desc;; MDNI, hate sex, semi-public sex, afab!reader, post-timeskip, smut, kuroo x reader, not really prof-read, oral (f) receiving, car sex, established exes, unprotected sex, degradation, reader also works for JVA, tetsurou regrets breaking it off with you
AN;; this is butt I’m so sorry. I haven’t posted in so long… wc: 2.7k words
.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭
you and kuroo had been assigned the same fucking work trip. of course you had! the universe clearly hated you both.
three days in osaka for the JVA promotional campaign, long meetings, fake smiles, and pretending you didn’t want to strangle the tall, smug bastard every time he opened his mouth. kuroo tetsurou, sports promotion department golden boy, with his stupid messy hair and sharp tongue. your ex. the one who broke things off two years ago because “work was getting too stressful” and then somehow became your professional rival.
the drive back to tokyo was supposed to be quiet. newsflash? it wasn’t. six hours stretching ahead on the dark highway after leaving osaka, the kind of endless trip that already had your nerves frayed before the arguing even started.
“you’re still pissed i got the bigger bonus last quarter?” kuroo’s voice cut through the dark highway, one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping an irritated rhythm on his thigh. his suit jacket was tossed in the back, tie loosened, top buttons undone. he looked too good, and god if that didn’t make you angrier..
“i’m pissed that you undermined my presentation in front of the sponsors,” you snapped, arms crossed tight over your chest. “you just had to jump in with your ‘holistic approach’ bullshit like i wasn’t standing right there.”
he laughed, low and mean. “sweetheart, your slides were weak. i saved your ass.”
“saved my ass? you made me look incompetent!”
“you were incompetent on slide seven. don’t lie to yourself.”
the car felt too small. the tension had been building since osaka—stolen glares across conference tables, brushing past each other in hotel hallways, the way his eyes lingered on your legs during dinner. hate and something worse. something that still burned hot between you even after all this time.
“pull over,” you said suddenly.
“what?”
“i said pull the fuck over, kuroo. i’d rather walk the rest of the way than sit here with you.”
he didn’t pull over. he kept driving, jaw clenched, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. the silence stretched until it snapped.
“you know what your problem is?” he growled. “you’re so fucking stubborn you’d rather crash and burn than admit when you’re wrong.”
“my problem?” you twisted in your seat, glaring at him. “my problem is you. you waltz in with that smirk like you own the room, like you still own me. newsflash, asshole—we’ve been done for two years.”
kuroo’s eyes flicked to you, dark and dangerous. the car swerved slightly as he took the next exit too fast. gravel crunched under the tires as he pulled into an empty rest stop off the highway, far from the lights. the second the car stopped, he killed the engine.
“get in the back,” he ordered.
“excuse me?”
“you heard me.” his voice was rough, chest rising fast. “you want to fight? fine. but i’m not doing this in the front seat like some dumb teenager.”
you should’ve told him to fuck off. instead, heat flooded your body and something worse. you shoved the door open anyway.
he was faster, long legs ate up the distance around the car. his hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not bruising, and he pulled you toward the back door. you stumbled in, landing across the leather seats with your skirt riding up.
kuroo followed right after, slamming the door shut. the space was immediately too small for his broad frame. his knees hit the seat, shoulders hunched, but he crowded you anyway, one hand bracing beside your head.
“you drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered, breath hot against your cheek. “always fuckin’ have.”
“then why are we here?” you shot back, shoving at his chest. your palms met solid muscle. he didn’t budge.
“because you’re soaked already and we both know it.”
his hand slid up your thigh, fingers gripping the soft flesh as he pushed your skirt higher, brushing teasingly against the edge of your panties. you cursed under your breath, heat flooding your core despite yourself, but didn’t stop him. the tension crackled between you, angry and desperate.
“tell me you want this,” kuroo rasped, voice low and rough against your ear, his breath hot as his fingers hovered, waiting. “say it. i won’t touch you unless you do.”
you glared at him, cheeks burning “oh wow, now you want my permission? how caring of you, tetsurou,” you sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm.
that was all he needed. clothes came off in frustrated, eager tugs, your blouse half-unbuttoned with buttons popping loose, bra shoved down to expose your breasts, panties dragged slowly down your legs and tossed aside. his jacket was already gone, shirt rumpled. the car fogged up quickly from your heavy, mingled breathing, windows blurring with the heat of your bodies.
kuroo pushed your thighs apart wider, settling between them in the cramped space. one of your legs hooked awkwardly over the front seat, spreading you open for him. he stared down at your exposed pussy, eyes darkening with hunger as he took in how wet and swollen you looked, glistening under the faint light.
“aww, look at this,” he murmured, voice mocking. he used two fingers to spread your lips slowly, deliberately, exposing your glistening folds and swollen clit. “already this wet? pussy all puffy after one argument. you’re pathetic, you know that?”
“shut up,” you spat, face burning. you tried to close your legs but he held them open, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin.
“why would i? this is too good.” he dragged his fingers through your slick, spreading it messily. “two years and your body still reacts like this to me. embarrassing.”
you grabbed his hair, intending to pull him up for a fight, but he dipped his head lower instead.
he started slow—too slow for how angry you both were. his tongue traced a lazy path along your folds, tasting you. then he focused on your clit, circling it gently at first, coaxing it out from under its hood with soft, deliberate licks. his breath was hot, lips brushing teasingly.
“this is the only way to shut you up, is it?” he said against your skin, voice vibrating. he sucked lightly on your clit, tongue flicking in slow, coaxing strokes. not aggressive. not rushed. like he was savoring how you twitched and tried to fight it.
“fuck you, nghh.. kuroo!” you gasped, hips jerking.
he chuckled darkly, the sound muffled. “yeah? keep talking. see how long that lasts.”
he slid one thick finger inside you, curling it slowly while his tongue continued its unhurried work on your clit. he added a second finger after a minute, scissoring gently, stretching you open with careful patience.
your hands fisted in his messy black hair. “you’re such an asshole… ah— always acting like you know everything..nghh..”
he groaned softly against your pussy — a low, involuntary sound he tried to swallow back. you felt it more than heard it. he pretended he didn’t make noises like that, always so controlled, but here in the cramped backseat he couldn’t hide it.
he kept licking and sucking your clit with focused dedication, fingers pumping in a steady rhythm. the wet squelching sounds filled the car. your thighs trembled around his head. he switched between soft sucks and slow, flat licks, drawing it out until you were whimpering despite yourself.
“atta girl,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. his lips were shiny. “getting so wet for me. can’t just slide my cock in without getting you ready, can i? not that you deserve it.”
“i-i..nnghh.. hate you!” you breathed, but your hips rolled toward his mouth.
“i know.” another groan slipped out as he dove back in, sucking your clit a little harder now, fingers curling deeper. he was still holding back the full aggression, making you feel every deliberate stroke.
you came with a broken moan, back arching as much as the tight space allowed. he worked you through it, tongue gentling but not stopping until you were pushing at his shoulders, oversensitive and panting.
when he finally lifted his head, his hair was wrecked, eyes wild. a streak of your arousal shone on his chin. he wiped it with the back of his hand, smirking.
“still cursing me out?” he asked, voice rough. he freed his cock from his slacks, thick and heavy, flushed dark at the tip, it rested against your thigh, leaking.
“yes,” you snapped. “fuck you tetsurou. this changes nothing.”
“that’s fine.” he spread your lips again with his fingers, staring down at your soaked, puffy entrance. “look how messy you are. dripping all over my leather seat. you really hate me, huh? pussy says otherwise.”
you reached down and grabbed his cock, squeezing it in warning. “just shut up and fuck me already if you’re going to!”
he groaned again, In that same low, reluctant sound as you stroked him. “bossy even now.”
he lined up, rubbing the head through your folds, teasing your clit with it. then he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open. the cramped backseat made it harder to move.
“fuck… you’re tight,” he muttered, burying his face in your neck. he didn’t slam in. he rocked in deep, grinding rather than pounding, letting you feel all of him.
“i still hate you,” you gasped, nails digging into his back. “you’re such a smug bastard… always have to act like you’re right…”
he rocked harder, hips rolling in controlled thrusts that hit deep. “yeah? keep talking shit while your cunt’s squeezing me like it missed me.” another groan escaped him. he tried to muffle it against your shoulder but failed.
you wrapped your legs around him as best you could in the tight space. “you think you’re so good at this? you’re not. you’re just… ah— an asshole who got lucky.”
kuroo laughed breathlessly, the sound turning into another groan as he ground against that spot inside you. “lucky? baby, you’re the one creaming all over my cock right now. look at you.” he reached between you, spreading your lips again while he was buried inside, thumb brushing your swollen clit. “so wet. pretty pathetic how bad you need this.”
“shut up— fuck you kuroo!” you moaned, hips bucking to meet his slow, deep thrusts. the car creaked with every roll of his hips. fog covered the windows completely.
he kept the pace deliberate, desperate but not frantic — grinding deep, circling his hips, making sure you felt every inch. his hand came up to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
“say it again,” he taunted, eyes gleaming. “tell me how much you hate me while i’m inside you.”
“i hate you,” you hissed, clenching around him on purpose. “i hate your stupid face, your stupid voice! the way you think you can just— fuck— pull me into the backseat like this…”
he groaned loudly this time, hips stuttering for a moment. “keep going. it’s cute when you’re mad knowing I’m inside of you.”
you cursed him more—a stream of “asshole” and “i fucking hate you” mixed with moans as he rocked into you steadily. every insult made him grind harder, thumb working your clit in tight circles. sweat dripped down his temple. his hair stuck to his forehead.
well the thing is..
he refused to speed up no matter how much you squirmed and cursed beneath him, keeping those deep, rolling grinds that dragged against every sensitive inch inside you but never quite pushed you over the edge. the cramped backseat made it worse—every slow rock of his hips pressed you awkwardly against the leather, your leg hooked high over the front seat, bodies slick with sweat and stuck together in the fogged-up heat. you were getting frustrated, tears of pure irritation prickling at the corners of your eyes as the pleasure coiled tighter without snapping.
“fuck, kuroo! you’re—ahh doing this on purpose aren’t you!?” you hissed, nails digging harder into his back. “you smug piece of shit! just fuck me properly or get off me. i hate you so much right now—”
he groaned low against your throat, the sound slipping out unwillingly again as your walls clenched around him. “yeah? look at you, whining because you’re desperate.” he mocked, voice rough and smug even as his hips kept that same deliberate, grinding pace. he spread your lips again with his fingers while still buried deep, thumb brushing your swollen clit in lazy circles. “pussy’s so fucking puffy and wet, dripping everywhere, but you still can’t cum? maybe you don’t hate me enough. or maybe you just like suffering on my cock.”
“shut up—ahhh fuck you tetsurou!” you cried out, voice cracking with frustration as another slow thrust made you throb but refused to tip you over. tears slipped down your cheeks now, angry and overwhelmed. “you’re such an asshole, always having to control everything even this—”
kuroo’s smirk faltered when he caught sight of your face, the genuine little sobs mixing with your moans. his golden eyes softened just a fraction, that reluctant groan rumbling out louder this time as he pressed his forehead to yours. “shit… don’t cry pretty girl.” he muttered, almost like he hated himself for it. “can’t stand seeing you like that, even when you’re pissing me off.”
this time? he finally gave in. his grip on your hips tightened and he started thrusting faster—still deep and desperate but with more urgency now, hips snapping harder in the limited space. the car rocked noticeably with each thrust, the wet slap of skin echoing louder. he kept one hand between you, fingers spreading your lips obscenely while his thumb rubbed your clit in firm, quick circles, coaxing you right where you needed it.
“there you go,” he taunted through gritted teeth, but his voice had that wrecked edge. “cursing me out and crying on my cock? fucking pathetic. this what you wanted hm? my pretty girl needs it rougher to cum?”
“yes— fuck, yes!” you moaned, tears still falling but now from the overwhelming pleasure as it finally built sharp and fast. your walls fluttered wildly around him, squeezing tight. “i still hate you—hate how good this feels hate you—”
he groaned deep and broken, burying his face in your neck again as he fucked you harder, pace turning frantic in the cramped backseat. every thrust hit perfectly now, grinding against that spot while his thumb worked your swollen clit without mercy. the build-up finally shattered—your second orgasm crashed over you in intense waves, making you cry out loud and clamp down around his cock, thighs shaking violently.
kuroo kept thrusting through it, chasing his own release with those same desperate groans he couldn’t hold back anymore. “mmph— fuck!”
he spilled inside you moments later with a wrecked groan, hips pressing flush and grinding deep as he filled you, pulse after pulse of heat. but he didn’t pull out right away, still rocking slowly through the aftershocks, keeping you full and messy while you both panted in the tangled mess of limbs and fogged windows.
then he pulled out slowly, spreading your lips one last time with lazy fingers, watching his cum leak out of your swollen pussy. “still so messy,” he mocked softly, voice low and satisfied. “hate looks good on you.”
you shoved weakly at his chest, though there wasn’t much force behind it. “get off me tetsurou. this was a mistake.”
he didn’t move right away. instead, he leaned down pressing a kiss to your cheek before lifting his head to meet your eyes. his smirk was still there, sharp and smug. “you don’t mean that.” he murmured, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “you did so well for me, hm?”
you glared up at him, cheeks still flushed, but your usual sharp comeback didn’t come as fast this time. the pettiness in you wanted to snap back, yet the way he was looking at you made your stomach twist.
his car was a wreck, quite literally. the windows are completely fogged, clothes scattered everywhere, air thick with the smell of sex and lingering anger.
but…
neither of you moved to clean up right away. the hate was still there for sure, simmering hot under your skin. but so was the undeniable pull that neither of you could deny.
—
AN;; I hope I didn’t write Tetsurou too out of character </3 NOT PROF READ SO EXPECT MISTAKES🥹
desc;; osamu miya x reader, fluff, oneshot, established relationship, post-timeskip, not prof read, gender neutral reader
an: finally clearing out my drafts for my 2026 bingo card wc: 400-500
.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭
you really thought you could pull this off.
osamu had been working late at onigiri miya again, so you wanted to surprise him with dinner when he got home. easy, right? he makes stuff like this every day. how hard could it be?
righttt……?
the rice was a bit too watery. the main dish was dry and stuck to the pan. the soup? way too salty. you stood in the kitchen staring at the mess, hands on your hips, when the front door clicked open.
gulp.
“m’ home,” osamu called out, voice tired but warm. he kicked off his shoes and walked in, still wearing work attire.
you tried to block the counter with your body.
“uhh…welcome back?”
he raised an eyebrow, that lazy little smirk already forming. “what’s goin’ on here?”
“nothing,” you said quickly. too quickly.
he stepped around you anyway and froze when he saw whatever you were working on. burnt bits in the pan, rice that looked more like porridge, and a very sad looking main dish.
osamu blinked slowly. then he started laughing—low and deep, shoulders shaking.
“ya tried to cook for me?” he asked, eyes soft. “yer too cute, ya know that?”
“i wanted to do something nice,” you mumbled, cheeks burning. “you always cook for everyone else. i thought… i dunno.” he looked at the disaster again, then at your pouty face, and his expression melted.
“c’mere, dummy.”
he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. he smelled like rice and the faint scent of the restaurant. you buried your face in his chest.
“i ruined it,” you whispered.
“ya didn’t ruin nothin’,” he said, rubbing your back slowly. “just means we get to fix it up together, yeah?”
before you could protest, he rolled up his sleeves and stood next to you at the counter. he tasted the soup and made a face.
rude.
“well that’s something,” he chuckled. “how much salt did ya put in here?”
“i don’t wanna tlk about it.”
he grinned and bumped your hip with his. “alright, new plan. ya chop the green onions. i’ll handle the rest.”
what was supposed to be a nice quiet dinner turned into a small disaster. you kept stealing bits of rice from his bowl while he wasn’t looking. he flicked water at you when you tried poking him. at one point you hugged him from behind and rested your chin on his shoulder while he was stirring, whispering silly questions about what he was doing. it made him laugh softly, the sound warm and low as he tilted his head to press a quick kiss to your temple.
“yer a menace,” he said, but his voice was so fond it made your chest feel warm.
.𖥔 ݁—
when everything was finally done, you both looked at the slightly better looking plates and decided it was good enough. as you carried the bowls over to the table, you bumped the edge and some rice chunks spilled onto the floor.
you both paused and stared at the little mess for a second.
then you started giggling. osamu chuckled too, warm and low, eyes crinkling.
“ah well,” he said, grabbing two big onigiri he had brought home from the shop. “let’s just eat down here. floor picnic sounds nicer anyway.”
so that’s how you ended up sitting on the kitchen floor together, backs against the cabinets, eating your meal in comfortable silence. your legs were tangled with his. every now and then he’d reach over and wipe a grain of rice from your cheek with his thumb, or press a soft kiss to your forehead.
“thank you for tryin’,” he said quietly after a while, voice low. “means a lot, ya know. even if it was a total disaster.”
you leaned your head on his shoulder. “even if i’m a terrible cook?”
“especially ‘cause yer a terrible cook,” he teased, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “makes me feel needed. plus i get to show off a little.”
you poked his side. he just laughed and pulled you closer, arm around your shoulders, holding you tight against him.
the kitchen was still a mess. dinner was half burnt, half salvaged. but sitting there on the floor with osamu, listening to him hum quietly while chewing, you couldn’t think of a better night.
“love ya,” he mumbled through a bite of onigiri, casual as anything.
desc;; MDNI, hate sex, semi-public sex, afab!reader, post-timeskip, smut, kuroo x reader, not really prof-read, oral (f) receiving, car sex, established exes, unprotected sex, degradation, reader also works for JVA, tetsurou regrets breaking it off with you
AN;; this is butt I’m so sorry. I haven’t posted in so long… wc: 2.7k words
.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭
you and kuroo had been assigned the same fucking work trip. of course you had! the universe clearly hated you both.
three days in osaka for the JVA promotional campaign, long meetings, fake smiles, and pretending you didn’t want to strangle the tall, smug bastard every time he opened his mouth. kuroo tetsurou, sports promotion department golden boy, with his stupid messy hair and sharp tongue. your ex. the one who broke things off two years ago because “work was getting too stressful” and then somehow became your professional rival.
the drive back to tokyo was supposed to be quiet. newsflash? it wasn’t. six hours stretching ahead on the dark highway after leaving osaka, the kind of endless trip that already had your nerves frayed before the arguing even started.
“you’re still pissed i got the bigger bonus last quarter?” kuroo’s voice cut through the dark highway, one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping an irritated rhythm on his thigh. his suit jacket was tossed in the back, tie loosened, top buttons undone. he looked too good, and god if that didn’t make you angrier..
“i’m pissed that you undermined my presentation in front of the sponsors,” you snapped, arms crossed tight over your chest. “you just had to jump in with your ‘holistic approach’ bullshit like i wasn’t standing right there.”
he laughed, low and mean. “sweetheart, your slides were weak. i saved your ass.”
“saved my ass? you made me look incompetent!”
“you were incompetent on slide seven. don’t lie to yourself.”
the car felt too small. the tension had been building since osaka—stolen glares across conference tables, brushing past each other in hotel hallways, the way his eyes lingered on your legs during dinner. hate and something worse. something that still burned hot between you even after all this time.
“pull over,” you said suddenly.
“what?”
“i said pull the fuck over, kuroo. i’d rather walk the rest of the way than sit here with you.”
he didn’t pull over. he kept driving, jaw clenched, knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. the silence stretched until it snapped.
“you know what your problem is?” he growled. “you’re so fucking stubborn you’d rather crash and burn than admit when you’re wrong.”
“my problem?” you twisted in your seat, glaring at him. “my problem is you. you waltz in with that smirk like you own the room, like you still own me. newsflash, asshole—we’ve been done for two years.”
kuroo’s eyes flicked to you, dark and dangerous. the car swerved slightly as he took the next exit too fast. gravel crunched under the tires as he pulled into an empty rest stop off the highway, far from the lights. the second the car stopped, he killed the engine.
“get in the back,” he ordered.
“excuse me?”
“you heard me.” his voice was rough, chest rising fast. “you want to fight? fine. but i’m not doing this in the front seat like some dumb teenager.”
you should’ve told him to fuck off. instead, heat flooded your body and something worse. you shoved the door open anyway.
he was faster, long legs ate up the distance around the car. his hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not bruising, and he pulled you toward the back door. you stumbled in, landing across the leather seats with your skirt riding up.
kuroo followed right after, slamming the door shut. the space was immediately too small for his broad frame. his knees hit the seat, shoulders hunched, but he crowded you anyway, one hand bracing beside your head.
“you drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered, breath hot against your cheek. “always fuckin’ have.”
“then why are we here?” you shot back, shoving at his chest. your palms met solid muscle. he didn’t budge.
“because you’re soaked already and we both know it.”
his hand slid up your thigh, fingers gripping the soft flesh as he pushed your skirt higher, brushing teasingly against the edge of your panties. you cursed under your breath, heat flooding your core despite yourself, but didn’t stop him. the tension crackled between you, angry and desperate.
“tell me you want this,” kuroo rasped, voice low and rough against your ear, his breath hot as his fingers hovered, waiting. “say it. i won’t touch you unless you do.”
you glared at him, cheeks burning “oh wow, now you want my permission? how caring of you, tetsurou,” you sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm.
that was all he needed. clothes came off in frustrated, eager tugs, your blouse half-unbuttoned with buttons popping loose, bra shoved down to expose your breasts, panties dragged slowly down your legs and tossed aside. his jacket was already gone, shirt rumpled. the car fogged up quickly from your heavy, mingled breathing, windows blurring with the heat of your bodies.
kuroo pushed your thighs apart wider, settling between them in the cramped space. one of your legs hooked awkwardly over the front seat, spreading you open for him. he stared down at your exposed pussy, eyes darkening with hunger as he took in how wet and swollen you looked, glistening under the faint light.
“aww, look at this,” he murmured, voice mocking. he used two fingers to spread your lips slowly, deliberately, exposing your glistening folds and swollen clit. “already this wet? pussy all puffy after one argument. you’re pathetic, you know that?”
“shut up,” you spat, face burning. you tried to close your legs but he held them open, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin.
“why would i? this is too good.” he dragged his fingers through your slick, spreading it messily. “two years and your body still reacts like this to me. embarrassing.”
you grabbed his hair, intending to pull him up for a fight, but he dipped his head lower instead.
he started slow—too slow for how angry you both were. his tongue traced a lazy path along your folds, tasting you. then he focused on your clit, circling it gently at first, coaxing it out from under its hood with soft, deliberate licks. his breath was hot, lips brushing teasingly.
“this is the only way to shut you up, is it?” he said against your skin, voice vibrating. he sucked lightly on your clit, tongue flicking in slow, coaxing strokes. not aggressive. not rushed. like he was savoring how you twitched and tried to fight it.
“fuck you, nghh.. kuroo!” you gasped, hips jerking.
he chuckled darkly, the sound muffled. “yeah? keep talking. see how long that lasts.”
he slid one thick finger inside you, curling it slowly while his tongue continued its unhurried work on your clit. he added a second finger after a minute, scissoring gently, stretching you open with careful patience.
your hands fisted in his messy black hair. “you’re such an asshole… ah— always acting like you know everything..nghh..”
he groaned softly against your pussy — a low, involuntary sound he tried to swallow back. you felt it more than heard it. he pretended he didn’t make noises like that, always so controlled, but here in the cramped backseat he couldn’t hide it.
he kept licking and sucking your clit with focused dedication, fingers pumping in a steady rhythm. the wet squelching sounds filled the car. your thighs trembled around his head. he switched between soft sucks and slow, flat licks, drawing it out until you were whimpering despite yourself.
“atta girl,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. his lips were shiny. “getting so wet for me. can’t just slide my cock in without getting you ready, can i? not that you deserve it.”
“i-i..nnghh.. hate you!” you breathed, but your hips rolled toward his mouth.
“i know.” another groan slipped out as he dove back in, sucking your clit a little harder now, fingers curling deeper. he was still holding back the full aggression, making you feel every deliberate stroke.
you came with a broken moan, back arching as much as the tight space allowed. he worked you through it, tongue gentling but not stopping until you were pushing at his shoulders, oversensitive and panting.
when he finally lifted his head, his hair was wrecked, eyes wild. a streak of your arousal shone on his chin. he wiped it with the back of his hand, smirking.
“still cursing me out?” he asked, voice rough. he freed his cock from his slacks, thick and heavy, flushed dark at the tip, it rested against your thigh, leaking.
“yes,” you snapped. “fuck you tetsurou. this changes nothing.”
“that’s fine.” he spread your lips again with his fingers, staring down at your soaked, puffy entrance. “look how messy you are. dripping all over my leather seat. you really hate me, huh? pussy says otherwise.”
you reached down and grabbed his cock, squeezing it in warning. “just shut up and fuck me already if you’re going to!”
he groaned again, In that same low, reluctant sound as you stroked him. “bossy even now.”
he lined up, rubbing the head through your folds, teasing your clit with it. then he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open. the cramped backseat made it harder to move.
“fuck… you’re tight,” he muttered, burying his face in your neck. he didn’t slam in. he rocked in deep, grinding rather than pounding, letting you feel all of him.
“i still hate you,” you gasped, nails digging into his back. “you’re such a smug bastard… always have to act like you’re right…”
he rocked harder, hips rolling in controlled thrusts that hit deep. “yeah? keep talking shit while your cunt’s squeezing me like it missed me.” another groan escaped him. he tried to muffle it against your shoulder but failed.
you wrapped your legs around him as best you could in the tight space. “you think you’re so good at this? you’re not. you’re just… ah— an asshole who got lucky.”
kuroo laughed breathlessly, the sound turning into another groan as he ground against that spot inside you. “lucky? baby, you’re the one creaming all over my cock right now. look at you.” he reached between you, spreading your lips again while he was buried inside, thumb brushing your swollen clit. “so wet. pretty pathetic how bad you need this.”
“shut up— fuck you kuroo!” you moaned, hips bucking to meet his slow, deep thrusts. the car creaked with every roll of his hips. fog covered the windows completely.
he kept the pace deliberate, desperate but not frantic — grinding deep, circling his hips, making sure you felt every inch. his hand came up to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
“say it again,” he taunted, eyes gleaming. “tell me how much you hate me while i’m inside you.”
“i hate you,” you hissed, clenching around him on purpose. “i hate your stupid face, your stupid voice! the way you think you can just— fuck— pull me into the backseat like this…”
he groaned loudly this time, hips stuttering for a moment. “keep going. it’s cute when you’re mad knowing I’m inside of you.”
you cursed him more—a stream of “asshole” and “i fucking hate you” mixed with moans as he rocked into you steadily. every insult made him grind harder, thumb working your clit in tight circles. sweat dripped down his temple. his hair stuck to his forehead.
well the thing is..
he refused to speed up no matter how much you squirmed and cursed beneath him, keeping those deep, rolling grinds that dragged against every sensitive inch inside you but never quite pushed you over the edge. the cramped backseat made it worse—every slow rock of his hips pressed you awkwardly against the leather, your leg hooked high over the front seat, bodies slick with sweat and stuck together in the fogged-up heat. you were getting frustrated, tears of pure irritation prickling at the corners of your eyes as the pleasure coiled tighter without snapping.
“fuck, kuroo! you’re—ahh doing this on purpose aren’t you!?” you hissed, nails digging harder into his back. “you smug piece of shit! just fuck me properly or get off me. i hate you so much right now—”
he groaned low against your throat, the sound slipping out unwillingly again as your walls clenched around him. “yeah? look at you, whining because you’re desperate.” he mocked, voice rough and smug even as his hips kept that same deliberate, grinding pace. he spread your lips again with his fingers while still buried deep, thumb brushing your swollen clit in lazy circles. “pussy’s so fucking puffy and wet, dripping everywhere, but you still can’t cum? maybe you don’t hate me enough. or maybe you just like suffering on my cock.”
“shut up—ahhh fuck you tetsurou!” you cried out, voice cracking with frustration as another slow thrust made you throb but refused to tip you over. tears slipped down your cheeks now, angry and overwhelmed. “you’re such an asshole, always having to control everything even this—”
kuroo’s smirk faltered when he caught sight of your face, the genuine little sobs mixing with your moans. his golden eyes softened just a fraction, that reluctant groan rumbling out louder this time as he pressed his forehead to yours. “shit… don’t cry pretty girl.” he muttered, almost like he hated himself for it. “can’t stand seeing you like that, even when you’re pissing me off.”
this time? he finally gave in. his grip on your hips tightened and he started thrusting faster—still deep and desperate but with more urgency now, hips snapping harder in the limited space. the car rocked noticeably with each thrust, the wet slap of skin echoing louder. he kept one hand between you, fingers spreading your lips obscenely while his thumb rubbed your clit in firm, quick circles, coaxing you right where you needed it.
“there you go,” he taunted through gritted teeth, but his voice had that wrecked edge. “cursing me out and crying on my cock? fucking pathetic. this what you wanted hm? my pretty girl needs it rougher to cum?”
“yes— fuck, yes!” you moaned, tears still falling but now from the overwhelming pleasure as it finally built sharp and fast. your walls fluttered wildly around him, squeezing tight. “i still hate you—hate how good this feels hate you—”
he groaned deep and broken, burying his face in your neck again as he fucked you harder, pace turning frantic in the cramped backseat. every thrust hit perfectly now, grinding against that spot while his thumb worked your swollen clit without mercy. the build-up finally shattered—your second orgasm crashed over you in intense waves, making you cry out loud and clamp down around his cock, thighs shaking violently.
kuroo kept thrusting through it, chasing his own release with those same desperate groans he couldn’t hold back anymore. “mmph— fuck!”
he spilled inside you moments later with a wrecked groan, hips pressing flush and grinding deep as he filled you, pulse after pulse of heat. but he didn’t pull out right away, still rocking slowly through the aftershocks, keeping you full and messy while you both panted in the tangled mess of limbs and fogged windows.
then he pulled out slowly, spreading your lips one last time with lazy fingers, watching his cum leak out of your swollen pussy. “still so messy,” he mocked softly, voice low and satisfied. “hate looks good on you.”
you shoved weakly at his chest, though there wasn’t much force behind it. “get off me tetsurou. this was a mistake.”
he didn’t move right away. instead, he leaned down pressing a kiss to your cheek before lifting his head to meet your eyes. his smirk was still there, sharp and smug. “you don’t mean that.” he murmured, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “you did so well for me, hm?”
you glared up at him, cheeks still flushed, but your usual sharp comeback didn’t come as fast this time. the pettiness in you wanted to snap back, yet the way he was looking at you made your stomach twist.
his car was a wreck, quite literally. the windows are completely fogged, clothes scattered everywhere, air thick with the smell of sex and lingering anger.
but…
neither of you moved to clean up right away. the hate was still there for sure, simmering hot under your skin. but so was the undeniable pull that neither of you could deny.
—
AN;; I hope I didn’t write Tetsurou too out of character </3 NOT PROF READ SO EXPECT MISTAKES🥹
i haven’t posted in so long and I keep telling myself that I’d write something eventually but I have no clue what to draw whatsoever.. I was thinking of Tetsurou once more but eh
content ଳ smut!, Ushijima/fem!reader, uh that’s about it
a/n ଳ Saw this Ushijima edit a while ago and it really worked me up so I js had to get it of my chest #poundtownnn🤤
Ushijima is a monster.
Anyone who’s seen him play knows it—anyone who’s ever witnessed his raw power.
It’s the kind that sticks in your mind long after the game ends. Partly because you’re pretty sure that your arms would snap if you ever tried to receive one of his serves, but mostly because he’s absurdly attractive. Overly so. One person really doesn’t need to be that hot. It’s borderline greedy of him, honestly.
…Anyways.
Your little story started when your roommate dragged you to the school’s gym, going on and on about some guitarist on the volleyball team.
Sports weren’t your thing, especially not during exam week, so you told her that making googoo eyes at the players would have to wait.
She didn’t take it too well. At all, really, cause you ended up going and got to see Shiratorizawa’s pride and joy, Ushijima Wakatoshi, in the flesh.
Somehow, despite his sheer size and presence, he’d completely slipped past you. And with a growing grin on your face, you swore he’d never slip from you again.
You stayed for the entire game. Anyone could tell how good he was, and it only made you more eager for the slip-up you were sure would come. You’d be damned if you didn’t get to see his pretty little face twist at least once. Something in you knew that desperation would look nice on him.
Call it a perversion, or a kink, or whatever—you were going to see it.
But it never came.
Ushijima never lost.
You could tell from his record, sure, but his face said it all. It never betrayed a hint of doubt or anxiety. He never wavered—never even scowled.
Because to him, the outcome was already decided. His strength trumped everything. Forget grace or elegance, because his power was more than enough to carry his team to victory.
You befriended him—somewhat—after many embarrassing attempts. All to figure out what went on in that pretty little head.
[“You think I’m arrogant?”
“No,” you huffed a quiet laugh, “I just think you don’t even consider the possibility of losing.”
He didn’t look offended. If anything, he seemed to consider it.
“…Because I won’t.”]
But he did.
For all his talk, his team—Miyagi’s best—got beaten by a back-alley unknown school.
And you paid the price.
“Stay still.” His grip borders on bruising as he pulls on your hips, cock burying itself back inside your needy pussy.
You don’t know how it happened. He was mad and frustrated, and he crumbled just like you thought he would—but then he saw you in the halls, and you smiled at him, but then he grabbed you by the wrist and…and—
"Ngh—shit...Ushijima-ah!" Your knees buckle from his harsh thrusts. He’s mean, so mean and it’s all because of his stupid loss!
It’s been ages of this slow, torturous fucking, and every time you think you’ve adjusted, he pounds the thought out of you—the bastard.
When another whine of his name escapes your throat, he finally speaks.
“I’m not as unaware as you think I am.”
A hand slides up your back, pushing you further down into the mattress. Every wet squelch from his deep thrusts gets you all choked up, and it draws a shaky laugh out of him.
“You desired me,” he says, “yet still wished to see me fail. You did a poor job of hiding either.”
A quiet breath leaves him.
“It intrigued me,” he adds, “but I can’t have you making…a mockery of me.“
A..A mockery? “Is…that—ugh—seriously why you decided to…to screw me? Hnh…because your massive ego got a little bruised!?”
You scrape together what remains of your strength and turn your head. His head hangs low, lips parted and wet, eyes barely open as they track you.
“…Yes.”
The strain in your neck becomes too much, so you try to turn away, but Ushijima just rolls you onto your back and…holy. Actually seeing where his dick goes inside is a…a whole new thing. Makes it worse. So much worse.
Ushijima’s lips come to kiss your shoulder far too gently for how he’s been acting.
“I..I knew there was something wrong with you. Freak of nature is what you are..ha..”
“Say whatever you want,” he smiles—you feel it, “you’re still holding onto me.”
And you are. Your nails have long been clawing at his broad back, marking him as yours while he takes his sweet time breeding you.
If he had his way, sex would’ve lasted the whole night—maybe even till morning. But Tendou walked in on both of you a few moments later, so…
who refuses to let you go—whether it’s pulling all nighters over assignments, stealing your warmth under the blankets, or dragging out every goodbye like he isn’t already late
contains fluff! no angst i swear, college kuroo! rahh, established relationship, some swearing, just our man being clingy and adorable, akaashi & kenma cameo lol 𑣲
College had a way of turning nights into something blurry and endless. Especially when Kuroo decided sleep was optional. Late nights like this were never really quiet with Kuroo around—especially when he refused to stop working, no matter how tired he was.
You furrowed your brows worriedly, eyes raking over his tired form, “baby, you look like you haven't slept in days, why don't you take a break, yeah?” you murmured from across the room.
Without looking up from the screen, he huffs dramatically and types a few more aggressive keystrokes. “Break? What’s that?” he mutters sarcastically before finally glancing at you with one tired eye. His usual mischievous grin is nowhere to be seen, just pure exhaustion.
You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. Of course he’d say something like that, “Tetsu..I'm serious” you muttered, “i’m worried about you.”
“...Fine. But only if you come here and make me.” A lazy smirk tugs at his lips as he pats the spot next to him, clearly hoping for physical intervention (or affection).
You rolled your eyes, “If I come there will you promise to actually get some rest?”
He dramatically clutches his chest, feigning offense. “Ouch. Suspicious?” But the way he instantly scoots over—making room for you on the bed, betrays him. His tired smirk softens into something more genuine as he mumbles, “...Yeah, yeah. Promise.”
Then with a slow blink, like a cat begging for pets, he adds, “but only if you stay too.”
You sighed softly, making your way over to your shared bed as you slid in beside him. The second you settle in, he immediately drops his head onto your shoulder with a content sigh—laptop still open but forgotten. His messy hair tickles your neck as he nuzzles closer.
“..Knew you’d cave,” he mumbles, voice already slurring with sleepiness. One arm drapes heavily over your waist like a possessive and very tired cat. “Five minutes..then i’ll work again.” A blatant lie—his breathing is already evening out against you.
“Alright..mind if I move this?” you asked, gently maneuvering his laptop aside.
He makes a tiny, sleepy noise of protest—more reflex than actual objection, as you adjust the laptop. But when he feels your fingers brush his wrist, his grip on it loosens. “..Mmh. S’not like i was getting anything done anyway,” he admits in a muffled voice against your shoulder. His free hand blindly gropes for yours and laces your fingers together with half asleep clumsiness. “...You’re warm.”
“And your hands are freezing.” You said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you settled in the sheets.
He lets out a quiet sheepish laugh, breathing uneven from how deeply he’s already sinking into sleep. “Chem lab..fuckin’ arctic,” he slurs, nuzzling his cold nose against your neck in retaliation. His fingers curl tighter around yours as if to say ‘your problem now.’
“..Steal your body heat or whatever.” A yawn cracks through the threat. The laptop lid finally snaps shut on its own—victory.
“If we were in the same major, I’d just come find you and warm you up myself,” you muttered, your free hand drifting up to brush through his hair.
The moment you rake your fingers through his messy locks, all tension in his frame seems to melt away. His eyes flutter shut with a content sigh, and a sleepy smile tugs at his lips. “Mmm..you’d be the best labmate ever.” he murmurs, already sounding half hallucinating. One knee gently hooks around your legs, like he’s trying to wrap himself around you. “Would make chemistry way more fun..” he breathes sleepily, voice thick with exhaustion.
“More fun, or more distracting?” you joked, letting out a soft chuckle as your fingers went through a knot on his hair, threading it free gently.
He laughs hoarsely at that, the sound interrupted by yet another stifled yawn. His sleep mussed hair pokes at your jaw as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Can it be both?” he muses, eyes still closed. “You wearing a lab coat though? Hot as hell. I’d totally get away with staring the whole time.”
“Weirdo” you muttered with a smile, placing a peck on his head before slumping deeper into the comfort of the sheets.
He lets out a snort at that, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a breathy laugh. “Your weirdo,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin. His hands slide under your shirt, splaying warm against your bare back as if to press you closer. “And you love me for it.” He punctuates the word with a soft kiss just beneath your ear.
“Yeah..I do” you said, continuing your soothing threads, successfully lulling him to sleep.
The steady rhythm of your hand through his hair and the soothing sound of your voice seem to be just what he needs. His weight becomes a comforting deadweight against you as he finally gives in and drifts off. The quiet hum from his lips becomes steady breaths, deep and slow. His fingers still cling to your hand like a lifeline, even in his slumber. And he murmurs something incoherent against your shoulder—probably a sleepy, muttered 'love you,' but he's too far gone to make it understandable.
You smiled, watching him doze off in your arms as you placed a final kiss on his hair for good measure. “G’night my weirdo..” you whispered.
He lets out a content murmur at the kiss, shifting slightly to bury his face into your neck even more. But he's too far gone to respond. It's clear that sleep has him in its clutches now, leaving only the sound of his calm, steady breathing. And as you lie there with his warmth pressed against you, he looks much younger like this, all the stress and worry from the day erased by the vulnerability of sleep.
୭ ˚. ᵎ
Morning light filters through the curtains, and Tetsurou stirs with a groggy groan, still half asleep but instinctively tightening his arm around your waist when he feels you move. "...Mm. Five more minutes," he mumbles into your hair, voice gravelly from sleep. His other hand blindly gropes for the blanket to yank it over both of you like a human burrito. Your efforts to wake him are met with stubborn resistance. He groans and mutters something unintelligible, as if to avoid the rude awakening altogether.
"Mmph. Don't wanna get up..." he protests, words slurring together. One hand is still curled around your waist, anchoring you close like a sleepy, clingy cat. "Just... five more minutes, babe please..." he pleads in a drowsy grumble, voice hoarse and muffled.
“Tetsu…you’re gonna be late, you’ve got that 8:30 lecture remember?” you murmured, softly patting his back in an attempt to wake him.
He lets out a dramatic, long suffering sigh at the mention of class, like you’ve just personally betrayed him. But your godly hands in his hair make his eyes crack open halfway, revealing bleary hazel slits. "...Fuck that 8:30," he grumbles, voice still thick with sleep as he nuzzles against your palm. "You woke me up for nothing. S'not even worth it."
“Tetsu..i mean it, get your ass up or i’m kicking you off the bed” you grumbled, attempting to tug him away from your buried self.
A low, exaggerated groan escapes his parted lips at the idea of waking up fully, punctuated by a dramatic roll of his eyes before he reluctantly lifts his head to give you a groggy but annoyed look. "You're a cruel, cruel woman...depriving me of those extra minutes of sleep," he complains, voice still hoarse from sleep. But he doesn't loosen his hold on you, instead, he pulls you impossibly closer, until your bodies are practically melded together.
You rolled your eyes, a muffled groan slipping out. “Off—c’mon, get up,” you huffed, only for him to let out a petulant sigh and yank the blanket over both your heads like a makeshift fortress, plunging you into warm darkness.
“Nope. We’re in witness protection now. Tell the professor I died.” He said, voice muffled but stubborn. A beat passes before he peeks one sleep crusty eye at you, then quickly hides his face again with a whine. “...Or just carry me to class. Your call.”
You chuckled, shaking your head in mock disbelief as you tugged the sheets down and sat up, earning an immediate, unhappy sound from him. “Well, I’m gonna be late for class if you don’t move, so scoot—I need to get ready.”
He lets out a pitiful groan as the covers finally give way, exposing him to the harsh reality of the morning light. “Nooo…” he protests, clinging to you like a toddler refusing to let go of their favorite toy. “Don’t make me move. I refuse.” he buries his face against your stomach instead, wrapping both arms firmly around your thighs to cling like a koala.
“Tetsu…” you sighed, gently trying to pry him off you. He lets out another groan, his grip on you only tightening in stubborn protest. He lifts his head to look up at you with half lidded eyes, attempting a pleading expression.
“Babe..please..?” he whines, voice still thick with sleep and stubbornness, coupled with a hint of desperate pleading. “Can’t I just..skip the first period? Please?”
You raised a brow, “It’s your call Tetsu, but i’m not skipping mine, now move!” you squirmed, managing to break free from his hold—despite his dramatic complaints.
He flops onto his back with a theatrical sigh, limbs sprawled out like a starfish as he watches you escape his clingy grasp. His voice is laced with faux betrayal.
”Wow. Cold. Leaving me all alone in my time of need..” A pause—then he peeks at you from the corner of his eye, lips twitching into a smirk. “Guess I'll just have to come shower with y–OW.” He cuts himself off when you toss a pillow directly at his face.
He lets out a soft grunt at the impact, momentarily stunned by the unexpected pillow attack. But it only takes a few seconds before he dissolves into sleepy snickering, holding the pillow against his chest as he playfully sticks his tongue out at you. “Worth a shot..” he chuckles, his morning hair even more dishevelled than usual now. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right? I was desperate.”
“You’re unbelievable” you deadpanned, disappearing into the bathroom.
He props himself up on his elbow, his messy bedhead and lopsided grin making him look ridiculously endearing in his sleepy haze. "You love me anyway." He said, tone lighthearted, tinged with exhausted mischief. He doesn't make any move to actually get up yet, simply watching you make your way to the bathroom with a lazy, cat-like gaze. His gaze drifts to your side of the bed, where a faint imprint of your warmth still lingers, and he snuggles into it with a sleepy murmur, inhaling your lingering scent still clinging to the sheets. A few moments pass in lazy comfort, and he's almost lulled back to the verge of sleep when his phone buzzes on the nightstand.
He groans, groping for the phone with one hand without bothering to check who's texting. He squints at the screen through his sleepy haze, the bright light of the screen making him wince. "Who the hell is texting so early...?" he grumbles, fumbling to adjust the brightness and unlock the device with one eye open.
The second he reads the message, his bleary eyes widen—as though the words on the screen are a stark bucket of ice cold water against his exhausted brain.
"Ah, shit." he mutters, sitting up all of a sudden with a jolt. His earlier sleepiness quickly fades, replaced by an instant rush of awareness. He swings his legs off the bed, feet hitting the floor with a thump as he hastily starts rummaging through the rumpled blankets. He mutters under his breath, muttering a stream of profanity as he frantically searches for something amidst the chaos. The realization of being late to class finally dawns on him, and he's now in full panic mode. He finds his phone again, checking the time and wincing at how late it is.
"Double shit." He finally locates his jeans half buried under the sheets, and he swiftly zips them on with a rushed urgency. He's just started buttoning up his white undershirt when he hears the bathroom door open.
You stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around you. “Baby? I thought you said you were skipping class” you murmured, one brow raised as you watched his sudden flurry of movement.
He freezes mid buttoning, shirt half tucked and hair sticking up in even wilder directions from his frantic movement. His eyes dart to you, still damp and towel-clad, then back to the door with a guilty grimace. "Uh. Hypothetically speaking," he starts, voice pitching slightly higher, "what if I said...hypothetically...that Akaashi just texted me about an 'emergency lab meeting'?" A beat passes as he processes your unimpressed stare. "...Or y’know. Hypothetically, I panicked."
You gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “Then I’d suggest you hurry your ass up—hypothetically speaking, of course,” you said, a hint of teasing in your voice as you leaned against the doorway and watched him scramble.
He barks out a startled laugh—half relief, half disbelief at your deadpan delivery. His shirt gets yanked the rest of the way down in one frantic motion as he scrambles toward his backpack.
"Hypothetically," he mutters, shoving textbooks into his bag with zero organization, "I might’ve also forgotten my notes are still on Kenma’s desk from last night."
A pause. He shoots you a wince over his shoulder, "...Hypothetically?"
You sighed and walked past him toward your vanity. “I can stop by Kenma’s place and drop them off your class later” you said, already starting to get ready.
He shoots you a grateful look, his hurried scurrying about the room suddenly coming to a halt. He abandons his half zipped backpack, striding over to you with a slightly harried expression. "You're a lifesaver, babe," he murmurs, gently cupping your cheek and leaning down to place a hasty kiss on your forehead before his brain kicks back into gear. He quickly resumes his frantic packing, pulling a jacket over his shirt.
“Yeah, yeah—what would you do without me, right?” you murmured back, sarcasm in your tone, though you couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at your lips.
"Probably fail all my classes by the end of the semester," he replies with a wry laugh, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Seriously, you keep me on track. I'd be so screwed without you." He checks the time on his phone again, his eyes widening with renewed panic. "Crap, I'm seriously gonna be so late."
You waved him off with a hand, “shoo! I’ll meet you on campus later.”
He snorts at the dismissive wave, shooting you a mock offended look. But the corner of his mouth lifts in a half smile, betraying the fondness beneath the feigned drama.
"Rude," he huffs, but it's lacking any real heat. He takes a couple steps toward the door, before suddenly doubling back, capturing you in his arms in a sudden, whirlwind embrace. His hold is tight, bordering on clingy, and he mumbles into the corner of your neck.
"Love you. See you later."
You let out a surprised oof sound at his sudden embrace before smiling, “love you too, idiot” you said, turning your head to place a quick kiss on his cheek before shoving him away gently, “now go!”
He laughs softly at your playful shove, reluctantly untangling his arms from around your waist. His hand takes a lingering moment to brush against yours, almost refusing to completely let go. "Yeah, yeah. I'm goin'. I'm goin'."
With one final, almost lingering glance back at you, he finally forces himself out the door—though not before shooting you one final, cheeky wink over his shoulder.
You’re lucky you loved that idiot.
a/n: hey hey ziahex here! i caved and had to post a kuroo fic in coping honor of college kicking my ass:) to all students out there, wishing us the best of luck<3 thank u for reading & hope u enjoyed!
synopsis: the council has agreed that ushijima has a biting kink.
pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader
content: fluff and mildly suggestive content ahead, intended lowercase, post timeskip!ushijima getting pampered by his lovely partner, slight domesticity, reader is an implied switch heh, slowbuuurn (?), was thinking about his biceps and gawd i wanna bite em so bad
wc: 2.7k
"you're clingy today,”
ushijima catches you effortlessly as you threw yourself at him, his massive hands finding their place on your thighs as he braces you against him. his body, always so sturdy and unmoving, seemed to have bent slightly under your weight but remained just as strong. he lets out a low, soft hum as your head burrows into his neck, your breath warm against his skin.
"and you're a bit rough... tired from today, toshi?"
you pulled away slightly to look into his sharp olive eyes, searching for the softness in them. it's there but masked by unmistakable exhaustion. a crack in the armor. the faintest hint of fatigue lingers at the edges just visible under his lashes.
"hmm… tired is not accurate." he says it like he’s reciting a fact from memory. "i am efficient with my energy. but training took longer than expected."
a beat passes as he studies your face, then his grip on you tightens slightly. not enough to hurt, but enough to feel calculated. softly, he mutters, "do you need something?"
"so you are tired, toshi. it's alright, it's just the two of us here, you don't have to play strong," you reassured him as he held onto your figure, stroking his dark and damp hair. one hand landed softly on his cheek to palm at it.
he leans into your touch as you cup his cheek, much like a panther seeking affection. with you, at least, he feels safe to let his guard down, to show some of the tiredness deep within his eyes. then he lets out a soft, relaxed exhale as he speaks.
"i don't like to appear weak."
weakness, for a fact, was not in his vocabulary. absent-mindedly, his fingers rubbed small circles onto the fabric of your shirt soothingly. at this point, you were just used to this, knowing he'd rather curl up in bed with you at the end of the day.
"who said that that's making you seem weak? hmm?" you softly pressed a kiss to his cheek as he settled down on the couch, your ball-of-energy figure sitting on his lap. your weight is always a comfort, your warmth grounding.
the man lets out a huff at your question, arms wrapped around you as he leans his head against your shoulder. his voice is a low rumble as his hands traced lazy circles along your thighs.
"weakness is vulnerability. exhaustion is vulnerability."
"hmm.. i don't wanna argue." you chuckled with finality. leaning closer to engulf him in a warm hug, hands rubbing along his back in a calm manner.
the two of you basked under the glow of your lamp, still tangled in the same position you were a couple minutes ago before you spoke, voice muffled in his neck. "stay for tonight?”
almost involuntarily, he hums in contentment, body instinctively relaxing under your touch. the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours is a reminder of his sturdy presence, his steadfastness.
"of course."
he doesn't even hesitate. for you, he'd stay for as long as you asked.
"i love you, i want to take care of you." you mumbled, hand creeping up at the back of his neck and up his undercut. just lightly scratching.
he was a real big softie at heart, no denying it. always relishes in the simple gestures, enjoys himself being on the receiving end of affection even if he doesn't admit it.
tilting his head ever-so-slightly to lean into your touch, his hold on you tightens, pulling you closer against his chest. the body heat between you igniting into a further flame. "i'm capable of taking care of myself."
despite his denial, he doesn't move your hand away. in fact, he seems to press into it, a silent request for you to keep at your movements regardless of the tiny implosion happening within him.
"shh... just let me, babe. you need it," you firmly kissed at his temple then his cheek then a quick one on his lips. when you pulled away, a gentle, assuring smile spread over both of your lips. "that okay? one more?”
he lets out a soft breath at the string of kisses. the small, affectionate gestures leave him almost dizzy, chest tightening in a way that's entirely unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome. your smile and the soft tone of your voice make it impossible for him to deny you. "one more."
and your boyfriend doesn't even wait for you to move, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he captures your lips again.
with your hand repeatedly gently massaging his scalp, your lips tangled together in an innocent myriad of kisses none of you dared to pull away from except if it was needed for a short breath.
"one more," you exhaled before diving in yet again.
ushijima melts under your touch, a low, approving hum rumbling in his throat. fingers find their way to your hips, gripping them just a bit tighter as you kiss, his calloused palms from years of volleyball pressing firm against your skin.
just like all the times before, he follows you every time you pull away for a breath, eagerly seeking more. with his voice deep and ragged, he moans a soft “more”. came out seemingly as a request as much as it's a demand—a rare moment of him not masking his desire behind stoicism or indifference.
"alright, maybe that's enough."
a fit of giggles filled the entire living room as you locked your hands around his neck, staring deep into his eyes for a moment, taking in the image of him flushed and disheveled. one hand came up to thumb at his undereye, just above his cheek in a soft caress.
"you're sexy, you know that? i love everything about you.”
the soft tinge of blush on his cheeks betrays the usual stoicism in his expression. he looks uncharacteristically soft, almost vulnerable in this light. he wasn’t trained for this but still he let it happen. he just lets you happen.
"you're biased."
"i– what? of course, why wouldn't i be? you're my boyfriend, toshi." a huff of disbelief followed by laughter erupted in your throat. the other hand rested on his arm, cheekily squeezing at the muscles.
admittedly, he's not used to this kind of teasing, the way your fingers press into his hardened biceps like it's something to play with.
"that is not an objective assessment." he says flatly, but there’s no real bite behind it. if anything, he flexes just slightly under your grip as if proving a point or maybe just enjoying the attention. he is enjoying. “you say that too much."
"can't i just enjoy praising my lovely boyfriend?" you hummed, lifting his arm onto your shoulder to cage you under it before pressing a chaste kiss on his forearm til it reached further up the length of his arm all while your eyes trained on him for his reactions.
however, he wasn’t the best at attempting to keep a stoic expression; your words and your kisses have an effect on him. the more your lips brush over the sensitive skin of his arm, the more the flush on his cheeks deepens.
"you're too sweet to me."
there it is. the feigned indifference. but he can't deny the way his body leans into your touch, the slight shiver running down his arm.
"and you're too stubborn. didn't i tell you i'm here to take care of you?"
ushijima tenses instantly at the sharp sensation of your teeth along his bicep, a rough sound catching in his throat. to your dismay he shakes you off his arm softly.
"that is not what taking care is."
you had grown fond of how strained his voice gets when he’s mock-scolding you without reacting too obviously. "stop."
but he doesn’t push you away. rather, his free hand lifts slightly as if considering dragging you back toward him again. fair enough. he was right. you couldn't just claim to “take care” of him in your own terms.
"what does boyfie want then, hmm?”
he notices your subtle pout, but he doesn't give in. he has to stand his ground. even if your pout is annoyingly cute and definitely his weakness. his fingers digging into your hip like he's trying to distract himself from the way you're leaving kisses on his arm.*
"do you want the real answer or the answer you'll like?"
"i want to hear what you want. that's the answer i'll like."
for a moment, he studies your face, trying to gauge just how genuine you are. while he's not used to this kind of open vulnerability, this back and forth of intimacy and emotional exposure, he trusts you more than anyone else, so he lets his defenses down just a bit more.
your man huffs a long, slow breath through his nose before openly confessing something he longed for and it burned his throat for a minute once it left his lips.
“i want you to touch me."
his grip on you is still focused and he's still trying to maintain his composure, but the way his voice drops is a dead giveaway. he wants this.
your gaze softened at his softer plea. this was new. he never asked this kind of physical intimacy before and it was always because something kept him from doing so. maybe it was his something ingrained deep in him like self-restraint. either way, you wished he would allow himself to indulge in little pleasures like this.
"tell me how you want me to touch you, toshi." you murmured into his skin, on his knuckles as you brought them to your lips.
the rough pads of his knuckles flexed under your lips before he's quiet for a long moment. too used to keeping things internal, too trained in discipline.
but then he finally speaks, voice low and gruff. "your hands. on my back.”
he says it like a buried confession. like he’s admitting something embarrassing rather than just stating what feels good. his jaw clenches slightly at the thought of you teasing him about it.
"mm, alright. turn around for me?" you slowly got off his lap and onto the soft cushioning of the couch, sat on your haunches. following his every move, he shifted to face away from you, baring his back. "want me to take this off?"
a whisper as you felt the material of his shirt in between your delicate fingers, desperate to feel the entirety of his skin too. he hesitates for just a moment before nodding, shoulders tense as he complies with your request. obedient like the disciplined athlete he is. he lifts his arms just long enough for you to carefully pull the shirt off of him before lowering them again.
it was apparent that his back is a sight to behold—muscles rippling under taut, lightly tanned skin every time his shoulder blades twitch. you can see the faint shadows of his well-defined abs from the side, and the way his ribs expand as he exhales.
"you can touch now." he murmurs.
boom shakalaka yes gawd... "alright, tell me if it's uncomfortable, 'kay?"
you peered over his shoulder, palms gently pressing on the broad stretch before using your knuckles to skillfully knead at the tense muscles into which he lets out a sharp breath as his body stiffened for half a second.
"mhm, it's not uncomfortable, darling." his chest heaves in a steady rhythm as you work at the tension in his muscles. his shoulders slumped slightly as you dug in deeper with each knead of your fingers.
"harder."
"'kay," you breathed, head dipping down to plant kisses over his shoulders and planes of his back, firmly kneading harder all the way down to his waist. "feels good?”
his body shivers. actually shudders under your touch and the kisses trailing down his back. you can see goosebumps starting to appear on his skin as he lets out a low, rough exhale. normally, he's not the type to sound affected by anything, but right now he's struggling to bite back the quiet sounds of appreciation.
"yeah. good."
you smiled knowing he’s not even attempting to mask his reaction anymore. that he’s indirectly telling that you’re doing a good job at making him feel good, massaging every knotted muscle while simultaneously being overly affectionate with him. so pliant and soft. very different from his usual stoic persona overflowing with conviction.
teasingly, you slowly traced at the ripples of his back muscles, swallowing lightly as you touched them. bit and sucked at his left shoulder, an evident mark on his skin about to manifest the next day. the marks you're leaving are an undeniable claim, a stark contrast to the usual calm and composed image he usually presents to the outside world.
"you can do it harder." please, do it harder, he thought to himself.
"babe, this is as hard as i go, i'm gonna claw at you if i dig my nails any deeper," you muttered softly, continuing the array of hickies on his shoulders now trailing up his neck.
he flinches slightly as your lips find their way to his neck, tilting his head to give you better access like he's instinctively surrendering to your touch. it's almost endearing the way he doesn't protest or push you away, the way he lets you mark him up like he belongs to you—which he does, more than he'd ever say out loud.
another sharp inhale at your words and the sensation of your teeth on his skin. "bite me."
fuck. for one, you never pegged him as someone who would like any sort of pain inflicted upon him but this admission?
"are you sure?" you whispered into his searing hot skin.
"yes." then a quiet "i trust you."
it’s not just permission; it's surrender. the kind of blind trust that makes your chest ache with how much he relies on you to take care of him even when asking for something so reckless.
in an instant, you found yourself draping your arms over his shoulders from behind and gently kneading at his deltoids in the process. lips moulding over the curve of his neck, you softly bit at his skin, immediately running your tongue up to soothe the possible sting.
your boyfriend tenses in his seat then practically turns into melted butter under your touch, his entire body going pliant under the combination of your hands and lips. a rough sound escapes him as you follow the bite with a languid stroke of your tongue, his shoulders dropping like he's trying to physically press closer.
"again." ushijima’s voice is wrecked already, gravelly with something that isn’t just exhaustion. he found himself digging his fingers into the couch cushions beneath him like he’s anchoring himself there.
so much so that his breath hitched when your chest gently pressed on his back, resuming at leaving bites all over him, throwing in a few hickies that will surely be hard to cover up once they bloomed purple. then a couple ended up littering his biceps, the sweet taste of his skin smoothing over your tastebuds.
"you're gonna look so pretty after this, all marked up," you chuckled. usually it would be the other way around—him marking you up but you didn't mind claiming what's yours. heck, you would be lying if you said that you don’t secretly like the little sparks of controversies the media spews out when they broadcast his games on national television with your name and his on the headlines.
something in you swells with pride that you get to mark your name on the renowned ushijima wakatoshi of japan’s national team.
as if your words are just as stimulating as your hands and teeth on his skin, he shudders and moans. the idea of being marked up by you, visibly carving your claim is doing something to him that he can't explain, sending a jolt of something deep below his belt.
he tries to stifle back a grunt when you press close, his back now completely flush against your chest.
"don't stop." in a low, desperate command to which you easily complied.
and shit, maybe tonight was the time that he finally discovers he had a thing for feeling the drag of your teeth against him, just hard enough to break skin.
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
titsay
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
stormborns
