breaking and entering (yandere! Kuroo x fem reader)

31 || bubble

Timid sunrays danced between the whirls of saccharine vapour heaving from the bathtub.

The bathroom was airy, clean, framed by baby pink tiles that softly glistened under the light. Slim, milky candles decorated all around the tub, trickles of molten wax immortalized halfway through their path.

Kuroo held you quietly from behind, his hands gentle against your frail frame. His calloused fingers graced the indents of your waist as he removed your stained shirt, watching intently how your ribs slithered under your skin, how your bony legs shook from the cold floor.
"You're okay baby," he whispered in your ear, stamping a slow, tender kiss in the crook of your neck, impassive to the dirt or smell of your body. He pulled you closer, burying his face deeper into your skin, heart pounding from the pain of reunion.

You eased into his embrace, weightless tears gliding down your face as you finally released some of the tension in your chest.
You nodded, not really sure why - just defiant acceptance, perhaps. You weren't ok, but you were definitely better than before.
"Don't leave," you mustered, the crying now more frantic, your heart pounding in your chest to the rhythm of your racing thoughts. You turned around to face him, timidly looking up to probe for rejection in his face - you were, however, met with a warm smile etched into a sad expression.
"Don't leave me again," you whispered into his chest.

Kuroo pressed another gentle kiss on your forehead, a wordless promise of his undying devotion. "I'm never leaving," you could feel a smile in his tone, "I've never left you."
The reassurance only made you cry harder - none of it was true, you had been alone with a decaying corpse, left to rot along with it. He had left you, and his words sounded so soulless to you.

"Look at me," he urged, waiting for your tired eyes to meet his, "all that happened was necessary, kitty."
Your face contorted into a pained expression, and you brusquely pulled away from his embrace. You brought a hand to your chest, the sobbing making it hard for you to breathe properly, your whole body aching. Feeling your legs weaken, you let yourself drop on the edge of the bathtub, the warm porcelain so pleasant against your skin.

"Necessary?" you repeated, a sob tightening your throat into a painful knot, your voice barely audible through the discomfort. You shot a look at him, watching attentively for any sign of regret.

He avoided your eyes, moving his attention back to the rags that were left of your clothes - your question dissolving into the sweet smelling air. He slid cold fingers under the now loose waistband of your cotton shorts, kneeling as he slowly peeled them off your inner thighs.
His warm breath tickled your stomach, inching closer and closer until he met your skin to leave a trail of slow, damp kisses down to your groin. The interval between each kiss felt mechanical, precise, not passionate in the slightest - it surprised you that he was kissing you in the first place, the smell of your own body turned your stomach. But you indulged quietly in his touch, so starved that you misread it all for affection, or misplaced and hungry softness.

He finally stared back at you, taciturn, but with a heavy gloom in his eyes that made your heart drop. You felt the dull pinch of your sticky shorts coming off your inner thighs.

The crotch seam was almost molded to your body, kept in place by his dried sperm, and what you thought were the remnants of a last, copious period - a period that came with clots that made you panic at the shape of them. You still remembered the cramps; violent, endless, until something inside you finally let go, and your abdomen still ached with that deep, hollow pain the bleeding had left behind.

Having removed the rest of your clothing, you now sat naked at the edge of the bathtub, watching as he also took his own clothes off.
He wasn't as gaunt as he had been a few months ago.
There was colour in his face again, steadiness in the way he moved. Watching you unravel beside Iwaizumi's rotting body had breathed something feverish back into him. Your despair suited him too well, and there was something almost tender in the way your suffering had revived him.