a popular killer who rarely strikes at night, mostly at day because he's not afraid of being caught and also maybe because he wears a helmet and usually escapes from his crime scenes, by his transportation vehicle, his motorcycle. miya atsumu opens...
"Miya. Where the hell are you!" Ahhh shit. This guys home. I peek my head around the corner and he starts to stagger over.
"Gosh! Don't kill me now!" I flinch at his quick response. I literally just left eight minutes ago, how'd he figure me out that fast?! "Did you..see-"
"See you kill my, MY, supposed victim? Yeah, yes I fucking did! You lied to me. Now there's gonna be news reporters talking about two serial killers on the loose! This is ridiculous."
"I-I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking, okay!"
"No shit you weren't thinking! There's gonna be police officers all on your ass now instead of mine. They're restless, Atsumu!" Wait a minute..HAH- he's worried!
"You're worried they'll catch me, aren't you?" I smile up at him. His eyes wander for a second but they meet mines. The hell- what's he doing?! I start slapping his hand that's tightly wrapped around my neck. Is he really mad? I was gonna end up killing some way or another! He should've expected this. I've gotta admit though, having his large hand around one of my body parts is so intensely arousing. Reminds me of electricity, electricity running through my nerves.
For the splittest of seconds in this whole world, god spared me the glance. In that glance I felt so vulnerable yet so sexually intimidated that I could climax on the spot. His facial expression. Sweat running down the side of his head, some of his curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, how his teeth grit and his eyes hid mixed emotions- it was the embodiment of a king.
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