breaking and entering (yandere! Kuroo x fem reader)

15 || puppeteer

The wind blew harshly against your window, fighting off the austere naked tree branches that stood harsh and proud, piercing the swallowing grey sky. You observed as your warm breath fogged on the cold glass, your nose almost pressed against it to catch a better sight of the street under your house.

A tangle of messy black hair finally wobbled through the fog, a sigh of relief lightening your chest as you recognized his tall figure. You cleaned the thick mist with the sleeve of your school uniform, and once the view was clear enough, you tapped on the window to catch his attention.

Kuroo averted his gaze immediately to you, a big grin curling his lips as he found you waiting for him - like a little lost kitten, so cutely perched up in your little room waiting for him to come to pick you up and take you wherever you needed to go.

You returned the smile, mimicking the 'one-minute' sign with your hand as you put on a coat and ran down the stairs.

"Kuroo!"

At your sight, the boy opened his arms to welcome you in a snug hug, his hand running up and down your back as you squeezed him tightly.

Once you pulled away he got a chance to take a better look at your face; it was obvious you'd been crying a lot in the past few weeks - your eyes were constantly puffy, and deep dark circles ran right below them. They looked dull, glassy like a doll's: life had been drained out of them, each tear having taken away from the sparkly happiness you used to carry in your gaze.

Your cheeks were now hollow, your clothes messier. The shirt rested unruly out of your skirt, the stockings messily hugging your thighs, slowly draping down to your knees. And there was no ribbon in your hair anymore, nothing colorful other than what the school uniform provided.

Kuroo ran a hand through your hair, trying to style the untouched (h/c) nest on your head. His long, bony fingers were caught in a knot, so he forcibly pulled them away in an attempt to free himself, but also fix what your hairbrush couldn't - or better, didn't want to - fix.

"You're hurting me," you whimpered, still obediently standing under his touch.

You had grown accustomed to his presence, his invasive nature, and the way he always kept physical contact between the two of you. He was gentle, sweet.

"I know," he chuckled, "but if you're not gonna take care of yourself, let me do it for you."

Too tired to talk, you simply nodded, closed your eyes and nuzzled your head in his chest. He felt like home. Like Iwa.

His words, his abrupt manners, the way his eyes softened when they met you - it all reminded you of the guy you loved. So it was natural that being close to Kuroo came so easy to you.

In the past weeks, he'd been the one to take care of you. He walked you to school and back home, helped you with your homework, and in general just really tried to stay as close to you as possible.

Control, that's what he was mainly getting out of all of this situation. But also affection, your love, and closeness. Your warmth, your soft hands holding his, your vulnerability.

But now you were just a soft pulp of flesh, painfully throbbing when touched, aching for any type of intimacy. Your personality was slowly drifting away, giving space to the more morbid aspect of pure attachment and weakness, like all of the layers that made you - you, had been peeled off; just to reveal a wounded core.

It wasn't like you were okay with it - like you hadn't been trying to fight that weight off your chest, trying to fight for your self. However, the prospect of being able to lay back and watch the world run by sounded way more tantalizing. The world hung from a single thread, swaying slowly with the movement of a puppeteer's hand, and you apathetically nodded to his will.