacting, how raw and wet your pussy, how Atsumu blindsided you, how this whole situation is so fucking unfair.

“Omi-nii,” you whine with a dry throat, reaching up to grab his thick biceps, all tensed up and veiny from gripping your thighs and turning them purple. His muscles are so well-defined that you almost forget that he’s your brother and start melting into his skin. The base of his cock is hitting your clit every time your hips meet, sending shocks of pleasure all throughout your core. The walls of your cunt are convulsing around him. It shouldn’t feel good, it really shouldn’t, but the burning sensation on your thighs from having your knees pressed against your chest to expose your cunt and Sakusa carving the shape of his cock into your pussy is the best fucking thing you’ve ever felt in all your years of living. As guilty as you feel for wanting more, you start to beg for him, “Please make me cum, Omi-nii.”

A smug smile plays on his lips. Your pussy is dripping everywhere, making wet noises every time Sakusa moves, and he thinks he’s finally satisfied. Not completely though, because he wants you to squirt on his cock and he wants you to squirt on his cock every night from now on. He deserves it, deserves this, deserves to be the one inside of you and claiming you and pumping you full of cum.

He leans down and captures your lips with his once again, and this time you let him slip his tongue against yours in a messy passionate kiss. When he lets go of one of your thighs to rub at your clit with his thumb and your body tenses up harshly as a result, he sneers at you, “Cum all over my cock, you bitch.”

Then your cunt tightens around him and you hate that he’s being so mean to you but you cry and scream and dig your nails into his muscles like you’ve never came before because you like how mean he is and the only thing you can pathetically moan is Onii-san~!

He doesn’t stop when you cum, chasing his own high to drown your pussy in his sticky seed and hopefully force another climax out of your body to feed his ego, so he wraps his hands around your throat again while you’re delirious and kisses you again and again. “You can fuck whoever you want,” he mutters against your plump lips, “Think that you know what love is when you have some other loser inside you—”

“—but this stupid cunt is all mine.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu imagines #yandere haikyuu smut #haikyuu smut #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #yandere sakusa x reader #yandered sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #yandere sakusa kiyoomi #yandere kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi smut #kiyoomi sakusa smut #sakusa #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu thirsts #tw yandere #tw noncon

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viviaj · 10 months

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“don’t be a fucking bitch,” matsukawa issei, for the third time tonight, has a dumb bitch underneath him. he shoves your body further into the mattress, “just let me do this.”

you’re burning while issei’s large hand presses down on your back like a brick, his other hand trying to guide his big cock into your tight hole.

feeling him push you open is like fucking hell. “it fucking hurts you piece of shit,”

“you talk so sweet to me baby,” he pushes the tip in, and the pain and feeling of it all has your voice getting caught in your throat, “yeah? say somethin’ nice now,” he bends down beside you, “talk sweet to me.”

he knows what he does to women. and he doesn’t really care.

he goes to push further in and you instinctively jerk forward, “wait, wait. just let me—”

“holy shit, shut the fuck up.”

your face falls into the pillow as he pushes all the way into you. a groan melts from his mouth at how you feel around him, “fuck. yeah that’s good.”

he’s moving in and out of you; like a fucking vice to him, “worth the bratty mouth.”

“fuck you.” it’s meant to come out with more anger but it sounds pathetic next to him.

he’s quiet

he’s quiet while he fucks you like you’re a little tool to get off with.

matsukawa issei knows that he hurts women, and he’s a sick pervert that enjoys it.

a sickening guilt builds in your stomach as you think and think and think and think and

“does it hurt?”

you want to tell him no. you don’t want him to have the satisfaction that it does hurt. that all you can feel is his cock, and his hands.

“yeah,” you cry out pathetically, “it hurts.”

“i know.”

it’s so pathetic. because he didn’t even have to ask in the first place. but watching you, and hearing you subject yourself to him, is fun.

this is fun to issei. and that realisation is awful.

his cock pulls out of you, face next to your cheek, “let’s put this somewhere else, okay?” his thumb hooks into your mouth, pulling at your cheek, “right here.”

you were in for a long night.

#haikyuu men #haikyuu smut #tw dubcon #tw noncon #matsukawa smut #matsukawa issei #tw degredation #he’s an asshole #issei matsukawa #issei smut #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa x you #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa x y/n #noncon tw

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eroslove88 · 1 year

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"She only wanted to lie beside him"

Pairing: Yan. Kenma x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Stalking, kidnapping, bondage, noncon touching and noncon implied

Note: WOAH!!! I POST 2 TIMES IN A WEEK. WILD!!! Uhm yeah, this is a guilty pleasure fic.

Turning on your computer you feel a bit... dumb? It feels useless to even message him- but yet here you are. Kenma messaged you, and that's not out of the ordinary. Actually it's pretty normal, it's been normal for like 6-7 months.

You got close to him because he was in a server with a mutual friend. He goes to your high school and growing up the most you said to him was something about project years ago. Senior year- you thought that this would be the year where you'd come out of your shell but that never happened. Anxiety crashed that thought early on. When you got on a daily routine of texting Kenma you thought he'd actually want to befriend you, but that's not what happened. Long late night conversations and not a word said to each other in real life. It doesn't help that you two walk the same way home either...

Maybe you wouldn't have cared so much if you didn't have a small crush on him.

'hey did we hv hw' your computer gets a notification, Kenma. You sigh and type back, 'Yeah, the insert for this lesson.' you see that he's typing but he stops and doesn't respond until about 5 minutes later- despite being online. '👍' you couldn't help but roll your eyes and just sigh.

None the less he was an ok dude, he had offered to gift you things, games & chocolates- all of which you declined. You didn't want to feel materialistic and greedy.

'do you wanna play gungeon' you put your jacket on and replied quickly, 'Sorry, I'm going for a walk. I can play in an hour though!' you patiently waited and he replied quickly. 'k' huffing you closed your laptop, charging it before you left.

During the winter, the sun went down faster than usual. So around 7ish the streets were empty for walkers except for the occasional dog walkers.

The sound of quiet foot steps penetrated your mind. Snapping your head around you're faced with empty streets, probably paranoia you thought. You turned your music up walking down your usual route.

Even with the music playing you couldn't help but hear footsteps everywhere. You weren't so far from the park... just 3 more blocks.

The feeling of being watched burns your neck, you really should've turned around. Pounding footsteps come running towards you but you were too late. Your screams were demoted to tiny whimpers as you weakly try grasping the needle in your neck.

You were freezing, your arms and legs were duct taped together. It was a pretty lazy job, but whatever kind of tape it was was pretty fucking strong. Your vision was blurred with tears and you whimper into your gag and curled into yourself seeming to have missed the boy sitting at the desk across the room.

It wasn't until you heard the creaking of the chair and light footsteps that you felt panic. Your eyes remained closed even when he was right by your face.

The bed dipped down, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you" a small crying noise comes out from your gag as you try to beg him to stay away. He shushed you coming closer but all you could do was shake your head and try to move away, "Hey, it's ok" he spoke to you like a stray kitten as he slowly approached your trembling body, "Sh... It's only me" you knew that. But that didn't stop you from squirming in his arm as you tried pushing him away. He tisked at your pitiful attempt, " 'm really sorry for not approaching you" he mumbles kissing your head. "I knew you were lonely..." he chuckles, "But that honestly made things even easier" he let's you go and stands up. "I've been waiting a while to do this you know" he pulls out a black box. He opened it and paused "I've always been curious to see how your pretty face would look with a full pussy" he pulls out 3 big dildos, "and ass" he smirks pulling out a condom. "2 v. 2?"

#tw yandere #tw kidnapping #yandere #tw noncon #haikyu smut #haikyuu yandere #yandere haikyu x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere kenma #yandere kozume #kenma kozume

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yanderecrazysie · 4 months

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Mysophobia (Yandere Sakusa)

Please don’t request any phobias. I just felt like making this for fun.

Be kind to me, I'm still not good at writing NSFW

Title: Mysophobia

Pairings: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, NSFW, NONCON, degradation

Phobia: The fear of germs

Sakusa never touched you without wearing gloves. The plastic always felt cold against your bare skin- he didn’t allow you to wear any clothing.

He was a complete germaphobe- constantly washing the sheets and you. You ended up in the bathtub at least once a day, with him watching over you, making sure you scrubbed well enough to get rid of all the impurities.

If he wanted you to touch him, he forced you to put on hand sanitizer before demanding your touch.

He called you all sorts of things. Disgusting. Pig. Slut. You couldn’t say anything in response unless you wanted his glove-clad fingers shoved down your throat.

Like most days, you laid on your sterile sheets, looking up at the ceiling. Waiting for Sakusa to come back. Because as much as you hated him, at least he wasn’t boring.

The door clicked and you sat up, on edge despite how relieved you were to see Sakusa. He opened the door, wearing his signature mask and gloves. He gave you a once over before saying, “You’re sweaty.”

You knew what that meant. Bath time for the second time today. Your skin was still raw from his earlier scrubbing.

Sakusa pulled a key out of his pocket and turned to your handcuffs, unlocking them. You rubbed at the marks they left behind, soothing the sore skin. Sakusa didn’t give you a chance to appreciate your newfound freedom, his glove-clad hand grabbing your upper arm and hauling you to your feet.

He dragged you to the bathroom, but you didn't put up much of a fight. Bath time was the same every time- Sakusa would scrub your skin raw and you'd sit there and take it. Then, he would bring you back to the bed and watch some TV with you until you both fell asleep.

Sakusa turned on the faucet and tested the water as it fell into the bathtub. You obediently began to strip, just as you knew he wanted. You waited silently until he backed away from the tub, silently motioning for you to climb inside.

It was a huge tub, easily big enough for two people. Sometimes Sakusa used it too, but those were the worst days.

One look at Sakusa’s lap told you it was one of those days.

Sakusa began to strip unceremoniously, letting his dick spring up out of his boxers and hit his stomach, leaving a spot of precum where it connected. You swallowed thickly, knowing what was to come.

Sakusa opened one of the bathroom drawers and pulled out a condom. Even with you on birth control, Sakusa needed a condom to fuck you. Cum was too messy for him, after all.

He climbed into the tub and laid down, grabbing your hips and forcing you to straddle him. He tapped his cockhead against your clit a few times just to see you jolt, then shoved two of his gloved fingers into your cunt. He wasted no time, immediately scissoring your tight pussy apart, preparing you for his sizable member.

He removed his fingers from your cunt and made a disgusted noise when he saw that his gloves were shining with your slick. He put his fingers in the water, brow still furrowed in disdain. Sometimes you wondered why he even fucked you if it was too messy for him. But Sakusa just couldn’t help himself.

His hand came up and massaged your breast, eliciting a soft moan from you. His mouth twisted into a grimace, “You’re such a slut.”

You tried to ignore his comment, but you still felt hurt by his words. You couldn’t help how your body reacted, it was just natural.

Without further teasing, Sakusa began to push against the opening of your cunt until the head of his cock popped inside and the rest followed in one sharp thrust. You let out a squeak, placing both of your hands on his chest for balance.

Sakusa got angry at that, “Take your hands off of me, you disgusting slut.”

You quickly did as he said, removing your hands from his chest and seekingt purchase oin the sides of the tub. Meanwhile, Sakusa thrusted up into you, pushing up and up until his tip pressed against your deepest parts. Somehow, even behind his mask, you could tell, he was grinning wickedly.

Sakusa drew his hips back and began a brutal pace, bruising your cervix with each thrust. He didn’t allow you to get used to a pattern- occasionally stopping just to throw you off rhythm. You gasped and moaned and this time, instead of criticizing you, he groaned softly back, the sound muffled by his face mask.

He gave a couple extra rough thrusts before he shuddered and came. You followed right after him, the feeling of the condom inflating sending you over the edge. Sakusa pulled out and watched as you gasped for breath, laying back in the tub as his dick softened and slipped from your cunt. He stood up, removed his condom, and threw it in the garbage, glaring at it in disgust the entire time. He looked down and surveyed his dick, which was dripping white cum into the water below.

“We have to run a new bath. Get out,” Sakusa snapped.

You weren’t sure you could even move your legs.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!!#yandere one shot #one shot #yandere sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #tw noncon

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moechies · 6 months

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theme; dub/non con ᝰ.ᐟ

for my first time writing, i'm writing drabbles with the following prompts, so send me rqs of 1-2 prompts w characters ! (tokrev, jjk, haikyuu)

"it's all gonna be okay baby 's gonna all be over soon."

"if you weren't bad, none of this would've happened right? so who's fault is it?"

's okay, i forgive you, told you daddy's always right."

"it didn't have to hurt baby."

"you don't want to? well that's okay baby, because i don't really care."

"i forgive you baby, but you're gonna make it up to me, right?"

"daddy doesn't care if it hurts baby, you're just gettin' me harder."

"keep strugglin' sweetheart."

"keep cryin' just like that, you're boyfriends gonna love this" (filming)

"you're gonna feel me right here princess, don't cry.."

#jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #dead dove do not eat #haikyuu #jujutsu kaisen smut #yandere #tw noncon #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere writing #tw dubcon #tw dark content #dark content

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ilylovelyz · 10 months

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sorry, sorry.

pair : bully!sakusa x fem!reader

warning(s) : noncon to dubcon (sakusa says that he's raping reader but trust me he's just saying that to torment her, u can take that however you want), physical assault, bullying, choking, forced throatfucking, non descriptive impregnation, videotaping + leaking, manipulation, gaslighting, misogyny, sexism, all characters are aged up, alcohol

bully!sakusa who cornered you in the girl's locker room, will literally throw a bucket of soap water at you because you're so "dirty." he'll look down at you with satisfactory when your entire body and uniform is soaked with soap buds and the strong oder of cleanliness. he'll mumble a "finally, you don't smell like shit," down at you, eyes shamelessly leering at your now transparent shirt.

bully!sakusa who forces you to sign up to become the volleyball's team manager. he'll either forge your signature or he'll straight up almost break your wrist making you write that shit down. he'll laugh at you when you cry about how your grades are now suffering because being a manager for the team is taking up all of your free time, so you can't study without being tired. "what? you really expected that you'll do something great in life? you're too dumb." he'd say when he catches you trying to study inbetween practices and games.

bully!sakusa who rips up your notebooks and notes when he does catch you trying to study. then the day afterwards when the teacher asks if anyone wants to offer to share their notebook/notes during class, he'll raise his hand up, getting praise for being a good classmate and for volunteering to share with you for the nth time. during those class times, he'd be whispering nonsense into your ears, telling you not to touch his shit or he'll "break your hands and actually give you something to cry about."

bully!sakusa, who during those class lessons, instead of paying attention, he'll be pinching your thighs and wrists, telling you to pay attention. he'll roughly squeeze your inner thighs, making you yelp out in pain during class. he scoffs when you mumble out an embarrassed apology because you can't keep your damn mouth shut.

bully!sakusa, who forces his cock down your throat after class when everyone has left. "maybe this will stop you from interrupting class, huh?" he'd say, burly calloused hands gripping each side of your head, violently pumping your head up and down on his cock. his cock would twitch when you begin to claw at his thighs, lips turning blue due to the lack of oxygen. he'd pull you off his cock suddenly, and pull you by your hair so roughly it gives you whiplash. "don't touch me, damn whore. are you too dumb to breathe through your nose?" he'd yell, and without another word he would shove his cock back down your throat.

bully!sakusa, who would fake being unaware when he gets questioned for being a possible perpetrator for creating, and spreading a video of you getting fucked dumb in the same classroom after he came down your throat. it's clearly him in the video, big hand's wrapped around your throat, teasing and mocking you as your teary, crying eyes roll back in bliss, face flushed with shame as he forcibly splits you open on his thick cock. he has your knees up to your ears, practically bent in half as he batters your cervix on your desk. he mocks you for enjoying being raped, and tells you that nobody will ever listen to you because nobody loves you, and that you should be happy a guy like him is even willing to breathe the same air as you. "he's too good of a student, he'd never do such a thing", the teacher would say before letting him go.

bully!sakusa, who acts surprised when he hears the news about you dropping out. everyone seems to care suddenly, but at the same time; they don't seemed surprised. rumors circulate about the possibles on why you dropped out. "she probably dropped out because of that video of her getting fucked," some idiot would say to him. he'd shake his head, "no, that's not true. it's actually because she's pregnant with her rapist baby and her family is so ashamed of her so they made her drop out because they don't want anyone to see her."

bully!sakusa, who plays dumb when everyone finds out he's the actual father. when asked if he actually raped you, he says that you were actually begging for it and wanted to be treated like a whore. "she's just an attention seeker," someone said after he had told them that you lied. he internally laughs, he was right. nobody even cares about you enough to even take your word.

bully!sakusa, who basically barges into your house after school, giving a respectful nod to your timid mother. he has a little conversation with her as he takes off his shoes. wouldn't wanna make this little place dirtier than it already is. she embarrassingly mumbles apologies for you being a fuck-up, and begs him to forgive you. he fakes a smile at her, "of course, i'll forgive her. i'll make sure to take care of her, don't you worry." as he makes his way up to your room, he scoffs in amazement. not even your own mother cares about you.

bully!sakusa, who isn't surprised when he sees you sitting up on your bed, eyes low with emptiness. you were anticipating him. he doesn't waste a second to fuck you once again in your childhood home, not caring about the fact that your parents can most likely hear your cries and pathetic screams. his hands grope and painfully squeeze at every part of your body as he marks you up with bloody bites and hickies. he's a little more gentle than the previous times he's aggressively raped you. you're carrying his child of course, he has to make sure that he doesn't kill his son (he hopes it's a son because he doesn't want a daughter because she'll become a whore like you.)

bully!sakusa, who while he fucks you, mocks you for falling pregnant with your rapist. he tells you that it's so easy to control your body, and that you basically wanted to be raped with how easily you became pregnant. he puts you into the meanest mating press of your life, cock threatening to break your cervix. threatening to break you. by the end it, you're nothing but a shell of the person you once were, eyes and brain dead with defeat. "you've got nothing left good goin' for you, just give up, damn bitch." he says as he zips up his fly, leaving you sprawled limp onto the bed, pussy sore and leaking full of his cum.

bully!sakusa, whom after he graduates, makes you come live with him as his wife. "nobody will take care of you in the way i do." he tells you when you cried after realizing you're stuck with him forever. pregnant with his child, no education to your name, no support, you do give up. maybe he is whats best for you.

if you like my work, please leave a like and repost with tags :)

#haikyuu breeding #haikyuu smut #haikyuu pregnant #haikyuu!! smut #yandere sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader smut #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #yandere sakusa #haikyuu dark content #haikyuu yandere #⨳ noncon #⨳ dubcon #⨳ yandere saku

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xobrattymoonxo · 1 year

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Seijoh Six

Tw: Noncon, gangbang, anal, double penetration (same and different hole), creampie, unprotected sex, name calling

Please let me know if I missed anything!

Seijoh six x Fem!reader

Word count: 2.6K

Third Person Pov

It was late at night so she knew she shouldn’t have walked home alone from that frat party semi drunk, especially since the well known gang Seijoh has been going around causing problems in the city. Y/n had a bad feeling when she thought she had caught a glimpse of Hanamaki approaching her at the party, but alas, her friend Yukie abandoned her for a chance to sleep with her own crush. Y/n did try to call an uber but her card declined, so walking was the only option. She didn’t live far from campus, but far enough that it would be a terrifying walk home at almost 3am while intoxicated.

A car pulled up behind her and stopped. Y/n quickened her pace, stumbling a bit. She was sure she was about to die, so she ran. A man got out of the car and began to run behind her. She sped up but due to her being intoxicated she got really dizzy and tripped on a curb. Y/n fell face first onto the sidewalk. Another man got out of the car and ran up to her body, facedown on the sidewalk.

“Shit, make sure she's okay. Boss will be pissed if she’s hurt.” A man spoke from above her.

Another man reached out and picked her up. Y/n had a bloody nose.

“Give me your shirt Maki.” The large man holding her demanded.

“Why mine? You're the one holding her, Matsun.”

“Exactly, I am holding her idiot. Now hurry up before Yahaba gets out of the car.”

“Fine.” Hanamakii groaned.

He pulled his shirt off and gave Matsukawa it. He held it up to Y/n’s nose. Not knowing if she's conscious or not, Matsukawa picked her up and carried her the short way down the street to the car. Matsun tossed her into the back seat with ease. He climbed into the back seat with her as Maki climbed into the passenger seat.

“Let’s get out of here Yahaba.” Matsukawa spoke.

Yahaba stepped on the gas and drove as fast as he could back to headquarters.

Y/n was groaning in the back seat in pain with her possible broken nose. She was in so much pain it ended up making her pass out on the back seat, half in matsuns lap, half falling off the seat.

They arrived rather quickly to Headquarters. It was a huge mansion on the outskirts of Miyagi. It was pretty suspicious but Seijoh ran Miyagi with an iron fist. Maki was the first one out of the car. He opened the passenger door to see Matsukawa holding y/n’s head up.

“Is she even alive?” “Yeah, she’s breathing. Don’t worry. Let’s just get her inside to Oikawa.” Matsukawa said.

“Hurry up! Kyotani is waiting by the door now.” Yahaba said to the two.

Matsun carefully slid out from under Y/n and stepped out of the car. He picked up Y/n and carried her towards the door.

Kyotani stood holding open the door for the three men.

“What’s wrong with her nose, Matsukawa?” Kyotani asked.

“She fell on the sidewalk, she was really drunk when she left the party.”

“Oikawa is going to be pissed.” Kyotani said.

Matsukawa huffed as he walked into the house. He carried her down the stairs to the basement and into a dimly lit room. He placed her on the floor and tied her arms behind her back with the rope that was left there.

“We just have to wake her up now.” A voice spoke from behind him. He turned to see Iwaizumi and Oikawa standing there.

“She may have broken her nose.”

Iwaizumi bent down and looked at her nose.

“Definitely broken.” Iwaizumi said.

“I wanted her unharmed, but I guess a little broken nose is okay.” Oikawa said.

A few more men filled the room. Kyotani passed Oikawa a bucket and a cloth.

“Are you waterboarding her?” Hanamaki asked.

“It will wake her up, won’t it?” He said with a devilish smirk. Iwazumi rolled Y/n on her back and held her shoulders.

Oikawa placed the cloth over her mouth and began to pour water into it.

Y/n tried to jump up and gasp, but Iwaizumi was too strong. She kicked her feet crazy as she felt as if she was drowning. Oikawa had finally run out of water as he and Iwaizumi stood up. Y/n sat up and coughed crazily. She began to back away from the large semi circle of men, fearing what would come next.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty.” Yahaba said with a laugh.

“What do you want from me?” Y/n asked, fear dripping from her voice.

“I just want you.” Oikawa said as he walked closer. Y/n scrambled to her feet as she looked Oikawa dead in the eyes and kicked him directly in the dick.

“FUCK! YOU LITTLE BITCH THAT HURTS!” He screamed out.

Y/n tried to make a daring run to the door as her shoulder was grabbed. She was quickly tossed down to the ground. She looked up to see Yahaba with a devious smirk on his face.

Oikawa got up and approached Y/n.

“I was going to go easy, but now that I know you like it rough, it's a different story.” Oikawa said,

“Please… just let me go.” Y/n begged.

“No, you’re ours now you little bitch.”

Oikawa bent down and began pulling off Y/n’s jeans. Iwazumi bent down and ripped her shirt in half. She laid in her bra and underwear on the cold cement floor.

“Look how hot and helpless she looks, boys. I’m having a turn first then she’s all yours.”

Oikawa pulled Y/n up and untied the rope. He pulled her shirt remains off and then unclasped her bra. He pushed her back down on the cement floor roughly. It's only ours now.” He said with a maniacal laugh.

“Look at your perfect body, Y/n. I can’t believe it’s all ours now.”

He places her left tit in his mouth as he begins to suck roughly. Oikawa grabs Y/n’s other tit in his right hand. He began to play with the nipple. Y/n moaned out as Oikawa laughed.

“Enjoying yourself?” He said between sucking Y/n’s tit and getting air.

“Common boss! Fuck her already!” Hanamaki shouts.

“Shut the fuck up.” Oikawa spat.

Oikawa reached down and ripped Y/n’s panties in half. He spread her legs open as he pushed between them. He shoved a finger in Y/n’s slightly wet pussy.

“Ahh.” Y/n moaned.

Oikawa smirked to himself as he shoved two more inside. He began to speed up. He curled his fingers inside as he pulled them in and out. Y/n was a moaning mess by this time. Oikawa was quick to bring Y/n to an orgasm, but right before she was about to cum, he pulled his fingers out. He placed them in his mouth as he moaned, tasting the flavor of Y/n’s pussy.

Oikawa pulled away as he began undoing his pants. Y/n began to back away. Oikawa grabbed her ankles and pulled her back towards himself. He lined himself up at her entrance and began to push in.

“Please stop! I don’t want this!” “You were just moaning like a dirty slut and your pussy is dripping.” Oikawa spat.

“No plea- oh MY GOD” She shouted as he fully pushed inside.

Oikawa grabbed Y/n’s hips as he picked up the pace. He wasn’t the thickest but he was indeed large. He was hitting her G spot along with her cervix. She began to moan even louder as he sped up.

He already felt himself getting close as Y/n was so tight and growing tighter by the second as she neared her orgasm as well. He moaned out as he pushed himself in one last time. Y/n felt him twitch inside her.

“Please… not inside.” She begged between breaths.

“I own you, I can do what I want, slut.” He spat in her face.

WIth that she felt hot ropes of cum shooting up into her cervix.His cum sent Y/n’s body in a frenzy, leading her to come undone too. Oikawa rode out their highs before he pulled out.

“So who’s next? Or will it be a group effort?” He asked the 5 men standing behind him.

Matsukawa was the first to move. He looked down at Y/n breathing heavily on the floor.

“I call dibs on her pussy.” He said.

“Matsukawa is hung like a horse, good luck.” Iwaizumi said.

Y/n’s eyes widen as Matsukawa pulls down his pants and boxers. His cock really was hung like a horse. She had no idea how she would even fit that inside her.

“Like what you see, little one?” He said cockily.

He bent down and grabbed your hips, lining himself up at her dripping entrance. She screamed out as he pushed inside her. He was much thicker than Oikawa and much longer. Matsukawa laughed as he continued to push inside her sensitive pussy. She began to cum instantly over his cock due to the size. Hanamaki moaned as she did so. He picked up the pace only pounding into her harder.

“God, she's tight.” He moaned out.

“A perfect doll for us to ruin.” Yahaba laughed.

Kyotani began to grow irritated just watching.

“Move over, I want a turn too.” He said as he pushed Matsukawa.

“Her pussy is mine.” He growled possessively.

“She has a perfectly good asshole that's not being used.”

“Please… no … no more.” Y/n begged between thrusts.

Kyotani got down on the floor and flipped Y/n on her side. Matsukawa continued to relentlessly pound into her. Kyotani spread her ass cheeks as he sucked on two fingers. He forced into her asshole without warming.

“Stop please, it hurts!” Y/n screamed.

“I can prep you or I can go in right away. Your choice.” Kyotani spat.

Y/n said nothing as Kyotani smirked. He forced the other finger in y/n’s tight asshole. She groaned out. Kyotani pulled out only a few seconds after due to his growing impatience. He pulled his cock out of his pants as he lined it up with Y/n’s back entrance. Matsukawa held to a stop and almost pulled all the way out of Y/n’s pussy.

Matsukawa and Kyortani looked at each other as they began to push in at the same time.Y/n screamed out at the pain as she held onto Matsukawa’s shirt. Kyotani began to push harder as he made it all the way inside. The two began to pump in and out slowly as Y/n began to cry from the pain and pleasure she felt.

Kyotani began to pound into y/n’s backside as matsukawa did it from the front. Yahaba approved them as he motioned for Matsukawa to move a bit. Yahaba wiggled his way in and pulled out his cock. He shoved it against Y/n’s mouth, forcing her to open her mouth.

“Use your teeth and I’ll kill you.” Yahaba threatened.

Y/n began to get pounded from all three holes as she cried harder. Matsukawa was now at a level where he was able to shove one of Y/n’s tits in his mouth. He roughly pinched the other one’s nipple until it began to bleed from how rough he was being. The one in his mouth was the same. He felt her crimson liquid on his tongue but that didn’t stop him. Yahaba continuously hit her broken nose as she was screaming out in pain. Yahaba felt her vibration from her mixed moans and screams and went faster.

“Fuck you feel so good.” Yahaba said.

“Probably would be better without your ass in my face.” Matsukawa spoke up.

“I’ll be quick.” Yahaba said back.

“Fuck shes so tight.” Kyotani groaned.

Yahaba was true to his words and was quick to spill his hot load down Y/n’s throat.Y/n felt herself grow closer as her two holes got tighter around the men. Matsukawa finally stopped with her bleeding nipples as he and kyotani looked at each other and nodded. They came in unison with each other, stuffing y/n’s hole full of cum while her orgasm hit. Y/n thought Matsukawa’s would never stop. The two pulled out at the same time, trying to keep their cum inside her.

“That felt amazing.” Matsukawa said huffing and puffing.

“Hurry up guys, I want a turn.” Hanamaki whined.

“She’s all yours.” Matsukawa motioned to her body laying on the floor panting.

“I want her pussy!” Hanamaki shouted excitedly.

“After Matsun? You’re brave.” Iwaizumi said.

“You gonna take her ass?” Matsukawa asked.

“Yes, I can’t wait to feel how tight the bitch is.” Iwaizumi said.

Iwaizumi walked over to Y/n. Her nose was bleeding and swollen again, her nipples dripping with blood and her holes leaking cum. She looked absolutely destroyed and he loved it. He couldn’t wait to destroy her asshole even more.

Iwaizumi slid his pants down as he lined himself up at her back entrance.

“Please.. I can’t take it anymore.” Y/n said just above a whisper.

“Oh I think you are capable of more. Actually Maki, I have something for us to try.” Oikawa said with an evil grin.

Hanamaki and Oikawa walked up to Y/n’s body and bent down close to her.

“Iwai, put her in your lap.” He does as he's told. “Now you guys go in first, then I go in, with Maki.”

“NO PLEASE!” Y/n tried to throw herself off iwazumi’s lap.

Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around her waist holding her on his lap, cock poking her asshole still. During the struggle fight, Iwaixumi somehow managed to slip inside her asshole. She froze up as crazy amounts of pleasure washed over her. This allowed Hanamkai to slip inside as well.

“Jesus Matsun! It's like a sticky pool in her!”

“Let me see.” Oikawa said as he began to force himself inside.

“Please! Please no!” Y/n cried.

Oikawa just laughed as he finally forced the tip inside. After he got the tip in he was quick to force the rest of himself inside next to Hanamaki.Y/n moaned out yet again as an orgasm washed over her body, squeezing them all tightly.

“Fuck” They all moaned in sync.

Y/n began crying again as Iwaizumi began to bounce her up and down on his cock.Oikawa and hanamaki began to move in unison as well.

“He does have a point, Horse cock. There's a lot of cum inside her right now.” Oikawa said as he felt her sticky walls half around him.

Then three began to thrust together inside her as she sobbed and came repetitively.

“The way this bitch is grasping me, I’ll cum sooner than I thought.” Iwaizumi muttered.

“Fuck same.” Hanamaki said.

The three didn’t get much further when another orgasm came over y/n, causing Hanamaki to spill his seed first. Close after Oikawa was cumming undone inside her pussy once again.

Both men pulled out as Iwaizumi kept going. His bounces became more erratic as cum spilled out from her pussy.

Iwazumi felt himself start twitching as he pulled her down on his cock for one final thrust, spilling his own load in her asshole next to Kyotani’s. She surprised everyone by squirting all over the floor in front of her.

“Wow the bitch has got powers.” Hanamaki said.

Iwaizumi pulled out as he placed her back down on the floor. He stands up and pulls his pants back up.

The six men now all standing close by the door as Hanamaki Unlocks it.

Before the door shuts Y/n hears one final thing,

“Tell Kindaichi, Kunimi and Watari she's ready for them now.”

Taglist open !!

#tw noncon #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu noncon #haikyuu dark content #tw dark fic #tw dark content #haikyuu smut

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seijorhi · 4 months

Text

invidia ii

a (very belated) christmas present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy who has, for two years straight, begged me for more shinnosuke content. i hope you like it bby! kuroo tetsurou x female reader, kuroo shinnosuke (oc) x female reader part i w.c 3.1k tw: noncon/dubcon, slight daddy kink, (forced) infidelity, yandere themes, nsfw, smut, age gap, i guess hints of breeding kink, dilf kuroo

“Why did your parents split up?”

Mid-way through pulling on a pair of old, grey sweatpants, mopping at beads of water from his shower still rolling down his bare chest, Shinnosuke throws you a curious look, but shrugs easily enough.

“They weren’t ever really ‘together’ to begin with. They tried the whole co-parenting thing to start with but mom… they never loved each other. Hell, I don’t even think they liked each other most of the time beyond–” he breaks off, his nose wrinkling in distaste. It almost makes you laugh. “Anyway, dad always said she had one foot out the door from the start. Dad was the one who stuck around to raise me.” There’s no animosity in his tone, he says it like it’s the simple truth. You’ve never met the woman, never having shown up to any of the Nekoma games, his graduation, any of it. You’ve seen a picture or two, overheard the odd phone call, but for as long as you’ve known him, the only real parent in Shin’s life has always been his dad.

If there’s anyone he idolises, it’s his father.

Which is why the words that he says next – casting aside the damp towel in the general direction of the laundry basket (boys) and sauntering on over to join you in bed – take you entirely by surprise. “We’ll go visit her in Golden Week. I want her to meet you.”

And again, the words are just that; words. Shin kisses you, a sweet peck on your lips, and wastes no time in scooping you back into his arms and settling back with a contented sigh. They’re just words, but there’s this look in his eyes when he says it that makes you think he means something more.

Your stomach flutters.

—

‘You really wanna break his heart like that, kitten?’

—

“Still not feeling any better?” Shin asks, brushing your hair back to feel your forehead. The beginnings of a frown start to take shape, teeth gently burrowing into his bottom lip, but he straightens and sighs, and that hint of discontent smoothes over like it had never existed in the first place. He strokes your hair again and offers a small, sympathetic smile. “No temperature, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

You’re a coward.

“It’s not my head, I just…” don’t have any visible, plausible symptoms for the fake illness that’s currently keeping you curled up in Shin’s bed. Away from the creep who’d smiled and fucking winked at you Christmas morning. “I just feel off.”

“Poor baby,” he coos, laughing when your face screws up and you swat at him.

Right now, swaddled in his hoodie, his fingers carding through your hair and that stupid, impish, almost believable grin beaming down at you, you want to forget. To pretend.

Because there’s a pit in your stomach. A bitter, gnarled, seething mass. This moment right now, in Shin’s bed, it’s like glass, paper thin and already cracked, it can’t possibly last, and yet you’re clinging to it so desperately, head buried in the sand, willing yourself to pretend, from one heartbeat to the next, that what’s happened won’t break the two of you.

That your stomach doesn’t threaten to upend when you catch sight of those hazel eyes peering down at you – the same shape and shade as his father’s.

You shudder out a breath, and what little levity there was between you two gets sucked out with it. Shin’s expression gutters.

Yeah.

His fingers don’t leave your hair, though. Playing idly with the strands as though the suffocating tension in the room doesn’t exist at all. “Dad’s taking us out to dinner tonight,” he tells you. Reminds you, because you knew all of this beforehand. Everything but the party. “Do you want me to run by the pharmacy to get you something?”

Another tap at the fractured glass.

That’s Shinnosuke all over, isn’t it? You might’ve been the manager back in the day, but it was always Shin who kept an eye on his team, on you, to make sure everyone was good.

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll–” the words get stuck in your throat. “I’ll see how I feel in an hour or so. ‘m still a little tired.”

“You want some tea, sweetheart?”

‘Shh, sweetheart, you gotta keep it down.’

A cold sweat breaks out on the nape of your neck. No. No, no, no, no–

“Baby?”

You flinch like he’s slapped you, jerking away from the hand he’s wound in your hair. The startled look he shoots you borders on wounded, but you’re already squirming towards the edge of the bed, stumbling to your feet like a newborn foal. “Bathroom,” you manage to eke out, your voice sounding far too strangled and hoarse to pass as anywhere near the realm of fine.

Shin doesn’t follow, doesn’t so much as utter a word – all kicked puppy confused – as you throw the door closed behind you and collapse back against it, a sweaty, ashen mess.

He usually calls you love. Baby. Princess when he’s being a little shit.

Sweetheart’s a rare one.

Your heart races, a runaway train pounding in your chest. His eyes, his touch, sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.

Another shuddering breath in. Out.

Fuck.

There’s a knock – not at the ensuite door, the sound’s too muffled for that, and you didn’t hear Shin’s footsteps (though you’re not sure you would, over the pounding in your ribs) meaning that the knocking’s at his door.

There’s only one other occupant in the house. Though you try your damndest to fight it, there’s no stopping the wave of panic that stabs through you. Shin’s door creaks open, soft voices barely creeping through the gap in the door, and your fingers go rigid, nails clawing at the black and white flooring as though you can ground yourself by breaking through it instead.

You don’t realise you’re crying.

Not until the droplets splatter on the tiles by your feet.

—

You should’ve left days ago.

After Christmas, when you’d ducked out from under Shin’s arm and lurched for the nearest bathroom, when it’d finally clicked for him that you violently hurling your guts up wasn’t the result of a simple hangover, you’d tried. Short of admitting the truth – and swinging a bat at the bees’ nest – convincing Shin to leave his dad’s place goes about as well as drawing blood from a stone.

He’s even less thrilled about the prospect of you going back by yourself, leaving him to spend what’s left of the week with his dad like they’d planned.

There’s only so far you can push without breaking something. You, probably. You and Shin, almost definitely.

Even so, you might’ve had more of a backbone if he hadn’t been so… Shin. All coaxing and concerned. Logical to a damn fault.

‘You don’t wanna be stuck in a car driving for hours when you’re feeling shitty, love, and besides, dad’s place is bigger than ours. Comfier. You’ll probably be on the mend by tomorrow anyway, so there’s no point in us heading back.’

If you weren’t trying to salvage what’s left, or maybe clinging to the idea that you can – and want to – then it would’ve been easier just to go.

You wouldn’t still be here, stuck in the house of the man who’d– who’d raped you.

You wouldn’t be avoiding your boyfriend’s eye.

You would’ve screamed the whole house down before Kuroo Tetsurou ever bent you over the kitchen counter.

But the gentle extrication in the early hours of the morning, Shinnosuke’s lips brushing against your cheek, the sleepy rasp of his voice as he mumbles a quiet, “Love you,” before slipping away – you barely stir, cozy and safe and content.

He loves you. Shin loves you.

A while later – minutes, maybe, or hours, it’s hard to tell when you’re still in the grips of sleep – the mattress dips under Shin’s weight, and those strong, sculpted arms seek your warmth again, you only sigh and lean back against him.

“I love you,” you whisper, not yet willing to open your eyes and face another day of lying to him.

The arm slung over your waist curls tighter, his face nuzzling into your neck. The kisses he leaves there aren’t affectionate, exactly, they’re not gentle, when teeth catch, nipping sharply at your skin, only to be soothed by a lave of his tongue.

And the laugh that rumbles at your back – a shade off your boyfriend’s – is anything but nice.

“Yeah? Fuck, you’re sweet in the morning.”

This time, you don’t hold back. You shriek, kicking out like a wild thing – or you would have, if Kuroo’s hand hadn’t clamped down on your mouth, if his weight hadn’t shifted so that rather than lying curled up behind you, he’s half on top of you, pinning you down to the mattress with a thigh lodged between yours.

“Uh-uh-uh, we were doing so good, kitten. Don’t you wanna be daddy’s good girl?”

Your only answer is a ragged noise, torn from somewhere deep inside of you. He chuckles again, grinds against you, his cock a thick, unignorable presence pressed at your ass. There’s nothing but the thin cotton of your sleep shorts separating it from you, and from past experience, that barrier won’t do much to deter him for long.

Kuroo rolls you onto your back and slots himself nicely between your legs. Naked, you realise with a fresh stab of fear.

You scream the moment his palm leaves your lips to capture your wrists, scream for Shinnosuke – for anyone – so loudly that it feels like you’ll bleed for it. Let him come running, find you pinned and squirming, terrified beneath the man who raised him.

Let it be the final crack that obliterates everything.

If Shin sees you like this, utterly petrified, on the verge of being raped again and still thinks it some kind of a betrayal, let him choke on it. You don’t care anymore, you just want someone to stop this.

(Shin wouldn’t, would he?)

But Kuroo only snickers. Leans over to lick along the edge of your lashes, where hot, glistening tears are already spilling over, trickling down to disappear in your hairline. “Your boy’s not here, but we don’t have long ‘til he gets back. You’ll forgive me if we bypass the foreplay this morning, right, sweetheart?” You shudder, goosebumps prickling where his breath washes over you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and violently – pointlessly – shake your head. “We’ll have to save eating your pretty little cunt for next time.”

All too eager, he hungrily captures your lips again and yanks down your shorts, taking your panties along with them.

Christmas morning, you’d been shoved face down over the kitchen counter while he’d fucked you from behind. You’d give anything for that distance right now. At least then you hadn’t had to endure his suffocating warmth, having him squeeze and grope at your tits over your old, threadbare tee.

You wouldn’t have to writhe away from his mouth while he rucks your bare thighs up either side of his hips, dragging you closer.

Even with your eyes screwed tightly shut, you can’t pretend that this isn’t happening as Kuroo spits and a heartbeat later the thick head of his cock slowly – agonisingly slowly – splits you apart.

You forget how to breathe.

Eyes popping open and back arching up into his chest, your fists clutch desperately at the sheets of Shin’s bed, trying to squirm away, only the grip he has on you makes sure there’s nowhere for you to escape to. He’s big, long, mostly, and you’re too tight to take him easily, especially without any prep. The spit doesn’t help any, and Kuroo doesn’t care, groaning out in pleasure as inch by inch he pushes himself deeper, until at last he’s seated firmly inside of you. “Good fucking giiiirl,” he purrs, a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose.

A tiny, drawn out whine is all you can manage when your lower half radiates pain.

“Gonna fuck this perfect pussy nice ‘n full,” he tells you. “Give you everything you need, sweet girl. You can take it. I know you can, you just gotta breathe for me.”

But unlike last time, he doesn’t allow you the luxury of a minute to adjust. His hips draw back and punch forward, jolting another mewling gasp from your lips. And again. And again. The pace isn’t violent so much as intense, like each thrust ignites something inside of him that burns for more.

He clasps your wrists in one hand, pants into your open mouth between frenetic kisses, groans out your name in that shuddering gasp.

“Mine,” he pants, beads of sweat dripping from his chest, his chin, rolling down onto you. “You’re daddy’s girl– fuck!”

Your cunt reacts accordingly, flexing around his cock, easing its passage so that the wet, lurid sounds of him fucking you quickly fill the air. A betrayal that has your cheeks flaming.

The muscles in your thighs burn, Kuroo all but forcing them back towards the bed, his weight driving into you with fervour. A quick adjustment to the angle of your hip and his cock hits a spot deep inside of you that has you choking on a moan of your own, a burst of bright, sizzling pleasure bleeding through the pain.

Kuroo grins ferally at the sound of it. Drops his weight on an elbow and bucks into you, hitting it again. Your inner walls twitch, squeezing and slick, dragging noises from you that make you wanna burn with shame – that, or cut yourself loose entirely. You can’t muster resistance when he swallows them down, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth. His momentum turns rabid, his hand no longer encircling your wrists, but entangled with them, pressing them down to the mattress. “Almost… there…” he grunts, gasping as he curls over you, abs flexing.

A shudder rolls through him, his hips faltering just as something vital shatters inside of you, toes curling, white hot pleasure exploding from your core, rippling through your whole body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. With your pussy spasming around his cock, your body taut and locked with pleasure, Kuroo hurtles off that cliff right alongside you, a strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaping him as he pumps your cunt full of his seed, all but collapsing atop of you afterwards.

It takes a minute before he peels himself off of you; pushing himself up, braced on elbow so that he’s not crushing you entirely, Kuroo waits, buried inside your warmth, for you to stop trembling with the after effects of your orgasm, for his cock to soften and both of your breathing to even out.

Waits for those glazed over eyes to focus back on him and once again fill with tears, stroking a hand through your sweat-dampened hair as he does so.

“You should go take a shower before Shin gets home,” he says after a minute or two, his voice a low purr. “He can’t be far off.”

But aside from rolling off you to allow you up, Kuroo makes no moves to follow you, or so much as get up off the bed. Naked, his cock soft and glistening with your juices, one knee propped up, he watches you stumble like a newborn foal into the bathroom (only half managing to close the door behind you) with damn near predatory intent, a smirk teasing at his lips.

It’s where Shin finds you a short while later, curled up on the floor of the shower, shaking through silent sobs.

—

Shin doesn’t let go of your hand the entire trip home.

Uncharacteristically sober, he says little aside from the occasional murmur to check in with you – always unanswered – and keeps you tucked close, as though a fraction of distance between you might pry you from his side entirely.

The hours pass in a haze of… nothing. Your tears dry. Numbness takes over. You move like a robot, Shin guiding you every step of the way until you cross the threshold of your apartment.

He never asks what happened. You suppose the smell of sex in his bedroom and the bruises and love bites scattered over your body tell the tale well enough. Shinnosuke’s never been stupid. He’s not dense.

He’s not heartless, either.

In the sanctity of your tiny, shitty bathroom, you shower again. A proper shower this time, with the water turned up full blast, scrubbing viciously at your skin– or at least, you do until he steps in and takes over. You’ve never thought of your boyfriend as particularly gentle, but he pries the loofah from your hand with a delicacy you didn’t know him capable of and takes care of you, cleaning you up with a tenderness that borders on reverence.

You pretend not to notice how his eyes (so like his, sharp and hazel) narrow into a scowl every time he spots another bruise, another mark left by his father. Once or twice his fingers begin to ghost over them, burgundy fingerprints on your thigh, a love bite sucked into the delicate skin above your collarbone, only to catch himself, swallowing tightly and resuming his task like he’d never faltered in the first place.

When you’re done, he dries you both off and helps you into fresh clothes – a pair of comfy sweatpants and an old hoodie of his and guides you back to the living room, setting you down into his lap on the couch.

“I–” his voice is hoarse. Quiet, especially in the stillness of the apartment, and when you glance his way, he awkwardly clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I went to the pharmacy. I thought– I thought…” he trails off again, dropping his gaze. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Your heart twists, and it’s your turn to comfort him. Or maybe you’re comforting each other, shifting slightly in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around him and draw him in close, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of him. “No. I– it wasn’t…” but the words don’t come. You flounder.

What are you supposed to say? It wasn’t his fault? Wasn’t yours?

You should’ve said something earlier? Should’ve fought back harder – against both of them, should’ve grown a spine?

A beat passes in the tense, thick silence, and when it becomes clear that you’ve got nothing for him, he makes an odd sort of huff that sounds almost irritated. You frown a little, but you don’t fight it when his arms pull tighter around you, when his cheek comes to a rest against your hair and his hands seek yours, curling around your wrists and stroking at the skin there.

“We’ll get through this,” he vows. “I love you, this doesn’t change anything. It won’t change anything.” His lips meet the crown of your head in a soft kiss. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo tetsurou #yandere kuroo tetsurou x reader #oc: kuroo shinnosuke #tw: noncon

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