Haikyuu Kuroo - Blog Posts

» CASAIS MEIO “BLACK AND WHITE” — capa teste

⟅09.12.2023 — antes que venham falar que eu só faço capa de haikyuu, eu só queria dizer que a culpa não é minha, acontece alguma coisa na minha cabeça que eu só acho imagens com qualidade desse anime, INFELIZMENTE ╮(─▽─)╭ muito triste, nem consigo dormir a noite pensando nisso… Agora falando sobre a capa, eu amo essa música e queria muito fazer uma capa preto e branco… claramente não consegui fazer como podem ver mas é nessas horas que a gente finge pra não deixar o coleguinha triste :') queria um casal muito diferente e não podia deixar os kuroken de fora dessa música, tenho um headcanons que colaboraram com isso? Sim e vocês vão aprovar minha fanfic! Bem, talvez eu tente refazer essa capa no ano que vem. E pq está dizendo talvez? Simples, ✨preguiça✨

» INDECIFRÁVEL — capa teste

⟅27.11.2023 — tava eu mal no meu domingo de boa e me veio uma explosão na mente depois de ver uma capa do noro (valeu filhote <3) eu amei que encontrei muito fácil as texturas e o casal para o plot e fui logo colocando minhas mãos na massa! Acho que a maior dificuldade da capa em si foi lidar com vermelho, amo essa cor mas acho ela extremamente difícil de mexer no meu estilo e com essa não foi diferente. Eu achei essa capa uma graça e acho que ela cumpre com a ideia que tive para ela, um chuchu.

Was sick last week + midterms, but here’s some timeskip kuroken art ฅ(ᵔ꒳ ᵔマ.ᐟ

fanart of the fic Paranormality by KingsHighway from chapter 16 during the “Liveshow: Garbage Dump Duo” scene :D

@kings-highway

assorted kuroken fanfic recs!!

The Wedding Hall Shuffle by icespyders

Complete, 3 Chapters, 17,604 Words

Kenma accidentally crashes Bokuaka's wedding because he got the date for Kagehina's wedding wrong. Kuroo is the best man trying to sus out who this random guy at his best bro's wedding is.

🐟🐟🐟

can i be close to you by radian (arcsec)

Complete, 7 Chapters, 27,742 Words

Kenma attends Kuroo's parties every Friday for the sole purpose of taking naps in Kuroo's bed, Kuroo hosts parties not because he likes them, but because he can't stand being alone in a big empty house.

🐟🐟🐟

How to Seduce Your Best Friend: A Horrible Guide by Kenma by Koushicore (Hopeishope)

Complete, 15 Chapters, 74,770 Words

Kenma wakes up 7 years in the past and has to relive his second year of high school, can he survive without absolutely ruining his relationship with Kuroo like he did the first time round?

🐟🐟🐟

Personal time difference by void_player

Complete, 4 Chapters, 18,362 Words

Kenma & Kuroo were anonymous online friends as teenagers who lost contact and meet again as adults in real life not knowing that they already know each other.

🐟🐟🐟

does it bite? by cowsarecooliguess

Complete, Oneshot, 30,131 Words

Fantasy AU! Kuroo is a god and offers protection over Kenma's village in exchange for a life, Kenma accepts the trade in secret as the village is unwilling to sacrifice one of its people for protection, but he's been in the god realm for weeks now and why the hell is he still alive?

whiskers — kuroo tetsurou (au).

it’s been a while and i managed to push through with posting a short scenario for this blog. i know i haven’t been active in this blog at all and it will stay that way if there are no requests flying here. i am currently accepting requests for haikyuu and attack on titan (bc i indulged in it for quite a while now). with that aside, happy reading !!

summary : kuroo finds himself in a strange predicament and inevitably bumps into his crush. inspired by ‘a whisker away’.

Kuroo Tetsurou had enough of his life.

Everything was just in shambles the moment his mother screamed at his father, demanding a divorce. And with divorce comes the argument of which parent will take the responsibility of caring for the child. In the end, Kuroo's mother won, making him pack his bags and leave his father behind to live in his mother's house in Tokyo, along with the man that his mother chose to remarry. Living under his mother's care was perfectly fine; she wasn't in the house often because of her work and his mother's new husband tends to be fussing over him any chance he gets, but Kuroo chose to brush all of them with a practiced smile.

In the summer of Kuroo's second year in high school, the dark-haired boy received a message from his father. He was lounging in his makeshift study area in the bottom part of his bunk bed, reading a book that Kenma really enjoyed (it was filled with games though, probably the reason why the first-year liked it so much), when his phone vibrated on top of the coffee table he pushed at the front of his study area. Not having any enthusiasm at the prospect of talking to people, Kuroo sluggishly sat up and opened his phone, displaying his lock screen of the sky and the message from his father. With bored eyes from behind his long fringe, Kuroo tried reading the message without any attachment since it was only once upon a time that he was close with his father.

Father:

Hey, Tetsurou, I'm here right now in Tokyo. The summer festival is still ongoing so why don't we attend the highlights, I have something to talk to you about.

Narrowing his eyes at the glare of his gadget, Kuroo stared pensively at the screen of his phone. Festivals meant reliving those joyous moments he had with his father when he was young; catching goldfishes, buying masks and scaring his mother with the designs of their face accessories, and watching the highlights of the festival, which is the fireworks display. It also meant reliving that time when his father left him intentionally during a crowded summer festival. That event in his life spurred the divorce because as his mother told him, his father is one deadbeat and selfish kind of man. But his father wasn't like that. Kuroo remembered pleading to his mother to forgive the older man but it was all in vain. She still screamed in their dining room to nullify their marriage.

Tetsurou:

OK.

That was it. No residue of the playful nature he always had with his father, as it should be all those years.

Having a few minutes of silence and staring at the bottom of his bunk bed, Kuroo took a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. Slowly sitting up, the dark-haired boy crawled out of his cozy hideout and stretched his limbs, because lying down and rolling on the carpeted floor definitely made him stiff. Walking towards his closet while taking off his shirt, Kuroo reached out for the red sleeveless hoodie hanging from behind his volleyball club tracksuit, quickly fitting it on him and choosing to leave his basketball shorts on. With his phone and wallet in hand, the tall lad walked down the stairs and opened the door to the living room and dining area.

Peeking his head inside a small crack of the door, Kuroo lazily scanned the area. "Ah, Hikaru-san," he called out, catching the attention of a tall man with soft brown hair and glasses from behind the counter of their kitchen. He was apparently preparing for dinner, which looked like fried chicken. "I'm going out for a bit. Tell Mom that I could be going home late tonight."

The man named Hikaru gently smiled at Kuroo as he washed his hands. "I heard tonight's the summer festival's highlights," he noted, wiping his hand on one of the clean towels by the refrigerator. "Are you going with your friend, Kenma, is it? Or your classmates, Yaku and Kai."

Kuroo shook his head. "Dad invited me."

He swore he could hear a pin drop from the awkward silence ensuing inside the room. This silence is one that he greatly distastes, and this is coming from a child who succumbed to a bout of silence once he moved to Tokyo. There was no question of how Hikaru wanted to be acknowledged as Kuroo's new father and the competition on who deserves to be a better father to Kuroo is brewing between the two males that became a part of his mother's life. Kuroo could see that Hikaru was doing his best but the messy-haired boy never really viewed him as a family even after years of being married to his mom, his dismissive behavior when it comes to Hikaru is masked with cheery remarks and loud rounds of laughter. And that's what he chose to do right now.

The tall lad laughed once again, trying to ease any tension in the air. "I'm thinking of bringing home a box of takoyaki. Do you want anything, Hikaru-san?"

Hikaru composed himself and sheepishly looked down to continue with his current task. "You don't have to buy me anything, Tetsurou." The brown-haired man glanced at Kuroo with a fatherly air. "Are you joining us for dinner later?"

Kuroo paused for a few moments, pretending to think upon the offer before shaking his head an easygoing smile. "Nope," he lightheartedly answered Hikaru. "I'll be off now!"

When Kuroo's footsteps echoed through the empty household, followed by the sound of the front door closing, Hikaru deeply sighed as he planted both hands on the counter. His dejected frame was noticed by his pet cat, Hanako, who mewled in concern as she approached her owner. Realizing his eyes pooling with unshed tears, Hikaru quickly took his glasses from the bridge of his nose and wiped his eyes with his wrist, his forced laughter coming out huskily.

"I'm trying my best, Hanako, but why isn't it enough?"

                                                             *

Summer festivals in Tokyo always bring forth a chorus of laughter and the comfortable mellow lantern lights. There was a subtle beat of the taiko drums in the background, drowned out by the endless chatters of the people choosing to roam around during the highlights of the festivals. The streets of the enormous plaza in their area were arranged to have a line of stalls awaiting for customers, and one of them held a special place in Kuroo's childlike heart ー goldfish scooping. Here he was, crouched down in front of the small tub designated for the goldfishes, his hand poised right above him while his eyes never strayed from that fish who appeared to be brighter than anyone else in the shallow water. Right when he was about to catch the fish, his little net tilted and doubled over the water, scaring away the fishes from any human contact.

"Better luck next time, boy," the stall owner told him reassuringly but the messy-haired boy wasn't reassured at all.

Kuroo stood up brashly from his seated position, surprising the people around the little stall, and walked away with his hands inside the pockets of his sleeveless jacket. There was a hasty apology coming from behind him, along with hurried footsteps of the very person he doesn't want to interact with at the moment. Kuroo continued walking, mumbling apologies to the people he bumped on the way, until a firm grip wrapped around his arm, making him roll his eyes in annoyance.

"What?" he asked the person desperately trying to catch his attention, the expression on the younger boy was hiding the fact that he was hurting because of this meeting.

"Tetsurou," Kuroo Tatsunari, his father stood in front of him, face so distraught that he nearly broke his practiced façade. "You can live with me instead of your mother, that way everyone will be happy. Please, Tetsurou, I already asked my landlord to have my apartment renovated to have your room."

Kuroo was baffled for a moment and he couldn't help but scoff in disbelief at what his father said. After shaking his head, his golden eyes trailed from the face he was starting to see in the mirror (except for the unruly hair he seemed to claim since he was young) to the hand still gripping tightly on his arm, as if asking for him to never leave the owner's side. He had enough of all of this and all he wanted was to cry his heart out and scream all his hidden thoughts to a barren meadow, but all he could do was place his hand on his father's, gently taking away the grip that kept him rooted on the ground for so many years.

With unrelenting eyes, he muttered darkly, "Have you ever wondered what would make me happy?" before turning away and running to who knows where this late at night.

"Tetsurou!"

He did what he always did best ー running away from his problems.

The young boy did this when he was in the middle of his parents' fights when he was just a little boy and he brought it with him until he was in primary school, where his mother took him under her wing all the way to Tokyo. He nearly ran away when Kenma came into his life, the prospect of having friends and interacting with other children his age so dreadful to the boy that he didn't speak until Kenma asked him what games to play, thus, spurring the two to start volleyball. He nearly ran away when middle school and high school came, the latter made his anxiety rise much higher than the previous point in his life. But this was all erased when many of his high school classmates approached him out of nowhere, clinging onto him and confessing left and right, something that he was not proud of.

The messy-haired boy slowed down his pace to a walk, tears bleeding through his vision and blending in with the drops of rain pattering down on him. "I hate this," he muttered, making measured footsteps on the cobblestones, not noticing that his surroundings seem to transition into a shrine. "I hate the world. I hate myself. I wish I would just end this miserable life right away." Just then, a strong odor of tobacco wafted through his senses, making him perk up in wariness.

In front of him was a huge man dressed in an elaborate yukata, casually smoking on a fancy pipe that Kuroo thought was a relic based on its golden sheen that illuminated under the shrine's overhead lanterns. Feeling skeptical at his current situation, Kuroo slightly took a step back with his eyes still set on the man sitting with a mask stall beside him. His heartbeat picked up its pace because of the nerves starting to churn in his stomach but the dark-haired boy still glanced at the number of masks plastered on the stall and oddly enough, all he could see were cats instead of the variety of animals that were displayed in some of the festival stalls down the hill.

"Welcome," the unnamed man said in a raspy and deep voice, his big, slitted yellow eyes glancing over at Kuroo. "Do you want to try one on? It is said to erase all your worries the moment your face touches the mask."

Erase all your worries?

Kuroo gulped before opening his mouth to speak, "How much is one?"

That offer tempted him and based on the man's appearance, he wasn't a scammer that would run away with his money. There was something from the man's voice that compelled him to try just one mask to see if what he said is true because he definitely needed an escape from reality right about now.

The man chuckled ominously. "No need to pay, young man."

The messy-haired boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Is this because your offer is a hoax?"

At this, the unnamed man's chuckles became a full-on laugh. Laughter of scrutiny thrown at him, making Kuroo squirm in his perch. "There wasn't anything about a hoax in what I said, kid. Here," the man reached out from behind him and picked out a black cat mask, throwing it at Kuroo, who leaned forward to catch the object, "try it on."

Kuroo flipped the mask. The front was so detailed that it almost looked real, the paint on the mask's nose seemed to glint with the wetness of a real cat's and even the whiskers protruded on either side of it. The ears also captured his attention ー there were fur inside each one and it even depicted the real colors on what you can see on a cat. The back wasn't much with its embellished white appearance but when Kuroo slowly lifted the mask to try it on, it snuggly fit the shape of his face, sending chills down his spine. It was like the mask was made for him. But his admiring came to a halt when an invisible wall slammed on him, making him lose his balance.

The next moment was so bizarre to Kuroo. At first, everything was normal to him and the next, all objects loomed over his figure like skyscrapers. But when he blinked at the green color invading his optics, his vision seems to sharpen, even more, zeroing on where the man was previously seated and only finding no sign of the unnamed person. His chest tightened with anxiety, jumping at the slightest of sound picked up by his hearing. With shaky legs, Kuroo walked on the pathway with the sole purpose of going home and just wrapping himself in his duvet, praying that the next day will be much kinder to him. Upon passing by a vending machine right at the base of the shrine, his golden eyes widened when his reflection showed a black cat instead of his tall physique.

What is happening?

"What in the world?" Kuroo voiced out but instead of his usual timber, a series of meows ricocheted through the empty shrine. He jumped two feet in the air in surprise, spooked that even the black cat in the vending machine's reflection showed rod-like fur. After a few moments, he slowly walked towards the reflection, both curious and unnerved at what he just witnessed. "How?"

Placing a paw on the glassy surface, Kuroo roamed his eyes over his new body. He wasn't even surprised that the cat he donned has black fur and a small tuff of hair covering a portion of his right eye. Gradually, the boy's parted lips turned into a large smile as he whooped in the air while jumping around. It was cute in a human's perspective ー a little black cat hopping from cobblestone to cobblestone, his little meows twinkling in the night breeze. In all honesty, Kuroo felt so alive to leave his human life behind and the only thought lingering in his head is how much he wanted to be a cat his whole life ー lazing around and looking for different homes all day, no room for homework and the constant argument of familial connections. For an entire hour, Kuroo marveled at the world from a different perspective as he never stopped swaying happily down the path.

Until a familiar scent hit him ー watermelon.

And true enough, there on one of the benches was [Last Name][Name], who was looking blankly at the park in front of her with a half-finished bottle of banana milk loosely held in her hands. It looked like she came from one of her college prep classes based on what she was wearing — a beige turtleneck sweater and a tawny pencil skirt covered by a trench coat. Her hair was the same hairstyle Kuroo always liked on her, a loose braid running down on one of her shoulders, with her fringe carefully framing her ethereal face. It was no surprise to everyone how much he likes the girl and it shows how he gawked at her with round, golden eyes.

She looked at the side and when her gaze found him, Kuroo visibly jumped in shock again. The girl rose her eyebrows in surprise at the sight of the adorable black cat pausing a few feet from her. Kuroo watched [Name] open her backpack and mumbling things under her breath as she searched for something in her bag. Brightening when she finally found what she was looking for, the black cat curiously watched as [Name] waved a pack of biscuits in the air and beckoned him towards her.

"I have some snacks, kitty," she told him, which strangely compelled him to come closer. Who doesn't? The girl he absolutely adores called him 'kitty' with that beautiful smile, of course, he would follow her. When he stopped by her shoes, she then lowered her voice, "Is it alright if I pick you up?"

Kuroo meowed in approval, which [Name] happily took as a good response since she carefully picked him up and placed him on her lap. She then softly ran her fingers on his head, making him purr in contentment. Before nibbling on a biscuit, Kuroo enjoyed the warmth [Name] emitted, looking up at her with his pupils blown wide, which is a sign of his fascination with the girl.

"The night is beautiful ー it's like everything disappeared," she pensively voiced out, her eyes softly staring at the black cat on her lap. "I need more moments like these. People want me to do things that they want, not knowing how much I wanted to be free when I step out in the real world. I mean, I'm going to be eighteen soon and it's a sign that my dad should stop placing shackles that makes me want to cry. I don't even want to be a doctor." She pursed her lips as she paused for a bit as she muttered, "It's so suffocating." The girl then felt paws on her shoulder, making her look up at the adorable black cat, which was a few inches from her face. Then, she felt the tiniest kiss on her cheek, something that elicited a giggle from her. "That tickles."

Raising her hand from her lap, [Name] wrapped them around the cat's body, lifting him a little higher and placing him on her shoulder.

"You smell like lavender," she whispered. "I love it."

Through the night, the boy trapped inside the black cat's body heard his heart pound in his chest, his adoration for the girl blossoming like the fireworks lighting the park.

MASTERLIST

i am absolutely free if you guys are planning on requesting some scenarios and headcannons — just leave an ask and i'll get right into it and hopefully finish it [fingers crossed].

i write for any character that i feel like writing in a certain period of the day so for now, i really feel like writing abt kenma so keep watch on the kenma content that i'll be posting.

— headcanons

— scenarios

you're it for me ; kozume kenma

your own rules and story ; kozume kenma

— aus/ long-ass fics

so close to reaching that happy end ; kuroo tetsurou (heartless au)

— series

red velvet songs turned into imagines

with you ; yachi hitoka.

ART MASTERLIST

you are in the red summer ; kenma college au

kenma as howl au

female kageyama, queen of the court

"SO CLOSE TO REACHING THAT HAPPY END." — KUROO TETSUROU

NOTE: this is a heartless au.

so for everyone who doesn't know about heartless, it's a novel by marissa meyer centered on the villain origin story of the Queen of Hearts.

i do hope this will be to your liking ,,, so HAPPY READING !!

You were destined to be queen — one way or another.

Being one of Wonderland’s most desired and eligible bachelorettes and a daughter of a well-known Marquess, it’s safe to say that the King of Hearts (the fiercest and strongest ruler of Wonderland, to date) is also one of the many suitors lining for your hand in marriage. Though, being the crown queen wasn’t in your list of priorities because your sights have been set on creating pastries and confectioneries that deeply move the people of Wonderland.

In your own destiny, you have always believed you would end up as a baker. A humble one, with a store right in one of the shopping districts of Wonderland, its storefront bragging colors that complemented your creations and the inside booming with the aromatics of your baking, and there you are, dressed in a baker’s garb that you always wanted; aprons, mittens, and all. Alas, but a dream that only is.

However, the one who will set your dreams ablaze appeared right above you. Literally.

It was a ball that night. A black-and-white themed ball, to be exact. But you were presented by your family in a voluptuous red tent—gown, rather. Everywhere in the ballroom’s floor was a wave of black and white, stretching from ivory-tailed dress coats, ebony elbow gloves, chessboard leggings (who wore those?), feathery face masks in a monochromatic coloring, and black silk and velvet skirts twirling with rhinestones. Even the King’s royal guards, you can spot your friends, Hinata (his bright hair like a beacon) and Kageyama (whose face set in a scowl), with paint over the red hearts pasted under their eyes.

You are noticeable and it made you feel suffocated in your corset.

“I’m deeply sorry for breaking your trance, Lady [Last Name], but there are people lined up behind you,” the White Rabbit, Sugawara (his real name), cleared his throat in a reminder. “Your parents are long gone to the dance floor.”

Taking your skirts, you manage a bow and went your way to the dance floor. The stares bore into you like icy needles, their whispers of your being an attention-seeking harlot, and being a trying hard lady of the court flittered through your ears. You duck your head in a submissive bow while walking towards the feasting table — the safe haven in this wretched place. Just by maneuvering and staring at the assortment of treats laid out, you could feel your corset tighten in a silent warning.

A bite of the lemon tart you brought for this ball wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Lady [Last Name], I came here to remind you that this is a black-and-white ball,” a haughty drawl made you stop short in front of the feasting table.

You turned, uplifting your head to level your stare with the tall Knave of Hearts. A black tunic adorned his lazy posture, which rather fit him well, as much as you want to deny it. Black glasses covered his eyes, which was earned when he was hit by a croquet ball right in the face in one of the tea parties, giving him poor eyesight afterward. The mole might have spat on him.

“Hello, Tsukishima,” you greeted the Knave with a slight bow, making him scoff. You lowered your eyes in faux shame, however, you feel annoyed at the growing time you spent with this young man. “I believe somebody has mixed up my invitation, I was sure this was supposed to honor our kingdom’s colors.”

“You look stupid.”

You reel back, blinking up at the tall lad. “Is there any need to insult me?”

His brown eyes glared at you, scrutinizing your red gown in distaste. “You don’t even look half as decent as you always were, Lady [Last Name]. In fact, my poor eyesight says it all.”

“You perfectly know I didn’t want for it to be this way—“

“You’re awfully proud parading your embarrassment in this ball,” he scoffed again, “and you think you’re so high and mighty but let me tell you this, I am not afraid of you one tiny bit.”

“What are you talking abo—?”

“I don’t even like you that much at all, to begin with.”

And with that, Tsukishima walked away from you. You let out a sigh of relief at the end of that usual banter but you were wrong when he turned to you once again, his finger pointing at you in a scold.

“And you smell like a rose. Those rotten and stinky ones!”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment—ow!”

Tsukishima grunted, pulling on one of your curls, then he swiveled and marched his way towards the King’s royal guards, who followed his line of sight. Hinata brightened up when his eyes met yours, his hand waving frantically in the air. Kageyama, on the other hand, bonked him on the head to tell him off, but later noticed that it was you the orange-haired boy was waving so he opted in giving you a formal bow.

“Now that is what I call a confused boy,” a purr echoed behind you, making you jump an inch in the air.

“Why, hello to you, too, Lev,” you laughed, relieved that familiar company is present in this ball. “Are you allowed in here?”

The Cheshire Cat, or Haiba Lev (his birth name), grinned at you, his hand gripping the silver tray full of strawberry macaroons. His silver hair glinted against the overhead chandeliers and his slitted emerald green eyes shone with mischief as he gobbled up the treats with no care in the world. For such a tall boy, he managed to not rumple any of the displayed food on the feasting table. In fact, his silver tail was curling in satisfaction at the sweets he munched.

“I’d rather not think about that,” Lev answered, continuing his munching feast. “All I want is to finish up these macaroons. Are these the ones you brought for the ball? They’re heavenly, I tell you.”

You grimace, glancing sadly at the lone lemon tart beside the overgrown cat. “No, the lemon tarts are my specialty.”

Lev stopped eating and looked at you. “Why didn’t you say that was your creation?! I ate one of those and it’s by far the most delectable treat in this feasting table!”

“Your flattery will do you wonders, Lev.” You rolled your eyes as you stared on at the mingling guests in the ballroom. “Everybody is quite lively tonight.”

Lev hummed, swallowing his last bite of the macaroon in his paw. “I should tell you this but my conscience has been bugging me to never say it,” he told you. “But as the greater part of myself, I’ll still say it — the Knave has been placing some tarts that look exactly like the ones you made in his pocket.” He examined his claws with a half-lidded stare. “Thought you ought to know.”

“What?” You spun around and made sure that the beanpole Tsukishima was nowhere in sight before glaring at Lev, who was licking his lips with a satisfied smile. “Clearly you’re mistaken, Lev, he’s not here at all.”

“He was doing it earlier,” Lev retaliated. “Quite a strange fellow for someone who hates you, Lady [Last Name].” He perked up instantly, which made you lean back because the feline boy leaned forward to your face with sparkling green eyes. “Oh, by-the-bye, have you heard of the rumors? I was just being my adorable and invisible self when I heard it.”

“Rumors?” you questioned him, racking your brain of the recent events that’s been happening in Wonderland. “You mean Duke Tanaka expressing his love for the Lady Kiyoko one night with an orchestra of fish? Or that one time Sir Sugawara, in all his bunniness, announced His Highness Oikawa wrong, saying he was an escort of the Swan Palace? The latter was quite funny to watch.”

Lev curled his lips in disapproval. “You really are not acquainted with the rumors, huh? Those were the last two week’s rumors! This is a new day now! I was talking about the newly hired court jester, which by the way, hasn’t made his appearance yet. Maybe the king wanted the jester’s entertainment for himself? No one knows.”

“I don’t quite follow.”

The silver cat stared at her blankly. “All you’ve been doing is baking so I expected that response from you.” He sighed, crossing his lanky arms across his chest. “Some say that he spooked everyone with his appearance when he was walking down the streets lining the Blue Castle. I mean, who wouldn’t be scared when two men dressed in black just saunter their way towards the royal palace? He and his companion asked for the King’s audience and he easily performs a trick or two, which involved the orange and blueberry boys over there — something to do with a ball and a fast attack. I don’t even know. In the end, he was accepted. I also heard this night will be his debut but I don’t see him anywhere.”

You craned your neck to get a good view of the ballroom but it was quite hard catching the sight of the court’s new jester when almost all men chose to dress in black. “I don’t see any sort of man who might be the court joker.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you!” Lev exasperatedly exclaimed, yet he continued. “Have you heard about the other rumors?”

“What are these other rumors? Do they concern me?”

Lev swallowed down a bubbling laugh as he looked at you from your red headdress to your red heeled shoes. “The king has chosen a bride! And he will be announcing it sooner or later—“ The sound of trumpets interrupted Lev, making him meow in delight. “I say, he’s going to announce it now!”

“PRESENTING HIS ROYAL AND INGENIOUS MAJESTY, THE KING OF HEARTS!”

Sugawara shouted at the top of his lungs, his trumpet tucked at the side. You turned around along with the rest of the guests as the King stood with his chest inflated in a proud inhale on top of the castle’s staircase. The aristocrats bowed down at the sight of the tarot of rulers standing at the top of the staircase.

There was King Oikawa Tooru of the Blue Castle and the leader of the small kingdom of Spades. Quite the ladies’ man with his charming chocolate curls and eyes. He was impeccably dressed in a white undershirt and a black waistcoat that seemed to be embellished with accents of his royal colors — aquamarine. His loyal adviser, Iwaizumi Hajime, shoots arrows to the side of his head as an attempt to leash the harlot and condescending king. Some say that he was not only a pretty face but a ruthless leader under the guise of ‘The Grand King’, the sources of such allegations coming from his subjects in the Spade courts.

Beside the smirking Oikawa was the leader of the Diamond court, Ushijima Wakatoshi of the Swan Palace. The ever stoic general of the Eagle Corps, the indomitable army of Wonderland, overlooked everybody on the dance floor with an outfit adorned with amethyst accents. His black coat was a sight for sore eyes, as it bore the insignia of his army and the royal seal of the court of Diamonds. His right hand, Tendou Satori, smirked and snickered at the people gawking at them, his alias of being the ‘Red Monster’ befitting him as his grin never ceased.

The last member of the four rulers of Wonderland was the duke of the land of Clovers, Terushima Yuuji. For a dukedom known for its rambunctious and quite interesting revels, their ruler also harbored the fortitude of being the land’s wildest overseer, his palace always flowing with an abundance of wine and courtesans once a week. Dressed in a black inner-shirt that gave quite a view of his chest and fitting pants, Terushima was quite the heartbreaker. It was noticeable that the duke of Clovers was a magnet for a lady’s attention when Oikawa gave him a dirty look for stealing his glory.

And the subject of your nightmares was standing there in between those three towering leaders. The King of Hearts, Nishinoya Yuu. Being the youngest out of the four of them, Nishinoya inherited the title of king when his father passed on because of an accident when walking down the waterfalls in Turtle Cove (one of the most sought-out attractions in Wonderland), making him the youngest king in the history of the Kingdom of Hearts, only at thirteen. But being the youngest meant that he could be neglecting some of his responsibilities, namely; the rise of the Jabberwocky and the invasion warning of the Queendoms of Chess. He was, in fact, chasing you, rather than doing his job as the King. Before you, however, he was blatantly confessing his love for the radiant Lady Kiyoko but something happened for him to shift towards you.

Nishinoya was dressed in full monochrome regalia, with his white fur coat too big on his short frame and a blinding white suit studded with rhinestones. On top of his head is the royal crown of Hearts, its heart-shaped finial and rubies saying it all. He was grinning when you rose from your curtsy.

You inconspicuously blanched when he grinned at you.

Stiffening in your perch as he jostled down the steps to reach you, you forced a smile on your face, curtsying again.

“Lady [Last Name]! Isn’t it such a fair evening for a grand ball?” he asked in your face, looking up at you with a hopeful expression that would definitely hurt if you ruined it.

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” you replied. “How is your night faring in this wondrous celebration?”

“It is incredible now that I have finally seen your face!” Nishinoya exclaimed with stars in his eyes.

You looked away.

Sugawara, who stood at the foot of the stairs, cleared his throat. “His Royal Majesty would like to request the hand of Lady [Last Name] [Name] for the first quadrille.”

Your eyes widened. “Why, thank you, Your Highness. I am honored.”

The King wasn’t an intimidating man. To be honest, he was the opposite. Nishinoya has the tendency to shout or laugh at the most inopportune moments, like that time Sugawara mistook King Oikawa for being an escort of the Diamond Court. For such a young child, the King of Hearts was a vibrant and kind boy, befriending even the commoners serving as his Royal Guard. His lack of intimidation was what kept you in your best and most civil behavior, seeing as he never treated you harshly.

But he wasn’t the brightest shade of red in the kingdom.

Nishinoya led you to the dance floor and continued gazing at you with utmost adoration but your mind was filled with other matters not concerning the King. Yes, he was a sweet young man and a happy one at that. He was also the one responsible for making Hearts the kingdom as it is today.

“You look utterly stunning, my lady,” Nishinoya told you, looking like a puppy waiting for a treat. It was almost endearing.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you replied, forcing some enthusiasm in your voice.

It was always forced when it comes to the King, seeing as you always hated the thought of being leashed, of having your dreams taken away from you with just a snap of his royal fingers. And you quite treasured your dreams, your bakery, and the simple life it held. But knowing his royal and boisterous Highness, everything will always come his way.

“My favorite color is red, in fact! And seeing you dressed like an empress, a queen rather, makes my heart pound with longing!”

You recoiled. The implication in his sentence sent a tremor of dread down your spine. Your destiny was inevitable, that’s what your mother said to you when you tried fighting or your dream of being a baker. She said that many things are waiting for you in the life of a noble lady and a possibility was lying in one of them — that you will be the next Queen of Hearts. You didn’t want that.

“You, my lady, are a treasure,” he said, dazed.

Your heart ached for so many things in that moment. Your heart ached for your dream, for your tied-down future, and lastly, for not having the capabilities of returning the king’s affection.

“I definitely should ask,” Nishinoya mumbled shyly as you went back in his arms after a twirl, “but did you bake any treats this evening? I was wondering which of those on the feasting table did you bring?” He glanced at the table at the side of the ballroom, his eyes passing by a munching Lev, who watched the two of you with a knowing glint in his eyes.

Your discomfort vanished in an instant as you smiled at the King. The two of you raised your hands to let the couple beside you duck underneath. Once face to face again, you beamed. “I offered baking the lemon tarts this evening and I’m happy that it was to everyone’s liking.” You continued smiling as you remembered some people talking about your treats. “I do hope you have at least a bite, Your Highness.”

Nishinoya perked up and grinned at you. “That’s fantastic! I might take a bite after the dance!”

“I’m happy to hear that, Your Majesty.”

He missed a couple of dance steps as he visibly gawked at your smile. You couldn’t help but think that it was adorable for a moment. The dance ended after a few twirls and exchange of partners and you find yourself huffing at the exhausting quadrille. However, your partner was energetic as usual as he giggled.

“Thank you for gracing this night with your effervescent presence, Lady [Last Name],” Nishinoya bowed. “Now I must find those tarts of yours in the feasting table.”

“And thank you, Your Majesty,” you replied, curtsying. “You honor me so.”

You can feel your shoulders relax after the young King turned away from you. Not finding any interest in continuing the ball, you tried finding your parents in the crowd to tell them that you have to go home because you’re not feeling well. The ball was so far, tiring and you sluggishly pad your way towards the balcony, not minding the posture your etiquette teacher taught you, in an attempt to have fresh air. But you hadn’t even moved from your spot before the lights flickered out, washing everything in darkness.

The band stopped the music. Shocked gasps chorused amongst the crowd. A scared cry erupted from one spot in the ballroom. You faintly heard one of the guards shouting orders to one another to find out what caused the blackout. But a few minutes later, a spark and a flicker came from above. Everyone looked up to see what kind of spectacle displayed itself. The center chandelier gave an ominous glow over the ballroom, with it being the only thing giving out light.

There, hanging on the chandelier, was a large hoop of glinting silver, and lounging comfortably inside the hoop was a jester.

He was dressed in a midnight black tunic belted at his hips and tight-fitting trousers tucked in a pair of leather knee-length boots. His hands were enclosed in gloves, matching with his whole dark ensemble. Skin glowing amber (unlike the pale skin everybody sported in the kingdom) under the mellow lights of the candles in the chandelier, he continued sitting in the hoop. His hair was so unruly and messy that you assumed he only rolled out of bed before perching above the ballroom. It covered the right part of his face, shadowing his visage even more.

You took in a sharp inhale of breath as you continued staring at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

The unknown stranger’s half-lidded golden eyes were looking straight at you.

part two will be up probably tomorrow any other day bcos let's face it,,, i'm a procrastinator,, i mean, who isn't?

— 5, 1, 3.

The party's over

Capa para a fanfic “Estrelas de Âmbar” escrito por Amehi para a seção de Haikyuu, fanfic com foco no Kuroo e no Bokuto.

Estou entregando essa capa nervosamente porque é a primeira vez que faço uma manipulação de capa desenhando em cima de corpo de pessoa, encaixo a cabeça de anime e desenho as roupas então perdoa a falha, mas as intenções foram as melhores! @ame-sundrops me perdoa, coloquei até gif pra tu ficar feliz UHSAUHSAUHSAUH

Se inspire! Não copie! Créditos à @hallyumi pelos png’s e artes oficias do anime/mangá Haikyuu, e créditos pelo fundo por Elandria no devianart.

Capas e banner feitos nesse ciclo em nome do projeto astrogallery, um projeto com foco em disponibilizar para usuários edições e betagens de fanfics para a seção de animação.

Se inspire! Não copie! Créditos aos artistas nas respectivas imagens ~

Link das fanfics: “Me dê um beijinho na testa como bom dia.” “Delírios da madrugada” e "Você pode correr, mas não se esconder.”

The Deal (Kuroo x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Kuroo needs your help wooing the pain in the ass cheerleader that’s your lab partner. But what if Kuroo wasn’t actually trying to pursue her?

A/N: Fuck me, it’s five am, why am I still here. I’m tired af, but fuck it, I finally wrote 5k words. I hope y’all like it!

Word count: 5062

        “YN YLN.”

        “Here.”

        Like your previous two years at Nekoma, you expected your final semesters to pass quickly and be relatively painless.

        “Psst, hey Takahashi!” Sadly, your chemistry lab partner’s relentless pursuer made that expectation all but wishful thinking.

        “Kuroo’s trying to get into your pants again,” you relay the message to her and roll your eyes when she releases a high-pitched giggle. 

        Sakura Takahashi was the bubbly captain of the cheer squad. Every day, she awoke with sunshine and rainbows outside her window. Every night, she was cuddled to sleep by a pack of kittens and puppies. Her constant happiness killed your vibe, especially when she would skip into the classroom with a smile brighter than your future and proceed to beg you for yesterday’s homework. She was also gorgeous, with legs for days and endlessly-flowing black hair. You used this to your advantage whenever bullies came around; she was a great distraction. 

        “Oh, isn’t he just so hot!” Takahashi sighs dreamily, biting her lip before glancing over at the bedheaded Casanova on your other side. 

        Tetsurou Kuroo was the captain of the boys’ volleyball club. If something had two legs and walked, you bet your ass he’s put his dick in it. He was a player with a signature smirk to match, and the last target on his fuck-it list for high school was your airhead lab partner. 

        You, on the other hand, were the unlucky wall that sat between their daily sexual tension. No matter how many times you begged Mr. Suzuki to switch partners, desks, or even planets, he wouldn’t let you move. You guessed, in some ways, he was also against the inevitable screwing of the two lovebirds. 

        “We will have a pop quiz tomorrow.” The class groans exasperatedly and the teacher nods along, “Yes, yes, I know. You’re all so busy with your jobs and your overtime and your wives and kids- oh wait,” he narrows his eyes at the class. “Don’t be such whiners. Study what we’ve gone over this week and you’ll do fine. Class dismissed.”

        The bell rings like music to your ears, and you replace it with actual music in your ears, quickly snapping on your headphones and heading out for the day. One of the daily occurrences you’ve caught onto over the past few months is that Kuroo likes to flirt with Takahashi directly over your head. One time, he literally folded his arms on top of your head and leaned over to chat with her. 

        Kuroo was growing to be the bane of your high school existence. 

        Huffing a sigh, you scramble out of the class as fast as humanly possible, not wanting to hear even a lick of today’s banter. However, something seems different at the moment. Kuroo’s not stuck back in Mr. Suzuki’s room with his ass plopped on your desktop. Instead, he’s got a hand wrapped around your upper arm, halting you from a quick escape. 

        “What do you want?” you hiss, tugging yourself away and pulling your headphones down around your neck. He smirks at you and leans in closer to your face. 

        “I think you know exactly what I want.” Totally unphased, you blink at him once while pursing your lips. Suggestively, he waggles his eyebrows at you. 

        “Don’t you dare say it-”

        “Takahashi.”

        “Oh fuck me.”

        “Just give me a time and place, baby.” While he simpers at you, you can only muster a snarl in return. 

        “Don’t call me that.”

        “You got it, Kitten.”

        Scoffing, you turn to walk away, but a hand snags your wrist and spins you right back. Kuroo’s smug look falters at the sight of your furious glare. 

        “Oh, for God’s sake!” You yank your hand out of his grip. “What do you want?” you seethe through your teeth. 

        “Like I said before, I want Takahashi,” he shrugs. You shake your head at him. 

        “My God, you are such a douche.” 

        “Oh c’mon YN, please?” He pouts and folds his hands pleadingly with well-executed puppy-dog eyes. You wonder how many girls that’s worked on before. 

        “Why should I help you?” With a deadpan look, you fold your arms indignantly. 

        “Because I know you’re a 4.0 student,” your lips quirk at this, “and I also know you suck at chemistry.” The trump card widens your eyes and you waver for just a second.

        “Pshh, how do you know that?” Your recovery is about as smooth as sandpaper.

        “Did you forget that you almost burned Suzuki’s eyebrows off in front of the whole class?” Eye twitching at the memory, you give in. 

        “Fine, what do you want me to do?” 

        “I thought you’d never ask.”

                                ***

        “I think sodium needs to go in there.” 

        “Okay.” 

        It’s the first day of your deal, and while you didn’t believe Kuroo at first when he said Takahashi was a stickler, you guessed you understood it now. After all, you had never seen them go any farther than words. Not that you wanted to see anything more, because gross. 

        In the end, Kuroo wanted to woo her like the sixties, and the first idea on his agenda was a classic. 

        “All right, now add a drop of water,” you instruct, watching carefully to make sure she doesn’t implode the entire school. A sudden jab in your side makes you choke on nothing and you glare over at your partner in crime. 

        ‘Do it!’ he mouths, frantically waving at you to get a move on. Revenge is a priority to you, however, so you rear back and smack his arm with a glare. Satisfied at the awkward squawk that escapes his mouth, you swivel back to your lab monkey and brace for social discomfort.

        “So, uh, Takahashi, do you like flowers?” 

        “What?” She shifts her gaze from the liquid-filled beakers to your face and flinches at the sight of your stiff, forced smile. You’re baring your teeth like a chimpanzee preparing to die, but Takahashi takes this in another direction. She’s a birdbrain, remember?

        “Oh, YN, I’m sorry,” She smiles pityingly at you and pats your shoulder in what she believes is a comforting way. The sound of her acrylic nails scraping your uniform actually makes your skin crawl and you lean away from the touch, still smiling like a maniac. “I just don’t feel that way about you.” 

        A muffled cackle sounds from behind you while your face falls. “Oh,” you mutter, teeth gnawing against each other. “That’s not really what I meant-”

        “It’s just that I’m kind of into guys.” She surveys your expression for any sign of a breakdown, but the only thing she spots is your nostrils flaring. Chuckles are still rumbling in the desk beside you.

        “Yeah, Takahashi, that’s okay,” you emphasize with a nod and wide eyes. “Now what fucking flowers do you like?” 

        “Oh!” Like a child with toys, she is instantly distracted from the painful previous events. The bell rings while she taps her chin, and she lifts her bag over her shoulder while responding, “I quite like petunias!”

        While she exits the classroom, you spin in your seat to face Romeo. 

        “She likes petunias.” You’re practically foaming at the mouth, and Kuroo’s cheeks are burning from his front row seat to the show. 

        “Well thanks for that.” He snickers and you flip him the bird while gathering your things. “Oh, and YN?”

        “Hmm?” 

        He pushes in his chair before winking at you. “I would have paid to see that,” he whispers. 

        “Fucking perv!” 

                                ***

        Two more weeks have passed of you being Kuroo’s sidekick in Operation: Smash and Dash and he keeps half-assing his part. Either that or he’s a shit teacher. 

        “Oh, come on YN, you aren’t that stupid. Surely you know the formula for…” his voice blends with the crickets chirping outside of his window as you zone out. Takahashi still acts the same with him, you still sit and stew in the middle of the pair, and Kuroo keeps begging you to help him get her. Nothing has changed, so what was the point of even trying to continue-

        “YN!” Your teacher, “Mr. Kuroo” as the creep prefers to be called, snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Pay attention in class!” You lazily drag your eyes away from the moon and yawn in his direction. You’re laying flat on your stomach on his carpet and he sits across from you cross-legged with a finger incessantly tapping on your textbook.

        “This isn’t a class, and you’re a terrible teacher, Kuroo.” 

        “Mr. Kuroo to you, Kitten.” He winks and pushes his glasses up his face before running a hand through his rat’s nest. Scoffing, you roll over and stare at his ceiling, only to get patted on the nose with a ruler. 

        “Ow,” you grumble, rubbing the injured area. “You’re an abusive teacher too.” 

        “Only to bad students.” His words cause a palpable shift. The atmosphere of the room suddenly grows ten times more intense and you trace your fingers on the ground nervously. Ever so slowly, Kuroo places two hands on either side of your head, effectively trapping you. He leans over you, and even though he’s upside down, his smirk still manages to take your breath away. 

        “Are you a bad student, Kitten?” 

        Oh, so that’s how he gets all the girls. Interesting. 

        You scoff abruptly and push his face away while he releases a surprised “mfphm!” Ignoring the heat that has blossomed on every inch of your body, you sit back up and pivot to confront him. The textbook between you is no longer forgotten as you snatch it up and point to a random page while avoiding his gaze. 

        “I don’t understand this.”

        “I don’t understand you,” he grumbles under his breath, accepting the book and adjusting his glasses with a twitching jaw. 

        “Excuse me?” 

        “This problem’s easy,” he stares at you from above the rims, “I thought you were a good student?” 

        “I am smarter than you and your bloodline will ever be, dillweed.” With a huff, you cross your arms and avoid his sceptical gaze. “I just… don’t understand the question.” 

        “It’s simple chemistry!” 

        “Yeah, well I just don’t get it! I’m not familiar with this kind of chemistry….”

        Kuroo’s eyes twinkle at your admission and he scoots just a tad closer. “Then I’ll just have to teach you.”

                                ***

        “YN!” Kuroo whisper-yells your name during the middle of notes and you choose to ignore him. 

        “Psst, YN!” He’s louder this round, capturing more pairs of eyes than your own. Luckily, you both sit in the back of the class so the teacher can barely hear you. The feeling of Takahashi’s gaze urges you to continue the ruse, and you bite your lip while squinting at the marked-up white board. This must be how your mom feels before she turns her radio down so she can “see the road.” 

        Sadly, your effort in focusing diminishes in an instant when your carefree cohort brandishes his weapon of choice: a pencil. As he prepares to land a devastating blow to your side, you seize the offender, accidentally brushing his hand during the event, and snap it in two before setting it back on his desk calmly. 

        Kuroo gawks at you in your peripheral vision before lightly muttering “Rude!” 

        “Hehe, loser,” you snicker before sticking your tongue out at him. 

        “YLN!” Mr. Suzuki places his hands on his hips as he shakes his head at you. “Please stop distracting Kuroo and Takahashi!” 

        “Sorry sir!” you nervously respond, hurriedly grabbing your own pencil and returning to your paper. The words still haunt you, as you have always hated being scolded by others. As they repeat like a chorus in your head, you finally catch on one name. Wait, Takahashi? With a gulp, you barely tilt your head to get a glimpse of your lab partner. Her jaw is clenched and her eyes are lit like an angered bonfire. 

        Woah, what’s up with her? You keep your gaze on her even as the bell chimes out, signalling the end of class. She seems unlike her usual self as she shoves her papers into her backpack before zipping it up and stomping out into the hall. Now that you think about it, she hasn’t asked for your homework in a while either…. I wonder if something happened-

        “YN, finally you can pay attention to me now!” Kuroo slams his hands down on your desk and leers over you. 

        “Wow, sounds like you’re getting a little needy,” you relax back into your chair and cross your arms. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.”

        “Neither did I.”

        “What?”

        “Anyways,” he waves his hands dismissivley, avoiding your eyes to take a seat at Takahashi’s desk, “I was thinking that since we already have to spend so much time together because you’re shit at school-”

        “It’s just chemistry!” He places a hand over your mouth to stop your vexed screech. 

        “-I was thinking,” he continues, “you should become our team manager so you don’t have to walk over to my house all the time. It’s kinda dangerous, don’t you think?” Like anybody would, you lick his hand in an effort to drive him away, but he raises his eyebrows back, quirking up a corner of his mouth.

        You sneer in disgust at his action before shoving his hand away. “Fucking perv.”

        “I prefer to think of it as sexy, but back to the less-fun topic. What do you think?” There’s something unfamiliar about his face; it seems almost… apprehensive in a way. Shaking away the thought, you tap your chin contemplatively at his proposal. 

        “I mean, I guess that’s a good idea,” his eyes glimmer at your words and his knee starts to bounce, “Plus my mom would like how safe it is. Sure, I guess I could do that,” you shrug at last and Kuroo’s face lights up. 

        “Sounds good,” his voice is surprisingly nonchalant compared to his body language, “I’ll introduce you to the coaches and get this show on the road.” 

        “Sounds good,” you parrot, grabbing your bag before you’re suddenly smacked with a memory. “Hey wait!” You capture Kuroo’s rather muscular bicep in your grasp to stop him from leaving. As he looks at you, his eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. “How are things going with Takahashi?”

        His face falls and he glances down at your hand, which you swiftly pull away from his arm like he burned you. 

        “Sorry,” you mutter, shifting from side to side on your feet, “it’s just that I haven’t seen you two talk in a while. Did something happen?” 

        Kuroo’s nose wrinkles before he plasters a smirk on his face, casually settling a hand on his hip. “Nothing you need to worry about. Although, now that I think about it, I could use some more advice.” You smile in relief and nod your head. Even though you had initially hated the pair, Kuroo was slowly becoming your friend, and you were glad nothing had deterred him from his goal. It was still a goal that repulsed you, sure, but you wanted to help him. You wanted to keep helping him. 

        “Of course, what’s up?”

        “What are some things that girls like to do on dates and stuff? You know, if you could try to think like a normal girl for a second.” Your jaw drops with a gasp while he bursts into a maniacal cackle, and you don’t hesitate to smack his chest harshly. 

        “You’re such a dick!”

        “And you’re painful, oww!” Smiling victoriously at the sight of him rubbing his stomach, you ignore his pout in favor of placing your chin in your hand. 

        “I don’t really know, I guess. I kind of don’t have experience…” you trail off when you remember who you’re talking to. Kuroo glances up at you confused before he processes your words and his mouth forms an “o.”

        “Aww, YN, am I gonna have to show you what a first date is like?” he simpers.

        “No! Shut up! Just buy her more petunias and you’ll be fine!” You try to escape the room as fast as possible, but Kuroo’s lanky body blocks the exit, arms and legs both spread out to cover the area. 

        “Oh c’mon, I was just kidding,” he chuckles dismissively. “Now that I think about it, what flowers do you like?”

        “Are there any flowers that you’re allergic to?” 

        “Ouch, gee YN you’re feisty today.” He waggles a finger at you. “I bet you’re more of a rose girl anyways. You seem like the type to….” You’ve mastered the skill of zoning out Kuroo’s incessant rambling as you observe him from multiple angles. You even squat down to see if you could wiggle out through his legs. Nope. Looks like it’s going to be a straight take down.

        You take a few steps back and kick your feet like a bull. It’s your lucky day too; Kuroo’s wearing his red volleyball jacket, and he makes a perfect target. His mouth is still chattering nonstop, but you can tell his face is growing more and more confused at your reaction. Finally, when you feel like you’ve revved up enough, you make your move. 

        “Chargeeee!” 

        Kuroo falls to the ground in the hallway with an “oof” and you land on top of him, one leg on either side of his torso. 

        “What the hell, Kitten?!” The nickname slips out in the heat of the moment but you don’t bother to correct him. Instead, you pat the side of his face and clamber off him, not hesitating to use his sturdy chest as a boost onto your feet. You're still towering over him, and Kuroo’s face flushes at a certain display you're giving him. You haven’t even noticed; you’re still pounding on your chest like a gorilla while hooting nonsensically to celebrate your triumph. 

        “Umm, YN?”

        “I’m pretty sure that’s what rugby is like.”

        “Hey Kitten.”

        “I would be amazing at that sport, let’s be honest.” You step away and off to the side, only to peer down curiously at a tomato-themed Kuroo whose eyes are completely unfocused. 

        “Umm, did I tackle you too hard?” You wave a hand in front of his face, but he doesn’t move a muscle. “Hey Rooster, did I break you?”

        “YN?”

        “Yeah?”

        “You do know you’re wearing a skirt, right?” You chuckle. 

        “Umm yeah, Kuroo, they’re kind of mandatory.” 

        “Oh good, I’m just making sure you’re fully aware of what just happened.” Your forehead creases as you tug him up onto his feet. 

        “What do you mean? I just took you out like a pro-footballer, what are you talking about?” 

        “Nothing, Kitten,” he sniggers, ruffling your hair before you bat his hand away. “I’ll talk to the coaches about letting you manage, okay?”

        “Okay,” you nod, still confused, “just be sure to get checked for a concussion too. You’re acting weird.”

        “Aye aye, captain.” He mockingly salutes with a smug smile before walking away. Those words, however, they were… familiar. 

        Oh shit. You gasp in horror. “You saw my Spongebob underwear?!”

        “Aww, don’t be one of those girls, YN,” he calls out, discreetly speeding up his strides, “They’re called panties.”

        “You sick fuck!”

                                ***

        You never realized how often Kuroo practiced until you became the volleyball manager. It was every night, and more often than not, you got tired just watching them. 

        “Five more laps, boys!” 

        However, you did have to admit Kuroo was noticeably different during these times. He was less of a womanizer and more of a leader, and you couldn’t help but wonder if any girls he had been with had seen this side of him. In this way, he seemed more redeemable, more worth knowing. 

        “YN, can you grab us some waters?” Just as whiny, though. 

        You were still attempting to get used to the feeling of being called upon like a waitress every two minutes. The sweaty boys asked for this and that, and you missed the days when you had first met them. Weeks ago, they used to fall at your feet and offer to do everything for you. It felt good to be the center of attention, although apparently Kuroo gave them a stern talking to at some point, and now they don’t even dare to speak to you. Shame. 

        “Hey, Kitten,” the captain jogged over to you, slowly wiping the sweat off his face with a towel you instinctively tossed him the minute he approached. “We’re finished up now, are you ready to go?”

        “Oh, sorry Tetsu, I guess I forgot to tell you,” you wave away his offer and smile apologetically, “I’m actually going out with someone tonight, so we can take the night off chemistry. You’re off the hook for the day.” Honestly, you expected him to be pleased. He seemed to get more frustrated with you recently, even though you were understanding more and more of the topics in the textbook. But his reaction was… explosive, to say the least. 

        “What?! Who the fuck asked you out?! Who?!” With narrowed eyes, he scrutinized your face with folded, bulky arms. You flinch at his sudden outburst, and so does the rest of the team. Throwing a reassuring smile their way, you pull Kuroo over into an emptier corner of the gym to discuss the matter privately.

        “Hey, crazy, calm it. It’s not a date date, it’s just a hang out,” you shrug.

        “With who?” he growls. 

        You raise a brow at the act before rolling your eyes. “My God, Tetsurou, I’m just going to hang out with Takahashi! She said she wanted to talk about something-”

        “No!” He instantly grabs you by your shoulders at the words. “Don’t go. You can’t talk to her.” 

        “Why not?” His overreactions are concerning you, and you slowly peel off his grip before asking, “Did something happen between you two?”

        “No! Never!”

        “Never? Do you still need help?”

        “No!” He exclaims once more and you give him a look that tells him to shut his piehole just a bit. With a huff, he nods in understanding and lowers his tone. “No, I don’t really need your help anymore. Not with her.”

        “Oh,” your face falls and you bite your lip, “So does that mean we can’t hang out anymore?”

        “No!”

        “Is that your favorite word?”

        “N-” he cuts himself off in a scoff before shaking his head at you. “No,” he snickers, “it’s not, Kitten. Just, be careful with Takahashi, all right?”

        “Okay dad.” You roll your eyes.

        “It’s Daddy to you, Kitten.”

        “Shut up, you perv!” You smack his chest with a giggle and he chuckles along with you. Glancing at the clock on the wall, you huff at the time and murmur, “Hey, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nods with a solemn smile.

        “All right, Kitten-”

        “YN.”

        “-Kitten, be careful.” For the first time in your life, you see Kuroo hug someone. And it’s you. His slim but powerful arms wrap around your waist and he tugs you into his warm, sweaty chest, ducking his head into your neck and sniffing your hair. You would say it’s weird, but you regrettably do the same. 

        “Ok, Tetsu, I gotta be honest. I like this, but you smell.” Your phone buzzes in your back pocket just as he pulls away with a cackle. Smiling at him, you grab it and see Takahashi’s name on the front. 

        “Hello?” you answer, stepping away from him with one finger held up as you wait for a response. 

        “You’re late, so I guess I’ll just have to skip out on the whole fake hang out thing.”

        “Takahashi? Are you okay?”

        “I’m perfectly fine, YN,” her voice is lower than normal, the bubbly, cheery tone is completely nonexistent. “I just wanted you to know that Kuroo and I slept together, so you should probably stop trying to flirt with him from now on.”

        Your face falls at her words, and Kuroo mouths a concerned question at you. You don’t dare to decipher it; instead, you turn away and face the wall. 

        “Is that right?” you mutter, your own tone lifeless. 

        “You better believe it sweetheart, so just give up. We’re going to become a couple soon, just you watch. Especially at the assembly tomorrow, when we walk together on the stage.” 

        “Oh yeah?”

        “Yep, and those loving looks he gave you during class? Newsflash, YN, those were for me, you were just in the way-” You hang up with pursed lips and peel your phone away from your ear, staring at it blankly. 

        “Kitten, are you okay?” 

        Your chest feels empty, and your heartbeat slows in your upset. 

        “YN?”

        “How long?” You turn around and drag your eyes up your form to face him. 

        “Excuse me?” Kuroo steps closer and you let him, but he doesn’t move to touch you.

        “How long have you been leading me on?”

        “I don’t-”

        “How long have you been sleeping with Takahashi?” You felt like you just got cheated on, even though you had offered earlier to help him with her. You guessed, in some strange way, you hoped it was never really her you were helping him woo. 

        You were wrong.

        Kuroo’s eyes widen at your question, but he quickly tames himself, taking a deep breath and licking his lips. 

        “It was just one time.” God, it was true. “Before I asked for your help.”

        “Wait, what?” You stumble back a step and stare up at him perplexedly. 

        “I thought,” he sighs once more, “I thought that if I asked for your help and hanged around you enough that she would get the gist and leave me alone like the others. But she didn’t. She just kept calling me.”

        “So… you used me?” You were hurt, but in a whole different way now. Your heart stuttered at his confession, but now it panged with remorse. 

        “At first, yeah,” he nods, approaching you once more before looking into your eyes deeply. “But then, I guess at some point I just,” he takes one more deep breath to prepare himself for something, “I guess I just fell in love with you.” 

        Slapping your palm against your forehead, you scoff, “This is fucked up, Kuroo.”

        “I know,” he nods in agreement. Against your better judgement, you pocket your phone and give him one last hug. The breath in his lungs forces its way out of him and you pull away before he can return it. 

        “I need time to think, okay?”

        Shakily, he backs away and allows you the room to leave. “Okay.” 

        The doors whoosh closed after you exit and make your way home alone. Inside the darkened, locked up gym, Kuroo slowly picks up the stray volleyballs, not hesitating to hurl them at the wood panelling with loud grunts of fury while he finally takes out his frustration. After he runs out of ammo and his arm grows tired, he runs a hand through his wild tufts. 

        “Fucking shit. What am I gonna do, Kitten?”

                                ***

        The assembly was loud and cheerful. Nobody around you knew what went down inside that gym just a single day earlier. In the crowd of third years you were corralled in, you occasionally caught glimpses of the other volleyball boys your age, but no Kuroo. He was supposed to announce their victory, and their succession to state today. And the one to walk him up the stage was no other than Takahashi. 

        You’re dragged out of your self-deprecating, Rooster-filled thoughts by the sound of the principal clearing his throat in the microphone. It causes a loud whine that pierces your’s and everyone else’s eardrums, but you don’t have enough will to gasp and whimper like they do. Instead, your eyes lock on the pairs of people who have just arrived. One cheerleader to one sport captain, and at the end of the line is Kuroo, who is snarling and leaning away from Takahashi attached to his hip.

        The sight makes your lips twitch, and your gaze seems to have an effect on him, because his head instantly whips around in search of something, only to lock on you as he smiles softly. You only nod back and take your seat in the bleachers along with the other third years. 

        Time passes slowly as you wait and wait for the assembly to end. You almost consider ditching just as Kuroo’s turn comes up, but his actions stop you. As soon as he strides up the stairs to the stage, he wriggles his arm out and away from Takahashi. Then, he plucks the microphone out of the flabbergasted principal’s hand and taps it twice. 

        “This thing’s on, right?” The principal nods, completely discombobulated by your Rooster. 

        “Sweet, okay. YN!” His eyes search the crowd of grouped third years as your name echoes around the gym. They brighten when he spots you once more and he swings around to face you. While you want to seem calm and collected, the number of eyes now locked on you leaves you a blushing mess. 

        “Hey Kitten,” he waggles his eyebrows cheekily while holding out his hand, “Will you be my girlfriend?” The crowd falls to a hush and an uncontrollable smile takes over your face. 

        “Well?” He moves his finger in a “come hither” motion with a wink, and it has you coming down the steps of the stands in a trance-like state, pushing past your fellow classmates and occasionally mumbling apologies. With a hop, you land on the gym floor and approach him as he does the same for you. 

        “What do I get out of it?” you ask with a smugly raised brow. Kuroo grins back at you deviously. 

        “I suppose I could help you with your chemistry homework,” he steps closer and leans into your face. “You know, ‘cause you suck at it.” You can’t help but snort and bite your lip. Then you whisper three words and pull him in for a kiss that has the crowd cheering. 

        “It’s a deal.”

+ request. Hi, i downloaded tumblr only a few days ago so idk if this is how you make requests or even if you are taking them. But if you are, could you write a size kink kuroo with his virgin gf🥺

+ author n. you did it right no worries:)

+ genre. smut

kuroo was trying- he really was. his fingers were practically shredding the bed-sheets as he sat watching you struggle to lower yourself on him. 

Keep reading

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑶𝒏𝒆: 𝑺𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍 ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑲𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒐 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: When your crush, Kuroo, agrees to help tutor you, neither of you anticipated the freak snowstorm that would trap you at his house.

"God, please," You felt your brain quite literally throbbing in your skull, "Stop talking for five seconds."

You didn't have to lift your head from your hands to imagine the look on Kuroo's face; a stupid mixture of smug, concern, and amusement. Every time you were subjected to that stare you were tempted to slap it off of him. Or kiss it off of him. One would more than likely result in the end of your friendship, so you kept your lips to yourself.

“Oh come on,” You heard him try and hide his laughter, and doing a poor job of it, “It’s really not that hard.”

“Says you,” You glared at him through your fingers, “Mr. Know-it-all.”

He rolled his eyes, putting the pencil that he was twirling down, “You were starting to get it earlier.”

“Then you started adding to it!” You took one of the crumbled sheets from the floor and threw it, watching as he did nothing but let it bounce off his head, “And you just thought because you get it, that I would too!”

He laughed, deep and loud, and you ignored the flutters in your chest, the way the sound was enough to make your hands sweaty. He leaned back on his palms, “We can call it if you want, the test isn’t till next week anyways.”

You nodded, conceding. “I think if we continue my head will quite literally explode.”

Laying your head on the little table he set up, you let your eyes shut for a moment, the warmth of his room soothed your body, while the coolest of the desk soothed your head. You startled, doing your best not to jump when you felt his fingers move through your hair, hesitantly. It was silent for a few moments, the movements of his hand was soft and light, and the headache you had felt coming on was disappearing.

“We wouldn’t want your head to explode,” He spoke finally, tone teasing but voice soft.

You grumbled, not having a snarky retort or quick jab. You didn’t want to move, but you knew you had to. With a heavy heart, and an over the top, loud groan, you lifted your head up, rubbing at your eyes.

Kuroo was watching you, quiet, not wanting to interrupt the brief moment of tranquility that had fallen upon the two of you. You were clearly tired, still clad in your school uniform, though you had stolen one of his hoodies. He was hoping you forgot to give it back to him, and continued to do so going forward. He hoped you forgot for a good while.

“Ugh,” You stood up, stretching your legs out, “You gonna be a gentleman and give me my bag?”

He rolled his eyes at the sarcasm, but moved regardless, grabbing your bag from his bed. You didn’t ask, but he started packing your notebooks away for you.

You pulled your phone out to check the time, moving to grab your bag from Kuroo, before pausing. You had a several missed calls from your father, as well as unread texts. Telling Kuroo to give you a second, you put your phone to your ear, calling your dad back.

He opened his door, aiming to give you some privacy, jumping as he nearly walked into his mom standing in the hall way. Her hand was raised, as if she was going to knock on his door. He raised an eyebrow towards her questioningly.

“Oh,” She looked mildly worried, “I was hoping she had gone home by now.”

He was grateful that you were on the phone and not standing there, narrowing his eyes, and his mom, realizing how her sentence may sound, quickly waved her hands.

“No, no, not like that! You know she’s always welcome over! I just meant—”

“Snow storm?” Your voice was sharp, cutting off whatever his mom was going to explain.

He heard the sound of his curtains opening, and he turned, seeing the sheer amount of snow outside. There was at least half a meter of snow on the ground, if not more, and the snow was still heavily falling.

He heard his mom sigh, “The weather report says it’s going to keep snowing throughout the night too, and because it came out of nowhere they can’t get any plows or trucks out to clear the roads.”

Whatever conversation you were having with your parents had finished, and you walked over to Kuroo, looking both stressed and rather frazzled.

“Neither of my parents can get over here to get me,” You sighed, tucking your phone into the hoodie pocket, “And they don’t want me trying to walk home.”

“Heavens no,” Kuroo’s mom shook her head, “Neither of you are stepping foot out there any time soon. Honey, you’ll stay here tonight. And however long it takes for them to clear the roads safely enough for either your parents or I to take you home.”

You felt your cheeks warm up lightly, “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“It’s not imposing, dear.”

“What other option do you have?”

You laughed lightly as Kuroo’s head was smacked, his mother sending a scolding look his way for his comment, “I’ll go grab you some of my pajamas dear, give me a moment.”

“Aw,” Kuroo turned to you as his mom walked off, “Our first sleep over.”

Rolling your eyes you half heartedly raised your hands in faux excitement, “Yay.”

He pouted, and you weren’t fast enough to avoid his stupidly long arms, wrapping you in a too tight hug that nearly swept you off your feet, “Don’t worry— Kenma says my snorings gotten better.”

“I’ll smother you in your sleep,” You threatened, voice muffled from his shoulder digging into your cheek.

He let you go, but you weren’t able to get your footing, swaying and nearly falling backwards. His arms retightened, this time around your waist to keep you from toppling over.

“Sorry,” The teasing tone was gone, and for a moment he actually sounded sheepish, and you tilted your head up, ready to scold him.

Your noses were millimeters apart, and this close you could feel his breath against your face. With anyone else it would be uncomfortable, but with Kuroo it felt… nice. He smelled like the coffee he had gotten on his way home, and whatever cologne or deodorant you had begun to associate with him.

"I found- oh!" The sound of his mothers voice startled the two of you, and his arms quickly released you, doing nothing but allowing you to lose your balance.

Thankfully you caught yourself, both your faces warm, and his mother stood in the doorway, some folded-up clothes in her hands, "I'll leave these here," She placed them on the dresser, closer to Kuroo's door, moving to walk back downstairs, "Keep the door open tonight!"

She called the last bit over her shoulder, and you watched with amusement, and your own embarrassment, as Kuroo's face reddened more, calling after his mom in shock.

You and Kuroo had been friends for years, ever since middle school. You and Kenma got along, but you both knew Kuroo better than the other. Though you and the blonde weren't above teaming up against the older one.

"Sorry about her," He rubbed the back of his neck, "She's... well..."

You waved him off, laughing quietly, "It's fine. She means well."

The silence between you two felt a bit more awkward now, neither sure of what to say to break the tension. You moved first, grabbing the clothes, "I'm going to go change."

Kuroo watched you scurry off to the bathroom, waiting till you were out of earshot before groaning, burying his face in his hands, and falling onto his bed. A ping from his phone distracted him, and he checked it, no surprise at seeing Kenma having messaged him.

snow storm tonight

really? had no idea it interrupted our study session

you mean study date?

it wasn't a date! i'd take her on a better date than studying for chemistry NOT that i'm saying i want to take her on a date

you're a bad liar even over text

i'll make you run laps with yamamoto next practice

He watched the text bubbles pop up, Kenma no doubt cursing his entire existence in the safety of his bedroom.

you're cruel

He snorted at that, ready to respond when-

just tell her you like her please the pining is hurting all of us it's sickening

"Should I be concerned your mom has cute taste when it comes to pajamas?"

Your voice startled him, despite fully hearing you wander back down the hall to his room. He threw his phone back onto his bed, panicking that you'd, somehow, read the texts from all the way in his doorway. You didn't, and wouldn't have, but you were now suspicious, eyeing him weirdly.

"Everything good?"

"Just dandy," He smiled, trying to convey some type of calm attitude, "Just texting Kenma."

You nodded slowly, folded clothes in hand, and you moved, placing them with your bookbag, "Hopefully he's trapped at home and not somewhere else."

Kuroo snorted, "He's at home. Probably already playing whatever game he got recently. No school, no practice, it's his own personal heaven."

You laughed, organizing your items meticulously. He was very aware of the buzzing of his phone, no doubt it was still Kenma, calling him a coward in some form of the word. You were talking to him, something about school, or practice, or literally anything, but he couldn't hear you very well. His heart rate had yet to slow down since you wandered back in, Kenma's texts still in his mind.

just tell her you like her

It sounds so simple, yet as he sat on his bed, staring at you, it felt anything but. You were everything he liked in a girl, and even more. You were snarky and sweet, you got along with Kenma and Kuroo's parents, you didn't fully understand volleyball but you went to games to cheer them on whenever you could. You were dedicated and kind, but you were also so quick to put Kuroo in his place whenever it was needed. Which, according to Yaku, was a lot.

His thoughts were on a roll now, a runaway train where you were the only passanger.

" - are you even listening to me?"

"Are you free next weekend?"

His question came out almost as a shout, and it stunned you for a moment. You had been telling him about the stupid drama going on in your foreign language class, gossip he normally was absorbed in, but he was far away, stuck in whatever thoughts were going on in his mind. He had gotten fidgety where he sat, staring at you.

"Next weekend? Why?" You looked at him, trying to understand the anxiety that was creeping over him; a rare look for him.

"Like... Saturday?"

"I should be?"

"Doyouwanttogoonadate?"

“Do I—” You processed it a second after you started asking the question, face burning, heart hammering.

A date? He was asking you on a date?

“I—”

He turned away, forcing his gaze to focus on the heavy snow still falling outside, thicker on the ground than it had been minutes ago.

As subtly as you could, you grabbed a bit of skin between your fingers and pinched, the sharp pain sending prickles through your arm. Not dreaming. Okay.

Holy shit Kuroo just asked you on a date.

You licked your lips, noting the way he sat tense, as if waiting a blow up or rejection, “As long as it’s better than studying for school, yes.”

His head snapped towards you, eyes wide before the shock melted away, a giant grin forming on his face. “I dunno— I’d say we have pretty great chemistry together.”

“I take it back.”

“Nope!” He nearly leapt off his bed, crowding your space, “No take backs! We’ll go on a date next week. No studying, no text books, hopefully no getting stuck somewhere because of a snow storm.”

His energy was contagious, and soon you found yourself giggling with him, laughing at absolutely nothing.

“I really will need you two to sleep with the door open tonight,” His mom’s voice startled you two again, and you laughed, a bit sharp and surprised as he turned towards his door, calling out a sharp, “Mom!”

A/N: my biggest red flag is I have no idea how to end chapters or one shots

i dont have a plot yet but…. pilot kenma, copilot bokuto, flight attendants akaashi, kuroo, and tsukishima fic…..

*Will probably reupload with better quality but here's a thing i did to test out some new markers ft kuroo and kenma having a sleepover :)

Before Kenma and Kuroo started dating, a girl confessed to Kuroo by giving him chocolates and a love letter during Valentines Day. Kenma was an absolute menace the rest of the day. The team didn't really know why their setter was crankier than usual and why he seemed dead set on "accidently," hitting the back of Kuroo's head during the entirety of practice. He was snappy, glared at everyone and honest to god rolled his eyes to the back of his head whenever Kuroo opened his mouth.His teammates finally realised what's up when Kuroo told them about the confession and Kenma proceeded to roast the shit out of the poor girl

Office hook up with kuroo 🤤

Hi Anon!! Thank you so much for sending in this request — it was genuinely so much fun to write! 😭

Enjoy<333

--

Anon Ask: Kuroo (NSFW)

The office was eerily quiet, save for the low, steady hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Rows of desks stretched out in neat, darkened lines, papers stacked, chairs pushed in, computer monitors black and still. The occasional ticking sound from the wall clock echoed faintly in the wide, open space, amplifying just how empty it really was.

You pushed open the door to Kuroo’s private office, balancing two takeout bags in your hands like a peace offering.

"Dinner's here, workaholic," you called, voice cutting through the stillness.

Inside, Kuroo looked up from behind his desk. He was hunched over some paperwork, hair even messier than usual—wild tufts sticking up from where he'd clearly dragged his fingers through it. His tie hung loose around his neck, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Dark shadows smudged under his golden eyes, but when he spotted you standing there, his whole face shifted.

The tension in his shoulders eased. The corner of his mouth curved into a slow, lazy smile.

You made your way inside, carefully setting the bags down on the edge of his desk, nudging aside a stack of folders to make room. The rich, savory scent of your order wafted up between you, warm and inviting.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching out long legs under the desk, lacing his fingers behind his head with a low, satisfied groan. His eyes never left you—watching you with a smoldering kind of patience.

"Wow, must be my lucky night," he said, voice a rough, playful rumble.

You rolled your eyes as you started unpacking the food. "Yes, bask in my generosity. You owe me dinner and maybe dessert."

He chuckled under his breath, pushing up from his chair with a heavy, purposeful kind of movement. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, veins prominent along his forearms. He looked both exhausted and predatory—and somehow, devastatingly good.

He walked around the desk slowly, almost leisurely, but there was a weight to it. A coil of energy you could feel tightening between you with each step.

"You bringing me dinner... wearing that?" His gaze skimmed shamelessly over you, lingering at your legs, the snug fit of your jacket. "Dangerous."

You huffed, smoothing down your coat self-consciously. "Calm down, corporate Romeo. It’s just jeans and a jacket."

He smirked, dipping his head slightly as he stepped closer, voice dropping to a rough whisper. "Still dangerous."

You shook your head, scoffing lightly, but your pulse betrayed you, skipping when he closed the last of the distance. His presence was overwhelming—the subtle scent of his cologne, the heat radiating off his skin.

He stopped just short of touching you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His fingers flexed slightly at his sides, like he was barely holding himself back.

"You know what I've always wanted to do?" he said, voice low and rough.

You raised an eyebrow, shooting him a dry look as you finished unpacking the containers. "Please don't say ‘work overtime,’ because I'm not into that."

Kuroo chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. He leaned down slightly, close enough that you felt his breath against your ear.

"Always thought about bending you over my desk," he murmured. "Right here. After hours. When no one's around to hear you."

You blinked at him, deadpan. "You're disgusting."

But your body—traitorous as ever—leaned in, just a little. Your pulse kicked up, a warmth blooming low in your stomach.

"You love it," he teased, fingers brushing lightly against your waist, the touch barely there but searing.

You scoffed, stepping back half a pace, bumping lightly into the desk. "And here I thought you were a professional, Kuroo-san."

"I am professional. I'm professionally fantasizing about you," he quipped, tilting his head, that lazy grin deepening.

You fought the smile tugging at your lips, trying to maintain the upper hand, but it was useless. Especially when he stepped closer again, boxing you in, the edge of the desk biting into the backs of your thighs.

"Tetsu, seriously," you said, palms flattening against his chest when he closed the distance, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your touch. "I literally just brought you food."

"Exactly," he said simply, hands skimming up your sides, slow and coaxing. His thumb traced lazy, hypnotic circles against your hipbone. "And now I'm starving for something else."

"You're impossible," you muttered, even as your hands fisted weakly in his shirt.

"And you're stalling," he murmured back, his voice thick, heated.

You opened your mouth—but nothing came out.

Instead, you grabbed a handful of his loosened tie and yanked him down into a kiss, slow and burning, full of everything you hadn't said.

The takeout bags hit the floor with a muffled thud.

Kuroo groaned low in his throat, one hand sliding up your thigh, hitching your leg around his waist as he walked you back, pressing you flush against the edge of the desk.

You parted your lips under his without hesitation now, tugging him impossibly closer, deepening the kiss until your heads spun.

"Fuck, look at you," he rasped, breaking the kiss just long enough to tug your coat down your arms and toss it somewhere unseen. "So fucking pretty for me."

You whined when his hands found the hem of your jeans, pushing it down your hips with slow, deliberate pressure.

He lifted you onto the desk, scattering papers and pens with zero care. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively, your body already humming in anticipation.

The kiss broke again when he mouthed down your throat, rough and reverent all at once. Your head fell back with a soft, shuddering breath, heart hammering so hard it echoed in your ears.

"Still think I'm disgusting?" he teased against your skin, voice dark and amused.

"Absolutely," you managed, breathless. *"Now shut up and fuck me, Kuroo."

His answering growl vibrated against your throat.

And then he was undoing his belt with one hand, the other keeping you pinned exactly where he wanted you—laid out across his desk, messy, panting, and entirely his.

The desk beneath you creaked softly as Kuroo pressed your front down against the cool surface, one hand splayed firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you there. His body loomed behind you, solid and hot, while he dragged his other hand down the curve of your spine, slow and possessive.

Your jeans were tugged halfway down your thighs, tangled around your knees. His fingers brushed teasingly over the waistband of your underwear, snapping it lightly before hooking them and sliding them down too, baring you completely to him.

You squirmed under his touch, hips canting back instinctively, seeking more.

“You're still overdressed,” he muttered, voice rough as he leaned over you, his breath hot against the shell of your ear.

You barely managed a breathless huff before his fingers slid between your thighs, finding you slick and ready. He groaned low in his chest.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped. “Already so fucking wet.”

You whimpered when he teased your entrance with two fingers, circling lazily but never giving you the pressure you craved.

“Tetsu,” you gasped, writhing under him.

He finally pushed in—one thick finger first, curling expertly, then another, scissoring them slowly to open you up. The stretch was delicious, just shy of overwhelming.

Your forehead rested against the cool desk, your fingers curling against the smooth surface.

Kuroo’s free hand stroked down your back, soothing, grounding you as he worked you open, coaxing soft, broken sounds from your lips.

When he withdrew his fingers, you whimpered at the loss—but then you heard the sound of his belt unfastening, the metallic clink sharp in the heavy silence of the office.

You twisted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye—his flushed face, the way he pumped himself slowly, slicking his cock with your wetness still clinging to his fingers.

He lined himself up behind you, the head of his cock dragging through your folds in a slow, maddening tease.

“Say you want it,” he murmured.

“I want it- I want it please,” you choked out, voice shaky with need.

He didn’t make you wait.

With one steady thrust, he pushed into you, the stretch stealing the air from your lungs. He filled you completely, bottoming out with a low, wrecked groan.

He stilled for a moment, both hands braced on your hips, thumbs pressing into your skin.

“You feel…” he muttered, voice ragged. “You feel so fucking good.”

You nodded weakly, pushing back against him, desperate for him to move.

He took the hint.

He pulled back slowly, almost all the way out, before thrusting back in with enough force to jolt your body forward on the desk. Papers fluttered to the floor, but neither of you cared.

Kuroo found a brutal rhythm, each snap of his hips making the desk creak under the force of it. His tie swung loose from his collar, occasionally brushing against your lower back with each rough thrust.

The sounds—skin slapping, your broken gasps, his low, breathless curses—echoed obscenely in the otherwise empty office.

“Mine,” he growled, fucking into you harder now, faster, one hand sliding up your back to fist gently in your hair, tugging your head back so he could kiss the nape of your neck, teeth grazing your skin.

“Yours,” you gasped, knuckles white where you gripped the desk.

The coil in your stomach tightened impossibly fast, your orgasm building with every relentless drive of his hips.

“Come for me,” he panted against your ear. “Let me feel you.”

A few more thrusts and you shattered—clenching around him, crying out his name in a broken, wrecked moan. Your body trembled under him, your release washing over you in thick, hot waves.

He fucked you through it, groaning low in his throat at the way you squeezed him so tight it bordered on painful.

With a final, stuttering thrust, he came hard, spilling inside you with a rough curse, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he rode out the aftershocks.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your mingled breathing, the soft rustle of clothes, and the distant rain tapping against the windows.

Kuroo pressed a lazy kiss between your shoulder blades, hands smoothing down your sides in a rare, tender gesture.

“Best… dinner pickup… ever,” he panted against your skin.

You let out a breathless laugh, still half folded over the desk, utterly wrecked.

“You’re… buying dessert,” you managed, voice hoarse.

He chuckled, pulling your jeans up slowly, helping you dress with lingering touches.

“Anything you want, babe,” he said, kissing the back of your neck again, utterly unbothered by the mess around you—completely consumed by you, and only you.

Confessions: Kuroo

You knew the day was going to be shit when your coffee spilled on your white blouse before 9 a.m.

The rest unfolded like a cruel joke—back-to-back meetings that ran long, a snippy email from your supervisor that didn’t even pretend to be polite, and a presentation you’d poured hours into that got brushed aside for a 'more time-sensitive matter.' By 5 p.m., your jaw ached from how tightly you’d been clenching it all day.

So when your phone buzzed, and you saw Kuroo’s name flash across the screen, your thumb hovered over the green icon. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to pretend you were fine. But you answered anyway.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and familiar. There was a pause, like he was listening for something in the silence between you. "You sound like you had a day."

You scoffed. “That obvious?”

“You get all quiet when you’re brooding.”

You didn’t reply. The lump in your throat had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the way he could read you like this—without even seeing your face.

He waited a beat, then said, “Come out. First round’s on me.”

You started to decline—already in your sweats, already half curled on the couch—but his voice came again, coaxing.

“C’mon, I’ll even let you rant about corporate dysfunction without rolling my eyes this time.”

That got the faintest laugh out of you. And somehow, twenty minutes later, you were walking into the bar you both loved, the one tucked between a bookstore and a stationery shop, dim and warm and a little too familiar.

He was already at your usual table—second from the back, under the shelf with the crooked leg that made drinks tilt if you weren’t careful. Two pints sat on the table, and Kuroo raised one as you approached.

“Still drinkin’ like a college student?” you teased, sliding into the booth across from him.

He grinned. “Nostalgia’s a powerful thing.”

You took the glass, took a long sip, and finally sighed. It hit your system like a balm.

For the next half hour, you vented. About your boss. About the way the office printer hated you. About how you were so close to throwing your laptop out the window, and how nobody respected boundaries anymore.

Kuroo listened, as always. Interjected only when you needed him to. Smiled over the rim of his beer like he could do this for hours.

Eventually, when the flush of alcohol had softened the edges of your irritation, he leaned forward on his elbows.

“You ever think you’re just lonely?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t flinch. “I mean—you work hard, you don’t really date, you haven’t mentioned anyone in a while. Maybe it’s not just the job. Maybe it’s... everything else, too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of telling me I'm a spinster?”

He laughed, but it sounded slightly forced. “Nah. Just saying, you deserve someone good. Thought about setting you up with a friend.”

You shrugged, looked down into your drink. “I’m not interested in someone else.”

And that was the truth. You hadn’t been, not for a long time. Not since your second year of college, when Kuroo Tetsurou sauntered into your world like he owned the place—with messy hair, too much sarcasm, and the kind of quiet loyalty that wrecked you. He was all sharp teeth and soft heart, and you’d fallen harder than you wanted to admit. But you’d also accepted, long ago, that he probably didn’t see you that way. So you tucked it down. Smiled when he dated other people. Never said a word.

Until tonight.

You hadn’t meant to get drunk. Not really. You’d planned to drink just enough to take the edge off, to let the tension bleed from your muscles after a long, miserable day. But when the bartender mentioned it was two-for-one night, and Kuroo had raised an eyebrow with that stupid, charming grin, it was all too easy to shrug and say yes.

The drinks hit harder than you expected—smoother, easier, and paired with Kuroo’s low voice and quiet laughter, it was easy to lose track. What was supposed to be one drink became two, then three, and suddenly you were warm in all the soft ways that made the world a little blurrier around the edges.

Your limbs felt too light, your thoughts too soft, and every time he said your name, it rang a little louder in your chest. At some point, you’d slumped further into the booth, propping your chin in your hand and blinking slower with each refill.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice still light but laced with concern as he reached for your nearly empty glass. “You’re cut off.”

You pouted, dragging your eyes up to meet his, but your grin stayed lazy. "Tetsu," you said, drawing out the syllables, “you’re so bossy.”

“Someone’s gotta keep your chaotic ass alive,” he muttered, even as he flagged down the bartender and handed over his card. He didn’t even look at the receipt when it came.

You watched the way his brows knit together slightly, the way he pressed his tongue against his cheek, like he was both irritated and fond at the same time. Familiar. Comforting.

He slid out of the booth and looped your bag over one shoulder, then turned to offer you his hand.

“Let’s go, before you start snoring in public.”

The air outside was crisp. Night had fallen while you were inside, and the chill that hit your cheeks brought a bit of clarity—but not much. You shivered, and Kuroo automatically shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

You didn’t argue. You leaned into his side, let his arm steady you as you walked together down the quiet street. His touch was careful, guiding. You kept catching faint traces of his cologne—clean and woodsy, something subtle but undeniably him.

“You smell good,” you mumbled into the fabric of his shirt.

He let out a soft snort. “Thanks.”

The cab ride was even quieter. Your head lolled gently onto his shoulder. You felt warm, and his shirt was soft, and you couldn’t stop your lips from parting with sleepy little compliments.

“I like your voice,” you whispered.

He glanced down at you, mouth twitching. “You’re gonna regret this tomorrow.”

“Am not,” you slurred. “You're very kissable. Did you know that?”

Kuroo closed his eyes for a second, breathing in through his nose like he was trying very hard not to react. Under his breath, barely audible over the hum of the city outside the cab, he whispered, "God, it's me again. Let her remember this so I can see the look on her face tomorrow."

When you arrived at his apartment, he paid the driver with one hand and guided you out with the other, keeping his hold steady on your waist. You stumbled once on the sidewalk and clutched at his hoodie.

“Easy,” he murmured, his fingers tightening just a little.

His apartment was dark and quiet when you entered. He didn’t bother with the lights—just led you toward the couch by memory, his hand never leaving yours. You swayed a little as you collapsed onto the cushions, blinking up at him.

“Always takin’ care of me,” you said, voice soft and blurred at the edges. “You’re good at that.”

Kuroo crouched to untie your shoes, brows drawn. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you upright.”

You leaned forward, still gripping the front of his hoodie, and he didn’t pull away. Your eyes met his, blurry but intent, and your lips quirked upward.

“I love you, you know.”

Kuroo froze.

The words were slurred but clear enough to punch the breath out of him.

Your voice dropped lower, more sincere. “I love you. Since the moment I saw you.”

He stopped breathing.

His hands hovered mid-motion over your shoes, his fingers curled like they forgot what they were doing. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his head to look at you.

“What?”

But your head tipped back onto the couch, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you,” you repeated, softer this time. “I’ve always loved you.”

“Wait—” he tried again, voice sharper now, a tremor hidden underneath.

But your breathing was already evening out, lips slightly parted, lashes resting against your cheeks. You were out cold.

Kuroo knelt there for a long moment, just staring. The words still rang in his ears, ricocheting through his ribs like they didn’t quite belong to reality.

He sat back slowly, knees folding underneath him, and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Then he dragged his fingers through his hair and stood up, walking into the kitchen without really seeing.

The quiet of the apartment wrapped around him like a weight.

“…Whoa.”

--

The morning comes slowly, dragging a dull headache and a dry mouth with it.

You blink against the sunlight bleeding through unfamiliar curtains, your body heavy, brain sluggish. There’s the faint hum of a coffee machine somewhere nearby. The smell is strong and bitter and achingly welcome.

It takes you a minute to remember where you are. The couch. Kuroo’s apartment. The drinks. Your stomach twists as snippets of the night flicker back—his arm around your waist, the way he guided you up the stairs, the sound of his laugh.

You sit up with a groan, head pounding as the room spins for a second. Your clothes are wrinkled, your mouth tastes awful, and your memories are slippery at best. But when you swing your legs off the couch and catch sight of him—Kuroo, in the kitchen, hair messy, hoodie sleeves shoved up as he stirs something in a mug—you feel it.

That deep, crawling dread.

He looks over as you shuffle in, blinking groggily. “Morning, sunshine.”

You grunt, dragging yourself to the counter as he slides a mug across to you without a word. You catch it with both hands, the warmth seeping into your skin. It’s blessedly hot. And quiet.

You sip slowly, staring into the cup, your head still throbbing. The silence stretches. He doesn’t speak. Just leans against the counter and sips from his own mug like this is normal. Like you didn’t say something earth-shattering last night.

Eventually, he breaks it. “You remember anything from last night?”

You blink, then close your eyes for a second, willing your sluggish brain to scroll back through the hazy reel of the evening. “We went to the bar,” you murmur slowly. “You were already there when I came in. There was a drink waiting. A pint—of course. I think I complained about work for forty-five minutes straight.”

You pause to take a sip of coffee, your eyes still narrowed in concentration.

“I had the first two drinks faster than I should have. You were teasing me about my tolerance—"

You stop.

The cab. His jacket. His arm around your waist. The stairs.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, a spike of panic hitting your chest. “And you helped me back to your pla—OH MY GOD.”

Kuroo raises a brow, trying—failing—to hide the smirk that curls onto his face.

You set the mug down a little too hard. "I didn't mean it," you blurt, voice too high. "I mean—I was drunk. Very drunk. You know how I get, right? I say stupid things, I—"

You wave a hand vaguely in the air, flushing deeper. "It didn’t mean anything. I mean, obviously I care about you, we’ve always been really good friends, and I didn’t—"

Your words trip over themselves like dominoes, spiraling into panic as you try to claw your way out of whatever you admitted the night before. Your face is on fire, your fingers drumming anxiously against the side of your mug.

And Kuroo just watches you, quietly amused. Something fond in his eyes. Like he’s letting you run your mouth on purpose.

Then he sets down his cup, crosses the space between you, and gently cups your face in his hands.

You freeze.

“And here I was thinking I’d break first,” he says, voice low and warm.

You stare at him, mouth parted, utterly lost.

“…But you wanted to set me up…?” you whisper, your voice cracking mid-sentence.

He huffs a laugh, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Oh, screw that. You’re mine now.”

You blink up at him, blinking hard like your brain is trying to keep up. “Wait, you mean that?”

He nods slowly, his hands still cradling your face. “I do. I meant it last night, too. You passed out before I could say anything, but I meant to.”

There’s a pause, the kind that’s too soft to be awkward—just full of all the things that didn’t have time to be said. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he adds quietly, voice going a little rough at the edges. “Guess I just needed you to drunkenly beat me to it.”

The laugh that slips out of you is half a breath and half a sob, surprised and stunned and disbelieving. “Oh my god.”

He grins, leaning his forehead against yours for a second, and the two of you just stand there, smiling quietly into each other like the world finally makes sense.

Then you squeeze his hands once, step back with a wince, and say, “I’m going to go throw up.”

He lets go of you immediately, one eyebrow lifting. “From excitement?”

You’re already wobbling toward the bathroom, one hand raised in defeat. “Alcohol poisoning.”

He leans against the counter, grinning to himself. “Yeah, that too.”

Pregnancy: Kuroo (NSFW)

You’re not sure when it started. Maybe sometime last week, maybe even before that—but the switch flipped quietly, without warning. One minute you were just a little tired, a little bloated, trying to get comfortable with the weird limbo that is second trimester pregnancy. And the next?

You were staring at your husband like he was carved from marble. Like every movement of his arms under that damn fitted black t-shirt was offensive. Like the way his voice dipped when he answered a work call should be punishable by law.

You hadn’t touched him in days—partly because you were tired, partly because the two of you were still adjusting to the wave of appointments and vitamins and new routines. But now, now your skin feels too tight for your body. You can’t stop thinking about his hands. His stupid smirk. The stretch of muscle across his stomach when he reaches for the top shelf. You keep shifting in your chair at the kitchen table, thighs pressed together as you half-watch him move around the apartment, trying not to combust every time he bends to grab something or stretches his arms over his head like a personal attack.

You're four months pregnant, and your hormones are holding you hostage.

But how the hell are you supposed to say that? Hey honey, I want you so bad it’s making me delusional? You’re turning me on just by walking?

You'd rather burst into flames.

So instead, you sit quietly, pretending to scroll through your phone while your eyes flicker up to him every ten seconds like a heat-seeking missile. You’re trying to be subtle. You really are.

Unfortunately for you, Kuroo Tetsurou has known you long enough to spot a mood shift from fifty paces away—and he’s been watching. Smugly. Patiently. Waiting.

The first hint that you’ve been caught comes when he strolls by with a bowl of chopped strawberries, casually plucks one from the bowl, and leans over to offer it to you without a word. You’re caught off guard, lips parting automatically as he feeds it to you. Your teeth graze the tip of his fingers, just barely, and his lips twitch.

He doesn’t move. Just watches you chew. Slow. Calm.

Then, in a voice dipped in dry amusement: “You’ve been staring at me for twenty minutes.”

You blink, swallow. “I haven’t.”

“Mm,” he hums, straightening up. “Sure you haven’t.”

You grit your teeth. Heat burns your cheeks. You can already feel the spiral beginning.

He doesn’t press. Just walks around the kitchen like he didn’t just call you out for mentally undressing him on the spot. His movements are so casual it’s infuriating. He grabs a dish towel, wipes down the counter, opens the fridge, all while your brain is on fire.

You stare down at your phone, eyes unfocused, and will yourself to get it together. You just need to act normal. You’re not gonna combust. It’s fine. It’s just hormones.

“You okay?” he asks, voice far too neutral. You glance up. He’s leaning against the counter now, arms crossed over that broad chest, eyebrow lifted in feigned innocence.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re flushed.” His head tilts. “You hot?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

You shift in your seat, pressing your knees together. “Yes.”

Another pause. Then:

“You hungry?”

Your eyes shoot to him instinctively—and that’s when you realize he knows. Not just suspects. Not maybe. Knows.

And worse: he’s enjoying it.

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You look away again, hands gripping your phone like it might save you from yourself.

When he crosses the room, you don’t even notice until he’s crouching beside your chair, resting one arm on the armrest, the other hand brushing lightly over your thigh. You freeze.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice dipped in syrup, eyes glinting with something dangerous, “you’ve been lookin’ at me like you want to climb me.”

You blink rapidly. “That’s not—”

“You sigh every time I stretch.” His fingers trace up to your knee. “You squirm when I talk. You’ve eaten, slept, and had your iron supplements. So unless there’s a sudden new strawberry emergency—”

“Tetsuro.”

“—I think,” he murmurs, leaning closer, “there’s something you’re not saying.”

You bury your face in your hands, groaning into your palms. “This is so embarrassing.”

He laughs softly, warm breath fanning over your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your temple. “It’s adorable.”

“It’s feral, Tetsu. I feel like a monster.”

“Monsters don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice low against your skin. “They don’t whimper every time I bend over.”

You groan louder, but your body leans into him on instinct.

“Say it,” he teases. “C’mon. Say you want me.”

“I hate you.”

“You want me.”

“I’m four months pregnant and deranged, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, baby,” he grins, pulling you gently into his lap, “you’re carrying my kid and horny for me? I’m the luckiest bastard alive.”

Mortified beyond recovery, you squirm your way out of his lap, muttering something unintelligible as you bolt from the kitchen. It’s half an attempt to escape, half a desperate grab for your dignity. You make it three steps into the hallway before you hear him laugh—low and knowing—and then feel his hands at your hips.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” he murmurs, lips brushing the curve of your ear as he tugs you back against him. “You’re not getting away from me after saying all that.”

You fumble for a response, but it vanishes the second his hands find the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing your skin with unbearable slowness. You tilt your head back without thinking, breath catching.

“Tetsurou—”

“Yeah?” he answers, already kissing down your neck, voice infuriatingly calm. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

You don’t. You can’t.

Instead, your hands find his wrists and guide them higher. You melt into him like wax to flame.

“Good girl,” he breathes against your jaw. “That’s more like it.”

Before you can catch your breath, he has you gently turned, your back pressing against the hallway wall. His hands settle firmly on your hips, then slide lower, fingers working with a confidence that has your knees buckling. You gasp when he pops the button of your pants, the sound deafening in the quiet space between your bodies.

“Tetsurou—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over your collarbone with the lightest graze, voice so low and deliberate it sends a pulse through your spine. His hand dips beneath the waistband of your underwear with a languid slowness, his knuckles dragging along your skin like he wants you to feel everything.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? You’ve been trying so hard to hold it together.”

You inhale sharply as his fingers slide deeper, seeking out the ache you’ve been trying to ignore for days. When he finds it—you—it’s like your body short-circuits. Your breath stutters, hips jolting forward as if your body’s been waiting for this exact moment, this exact touch.

His fingers move with maddening precision—expert and unhurried—stroking you in a rhythm that melts the strength from your knees. He presses you harder into the wall, not with force but weight, anchoring you there while your body twists and trembles under his control. His mouth trails along your neck, slow kisses blooming across your pulse point as you gasp, the sound catching in your throat.

"Just relax, sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, "Let me make it better."

Your hands cling to his arms, fingers digging into his sleeves as your body arches into him. The tension coils tighter and tighter, strung high by weeks of restrained want, the heat of your own embarrassment fueling the need. He murmurs low praise into your skin—good girl, so soft, so perfect, so fucking sweet like this—and the words alone nearly undo you.

And when you do come, it’s a quiet, raw thing—your body trembling in his hold, face tucked against his shoulder, a muffled cry of Tetsurou slipping from your lips like confession. He holds you steady through it, one arm around your waist, the other still curled low, fingers easing you through every last tremor.

When your breathing slows, when the fog begins to lift, his hand gently slips free and he cradles your face, brushing back damp strands of hair with the same fingers that just unraveled you.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. “My gorgeous, needy wife. All mine.”

Your breath comes out in short, shaky bursts, still reeling, still trembling in his hands. “I can’t believe I—” you start, but the words collapse in your throat, too breathless, too flustered to finish.

Tetsurou chuckles softly, and before you can even think about collecting yourself, he’s hooking one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you with effortless strength.

You yelp, arms flying around his neck as he princess carries you down the hallway, your face burning hot against his shoulder. “Tetsu—! What are you doing?!”

He glances down at you, grin smug, eyes molten. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he murmurs, already walking with you in his arms toward the bedroom. His voice is velvet and heat, wrapped around every word, promising more. “I’ve got you all night, baby. You’re not going anywhere.”

Husbandry: Kuroo (NSFW)

Kuroo’s grandparents’ house was packed. The warm hum of conversation filled every corner, blending with the occasional burst of laughter and the distant sound of kids squealing as they ran through the hallways. His entire family had gathered for his grandfather’s birthday, a rare full-family event that happened maybe once a year.

The kitchen was a flurry of activity, aunts swapping recipes and gossip over steaming dishes while his uncles gathered around the dining table, engaged in heated debates over sports. Kuroo’s grandmother had you both cornered earlier, asking—no, demanding—when you two planned on giving her great-grandchildren, and before you could even attempt an answer, Kuroo had expertly steered the conversation to something else, saving you from the relentless interrogation.

You had smiled, nodded, played your role as the perfect daughter-in-law, but after hours of dodging prying questions and smiling at distant relatives whose names you barely remembered, you were in desperate need of a break. The stuffy warmth of the crowded living room and the persistent hum of voices pressing in from all sides made escape your only option.

So, you slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a quiet sigh, pressing your hands against the sink. A deep breath, a few moments to yourself—that was all you needed. A little peace, a little space, a moment where you weren’t being eyed like a future baby-making machine.

Then, a few minutes later, the door clicked open again.

You barely had time to turn before Kuroo slipped in, shutting it behind him.

Your eyes widened. "What are you—"

"Let’s fuck."

You blinked. "Wow. How romantic. You really know how to set the mood, Tetsurō. Maybe light a candle next time? Play some soft jazz?"

His smirk was slow, lazy, dangerous. "Oh, I’d play something, alright. But I don’t think you’d be able to focus on the music."

You scoffed, folding your arms. "Tetsurō, we’re at your grandparent’s house. At a family event. With people literally roaming the halls. But sure, let’s add public indecency to our marriage résumé. That'll really impress your grandma."

He leaned in, pressing his hands against the sink behind you, caging you in. “And?”

Your heart pounded. “And it’s a terrible idea.”

Kuroo tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “You remember that bet we made a few weeks ago?”

Your stomach dropped.

Of course, you remembered. Some stupid, petty argument over who could name more world capitals or something equally dumb. You lost.

And Kuroo? He said he’d save his favor for the right moment.

This was apparently it.

“Tetsurō.” You crossed your arms, trying to look firm despite the way your pulse hammered in your throat. “Absolutely not.”

He grinned. “You agreed to the deal.”

“I didn’t think you’d cash it in like this!”

He hummed, tilting his head. “Well, it’s the perfect time. No one even notices we’re gone.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the second his hands slid down to your waist, his fingers pressing into your hips, his body heat radiating against yours—

Your resolve crumbled.

“You wouldn’t.”

Kuroo leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Oh, I would.”

And with the way he was pressing into you, his hands gripping you like he’d already won— you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to stop him.

His fingers trailed lower, teasing, playful, pressing into the fabric of your dress just enough to make you gasp. “You know, I was gonna save this for something special, but…” he exhaled against your neck, his voice dark, teasing. “I think you’d rather pay up right now, wouldn’t you?”

Your breath hitched, hands coming up to push against his chest—half-heartedly. “Your Mother is outside.”

His smirk deepened. “And? No one’s paying attention.”

“Tetsurō—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, fingers curling beneath your chin, tilting your face up. His lips hovered over yours, barely brushing, mocking. “You’re acting like you don’t want this.”

Your skin burned, and you cursed how easily he could unravel you. The worst part? He knew it. He knew you’d fold for him, knew exactly how to make your body betray you.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” he murmured, lips pressing just beneath your ear, his breath hot and slow.

You swallowed hard. “Tetsu—”

His hands slid further down, gripping your hips, pulling you against him. “Say it, baby. Say you don’t want me to touch you.”

You couldn’t.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, your resolve slipping further with every second.

Kuroo chuckled, the sound low and full of satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”

His hands slipped beneath the hem of your dress, slow and deliberate, fingers tracing along the sensitive skin of your thighs. “You’re already getting warm, baby,” he whispered. “You sure you wanna keep resisting me?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to fight the way your body shuddered under his touch.

You parted your lips, ready to say something—anything—but the moment his fingers pressed just a little higher, your breath hitched, and you knew you were done for.

Kuroo’s smirk widened. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

And then, he kissed you.

Deep, slow, devouring.

Your back hit the bathroom counter, your arms winding around his neck as he took his time, teasing you, making you fall apart without even trying.

“We have to be quiet,” he whispered against your lips.

And with the way he was dragging you under, drowning you in heat, in want, in him— you knew that was going to be impossible.

But instead of answering, you simply nodded, your breath uneven, your body already melting against him. His eyes darkened at your silent surrender, and before you could process it, you were kissing him again—deeper, more desperate, all hesitation gone.

His hands moved instantly, slipping further beneath your skirt, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, teasing, waiting. "That's my girl," he murmured against your lips, his grip tightening as he pressed you harder against the counter. "Now, let's see how well you can keep quiet."

His fingers slid between your thighs, parting them just enough before slipping under your underwear, skimming over your warmth with a featherlight touch. You sucked in a sharp breath, your hands gripping the sink behind you as he chuckled low against your lips. "Already so warm for me, baby."

You bit down on your lip as his fingers pressed in, slow but firm, stretching you just enough to make your legs shake. He worked you open with practiced ease, his other hand wrapping around your hip to hold you still as your body responded to every precise curl of his fingers.

A whimper nearly escaped your lips, but you slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes widening as you remembered where you were.

Kuroo smirked, dark and wicked, his fingers moving faster, his thumb circling that sensitive spot that had your stomach tightening. "That’s it," he whispered, nipping at your jaw. "Keep quiet for me. You don’t want anyone to hear, do you?"

You shook your head, muffled sounds slipping between your fingers as your thighs trembled around his hand. He was relentless, teasing, playing, knowing exactly how to push you to the edge without letting you go over.

Then, just as your breath hitched, just as your body started to tighten around his fingers, he withdrew.

You let out a desperate, choked sound, but before you could protest, you felt the unmistakable press of him against you. Hot. Hard. Teasing.

He groaned as he rubbed himself against your entrance, just barely pushing the tip inside before pulling away.

"Shit—you're shaking, baby," he whispered, his voice rough, strained with control. "You want it that bad, huh?"

Before you could answer, he grabbed your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the sink. The cool porcelain against your skin sent a shiver up your spine, but it was nothing compared to the way he slotted himself between your legs, teasing you further as he lined himself up.

"Hold on to me," he muttered, voice thick with hunger.

Your arms wrapped around his neck just as he pushed inside, slow but deliberate, stretching you inch by inch. A strangled moan built in your throat, but you barely bit it back, eyes fluttering shut as he bottomed out, filling you completely.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he started to move, deep and steady at first, but quickly growing more desperate. His breath was hot against your neck, each groan rumbling through his chest as he thrust into you, the wet sound of skin against skin mixing with your ragged breathing.

Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him in deeper, chasing the edge that was already creeping up on you. His hand snuck between your bodies, fingers finding that sensitive spot, circling, pressing, sending white-hot pleasure straight to your core.

"T-Tetsu—" you gasped, one hand flying to your mouth as your body trembled around him.

"That’s it," he groaned, fucking into you harder, faster. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it."

You were right there, so close, when—

Knock. Knock.

Your eyes shot open, panic freezing you in place.

"Tetsurō?" came the unmistakable voice of his older sister from the other side of the door. "Are you in there?"

Kuroo barely faltered, grinning like the devil as he stilled inside you, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, be out in a sec," he called back easily, voice steady despite the fact that he was currently buried inside you.

His sister huffed. "Hurry up, it's time for cake. Also, where’s your wife?"

Your breath caught, but Kuroo? Unbothered.

"Dunno," he lied smoothly, thrusting into you just once, slow and teasing. "Maybe she got lost."

You bit your lip, glaring at him, nails digging into his shoulders.

His sister sighed. "Whatever. Just get your ass out here."

The second her footsteps faded down the hall, you swatted his arm, chest heaving.

"You are unbelievable."

Kuroo grinned, pulling back only to slam into you again, harder this time, forcing a muffled cry from your lips. Your arms tightened around his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin as your entire body clenched around him.

"That’s right," he whispered against your ear, his pace unrelenting, each thrust sharp and punishing. "You're shaking so much—gonna act like you don’t love this? Like you don’t get off on almost getting caught?"

You tried to glare at him, but with the way his cock was hitting that perfect spot inside you, all you could do was shudder, mouth parting in helpless gasps.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," he taunted, watching the way your body twitched under him, the way you clung to him like you needed him to keep you from falling apart.

His fingers slid back between your legs, finding your swollen, desperate clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles. The sudden sensation sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, and you bit down hard on your own hand to keep from crying out.

"That close already?" he murmured, feeling the way your walls fluttered around him, the way your legs trembled around his waist. "Bet you love this, don’t you? Letting me fuck you like this when anyone could walk in."

You tried to protest, but all that came out was a broken moan, breathless and wrecked.

Kuroo chuckled, breath hot against your cheek. "No snarky comeback? No sarcasm? Baby, you’re too far gone to even argue, huh?"

His words only pushed you further, the tension inside you winding impossibly tight. His thrusts grew sharper, his fingers working you relentlessly until you finally shattered, your entire body convulsing as pleasure crashed over you.

Your orgasm triggered his, his rhythm stuttering as he groaned low against your skin, spilling deep inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound in the bathroom was your combined heavy breathing, the weight of what just happened settling between you.

Then, Kuroo smirked, pressing one last slow kiss to your jaw. "See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?"

You barely had the strength to lift your head, your breath still coming in heavy, uneven pants. Swallowing hard, you managed to rasp, "Never again."

Kuroo only chuckled, brushing his lips against your temple before pulling back. "Come on, there's cake."

You groaned, still trying to reassemble your thoughts, your body tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure. With shaky hands, you reached down, pulling up your panties—now soaked with his release—and quickly adjusted your dress, trying to look at least somewhat composed before stepping back out into the party.

Kuroo, the smug bastard, was already fixing his shirt, completely unbothered, his smirk not fading for even a second as he reached for the door handle. "Think Grandma will notice how wrecked you look?"

You swatted at him, glaring. "Shut up, Tetsurō."

But as you stepped out, legs still wobbly, Kuroo just shot you a knowing grin. "Too late. You already look guilty."

Managerial Duties: Nekoma

"Absolutely not."

Yamamoto lets out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back as if you’d just crushed his dreams with a single stomp. “C’mon, manager! The captain of the boys’ soccer team was pissing me off, and I just thought we could flaunt the fact that we have a hot girl manager!”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “I’m going to not try and take that as an offensive statement.”

“But think about it! If we show off our amazing manager—who, by the way, is way cooler than any other team’s manager—those other guys will be so distracted, their defenses will crumble before we even start playing!”

Yaku lets out an exasperated groan, smacking Yamamoto upside the head. “Do you hear yourself? You sound like an idiot.”

“I’m thinking strategically!” Yamamoto argues, rubbing the back of his head with a deep frown. “It’s all about getting in their heads before the match even starts! They’ll be so busy staring, they won’t know what hit them!”

Kuroo, who had been listening in with an entertained smirk, finally cuts in. “You sure that’s gonna work? Sounds more like you’re the one who gets distracted by a cute face, Yamamoto.”

“Hey, hey, hey! This isn’t about me!” Yamamoto quickly defends, flailing his arms as Kenma sighs beside him, eyes still glued to his game. “This is about our team having a clear mental advantage.”

Kenma lets out a slow breath, thumbs lazily pressing at his screen. “I don’t think anyone is intimidated by your ‘mental strategies.’”

You cross your arms, fixing Yamamoto with a deadpan stare. “So, your plan is for me to just… stand around looking pretty while you all practice?”

Yamamoto brightens. “Exactly! You just have to stand there, maybe flip your hair a little—”

“Okay, you can stop talking now.” You cut him off, shaking your head as Kuroo bursts into laughter beside you.

“C’mon, manager, just think about it!” Yamamoto pleads. “You wouldn’t even have to do anything extra! Just be your natural, intimidating self!”

“I don’t think standing still counts as intimidation,” you reply flatly. “And I already have an actual job managing you guys. I don’t need to add ‘team mascot’ to the list.”

Kuroo drapes an arm lazily over your shoulder, grinning. “Oh, but what if we paid you extra?”

You raise an eyebrow. “With what money?”

“Uh.” Kuroo blinks, looking to the rest of the team. “Yamamoto, do you have money?”

“I might have enough for a convenience store snack,” he mutters, checking his pockets. “But that’s beside the point!”

“You hear that?” You turn to Yaku, feigning disappointment. “They were gonna bribe me with convenience store snacks.”

“Pathetic,” Yaku agrees, shaking his head.

Yamamoto throws his hands in the air. “Fine, forget the money! This isn’t about bribery, it’s about team pride! Think about it! The Nekoma basketball team has a manager, the badminton team has one, even the track team has one—but none of them have a hot girl manager! But you’re here! We can use that to our advantage! We can—”

“Yamamoto.” You cut him off again, your patience thinning. “If I hear one more word about me ‘flaunting myself,’ I’m making you run extra laps after practice.”

Yamamoto stiffens, mouth snapping shut immediately.

Kai, who had been quietly observing, finally speaks up. “Yamamoto, maybe try thinking of a plan that doesn’t involve embarrassing our manager?” His voice is calm, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Lev grins, nudging Fukunaga. “I dunno, I think it’s kinda funny.”

Fukunaga smirks before leaning in and whispering something to Lev, who immediately bursts out laughing.

Yamamoto groans. “See? At least some of you get it!”

“Not really,” Kai corrects. “We just enjoy watching you dig yourself into a hole.”

The silence is almost peaceful—until Kuroo nudges your side again. “Still,” he muses, a teasing glint in his eye. “You do look pretty intimidating when you’re pissed.”

“Well, maybe you guys should stop pissing me off.”

Kuroo snorts before shaking his head. “Yeah, right.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “If I quit being manager, you all only have yourselves to blame.”

Kenma hums, finally looking up from his game. “Yeah, but you won’t.”

You glance at him, frowning. “How do you know?”

He shrugs. “Because you care too much.”

The rest of the team goes quiet. Even Kuroo, ever the instigator, doesn’t argue. Yamamoto looks at you hopefully. Yaku smirks. Kai shakes his head fondly, and Fukunaga snickers at whatever he just whispered to Lev, who is still laughing.

You sigh again, rubbing your temples for what feels like the hundredth time that day. “I’m still not doing it. Now get off your asses, we have work to do.”

Yamamoto groans in defeat. Kuroo chuckles. And Yaku pats your shoulder with a satisfied nod. “That’s our manager.”

Rivals: Kuroo Pt. 3

The crisp morning air hit you the moment you stepped outside, your cheeks still flushed with residual heat from the sheer embarrassment of what had just transpired. You adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder, tugged your coat tighter around your body, and walked. Faster than necessary, eyes fixed ahead, ignoring the unmistakable ache in your legs that served as an unrelenting reminder of last night.

What the hell did I do?

The question looped in your mind as you trudged down the sidewalk, each step bringing another humiliating flashback. The way his lips had trailed down your throat, the rasp of his voice murmuring your name like a prayer, the heat of his breath against your ear.

The way you begged for him.

You groaned out loud and shook your head violently as if you could physically shake the memories loose. This was bad. This was so bad.

By the time you reached your apartment, your heart was still hammering in your chest, the adrenaline of your walk of shame still rushing through your veins. The second your key turned in the lock and you pushed the door open, a familiar weight landed against your legs.

“Hey, buddy,” you murmured, bending down to scoop up your cat, pressing your face into his fur for a moment of comfort. He meowed in response, blinking up at you with wide eyes before batting at the collar of your coat.

At least he wasn’t judging you.

You set him down and made a beeline for the shower, peeling off your clothes as fast as you could. You needed to wash off Kuroo Tetsurou, scrub away any remnants of his touch, his scent, his presence.

But no matter how hot the water was, no matter how much you lathered soap against your skin, it didn’t leave you. The heat of his hands, the press of his body—it was all still there, lingering like an impossible-to-ignore memory.

You groaned, pressing your forehead against the shower tiles, letting the water cascade down your back. Why him? Of all people, why Kuroo?

The man drove you insane. Always teasing, always pushing, always so damn smug. You’d spent years butting heads with him, rolling your eyes at his antics, gritting your teeth at his unrelenting wit.

And yet…

The minute he touched you, something inside you had snapped. You’d met his fire with fire, let yourself get lost in the burn of it.

And worst of all?

You wanted to do it again.

You sucked in a sharp breath and shut the water off, gripping the edge of the shower door for stability. No. No, no, no. This was a mistake. A one-time lapse in judgment.

You would not let yourself fall into this trap.

By the time you were dressed, your cat had curled up on the couch, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you ran a towel through your damp hair. “Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered. “I know I made a bad decision.”

He flicked his tail, unimpressed.

You threw the towel into the laundry hamper and collapsed onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, mind still racing. You had to go back to work on Monday and pretend nothing happened. You had to look Kuroo in the eye and act like you hadn’t had his name spilling from your lips over and over again.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply.

This was going to be hell.

__

The weekend blurred by in a haze of distractions. You tried everything—burying yourself in errands, binge-watching dramas, even deep-cleaning your apartment twice—but nothing worked. The memory of Kuroo was burned into your brain, lingering at the edges of your mind no matter how hard you tried to shove it away.

You could still feel his fingers digging into your hips. The sharp scrape of his teeth against your neck. The husky, teasing laughter in your ear as he dragged you down with him into the mess of tangled sheets and breathless whispers.

You growled at yourself, shaking off the heat pooling in your stomach.

Before you knew it, Monday morning arrived, and the reality of facing him hit you like a freight train.

You stepped into the office, coffee in one hand, your other gripping the strap of your bag tightly, as if that alone would keep you grounded. You could do this.

Thankfully, Kuroo was nowhere in sight. A quiet sigh of relief slipped past your lips as you made your way to your office, eager to lose yourself in work and push all thoughts of him aside.

Settling into your chair, you opened your laptop, sipping your coffee as you began typing out emails, reviewing contracts, and approving documents. The mundane rhythm of work was a welcome distraction, something solid and predictable to keep you from spiraling back into the humiliating thoughts of the weekend.

That relief, however, was short-lived.

Just as you started drafting a compliance report, your office door swung open without a knock. You glanced up, already annoyed, only to find your boss standing there, arms crossed, an expectant expression on his face.

"Good job getting that campaign finalized," he said, nodding as if you had done something worthy of recognition. "There's a shareholder meeting this week to discuss it. You need to be there."

Your stomach dropped.

Shareholder meetings were always a pain, but that wasn’t the real issue. No, the real issue was that Kuroo would be there. You’d have to see him sooner than you thought.

You quickly straightened in your chair, trying to compose yourself. “Sir, I have a full schedule today, a backlog of approvals, and several reports to review—surely someone else from legal can attend?”

Your boss gave you a flat look, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, don’t even start. You’re the one who finalized this campaign, so you’re the one explaining it. Be in the meeting room in half an hour.”

You barely had time to protest before he turned on his heel and left, leaving you staring at the empty doorway, mouth slightly open in disbelief. Half an hour.

Your pulse quickened as you slumped back in your chair, rubbing your temples. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You had been hoping—no, praying—for more time before you had to see him again. But now, in thirty short minutes, you’d have to sit across from him in a professional setting, pretend nothing happened, and endure whatever smug, knowing looks he threw your way.

You inhaled deeply, rolling your shoulders back as you forced yourself to think rationally. Kuroo might have the upper hand in teasing, but that didn’t mean he had the power here. You were damn good at your job, and if he thought he could waltz in and fluster you with a few smirks and carefully placed jabs, he had another thing coming.

Straightening in your chair, you pulled up the campaign documents, reviewing them with meticulous attention. You weren’t just going to walk into that meeting unprepared. No, you were going to walk in with confidence, fully armed with every technicality, every regulation, every damn reason why you knew what you were doing.

You checked the clock. Fifteen minutes left.

With one last steadying breath, you closed your laptop, grabbed your notes, and stood, smoothing out your outfit. He’s just another coworker. Nothing more. If Kuroo wanted to play games, fine. But you weren’t going to lose. Not this time.

Squaring your shoulders, you stood, grabbed your notes, and marched toward the meeting room, determination outweighing the lingering heat in your face. You weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Fuck him. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Yet, the moment you stepped inside, you instantly regretted everything.

Kuroo was standing near the far side of the room, engaged in conversation with a few of the shareholders, his usual easygoing charm on full display. His sharp suit was tailored perfectly, the slight smirk on his lips too damn self-assured. And then, as if he could sense you, his golden eyes flicked toward the door, locking onto you instantly.

His knowing smile deepened, and you had to physically fight the urge to turn around and leave.

“Ah, there she is,” Kuroo announced, casually gesturing toward you. “My partner on this campaign.”

Your stomach clenched at the word. Partner?

The older gentleman Kuroo had been speaking to turned, his expression brightening. “Oh, so you’re the legal mind behind all of this! I’ve heard good things. Very impressive work.”

You forced a polite smile, waving a hand dismissively. “It was a team effort.”

But Kuroo, of course, wasn’t about to let you downplay your role.

“Don’t be modest. She kept me in check the whole time,” he added, his tone dripping with amusement.

You clenched your jaw, swallowing down the urge to shove him into the nearest chair. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Before you could formulate a response, he gestured to the seat beside him. “Come on, have a seat.”

You hesitated for the briefest second—just long enough to see the glint of mischief in his gaze—before forcing yourself to step forward and sit down, mentally cursing every decision that led you here. That wasn’t even enough time to mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable disaster that was seeing Kuroo again.

You hesitated for the briefest second—just long enough to see the glint of mischief in his gaze—before forcing yourself to step forward and sit down, mentally cursing every decision that led you here.

More people trickled in, the sound of chatter filling the room as the shareholders settled into their seats. Small conversations broke out, professionals exchanging pleasantries while waiting for the meeting to begin. The air in the room was light, easy, full of smooth laughter and the clinking of pens against notepads.

For everyone except you.

You turned to Kuroo, lowering your voice in a hiss. “Partner?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, voice full of teasing amusement. “Would you have preferred I introduce you as my handler?”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt beneath the table, nails pressing hard enough to leave marks. You were already regretting every single interaction you had with him. Smug bastard.

You narrowed your eyes, about to snap back, but before you could, the meeting was called to order.

Kuroo led the discussion with practiced ease, his voice smooth and effortlessly engaging. He was sharp, confident, weaving through each point with that natural charm of his, drawing in the room like he belonged there. And the worst part? The shareholders loved him.

You mostly kept quiet, answering questions when necessary, keeping your responses measured and precise. You weren’t about to let him run circles around you. Still, you had to admit—grudgingly—that he was good at this. Too good. His ability to present information with just the right balance of authority and ease was frustratingly effective. It made you irrationally angry, watching the way he commanded the room with nothing but a few smirks and a well-placed joke.

And he knew it. Every so often, you caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, as if he could feel your irritation thrumming beneath the surface.

Bastard.

Just as you thought you were in the clear, your boss spoke up. “We were actually discussing another campaign that needs some serious revisions. Given how well this one turned out, we’d like the two of you to work on it—on short notice.”

Your breath caught. No. No, no, no.

Panic shot through you like a live wire, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. You had barely survived the last time you worked with him—mentally, emotionally, professionally. And now they wanted you to do it again?

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. You had told yourself the project was a one-time thing, an unfortunate alignment of responsibilities that you had somehow, miraculously, endured. You had barely made it out of the last collaboration with your sanity intact, and after what happened between you two, the very thought of working with him again made your stomach churn.

It wasn’t just about the way Kuroo existed to push your buttons. No, it was the fact that you had let him get under your skin—too far under, past the point of irritation and into something more reckless, more dangerous.

And now, you were supposed to do it all over again?

Your fingers clenched under the table, nails pressing hard into your palm to stop yourself from blurting out something unprofessional. This isn’t fair. This isn’t my fault. You had done your job perfectly. If Kuroo hadn’t gone out of his way to be Kuroo, none of this would even be an issue. Now, because of his antics, because he couldn’t help himself, you were getting roped into another late-night headache with him.

Your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out the rest of the boardroom as your mind scrambled for a way out. Any excuse. Any way to get literally anyone else assigned to this instead.

But you knew your boss. He didn’t care. He had made up his mind. And Kuroo—that smug bastard—had probably already figured that out too.

You straightened in your seat, carefully choosing your words. “Of course, but we’d need extended work hours to meet such a tight deadline—”

Kuroo, the bastard, cut you off effortlessly. “No need. We’ll just work on it after hours, like last time.”

The room barely reacted, but you felt the shift like a blade pressed against your skin. The way he said it—so casually, so naturally—it was almost as if the two of you had some kind of established dynamic. Like you were some seamless, perfectly functioning duo.

Which, you absolutely were not.

Your jaw clenched, hands curling into fists beneath the table. And then, just to drive the knife deeper, he added, “In fact, let’s get started tonight. Over dinner.”

Your head snapped toward him, but he didn’t even have the decency to look at you. He was still facing forward, still completely composed, as if he hadn’t just publicly tricked you into agreeing to spend more time with him.

Your teeth ground together as your boss nodded approvingly. You had no choice but to nod along, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Sounds great.”

You could feel Kuroo’s eyes on you, the weight of his amusement pressing into your skin like an irritating heat you couldn’t shake. Your fingers curled around your notes, grip tightening as you fought the very real urge to smack that insufferable smirk right off his face. This bastard.

The shareholders murmured their satisfaction, the meeting officially winding down as the final notes were made. The conversation naturally shifted to small talk as people began gathering their things, but you were barely listening. Your mind was stuck in a loop, replaying the past minute over and over.

Another project. On short notice. With him.

And worse—

Over dinner.

You inhaled sharply through your nose, schooling your features into something neutral, something capable, because the last thing you needed was for Kuroo to see the way your pulse had spiked at the mere thought of spending another evening alone with him. You could already hear the smugness that would drip from his voice. The lazy, self-satisfied amusement. The way he’d push your buttons just enough to make you snap—because that’s what he did.

You should have argued more. Should have demanded proper work hours. Should have reminded your boss that he had hired you for legal work, not to babysit the marketing team. But instead, you sat there, forcing a strained smile while Kuroo all but preened beside you like a cat that had just caught a canary.

A chair scraped back beside you. He was standing. Stretching. As if he hadn’t just successfully trapped you into another night of torture disguised as collaboration.

“Looking forward to it, partner.”

The way he said partner made you want to throw something. Preferably his overpriced watch right out the nearest window.

He strolled past you, his confidence almost offensive, and you knew—you knew—that he was expecting a reaction. A flustered glare, a sharp retort, anything to fuel his amusement. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

You took a slow, calming breath and gathered your papers, pressing them together with deliberate patience. Kuroo was still lingering, just at the edge of your vision, but you refused to acknowledge him. If he thought you were going to give him what he wanted, he had another thing coming.

You stood, keeping your expression perfectly schooled, smoothing out your skirt like this was just any other normal meeting, like he hadn’t just completely thrown you off balance. Then, just as you turned to leave, you made the mistake of glancing up.

And there he was. Watching you.

Golden eyes, sharp and waiting. The barest trace of a smirk still pulling at his lips.

Something inside your stomach twisted—not in anger, not in frustration, but something dangerous. Something reckless.

You gritted your teeth, ignoring the traitorous warmth creeping up your spine, and turned sharply on your heel, storming toward the exit without a word.

Kuroo chuckled under his breath behind you, the sound deep and far too amused.

You were never going to survive this.

Rivals: Kuroo Pt. 2

The office buzzed with the sounds of people wrapping up their day—chairs rolling back, papers shuffling, conversations turning light and easy as employees grabbed their things and made for the exit. The hum of voices filled the space as groups gathered near the doors, excitedly chatting about after-work drinks, dinner plans, or simply the bliss of heading home.

You forced a tight smile as you exchanged goodbyes, nodding along as a coworker clapped you on the shoulder, laughing about how you were always working too hard. If only they knew. If only they realized that, while they were off unwinding at some izakaya, you were about to be trapped in a nightmare.

The moment the last of them walked out, the heavy glass doors swinging shut behind them, your smile dropped. You exhaled sharply, shutting your office door with more force than necessary before leaning against it, letting your frustration take full hold. The walls muffled the distant chatter of people heading to the elevators, but all you could hear was the pounding of your own irritation.

This is ridiculous.

This is so, so ridiculous.

You should have been out there with them. Should have been free from all this nonsense. But no—because of him, you were stuck here, hunched over a campaign that never should have made it past a brainstorming session.

There was no way in hell you were about to march down to Kuroo’s office and work beside him like some cooperative pair. If you had to see his face right now, you might actually punch him, and that would be hard to explain to HR.

So, you settled for the only tolerable option: virtual communication.

You pulled up the campaign document and began typing out edits, slashing through the legal landmines Kuroo had casually placed like a menace. Your comments were pointed, efficient, and—fine—maybe a little passive-aggressive.

“You can’t claim this product ‘enhances’ anything without direct, proven research. I assume you don’t have a scientific study hidden somewhere? No? Then take it out.”

“This violates four separate consumer protection laws. FOUR, Kuroo. Are you collecting them like trophies?”

“You know full well we can’t guarantee these results. Unless you have psychic abilities, this has to go.”

It didn’t take long before Kuroo’s own comments started popping up.

“Trophies? I was thinking of making a bingo card.”

“No psychic abilities, but I do predict you’re going to keep glaring at your screen like that for another ten minutes before you take a break.”

You clenched your jaw, fingers hovering over the keyboard as his infuriatingly smug tone bled through even in text form.

But at least this way, you didn’t have to hear his voice. Didn’t have to see that lazy grin or the way he leaned against desks like he was permanently comfortable in any given space.

The two of you went back and forth like that for a while—your frustrations fueling your edits, his infuriating commentary punctuating them like some editorial nightmare.

Then, suddenly—

He stopped responding.

You frowned, staring at the document, watching the cursor blink mockingly. Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Was he ignoring you? Giving up?

You tapped your pen against your desk, debating whether you cared enough to message him first, when—

A knock sounded at your door.

Before you could even react, it swung open, and there he was—Kuroo Tetsurou, in the flesh.

His lean frame filled the doorway, one hand resting against the frame like he owned the place. He had his signature smirk in place, but there was something else in his expression too—something entertained, something knowing.

"Miss me?" he drawled, eyes flickering over your stiff posture, your clenched jaw. "You looked like you were having so much fun talking to me virtually, I figured you’d want the full experience."

You inhaled through your nose, already feeling the blood pressure spike.

You exhaled sharply, leveling him with a flat stare. "I figured there’d be less opportunity for violence."

And honestly, that wasn’t even a joke. The amount of restraint it had taken not to march down to his office and rip that smirk off his face with sheer force was immeasurable. You had chosen the safer option—the one where you didn’t have to look at him, hear him, or risk throwing a stapler at his head. And yet, here he was, standing in your doorway like he had been summoned from hell itself to personally test your patience.

He was insufferable. Smug, self-assured, a walking headache in human form. And if there was one thing you knew about Kuroo Tetsurou, it was that he never did anything without a reason. If he was here, standing in your office when you had both agreed to keep this virtual, then that meant—

Oh god. He had something planned.

Your fingers twitched, already anticipating whatever bullshit he was about to pull.

Kuroo chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "I come in peace. And—" he paused, reaching into his bag, and before you could stop yourself, your eyes followed the movement.

Your breath caught when he pulled out an expensive-looking bottle of liquor. Not the cheap stuff you’d grab from a convenience store, but something premium, something that had been picked out with actual effort.

"—with a peace offering," he finished, his smirk tilting just enough to make your stomach twist.

You narrowed your eyes, suspicion lacing your thoughts as you stared at the bottle.

Was this a trick? Some underhanded play? He was good, you had to admit that—good at worming his way under your skin, good at making you react, good at playing you like a game he had already won.

Your pride warred with your exhaustion. The righteous fury you had been carrying all day was begging you to tell him to take his bottle and shove it where the sun didn’t shine. But then reality settled in.

You were going to be here for hours.

With him.

Your head throbbed at the thought, and suddenly, the idea of a drink didn’t seem so bad.

You sighed, rubbing your temple before muttering, "Let me get glasses."

As you turned toward the office cabinet where you kept miscellaneous supplies, including the occasional emergency stash of glassware, you heard the unmistakable sound of Kuroo grinning. Smug. Bastard.

"Well, that was easy," he mused, leaning lazily against the doorframe. "Didn’t think you indulged while working."

You shot him a sharp glare as you pulled out two glasses. "Well, I would've been at the bar by now, so consider yourself lucky."

Kuroo snorted, shaking his head. "Hey, blame the boss, not me."

You narrowed your eyes. "If you hadn’t pissed him off with that ridiculous campaign, he wouldn’t have cracked down on us."

Kuroo just grinned, pouring the drinks. "Technicalities, technicalities."

You huffed, shaking your head as you took a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol seep into your system. "Focus, Kuroo. We actually need to get this done."

"I am focused," he said, swirling his glass with lazy amusement. "Multitasking. Drinking and working—very efficient."

Rolling your eyes, you dragged your laptop closer, forcing the conversation back on track. Despite his insufferable presence, the two of you made progress, fine-tuning the proposal, fixing the compliance issues, and actually making something presentable.

And, unfortunately, the drinks didn’t stop at just one.

At first, it was just a sip to take the edge off. Then another when Kuroo cracked a joke so unexpectedly funny that even you couldn't suppress a snort. Then another after you argued over phrasing in a particularly stubborn section of the document, only to realize you were both right in different ways. Somewhere along the way, the line between tolerating Kuroo and actually enjoying the banter blurred.

Your body felt warm, pleasantly buzzed as the stress of the day melted away. You stopped feeling the sharp edge of frustration every time he spoke, and—maybe it was the alcohol—but the way he leaned back in his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, smirk easy and lazy, didn’t seem quite as aggravating as before.

Another drink. Another laugh. Another sidetracked conversation.

Until—

Darkness.

When you blinked your eyes open, you weren’t in your office.

You weren’t even in your apartment.

A sharp, groggy awareness hit you all at once as you registered the unfamiliar ceiling above you, the soft sheets against your skin, the distinct lack of a work desk or legal documents anywhere in sight. And then—

The realization slammed into you like a freight train.

You were naked.

Your body stiffened, the cool air against your bare skin making it impossible to ignore the fact that you had absolutely nothing on beneath the sheets. Panic surged through you in waves, your mind scrambling to piece together what the hell had happened last night.

Then came the real kicker—the slow, steady sound of breathing beside you.

Heart hammering, you turned your head—and there, lying next to you, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Still asleep. Still shirtless. Still in his bed.

Oh, hell no.

Your breath caught in your throat as fragmented flashes of the night before flickered through your mind—hazy, disjointed, but unmistakable.

Your hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer as your lips crashed against his. The low groan in his throat as he deepened the kiss, his hands gripping your waist, his touch feverish, desperate. The feeling of his fingers dragging down your spine, his mouth trailing along your neck, leaving marks you probably still had.

Your voice—breathless, needy—whispering his first name like a secret. "Tetsurou..."

The way he murmured your name against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. His body pressing against yours, strong, unrelenting, claiming every inch of you. The undeniable fire between you, building, burning, until there was nothing left but the desperate need to consume each other.

Another flash—

Your head tilting back, a gasp leaving your lips as his mouth devoured the sensitive skin of your throat. The way his voice turned hoarse, possessive, when he whispered in your ear, "You drive me insane."

Your body arching into him, nails raking down his back, every touch sending electric heat through your veins. The sound of the sheets rustling, the deep gravel of his moan, the feeling of being completely, utterly unraveled beneath him.

And then—

Your legs wrapped around his waist, his gritted teeth against your shoulder, his grip bruising as he held you still, his body pressing into yours with a hunger that felt like it would break you apart. The way he cursed under his breath, muttering something too low to fully remember, but you knew it was about you—about how good you felt, how much he wanted you.

Your own voice, breaking on a whimper, a moan, pleading—

"Tetsurou—"

You sucked in a sharp breath, your eyes wide as your pulse pounded violently in your ears. No. No, no, no.

Your entire body tensed, your fingers gripping the sheets as if that alone could ground you. You felt too warm, too aware, heat crawling up your spine as your skin tingled with the ghosts of his touch.

What the hell had you done?

A fresh wave of panic surged through you as you peeked beneath the sheets, confirming what you already knew. Your clothes were nowhere in sight.

You squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, willing yourself to wake up from whatever twisted fever dream this was—but when you reopened them, Kuroo was still there, breathing evenly, looking far too comfortable in his sleep.

Your stomach twisted as your brain scrambled for something—anything—that could explain how this had happened. You had been working. You had been arguing. And then there had been drinks, and—

Your fingers pressed against your temples.

You weren’t an idiot. You knew exactly how this had happened.

You had slept with Kuroo Tetsurou.

And the worst part? The way your body still thrummed with the memory of it.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

This wasn’t just some nightmare. This was real.

And you were absolutely screwed.

Heart pounding, you slowly—carefully—peeled the sheets away, trying to move as silently as possible. You needed to find your clothes. Now. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to get out before Kuroo woke up and made this entire situation even more unbearable.

Your eyes darted around the room, scanning for any sign of your belongings. You spotted your shirt draped over the back of a chair, your underwear crumpled on the floor near the bed. No sign of your pants.

Biting your lip, you held your breath and gingerly slid out of the bed, wincing as the mattress shifted beneath you. You crept forward, grabbing your shirt first, hurriedly clutching it to your chest as you crouched down to retrieve your underwear.

Just as you were about to reach for them—

"Mornin', sunshine."

You yelped, stumbling back against the nightstand, your grip tightening around your shirt as you clutched it against your bare chest. Your wide, panicked eyes shot toward the bed where Kuroo was now very much awake, watching you with groggy amusement. His voice was still thick with sleep, deep and gravelly in a way that sent an unwanted shiver down your spine.

"God, you scared the shit out of me!" you snapped, still holding your shirt up like a makeshift shield.

Kuroo’s lips twitched, clearly enjoying this far too much. He stretched, arms reaching over his head, the sheets slipping just enough to reveal more bare skin than you needed to see this early in the morning. His messy hair somehow looked even worse than usual, and yet—

You shook your head violently, banishing whatever treacherous thought had just formed.

"Trying to sneak out?" he mused, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he propped himself up on one elbow. "Rude."

You opened your mouth, then shut it, feeling heat creep up your neck. "I don't—I mean—did we—?"

Kuroo chuckled, the sound deep and lazy, sending a fresh wave of mortification through you. "Oh yeah. Several times." He tilted his head slightly, watching as your grip on your shirt tightened. "You were quite eager."

Your face burned, the words hitting you like a wrecking ball to the soul. "Oh my god," you muttered, squeezing your eyes shut for a second, as if that would make the entire situation disappear.

Kuroo smirked wider, clearly relishing your reaction. "I gotta say, I didn’t know you had it in you."

You snapped your eyes open, glaring daggers at him, your heart still pounding a million miles an hour. "Shut up, Kuroo. Just—shut up."

"Oh, but you weren’t saying that last night," he teased, stretching lazily, the motion making his muscles flex in an unfairly distracting way. "In fact, if I recall correctly, you were saying—"

"Don’t. You. Dare."

His grin widened. "Tetsurou—please—" he mimicked in a high-pitched voice, clearly enjoying this too much.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his face. "I hate you."

He caught it with ease, laughing. "Hate me? That's funny, 'cause last night, you were—"

You groaned, pressing your palm against your face, praying for the ground to swallow you whole.

"I'm leaving." You turned sharply, spotting your pants halfway across the damn room, and cursed under your breath.

Kuroo only hummed, watching you scramble with amusement. "Sure you don’t wanna stay for round…what was it? Five?"

You threw another pillow at him. "I swear to god, Kuroo—"

His laughter followed you as you yanked your pants on, still red-faced, still mortified beyond belief.

You snatched up the rest of your belongings—your shoes, your bag, even the stray hair tie that had somehow ended up on his nightstand—moving so quickly you nearly tripped in your haste. Every second in this room was a second too long, every moment spent within Kuroo’s amused, knowing gaze only fueling the burning humiliation in your chest.

As you shoved your arms through your sleeves, pulling your shirt over your head, Kuroo propped himself up on one elbow, watching you with the kind of infuriating satisfaction that made you want to launch something heavier than a pillow at him.

"See you Monday," he drawled, voice thick with teasing amusement.

You shot him a withering glare, but it only made his smirk widen. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

You could still hear his low chuckle as you slammed the door behind you.

Rivals: Kuroo

Tension crackled in the air like a live wire as you strode through the halls of the Japan Volleyball Association, your heels clicking against the polished floors with sharp precision. Every step carried purpose, controlled and deliberate, but anyone who knew you well enough would recognize the storm brewing beneath the surface.

Clutching the latest stack of paperwork in one hand, you pushed open the glass door to Kuroo Tetsurou’s office with a level of force that was just shy of inappropriate. You were a professional, after all. Barging in wouldn’t do—but making a statement? That was entirely different.

Kuroo was at his desk, leaning back in his chair with an almost bored amusement, as if he had been expecting you. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the defined lines of his forearms, and his tie was slightly loosened, the very picture of a man who thrived in controlled chaos. He barely even blinked when you entered.

“Ah, Legal finally graces me with their presence,” he mused, setting his pen down atop an open document. “Didn’t expect you so soon. Usually, you let the frustration simmer a little longer before storming in.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose, pressing the papers down onto his desk with more force than necessary. “I am not signing off on this.”

Kuroo barely glanced at the document before flicking his gaze back up to you, an infuriatingly lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Which part?”

You crossed your arms. “The part where you once again try to push through a sponsorship campaign that violates endorsement regulations, misleads consumers, and—oh—could land the association in serious legal trouble.”

He exhaled dramatically, tapping his fingers against the desk as if deeply inconvenienced. “That’s a lot of negativity, don’t you think? Maybe try looking at the bigger picture.”

You scoffed. “The bigger picture? Kuroo, the bigger picture is that I keep having to drag you back from launching ideas that would get us fined, sued, or—if we’re lucky—just scolded by compliance.”

Kuroo chuckled, stretching his arms above his head before fixing you with a look that bordered on scandalous. “You just love dragging me, don’t you?”

Your jaw clenched. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said smoothly, pushing himself up from his chair. The sudden shift in proximity sent a subtle prickle down your spine, but you didn’t move. He reached for the document you’d slammed down, flipping through it leisurely, clearly unbothered. “So what you’re saying is, if I tweak the wording…”

You narrowed your eyes. “If you tweak the wording, I’ll still reject it. It’s not just semantics, Kuroo. It’s about following the rules.”

His lips curled at the edges, sharp and teasing. “I think we both know I prefer to toe the line.”

You let out a sharp exhale, trying to ignore the way your heart beat just a little faster. This was the problem with him. He made everything a game, a cat-and-mouse dance where he got off on pushing boundaries just to see you react.

“I’ll tell you what,” he continued, placing the proposal down and leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll revise the proposal—to your unbearably strict standards—”

“How generous.”

“—if you grab drinks with me after work.”

Your grip tightened around your arms, heat creeping up your neck. “I’d rather spend my evening rewriting Japan’s entire corporate compliance manual.”

Kuroo let out a low chuckle, his eyes flickering with uncontained amusement, but there was something else there too—something deliberately slow, measured, almost sultry. He tilted his head slightly, letting his voice drop just a fraction as he said, "That’s a shame. I think you’d find our conversations much more stimulating outside the office."

The deliberate weight behind his words sent a traitorous warmth crawling up your neck, but you forced yourself to keep your expression cool, even as your fingers curled against your arms.

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to let him see even a flicker of hesitation. “I think you’d find your ideas much more successful if they didn’t regularly violate corporate policy.”

Kuroo grinned, pushing back from the desk, his gaze never leaving yours. “Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Before you could fire back, the intercom crackled to life, and Kuroo’s secretary’s voice came through, smooth and professional. "Kuroo-san, your next meeting is waiting."

You shot him a sharp glare, your frustration still simmering just beneath the surface. "Fix it," you said, voice clipped, before turning on your heel and making your way toward the door.

Kuroo, however, didn’t move. Instead, he leaned back slightly, watching you leave with a slow, unapologetically amused expression. His gaze lingered—maybe a little too long—lowering slightly as you walked away, the sway of your hips pulling his attention before you disappeared into the hallway.

He exhaled through his nose, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, I’m definitely fixing something."

You straightend your posture, pushing away the lingering heat of irritation (and something else) that settled over you. This wasn’t new. This wasn’t surprising. This was just Kuroo being Kuroo.

And yet, damn him. Damn that insufferable, arrogant smirk and the way your pulse skipped just a little too fast every time he directed that sharp, knowing gaze at you.

This was a game neither of you were willing to lose.

And unfortunately for you, Kuroo Tetsurou played to win. __

You stormed—as professionally as possible—back into your office, dropping the file onto your desk with a little too much force. The sharp slap of paper against wood echoed in the otherwise quiet space, but it wasn’t nearly enough to drown out the infuriating replay of your conversation with Kuroo looping in your head.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard, but the words on your screen blurred together. Instead of drafting reports or reviewing contracts, your mind was stuck on the smugness in his voice, the arrogance in his smirk, the way he looked at you like he was perpetually three steps ahead. Every damn interaction with him was exhausting—a battle of wills where he seemed to enjoy watching you get riled up a little too much.

God, he was insufferable.

You inhaled sharply through your nose, willing the irritation out of your body as you sat back in your chair. Focus. You had other things to worry about. Work that didn’t involve him.

You had barely started scrolling through your inbox when the door to your office slammed open.

"What’s this I hear about you rejecting the campaign?"

Your boss’s voice boomed across the room before you even had a chance to react. You immediately straightened, hands folding neatly in front of you, as you turned to meet his hard gaze.

"Kuroo-san’s proposal does not pass policy guidelines, sir," you said smoothly, keeping your tone measured and professional.

Your boss scowled, pacing in front of your desk like you had just personally cost the company millions. His tie was slightly loosened, and his sleeves were rolled up—a sign that he had been fielding other problems all day, and now, you were one of them.

"So make it pass!" he snapped. "What did we hire you for?"

You barely resisted the urge to grit your teeth. "Sir, with all due respect, the proposal in its current state violates multiple advertisement clauses. If we move forward with it as is, we risk legal repercussions."

He waved a dismissive hand, clearly uninterested in the specifics. "That’s your job to fix. I want it approved by the end of the day."

"You can't possibly be asking me to rewrite the campaign?" you asked, your voice carefully controlled despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Your boss scoffed, rubbing his temples as if this conversation was an unnecessary burden. "Don't even get me started on that bastard," he muttered, clearly referring to Kuroo. "I'm going to yell at him too. You both will be staying as long as it takes to finish this. No excuses."

Before you could argue, he leaned forward, bracing his hands on your desk. "And I don’t care if you two can’t stand each other. If this campaign doesn’t get approved, it’s both your heads on the line. Figure it out." He straightened, smoothing his tie as he exhaled sharply. "I expect progress by the next meeting. No more of this back and forth." Then, without waiting for your response, he turned on his heel and strode out, leaving the door wide open behind him.

You sat there for a moment, fingers clenched around the edge of your desk, trying to process the sheer absurdity of what had just happened.

This wasn't even remotely close to being your fault. If anything, you had been doing your job correctly, stopping Kuroo from pushing through yet another one of his reckless, barely compliant proposals. And now, somehow, you were being punished for it. You had been following protocol, making sure the company didn’t find itself in a legal nightmare, and yet—you were the one getting scolded? Forced to stay late?

Because of him?

Your jaw tightened. Of course, he wouldn’t face the consequences alone. No, you had to be dragged into this mess alongside him, forced to sit in a room with that smirking, insufferable bastard and work together until this campaign was approved.

The mere thought made your blood pressure spike.

You could already picture the look on Kuroo’s face when he found out. That lazy, knowing grin. The cocky tilt of his head. The way he’d draw out every syllable of your name just to see you twitch. He would probably love this—getting to push your buttons for hours, knowing you had no choice but to endure it.

And the worst part? You knew exactly how he’d spin it.

“Oh? Stuck working overtime with me? You really just can’t get enough, huh?”

You let out a long exhale, trying to push away the irritation clawing at your nerves. The last thing you needed was to let Kuroo live rent-free in your mind. But the thought of having to sit across from him, in a room, alone, for hours, was already grating on you.

This night was going to be hell.

Your nails tapped impatiently against the desk as your mind raced. There was no way you were going to let Kuroo think he’d won just because you were forced into this situation. You would get this campaign approved, on your terms, and you would do it without giving him the satisfaction of seeing you crack.

Because if this ended with him smugly leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, with that knowing smirk on his lips while he said, “Told ya we make a great team,” you were going to commit a corporate crime.

You straightened, rolling up your sleeves, your determination settling like steel in your spine.

If you had to suffer through this, so did he.

And if Kuroo wanted a fight, he was about to get one.

Favourite Positions: Kuroo

Of all the ways Kuroo liked to fuck you, reverse cowgirl had to be his favorite.

Not just because of the way your body looked—though, fuck, he could watch you like this forever. The curve of your spine, the dip of your waist, the way your ass bounced each time you dropped down onto his cock. It was hypnotic, the way you moved, rolling your hips slow and deliberate at first, teasing yourself as much as him.

No, what really did it for him was the control. Or, more accurately, the moment you lost it.

"You always start off so cocky," Kuroo mused, voice dark with amusement. His fingers pressed into the flesh of your thighs, stroking, teasing. "Think you’re in charge just ‘cause you’re on top, huh?"

You shot him a look over your shoulder, lips parted, eyes hazy with pleasure. A challenge.

His smirk sharpened.

"Alright, baby, let’s see how long that lasts."

Before you could brace yourself, Kuroo’s hands slid up, gripping your waist, and slammed you down onto his cock. The sudden force had you gasping, your balance breaking as pleasure shot through you like lightning. His grip tightened, holding you still, making you take him deep, making you feel him.

"You good?" he asked, voice low, teasing.

You nodded, already breathless. Already wrecked.

Kuroo chuckled, slow and satisfied. And then he started thrusting up into you.

Hard.

Your hands scrambled for support, nails digging into his knees, a choked cry falling from your lips as he fucked up into you with purpose. There was no rhythm to it, just rough, fast, needy. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the air, your moans turning high-pitched and desperate.

"Yeah, that’s it," he groaned, eyes locked onto the way you shuddered. "Not so cocky now, huh? Feels too fucking good, doesn’t it?"

You tried to say something—tried to hold onto whatever control you thought you had—but all that came out was a whimper, a broken moan of his name.

Kuroo grinned, loving every second of it. Loving the way you completely fell apart for him.

And when he reached between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles—

You shattered.

Your whole body tensed, a cry ripping from your throat as you clenched down around him, dragging him right over the edge with you. He groaned, deep and guttural, burying himself inside you, grinding up as he came.

For a moment, all that was left was heavy breathing, the rise and fall of your bodies pressed together, the warmth between you both.

Then, Kuroo let out a breathless chuckle, trailing lazy fingers up your spine before giving your ass a playful slap.

"See? Told you I’d win."

"Shut up."