↳ it's rae from kiiraes this is just my fic rb / other x reader related stuffs blog don't mind me and go about your day ꈍᴗꈍ i'll be reblogging mainly haikyuu and mha ^_^
↳ i used to write fics n blurbs for hq and mha so if u wanna see here
OK YES I WILL BE REBLOGGING SMUT IDC IDC IM EMBARRASSED ALR PLS IGNORE ME 😊😊
your roommate has been running her mouth to her now ex-boyfriend that you were a nerdy little virgin, and after they broke up you let kuroo find out if she's telling the truth.
starring. kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader
genre: fluff, romance, smut, timeskip!kuroo
wc: 9.7k
warning: 18+ mdni., smut. nsfw. unprotected sex. cunnilingus. some themes of exhibitionism (?). cheating. mentions foursome. detailed smut. tit play. oral (f and m!receiving). face sitting. creampie. p in v. pwp (?). kuroo and reader matches each others freaks.
You live in a two-bedroom apartment tucked away in a quieter ward of Tokyo—not too far from the city’s rhythm, but just enough to give you a breather. It's modern, clean, and honestly more space than you need. You could’ve gone solo. The rent was well within your budget, a little indulgent even, but something about sharing the space felt… right. Whether it was a leftover instinct from dorm life or just the quiet knowledge that silence in too many rooms can get heavy over time—you weren’t entirely sure.
Eventually, through a casual coffee catch-up with an old college colleague, you were introduced to someone else who happened to be in the same position: apartment hunting, strapped for time, and looking for something stable. The arrangement was convenient. She seemed easygoing enough, worked long hours like you did, and respected shared space. No red flags, no awkward tension. You didn’t overthink it.
And for a while, everything just... worked. You had your routines—brushing past each other in the kitchen during rushed mornings, the occasional shared takeout dinner in front of the TV, the soft hum of separate lives running parallel. You didn’t hang out much, but you coexisted comfortably. That was enough.
What you hadn’t expected, though, was the shift that happened a few months in. The subtle kind. The kind you wouldn’t notice at first—until a stranger’s shoes started appearing by the door on the weekends, or the low murmur of laughter drifted from her bedroom late at night.
You didn’t care.
She could do whatever she wanted, and it wasn’t your business. When she first told you she was seeing someone—some guy named Kuroo, apparently—you offered nothing more than a nod. They’d been together for a few months, she said. “He might start staying over more. Was that okay?” You told her it was. You didn’t mind. Not really.
Even the nights when the walls failed to hold their secrets didn’t bother you. You’d hear it, sometimes. Soft giggles turning breathy. The rhythmic creak of her bedframe against the wall. The occasional slip of a moan that crawled down the hallway. But it was always distant. Easy enough to ignore. You’d just turn up the volume on your music or pretend your pillow muted everything. It didn’t affect you.
You rarely crossed paths with him.
Work kept you out late, and on most nights, you slipped into the apartment quietly, careful not to wake anyone even when you knew they were still awake. Sometimes you’d see him in passing—a flash of dark hair as he leaned over the sink, his hoodie thrown carelessly over one shoulder. His voice would drift from the other room, low and teasing. But he never really looked at you. Never acknowledged you. And that was fine. You had no interest in making small talk with your roommate’s boyfriend.
He must have thought she lived alone.
And maybe she wanted it that way.
Still, there was something oddly satisfying about the way he lingered in the living room sometimes, eyes drifting over the shelves that lined the far wall. The ones filled with manga spines, collector’s editions, limited-release box sets. Hand-built Lego models positioned with the care of a gallery. You’d catch the subtle pause in his voice when he spoke near them, the shift in his tone from casual to curious.
“This stuff’s cool,” he said once, running a hand along the edge of a display. “Didn’t know you were into Legos.”
You hadn’t been close enough to see her face, but you could hear the disdain wrapped around her reply.
“God, no,” she laughed, that practiced little snort she used when she wanted to sound above something. “That’s my roommate’s. She’s like, a total nerd. Obsessed with comics and kids’ toys and whatever. I let her keep it out here. It’s, like, her thing.”
You stood just out of sight in the hallway, expression unreadable, your bag still slung over your shoulder.
You didn’t say a word. Just turned toward your room, the door clicking shut behind you as her laughter faded into silence.
Let her laugh. Let her act like it was something to be embarrassed about.
Because the way his voice had caught before she answered? You didn’t miss that.
It was subtle—the kind of pause most people wouldn’t think twice about. But you weren’t most people. You caught that split-second hitch in his voice. Like he was expecting someone else to respond. Like he had a different name on his tongue before hers came out. And once you noticed that—everything else started to unravel.
After that, your roommate’s colors started bleeding through her carefully layered persona. The kind of girl you swore you left behind in high school. Pretty, mean, passive-aggressive. The type who needed to feel above someone just to breathe easy.
She liked to act casual, like it was all girl talk. Like she wasn’t trying to sink her claws into your insecurities.
“Kuroo was so good last night,” she would say, eyes glinting as she leaned against the counter, always loud enough for you to hear. “I swear, he knows my body better than I do. He had me pinned—biting, moaning, choking. I couldn’t stop shaking.”
She’d glance at you as she said it. Smirking. Cruel.
“I mean... not that you'd know what that’s like,” she added with a fake laugh, stirring her tea like she hadn’t just thrown acid at your self-worth. “He doesn’t go for girls like you.”
You smiled. Calm. Unbothered.
“You’re right,” you said sweetly. “And I’m not interested. That’s fine.”
But inside? You were laughing.
Because she had no idea.
You’d lived that wild, messy, electric kind of life she only pretended to understand. Back in college, you’d had your fair share of boyfriends—and girlfriends. Pretty ones, sweet ones, dangerous ones. The kind who got on their knees just to worship your thighs. Who sucked on your tits like they’d die without the taste. You’d been kissed against dorm walls, fucked in music rooms, devoured in the backseat of a car while your heels dug into fogged-up windows. You’d had people beg to taste you—tongue-deep until your legs shook, until your moans echoed down quiet hallways.
You’d been wild. Reckless. Insatiable. You’d even tried a threesome with a married couple once—just to see if you could make them both fall apart. You did. Twice.
But then you graduated. Got a job. Realigned your priorities. You weren’t that girl anymore—not all the time.
You hung up the stilettos and the lipstick-stained wine glasses. You traded morning-after texts for early meetings. Nights spent tangled in sheets became nights at your desk, fingers flying across a keyboard instead of someone else’s skin.
You retired from the chaos and focused on your career.
But that girl—the one she thought you couldn’t possibly be?
She still lived within you, and she was just waiting to come out and play.
You’d almost forgotten her until that morning. The one where she sat at the kitchen island with bed hair and a proud smile, sipping her coffee like it was just another Tuesday. She didn’t just talk about her night with Kuroo—she dissected it, glorified it, sprinkled it over your morning like sugar in your tea. Not that you asked, but she offered every lurid detail anyway, like you were the best friend she never had and the enemy she always needed. He was so big. He made her gag. She choked a little—laughed as if the memory alone still lingered at the back of her throat.
You didn’t flinch. Not then.
But it didn’t stop. It became a pattern. Whenever Kuroo stayed the night—his shoes by the door, his laugh echoing in the kitchen—she’d find a way to mention it. How her throat was sore. How she could still feel him. How she couldn’t walk straight. All of it tossed out with that lazy grin and self-satisfied tone. At first you told yourself it was just her way—crude, bold, a little drunk on the attention. But something in her voice changed. Something smug. Pointed.
And then came the men who weren’t Kuroo.
You saw one first by accident. You’d woken early for work and padded down the hallway, half-asleep and still rubbing your eyes, only to nearly crash into him outside the bathroom. He was tall, wearing nothing but boxers and looking for a jacket. He blinked at you like you were the one in the wrong hallway. He muttered a soft “morning,” then disappeared into her room.
You didn’t say a word.
But the worst—no, the most unforgettable—happened one humid night when sleep just wouldn’t come. You'd tossed in bed until frustration took over, deciding a warm glass of milk might help settle you down. The hallway was dark, the tiles cool beneath your feet. But the second you turned the corner toward the kitchen, your breath caught.
Her bedroom door was wide open.
You froze.
The sounds were unmistakable—flesh on flesh, low groans, the wet thud of skin colliding with skin. Heavy breathing, slurred moans, and the distinct slap of motion too fast to be just hands. The room reeked of alcohol and sweat. And you saw it all—every obscene detail lit by the dim glow of her desk lamp.
One man was behind her, rhythm sharp and relentless, his hands gripping her waist as she braced herself on shaking arms. Another lay beneath her, her knees braced on either side of him while he thrusted up into her from below, mouth latched to her breasts, tongue circling one nipple then the other like he couldn’t decide which to devour first. And a third—God—the third stood in front of her, hips pumping as she sucked him down, her mouth stretched wide around him, spit slicking her chin and dripping to her collarbone.
You watched as her whole body trembled under the force of it—three men, three directions, all taking turns. Her throat constricted as she took him deeper. Her back arched as the one underneath groaned into her chest. The man behind her pulled her hips back, harder, rougher. She whimpered. Moaned. Her nails scraped the sheets. And when the one in front finally shuddered and came, you saw the spill of it leak past her lips, trailing white down her chin as she let out a breathless laugh—uncaring, uninhibited, completely lost in pleasure.
None of them noticed you.
Not even when you stepped back and nearly knocked over the dish rack in your daze.
You almost laughed.
So much for good sex.
So much for Kuroo not going for girls like you.
You didn’t sleep that night.
The next morning, she confronted you in the hallway, freshly showered and still damp, eyes smug with victory. “You saw, didn’t you?”
You didn’t deny it. Just nodded once, softly.
And she beamed—fucking beamed. “I can take three cocks at once,” she said proudly. “Feels good, you know? Having every hole filled at the same time. It’s like—ecstasy. And they even took turns, babe. I lost count of how many times they came. My holes have been filled thrice as much.”
You stared at her, mouth dry, heartbeat unsteady. Her words were half confession, half performance.
And then, as if it were an afterthought, she added, “I wanted you to see it.”
Your brows furrowed. “What?”
“I left the door open on purpose. Thought it might loosen you up. But I figured you wouldn’t join anyway. Those guys probably aren’t into your type.”
You didn’t rise to it. Not yet. “How about Kuroo?”
That made her pause for a second. Just a flicker.
She shrugged. “The dick’s good. But he’s getting clingy. Talking about labels and exclusivity and all that serious shit. I don’t like that.”
Your stomach sank. “You told me it was serious.”
“It wasn’t. Until he thought it was.”
And just like that, she turned away, humming to herself as she made her coffee like she hadn’t just shattered something in the room. Something delicate. Something quiet and private and stupidly hopeful that you didn’t even realize you’d been holding on to.
You never judged her. God knows college has been a blur for you too. You’d partied, drank too much, made your own share of mistakes. But still—something about seeing her like that, twisted and shaking and laughing with a mouthful of someone else, had done something to you.
Maybe it was the betrayal. Maybe it was the performance. Maybe it was that deep, unspoken part of you that had started to care about Kuroo even if you didn’t want to admit it.
But what you never forgot—what stayed carved in your mind, looping over and over like a cruel joke—was the smirk she wore as she wiped cum off her chin and looked toward the door.
She knew.
And you’d never seen her look more pleased.
It was one of those rare, treasured off days—the kind where time stretched and slowed, unbothered by alarms or obligations. You padded out of your room with a fresh mug of coffee and a sealed box in hand: the latest Lego Architecture set you’d been dying to build. The living room was quiet, lit by soft daylight filtering through the sheer curtains, and for once, blissfully yours. Or so you thought.
You settled cross-legged on the rug, carefully opening the box and sorting the pieces into neat color-coded piles across the coffee table. The soft clink of plastic against plastic was meditative, your fingers already moving by muscle memory as you started on the foundation.
Then, the door creaked open.
You glanced up, expecting it to be your roommate stumbling in from a late-morning hangover—or another boy doing the walk of shame. But instead, it was him.
Kuroo Tetsuro.
Hair tousled in every direction, eyes half-lidded with sleep, and wearing nothing but a loose shirt and sweatpants slung far too low on his hips. He blinked at you like you were a hallucination.
“…Shit,” he muttered under his breath before stiffening like he’d been caught stealing.
You raised an eyebrow.
There was a beat of stunned silence before he scrubbed a hand down his face and cleared his throat. “You’re—wait, you're the roommate?” He pointed at you like he couldn’t quite believe it. “You’re her roommate?”
You looked back down at the half-built Lego set and calmly clicked a few pieces together. “Mmm. That’s what it says on the lease.”
Kuroo stared at you, then at the Lego box, then back at you. “Is that—oh my god, is that the Fallingwater set?” His voice pitched up slightly, boyish excitement suddenly blooming on his face.
You blinked, slightly surprised at the sudden shift. “Yeah. Limited edition, too.”
His eyes lit up in a way you hadn’t expected from someone who, until now, had only existed in your mind as a tangled mess of sex sounds and sneaky exits.
“I’ve wanted to build that one for months,” he said, stepping closer without even realizing it. “Frank Lloyd Wright is—God. His work is insane. That cantilever design? Pure genius.”
You stared at him for a second, momentarily caught off guard. “You’re into architecture?”
“I’m into Legos,” he corrected with a grin, dropping down to sit a few feet away from you on the floor. “Architecture’s just the gateway drug.”
The way he said it was so earnest, so casually nerdy, that you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. He didn’t seem to notice he was still inching closer, eyes darting across your sorting piles with the practiced gaze of someone who had done this a hundred times before. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for a piece, to help build.
“You’re not usually home,” he added after a second. “She always says you’re working.”
“I usually am,” you replied, not bothering to hide the slight edge in your tone. “Today’s the exception.”
Kuroo paused, then gave you a sheepish look. “Well, I feel kind of dumb. I’ve been talking to your Lego collection like it was hers.”
You glanced at him, amusement tugging at your lips. “So you do talk to the Lego sets.”
“Only the ones that deserve respect,” he shot back easily, gesturing toward your build. “That one? Deserves a round of applause.”
There was a pause—just long enough to realize how quiet the apartment was with only the two of you in it. Just long enough for the tension to crackle faintly in the air, unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
For the first time, you were seeing him as something more than your roommate’s cocky lay. He was still smug. Still smug and way too attractive for his own good—but there was a softness there too, the kind that clung to people who used their brains for more than ego. A surprising amount of dork nestled beneath the devil-may-care smirk. You didn’t know what to do with that just yet.
Still, you couldn’t resist the tease.
“You can help sort, if you wash your hands,” you said, tilting your head.
Kuroo gave you a mock gasp. “You think I’d touch a limited edition set with dirty hands? I’m offended.”
You laughed under your breath as he stood up and headed to the sink, and as the sound of running water filled the space, you glanced back down at the instructions in front of you.
It seemed like, for once, today might actually be interesting.
And maybe—just maybe—so was he.
Eventually, you and Kuroo became close, as he sometimes helped you with your builds if you were free and he happened to be in the apartment.
It was just an innocent hangout since you two shared an interest—nerding out over collectors' sets, comparing mini-figures, debating Marvel versus DC, and even spending quiet evenings building modular LEGO cities in comfortable silence. It was never anything more than shared company, quiet companionship, and a love for plastic bricks and fantasy worlds.
But apparently, that probably hit a nerve with your roommate.
Because a few days later, you came home from work and stepped into the middle of a storm brewing in the living room.
“You always hang out with her now,” your roommate spat, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Why?”
You froze, one foot just inside the doorway, the other still outside. You blinked at the tension in the air—at the way Kuroo stood across from her, jaw tight, like he hadn’t expected this either.
“She’s cool,” Kuroo said simply, voice calm but edged in confusion. “We like the same stuff. That’s all it is.”
“That’s all it is,” your roommate echoed mockingly, rolling her eyes. “So what, you're into nerds now? You think you're gonna build a little LEGO love story with her?”
Kuroo frowned. “It’s not like that.”
She scoffed, arms flying up in the air. “Bullshit. You’re getting soft. And since we’re airing things out—guess what, Kuroo? I’ve been fucking other people the entire time. Not just one or two.”
You watched from the hallway as she stepped closer, lips curling into a smirk. Like this wasn’t a confession—it was a flex.
“Three guys,” she said, slowly, as if daring him to react. “At the same time. And I liked it.”
She said it proudly. Like there was no shame, no remorse, no thought to how it might hit him.
And it did hit him.
You saw it in the subtle shift of his stance, the way his shoulders pulled back and his jaw clenched. He didn’t yell. He didn’t crumble. But you saw the exact moment it clicked—that he wasn’t just some convenient hookup to her, but completely disposable.
“You’re serious?” he asked, slowly.
She shrugged, unapologetic. “Dead serious. And I don’t get why you’re acting like we were exclusive. I never promised you anything.”
He inhaled sharply through his nose, glancing away like he was trying to keep his temper level. “I just thought we respected each other. I thought you gave a shit. And I thought you and your roommate were friends. That’s why I even talked to her in the first place.”
The room fell uncomfortably silent after that. You felt a sting deep in your chest—for him.
You knew Kuroo wasn’t the type to get attached easily. But he had cared. He wouldn’t have lingered around your coffee table for hours helping you alphabetize your manga, or asked you what your dream Star Wars set was, if he was just killing time between fucks.
And now, he looked like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him.
You didn’t want him to see your face, the way your brows pulled together or how your heart ached with sympathy for him. So, quietly, you backed away from the hallway and slipped into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you before the fight could escalate further.
You didn’t want to hear any more of it—not the insults, not the ego, not the unraveling of something he’d believed was real.
All you could do was sit on your bed, palms pressed to your thighs, and let yourself hurt in silence—for the boy who never deserved to be treated like a backup plan.
After that argument, you never saw much of Kuroo again. You hadn’t asked for his number or any of his socials, and he never asked for yours either. Maybe it was intentional—maybe it wasn’t—but either way, you chalked it up to a chapter that closed before it could fully begin. It was easier that way, wasn’t it? Your roommate moved on fast. So fast that the same night you’d heard her moaning another boy’s name through the thin apartment walls while you buried yourself under a pillow and turned the volume of your anime up louder than usual. You weren’t sure if it was pity or residual anger that lingered in your chest, but either way, you avoided bringing it up.
A few months passed. Your job had picked up pace, and while your calendar was often cluttered with deadlines, you managed to put away enough money to indulge yourself a little. Which is why you didn’t even flinch at the entrance fee for the local comic and toy convention—hell, you even treated yourself to priority access, determined to beat the crowd before anyone could swipe that rare LEGO Star Wars Ultimate Collector Series set you’d been eyeing online for weeks. You weren’t sure if it would even be there, but the hope was enough. And if not, there were always manga volumes to haul home, limited prints, and maybe another blind box you didn’t need but would justify with weak logic about resale value.
The place was buzzing with life. Cosplayers brushed past you in elaborate wigs and armor; booths were stacked high with colorful displays; the air smelled like plastic wrap, buttered popcorn, and overpriced takoyaki. Your bag was already a little heavier than it should’ve been—three volumes of a manga you hadn’t even started and two keychains you didn’t need clinked together at your side—but your heart was light. It was a good day. You were in your element. You were happy to be spending money that you earned doing something you didn’t hate. That in itself felt like a win.
You were crouched in front of a display, squinting to read the fine print on the LEGO box tucked in the farthest shelf corner—your prize almost within reach—when a familiar voice slid in from behind you, smooth as ever, but touched with disbelief.
You turned. And just like that, the convention disappeared for a second.
Kuroo stood a few feet away, noticeably overdressed for the venue. His dark button-up was tucked neatly into charcoal slacks, the lanyard from the Japan Volleyball Association still clipped to his belt, a blazer slung casually over one arm. His hair was a little more tamed than the last time you saw him, like he’d just stepped out of a boardroom instead of a crowd full of anime fans and collectors. And yet, his expression—wide-eyed and visibly caught off-guard—was anything but polished.
“…Tetsu?”
He grinned then, that same crooked smile that used to flash your way over unfinished LEGO builds in your living room, the kind that warmed something unguarded in your chest.
“I thought that was you. I’d recognize that laser-focus over a brick set anywhere,” he teased, stepping closer. “You stalking LEGO aisles now?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” you said, glancing pointedly at his outfit. “Did you just come from a funeral or are you here to do tax audits on people’s purchases?”
He laughed, the sound genuine. “Meeting at the JVA ran long. I was supposed to head straight home after, but I saw the convention signs on my way out and figured I’d pop in. Nostalgia, you know? Didn’t think I’d run into anyone I knew… especially not you.”
Your smile faltered only slightly, the past nudging its way in. “Yeah… I didn’t think I’d see you again either.”
For a second, neither of you said anything. The noise of the convention carried on—someone shouted about free pins at booth twelve, another person squealed over a celebrity sighting—but in that moment, it was just the two of you, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of a LEGO display that felt like a full circle too ironic to ignore.
“I didn’t get to say sorry,” Kuroo said quietly, his voice softer now, lower. “Back then. I should’ve reached out. But I didn’t even know how.”
“It’s okay,” you said, and maybe you meant it. Maybe part of you still felt the sting of that goodbye-that-wasn’t, but seeing him again like this, in the middle of a day you thought would be just another solo outing, made the ache feel a little more bearable. “You don’t owe me anything.”
His eyes searched yours for a long moment, as if trying to read between the lines. And then, with a small smile, he gestured toward the shelf. “So… you finally get it? That LEGO set you’ve been after?”
“Almost. Some guy just bought one before me. I’ve been debating if I should just fight him for it or cry in the corner.”
Kuroo smirked, like it was 3AM again and you were bickering over missing pieces. “I’ll help you strategize. Worst-case scenario, we distract him with a full-blown scene in the Gundam section.”
You laughed, and just like that, the heaviness began to lift. Maybe the past didn’t need to be reopened in full detail. Maybe there was something worth picking up from here instead—on neutral ground, between plastic bricks and overpriced manga—and maybe this time, neither of you would let it slip so easily.
You eventually started spending more time at Kuroo’s apartment—not because it was necessarily more convenient, but because the idea of inviting him over to yours felt layered with complications you weren’t ready to unpack. Your roommate still lived there, and after everything that had transpired—the awkward tension, the quiet spite, the ghost of her moaning someone else’s name just hours after things ended with Kuroo—it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel neutral. And you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking she had any space in whatever it was that you and Kuroo were slowly building now.
He never asked questions. Just unlocked the door, let you in, and cleared space on his coffee table for your snacks and whatever LEGO set he’d been tinkering with that week. It became your quiet ritual. He’d handle the bulk of the instruction booklet while you sorted pieces by color or shape, occasionally bickering about which build deserved priority. You laughed more often than you had in weeks. Kuroo, for all his smug quips and relentless teasing, had a calming presence when he was relaxed like this—lounging in sweats, hair pulled back haphazardly, glasses perched on his nose, and a cup of instant coffee steaming between you.
It was during one of these hangouts—somewhere between building a replica of the Millennium Falcon and reorganizing his manga shelf—that he really started noticing the little things about you.
You wore glasses at his place. Not the contact lenses or styled versions of yourself that the world got to see, but the comfort version—the one with oversized hoodies, your hair tied up, and those thick-rimmed frames slipping down the bridge of your nose every few minutes. You’d wrinkle your nose every time they slid too far, push them back up with a finger, then hunch further into the build like you were preparing for battle. It was absurdly endearing.
Kuroo found himself watching you more than he watched the pieces. The way your brow furrowed in focus, the way your voice softened when you talked about your favorite arcs, how your hands hovered when he got too reckless snapping bricks together.
And the more time he spent with you, the harder it was not to remember all the things your ex-roommate used to say about you.
He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. She’d speak in offhand remarks—half-laughed criticisms and quiet jabs that he hadn’t really questioned. Stuff like, “She’s sweet, but kind of childish, don’t you think?” or “Her room’s full of toys and junk, I don’t know how she lives like that.” It sounded harmless then. Maybe even normal, like the kind of light annoyance roommates always had about each other.
But now, sitting across from you while you earnestly explained the rarity of a certain manga edition you were planning to hunt down next weekend, he realized how misplaced those comments really were.
Your roommate hadn’t been annoyed. She had been dismissive. Cruel, in subtle ways that made him feel gross now that he understood the full picture. Because if this was you—brilliant, expressive, unapologetically passionate—you weren’t someone to mock. You were someone worth watching. Worth listening to. Worth knowing.
Kuroo was starting to think he’d like to know you even better.
And he did.
The more time you spent at his place, the more the line between casual hangouts and something softer, something more intentional, began to blur. It wasn’t sudden—nothing about it was rushed or dramatic—but rather a quiet shift, the kind that unfolds slowly when two people realize they enjoy each other’s company more than they probably should.
It started with the little things.
He began walking you home instead of just waving from the doorway. He'd pick up your favorite snacks without needing to ask. Once, he texted you in the middle of the workday just to share a photo of a new LEGO architecture set he spotted in a store near the JVA office—“Made me think of you,” he’d said.
Then came the first not-quite-date, when he asked if you wanted to grab ramen after a long build session. It wasn’t phrased romantically, but when he held the door open for you with a lopsided grin and a low, “Dinner’s on me,” it lingered like a promise.
After that, it became a quiet pattern—late-night meals, museum dates disguised as “research” for future builds, bookstore strolls where he let you drag him into the manga aisle even though he always ended up walking out with more volumes than you did.
One evening, he surprised you with a black box tied in yellow ribbon, smugly handing it over like he was presenting you with a Nobel prize.
You opened it to find a bouquet of LEGO flowers—intricate, colorful, and painstakingly detailed.
“I figured they wouldn’t die on you,” he said with a small shrug, but his ears flushed red, betraying just how much the gift actually meant.
You smiled so brightly it made his chest ache.
Later that night, you sat side by side on his floor, building each stem and petal piece by piece. Your fingers brushed occasionally, and each time it happened, he didn’t pull away. Neither did you.
And when you were finally finished, the vase of plastic blooms sat proudly by his kitchen window, catching the light like real blossoms might. It stayed there—quiet, permanent, and real in its own way. Just like the two of you were starting to become.
More sets of LEGO flowers bloomed forever in the corner of Kuroo's bookshelf, perched beside a manga box set he'd later surprise you with. Then another. Then a collector's figurine. A special-edition Blu-ray. It became a habit for him—dropping by a shop after work, carrying something that made him think of you. Something you’d gush over while adjusting your glasses or scrunching your nose in delight. Kuroo loved how animated your voice became when you explained the significance of a certain volume or lore from a world he only half-understood but always listened to anyway.
He loved the way your eyes sparkled when you carefully peeled away the plastic wrap, reverent in a way that almost made him jealous of the object in your hands.
“Tetsu, I told you to stop giving me gifts randomly.” you scolded him after he just handed you a new set of Lego figures.
Kuroo shrugs his shoulders and gives you a sheepish smile, “I like giving you gifts just because, okay?”
That went on and on—nights tangled in LEGO instructions and accidental laughs, meals shared over manga discussion, and growing routines that never needed to be spoken aloud. Eventually, he started asking you on actual dates. A quick dinner after helping him with his laundry. A detour to the park after a weekend spent sorting model kits. You never had to ask if it was a date—he made it clear every time he paid, every time he walked you home, every time his fingers lingered at the small of your back.
Then one night, he took you somewhere just a little fancier.
A cozy, tucked-away place with dim lighting and soft music humming underneath clinking silverware. You wore something nice—not over the top, but enough to make Kuroo smile the moment he saw you. He was dressed in a dark button-down shirt, sleeves casually rolled, a silver watch peeking from his wrist. Formal enough to make your heart thump a little harder when he pulled out your chair for you.
You talked—about work, a new LEGO release, some anime remake coming out soon, and halfway through dessert, it slipped out.
“So…what are we?” he asked, fingers absently running along the rim of his wine glass.
You paused, lips parting—but he beat you to it.
“I mean, I already know what I want us to be,” he added, voice quieter, more certain. “I’d just like to know if you feel the same.”
Your heart skipped. You didn’t answer with words—not right away. Instead, your hand slid over his on the table, your thumb brushing his wrist like it had always belonged there. Kuroo’s smile widened, soft and crooked.
That night, after he drove you home, it was meant to end the same way it usually did—warm, unspoken affection lingering in the air, a kiss on the cheek, a casual “see you soon” exchanged in the quiet of the night. Kuroo leaned in like always, one hand still gripping the steering wheel out of habit, his lips brushing against your cheek.
But this time, you didn’t let it end there.
"Stay," you said—softly but with no room for refusal—as your hand curled around the lapel of his coat and tugged him through the door. The click of the lock behind you echoed in the quiet, both of you breathing just a little heavier now.
His brow lifted, slightly amused, but when you reached for him—when you pressed your lips to his without hesitation—Kuroo dropped all pretense. He kissed you back just as fiercely, meeting the pull of your mouth with a hunger that had simmered under the surface for far too long.
You wrapped your arms around his neck as if anchoring yourself there, while his large hands settled on your waist, grounding you. The soft press of your bodies swaying closer felt like gravity had chosen this moment to pull tighter.
His mouth moved down—along the curve of your jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. When his lips found your neck, hot and deliberate, you tilted your head back and let out a breathy moan that made something flicker in his chest and spark in his eyes.
"God, you have no idea what you do to me," he murmured into your skin, voice low and gravel-thick with restraint. His hands were already wandering—sweeping over the curve of your waist, tracing the line of your ribs, bunching the fabric of your top like he couldn't decide whether to peel it off slowly or just tear through it and devour you whole.
Then, in one fluid motion, he hooked his arms under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly. You gasped, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried you through the apartment like he already knew every step of the way. He nudged open the door to your bedroom with his foot and kicked it closed behind him with a soft thud.
“Are you sure about this, darling?” he asked, lips ghosting over your throat, warm breath teasing your skin. His voice was careful, velvet-wrapped concern undercut by the tension thrumming just beneath it.
“Yes,” you whispered without a second thought—breathy, aching, already burning. “Kuroo, yes.”
That was all he needed.
He set you down on the edge of the bed, fingers already working the hem of your top. He tugged it over your head, eyes darkening as more of your skin was revealed to him. “Fuck,” he breathed out, like seeing you undone just for him knocked the wind from his lungs. “You’re unreal.”
You helped him out of his shirt next, palms gliding across his toned chest as if you needed to commit every line, every scar, every warm plane of skin to memory. His pants were next, discarded somewhere along with yours, clothes tossed carelessly onto the floor as your mouths met again in a kiss that was less polite now—more heat than hesitation, more teeth, more tongue, more everything.
When he finally laid you down on the mattress and hovered above you, bare and wanting, the look in his eyes wasn't just lust. It was reverence.
“You're so fucking beautiful,” he said, almost like he was scolding himself for taking this long. “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this—about you.”
And then he kissed you again, slower this time, as his hand drifted between your legs—testing the waters, coaxing more of those breathy moans he was already addicted to.
“Gonna take my time with you,” he growled, “because after tonight, I’m not going anywhere.”
His voice was thick—low and rough with promise—as his mouth descended onto your chest. Kuroo's lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue swirling slow, lazy circles before he sucked hard enough to make your back arch. His free hand slid between your thighs, fingers parting your folds before his thumb found your clit with practiced ease, rubbing gentle, teasing circles that made your hips twitch.
“Tetsu,” you whimpered, threading your fingers through his dark, unruly hair, tugging just enough to draw a low moan from him.
Kuroo glanced up, eyes half-lidded but gleaming. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice vibrating against your skin. “Keep saying my name like that.”
You gasped as his fingers pressed in deeper, sliding along your slick heat, fingertips curling just right—just enough to make your thighs tremble and your breath catch.
He sucked on your other breast, taking his time, leaving red blooms along your skin like a trail he’d follow again later. The slow, wet sounds of his mouth on your tits mixed with the obscene slick of his fingers fucking you open, setting your nerves alight.
“Tetsu—fuck, I can’t—” you choked out, hips stuttering beneath his touch.
“Yes, you can,” Kuroo whispered, lips ghosting over your nipple before he kissed the swell of your breast. “You’re doing so good for me.”
He pulled back just slightly, lifting his head to watch you unravel for him—your body flushed, eyes glassy, chest heaving with every broken breath.
“Taste yourself, baby,” he said, bringing his glistening fingers up to your lips. You parted them instantly, moaning as he pushed them past your tongue. His groan was almost feral. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
When he kissed you again, it was rougher—needier. He cradled your head in his hand, the other already stroking his cock as he lined himself up at your entrance.
“Tell me you want this,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours, voice trembling with restraint. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you, Tetsu,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “All of you. I’m yours.”
Kuroo didn’t hesitate. With a low groan, he pushed inside—slow and deep, stretching you open inch by inch until he bottomed out.
“Fuck,” he cursed, jaw clenching. “You feel… fuck, you feel like heaven.”
And when he started to move—thrusting slow, deliberate, grinding deep—you knew you’d never want anyone else. Not when Kuroo made you feel like this.
Each stroke was intentional, like he was mapping your body with every inch of his. One hand anchored beneath your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft underside, while the other stayed between your bodies, lazily circling your clit in time with the slow grind of his hips. The sounds he drew from you were loud, raw, almost embarrassing if they weren’t so fucking honest. You didn’t care. Not when Kuroo was whispering filth in your ear, kissing along your neck like he was claiming you with every mark.
“You feel that?” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. “That’s me. That’s all me, baby.”
When your back arched and your nails raked down his spine, Kuroo groaned—low and guttural, like the sight of you unraveling under him was too much to handle.
To say the least, Kuroo was obsessed with you in bed. He didn't expect someone so quiet, so soft-spoken and unbothered with drama, to be this wild and insatiable behind closed doors. Sometimes his stamina was off the charts—athlete-built and fueled by ego—but even he could admit: fuck, he couldn’t always keep up with you.
It drove him crazy in the best way.
You were demanding in all the right places. Greedy with your kisses, shameless when you rode him like you needed him deeper than physically possible, and vocal when you came, screaming his name like a prayer and a curse. Every time he thought he had you figured out, you flipped the script.
Kuroo used to think he was the one with the upper hand. He wasn't.
Your roommate—back when she and Kuroo were still trying whatever you’d call that—once mentioned you in passing. They were cuddling on your couch, legs tangled up in each other, when she scoffed and said, “She’s probably a virgin. You’ve seen her room, right? It’s full of Legos and manga. All that nerd shit? She’s definitely never been touched.”
He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, just hummed and nodded, though something about the certainty in her tone stuck with him.
Months later, when things with your roommate fizzled and Kuroo found himself in your bed, tangled in your sheets and catching his breath after your second round, he brought it up.
“She said you were probably a virgin,” he told you, laughing, head resting on your stomach.
You had chuckled, brushing your fingers through his messy hair.
“Yeah?” you replied, eyes gleaming. “Tell that to the guys I had in college. I practically broke one of them.”
You weren’t lying.
You proved it to him that same night. Straddling his face with that lazy smile and those goddamn glasses sliding down your nose. You rode him like you’d been waiting to prove a point and holy hell, Kuroo swore he saw the light. You had him pinned, hips grinding, thighs squeezing around his head like a vice, and he welcomed it. Happily. Drowning in your slick, drunk on your moans, Kuroo didn’t even care if he suffocated in your thighs that night.
He’d die a happy man.
You were so hot like that—uninhibited, filthy, hungry for him. And god, you looked so damn good when you sucked him off still wearing your glasses. Hair all messy from his fingers, mouth slick and eyes daring him to look away. He couldn’t. Not when your tongue ran along his shaft like you were savoring every inch. Not when you moaned around him like he was your favorite flavor.
“Fuck, baby,” Kuroo had groaned, head tilted back. “You’re gonna kill me.”
And you? You just smirked.
“I’ll make it worth your while.” He didn’t doubt it.
Kuroo had been ruined for anyone else after that.
The moment you rode him in his home office, shirt half-unbuttoned, your hands gripping the back of his chair, hair falling into your eyes and mouth hanging open when you moaned his name—Tetsurou—like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.
He never wanted to let you go anymore.
If he could marry you right then and there—naked, sweaty, your panties dangling from his desk lamp—he would’ve gotten down on one knee without a ring. Just a promise. Just you and him.
But you deserved something better. Probably something by the ocean. A quiet, golden beach proposal with the sound of waves behind you and a little velvet box tucked behind one of his science joke t-shirts. Yeah. That’d be perfect. He’d plan that out eventually.
Still, your little dates didn’t slow down.
Lego-building marathons in his living room, your legs tangled across his lap as you bickered about which minifig was better. Cuddles during movie nights where you wore his college volleyball hoodie and snuck popcorn from his bowl. Quiet mornings when you stayed over, sipping coffee and flipping through manga in nothing but your panties and his button-down shirt.
You called it simple. He called it everything.
Kuroo kept giving you things. His love language wasn’t subtle.
Whenever you were at your apartment, a box would show up. Your favorite snacks. A collector’s edition manga you mentioned only once. That limited-edition Ninjago set you joked about. Sometimes he even had them delivered while you were out—just so he could text,
"Check your doorstep, sweetheart."
And when you opened the door, it was there. Sometimes with a post-it that read, "Build this with me tonight?"
And you always did. The second you stepped inside his apartment—his real home, now that you’d practically claimed it with your spare toothbrush and the fluffy slippers he bought for you—there’d be a new set waiting on the table. Or a volume laid neatly beside your favorite spot on the couch.
You would groan playfully, “Tetsu, this is too much…”
But your eyes always sparkled. And that was all he ever needed to see.
Kuroo wasn’t a man of restraint when it came to spoiling you. He liked seeing your expression when you tore the wrapping off. He liiked hearing your happy little gasps. And he especially liked the way you thanked him—sweet kisses at first, and then crawling into his lap and grinding down until his hands gripped your thighs, his voice rasping near your ear.
"Fuck, sweetheart. Is this how you're gonna thank me every time I buy you something?"
You always gave him cuddles… or him fucking you in return.
Neither of you would have it any other way.
Most of your dates happened right there in his apartment. It was your little world. The walls full of bookshelves, scattered Lego creations proudly displayed beside framed photos of his team. Your favorite blanket always draped over his couch, because he swore it smelled like you. You’d both start watching something—some superhero rewatch, some obscure Netflix docuseries—and end up tangled on the couch, kisses turning sloppy, laughter breaking into gasps as he dragged you under him.
It was always his apartment. His couch. His bed. His office. You bent over his desk, your nails scratching at the surface as he fucked you from behind. Or on his kitchen counter, panties pushed aside as he held your thighs apart and groaned against your neck.
"You’re fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart," he’d whisper against your skin. "Can’t believe you’re mine."
And you—smirking, breathless, always ready to drive him wild—would moan out, “I’m all yours, darling.”
That was the thing about you two. No matter where, no matter what—it was always just the two of you. A little domestic chaos, a little nerdy fun, and a whole lot of love.
Kuroo Tetsuro was ruined for anyone else.
And truthfully, he liked it that way.
He liked waking up in his apartment with your leg tangled with his. He liked how your shampoo clung to his pillows and how your glasses sat on his kitchen island beside your empty mug. He liked carrying you to bed when you fell asleep on the couch with a LEGO brick half-built in your hand. He liked that you left things behind—your books, your socks, your presence.
Kuroo Tetsuro had turned his apartment into a second home for you, and he didn’t even realize it until one afternoon when you opened a drawer in his bathroom and found your toothbrush, your hair ties, and your lip balm already waiting. It felt easy with him—domestic. Warm. Comfortable. Real.
But last night, he needed more than domestic.
He’d just come back from a grueling business trip—seven days without you. Seven days of restless sleep, ignored hotel breakfasts, and staring at unread messages while stuck in JVA meetings that ran longer than necessary.
And the second he saw your text, “Door’s open. I’m still up.”
He didn’t go home.
He went to your apartment instead. And the second he walked in and saw you in your oversized sleep shirt and those thick-rimmed glasses you forgot you were wearing—his restraint snapped.
He took you right there in your bedroom.
On the bed. Then again on the floor. And once more with your thighs trembling on the edge of your desk as his name broke from your throat in loud, obscene cries you couldn’t muffle even if you tried.
Kuroo always had a thing for your glasses. Something about the way you looked up at him while you were on your knees, eyes blown out, lips stretched around him, lenses fogging up while you sucked him deep like you missed the taste of him as much as he missed the heat of your body. And he always loved how you let him fuck you in them—wanted it even—telling him how dirty it made you feel when his cum splattered your lenses or dripped down your chin as he kissed you hungrily after.
And last night?
He made you wear them the entire time. Told you he’d missed seeing your pretty face get ruined while they were still on.
So yeah, Kuroo made good on every lost second from that trip. Filled you so many times you couldn’t remember if your name or his was the last thing you said before passing out. Your inner thighs ached. Your sheets were still crumpled with drying stains. And you still felt the wet, pulsing mess between your legs as you stood in the kitchen making breakfast the next morning, robe half-open, neck blooming with hickeys.
He had left early for another JVA morning call—but not before kissing your forehead and stuffing you full one last time in the shower.
But of course—unfortunately for you—your roommate had heard everything.
At first, she brushed it off. You weren’t exactly loud usually, and she assumed you were probably a virgin or celibate by choice. But when she heard your voice—unfiltered, breathless, begging—moaning “Tetsu!” like a prayer answered through gritted teeth and slick skin, it made her stomach churn.
And it was the final straw when his voice echoed in return.
Moaning your name.
Groaning about how tight you were. How much he missed your pussy. How pretty you looked taking every drop.
It made her snap.
So when you entered the living room that morning, holding your travel mug and your bag slung over your shoulder, she was already there—arms crossed, face sour, passive-aggressive aura bleeding into the walls.
“How long has that been going on?” she asked without looking at you.
You didn’t pretend to misunderstand. You just sipped your coffee.
“Define that.”
Her nostrils flared. “Don’t play dumb.”
You leaned against the counter, hair still wet from the shower, smirking slightly.
“If you mean Tetsuro—last night was just making up for lost time,” you said airily. “He missed me. So did my thighs, apparently.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Funny. That’s not what you said when you told me all about your foursome while dating him,” you replied, tilting your head. “One behind, one underneath, and one shoving it down your throat, right? You left the bedroom door open just so I’d see. Said you were trying to prove a point. What point was that again?”
Her mouth opened, then closed. Scoffed. “That doesn’t mean you get to snake away my ex.”
Your grin widened—sharp, knowing.
“Sweetheart, you cheated on him constantly. I just didn’t say anything because, frankly, it wasn’t my relationship to mourn.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s probably just using you to get back at me. You really think Kuroo Tetsuro would go for you? You said it yourself—he’s a career man. And you—well, look at you.”
You took another sip from your mug. Unbothered. Your petty meter had barely lifted.
“You told me he wouldn’t fuck someone who wore glasses. Now he asks me to keep them on. Funny how things change.”
She scoffed again, louder this time. “You’re seriously going to act like I wasn’t the best sex he ever had?”
“I don’t have to act. I know he’d disagree,” you replied, voice sugar-sweet. “Besides, we were just friends at first. You remember that, don’t you? He liked my LEGO builds. We bonded over manga. I still have the first limited edition he gifted me. First of many.”
“I knew something was up when he started hanging out with you more. You’re not even his type.”
“He said I’m exactly his type,” you said softly. “Smart. Funny. Loyal. And, apparently, really good at taking his cock.”
That was the one that hit.
Her eyes narrowed. “Just because you finally lost your virginity doesn’t mean you’re special.”
You laughed, really laughed, and set your mug down.
“Oh, sweetie. I’ve had a wild sex life in college. I just toned it down to focus on work. Tetsu just brought it back out. And then some. He fucks me in every corner of his apartment. Did he ever do that with you? Kitchen table? Floor? Balcony during rush hour?”
She didn’t answer.
“Didn’t think so,” you murmured.
“You’re lying.”
You stepped forward and whispered like it was a secret.
“He came in me three times last night,” you said casually. “Told me he missed seeing it drip out. Even helped push it back in.”
Her face twisted.
You raised your brows. “But if you want, I can play you the voice memo he sent me last month. He had his cock in his hand and couldn’t stop moaning my name. It’s really quite romantic.”
“Bitch.”
You tilted your head. “Always have been. Just quieter about it.”
She let out an angry shriek before stomping back to her room and slamming the door hard enough to rattle the coat hooks.
You took another sip from your mug and hummed under your breath.
Toned down? Maybe. But this?
This was your victory lap.
And you hadn’t even told her yet about the time Kuroo made you cum just from sucking on your tits while you rode his thigh—glasses on, mouth wet, his hand around your throat as he whispered that he wanted to keep you forever.
the locker room’s mostly empty, showers still running in the distance, but kageyama doesn’t care. he’s on you the second you step inside, all sweat-slick skin and trembling hands.
“can’t—fuck, i can’t wait anymore,” he pants, pressing you against the lockers hard enough they rattle. his eyes are wide, frantic, pupils blown.
“tobio—someone could walk in,” you whisper, even as your arms wind around his damp shoulders.
“don’t care,” he groans, grinding against you, cock already straining against his shorts. “need you right now. please.”
his desperation makes your stomach flip. you tug his head down, kissing him hard, letting him swallow your moan when his fingers shove clumsily past your waistband.
“shit—so wet already,” he mutters, breath hot against your lips, pumping two fingers into you fast, sloppy, like he’s racing against time.
you gasp, clutching at his shoulders. “you’re the one dripping sweat all over me. you’re a mess, tobio.”
he groans at your words, forehead pressing to yours. “yeah, messy for you. fuck, i can’t stop shaking.”
his other hand fumbles his shorts down, cock slapping against your thigh, flushed and leaking. he lines up without warning, pushing inside in one rough thrust that has you gasping loud enough to echo.
“t-too much—fuck,” you whimper, nails digging into his back.
“sorry—i’ll slow—” he lies, because his hips are already snapping forward, hard, shallow thrusts that send your body jolting against the lockers. “you’re so tight, i can’t—ahh, feels too good.”
each slap of his hips is wet, filthy, your arousal already smeared down your thighs. he buries his face in your neck, moaning loud, unrestrained.
“tobio, someone’s gonna hear us,” you gasp, though your legs hook tighter around his waist.
“let them,” he groans, fucking into you faster. “i want them to know you’re mine.”
you bite down on his ear, making him shudder. “you’re desperate. what if the team sees you like this? all needy and pathetic just to cum inside me?”
he whines—actually whines—hips stuttering. “don’t say that—fuck, i’ll lose it. please, let me—lemme cum in you.”
he’s relentless, sweat dripping from his temple onto your chest, your back slamming against the lockers with every thrust. when his fingers find your clit, rubbing messy circles, you cry out, shaking.
“tobio, i’m—fuck, i’m close—”
“cum for me. please, please cum with me. i need it—need to feel you squeeze me,” he babbles, voice breaking.
your orgasm rips through you, clenching tight around him, and he loses it, hips jerking erratically.
“oh fuck—i’m cumming—inside, inside, can’t hold it—” he moans, spilling deep, cock twitching hard as hot spurts fill you. he doesn’t stop, though, still thrusting shallowly, like he’s trying to fuck it deeper.
you whimper, overstimulated. “tobio—s’too much.”
he groans against your throat, still grinding into you, cum dripping down your thighs. “can’t stop—need to see it leaking out. wanna fuck you till it’s overflowing.”
“fuck, you’re insane,” you pant, shivering at every sloppy thrust.
he pulls out just far enough to watch his cum spill, groaning at the sight before pushing back in with a wet squelch. the sudden, deep thrust catches you completely by surprise, and a loud moan rips from your throat as he buries himself back inside you.
his cock twitches inside you, still hard, still leaking, and his hands grip your ass like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. without breaking rhythm, he lifts you, cock still buried deep, and carries you the few steps to the bench, hauling you into his lap as your legs straddle him.
“tobio—” you breathe, trying to steady yourself, “you came so much already.”
“not enough,” he growls, voice wrecked. he keeps you pressed flush against him, cock thick and pulsing inside you.
“tobio—” you breathe, trying to steady yourself, “you came so much already.”
“not enough,” he growls, voice wrecked. he keeps you pressed flush against him, cock thick and pulsing inside you.
“shit… you’re so deep,” you gasp, tilting your hips instinctively, “fuck, i can feel every inch of you inside me.”
every movement of his hips drives a shiver through you, his body so hot and heavy against yours that it’s impossible to think of anything else. the way he’s holding you, still thrusting deep and relentless, makes your knees weak, and the slick warmth coating both of you is impossible to ignore.
“ride me,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temple, hands clamped on your hips. “wanna see you bounce on me, wanna feel you milk me dry.”
“i… i’m not sure how much more i can take,” you murmur, breath hitching, but your body is already rocking forward, nails digging into his damp shoulders.
the angle shifts, deeper, and you moan loud, the sound echoing in the empty room. his eyes roll back, jaw slack as you grind down on him, your slick and his cum making every movement sloppy, obscene.
“fuck, that’s it—ahh, don’t stop,” he groans, meeting your bounces with desperate thrusts upward, the bench creaking under the force. “you feel so fucking good, i’m gonna cum again—”
you smirk through your moans, tightening around him. “already? you’re really pathetic, tobio.”
“say it again,” he begs, pupils blown wide as he stares up at you, lips parted. “say it—say i’m pathetic for you.”
“you are,” you gasp, riding him harder, the wet slap of your bodies loud in the locker room. “pathetic, desperate, only good when you’re filling me up.”
he moans brokenly, forehead knocking against your chest. “fuck—fuck, i’m gonna—”
his hands drag you down hard on his cock, grinding you into his lap as he spills again, cum spurting deep and hot, mixing with what’s already dripping out.
you choke on a moan, overstimulated as he keeps rutting, forcing you to ride out every twitch of his release. the mess seeps down your thighs, smearing over his shorts, pooling under you on the bench.
“look at us,” he pants, voice raw, staring at the slick running down between your legs. “fuck, it’s everywhere. you’re overflowing for me.”
your body trembles against him, chest heaving, and you manage a shaky laugh. “how the hell am i supposed to walk out of here like this?”
he kisses you, sloppy and needy, still rocking you lazily on his cock. “don’t care. everyone should see how much you take me.”
you pull back just enough to glance at him, smirk tugging at your lips. “look at you… all desperate and putty for me,” you tease, fingers running through his sweaty hair.
his eyes darken, pupils blown, and a low growl escapes him. “shut up… don’t make me lose it again,” he warns, though his hands tighten on your hips like he’s not going to let go.
you lean in slowly, pressing your forehead to his, softening the intensity. “i like it when you’re like this,” you murmur, voice gentle now.
he lets out a long breath, finally stilling his movements, and kisses you deeply—slow, lingering, almost tender after all the messy frenzy. you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his body settle against yours.
for a few heartbeats, it’s just the two of you, flushed and sticky and completely undone, and you can’t help but grin against his lips. “guess you’re mine, huh?”
“always,” he whispers back, voice low, desperate still, but softening just for you.
handle with care ── .✦ bakugou x reader [3.9k words]
summary ─ you're bakugou's secretary and put him in his place after a press conference gone wrong. bakugou's a pathetic masochist 🤤
katsuki bakugou is one of the highest ranked heroes in all of japan. and honestly, it’s not surprising. he’s got an insane quirk, objectively good looking, he has the determination and guts to do what it takes to get the job done. but even with all that popularity, he seems to be equally as infamous for his uncontrollable temper.
now all of this was well known from the moment he gained that dangerous quirk of his. he was like a ticking time bomb, ready to quite literally explode at any smallest inconvenience or frustration. the sports festival that was now so long ago revealed that temperament to the world clearly, so how he's gotten just as far as he has with that attitude is a mystery to you.
but you weren’t one to back down from a challenge. so the instant you spotted that flyer advertising a spot as the great dynamight’s personal secretary, you submitted an application. could be a nice change of pace, y’know?
and to be completely sincere, despite all his intimidation and explosive temper, you took the job as his secretary because he simply didn’t scare you. everyone else tiptoes around him like he’s a rabid dog waiting to bite, but you don’t tolerate his bullshit. if he yells at you, you yell back. if he throws attitude, you shut it down immediately. your conversations end in nothing more than screaming matches more often than not, but he eventually listens. because no matter how hard he wants to deny it, he knows who holds the authority.
the thing about being bakugou’s secretary is that your job is basically just to clean up after every mess he creates. media outlets constantly criticize his attitude and temper, calling him things like "volatile", "unprofessional", “too aggressive for the public eye”, and anything in between. every interview is a massive risk when you have a cocky hero with such a short fuse running about. you can never trust whether he’ll snap at a reporter or threaten some innocent bystander on live television, so keeping him away from the media—as much as you can with such a popular hero—was best for everyone.
this press conference was to confront that very issue head on, as well as a few other, smaller topics. a number of other heroes and higher ups sat stiffly around the polished wooden table, whispering small words of doubt or little judgments between each other like gossiping middle school girls before the broadcasting began. you sat directly next to bakugou, who was clearly worked up by the situation at hand.
he sat rigidly, shoulders drawn taut, expression twisting on his face nothing short of murderous. each sharp breath he took looked almost forced and frustrated. you tried to get him into some box breathing methods to calm his anger in situations like these, but apparently it never really stuck.
the conference started off actually okay in your mind. bakugou seemed to keep his cool, even when tiny backhanded comments were thrown his way. the conversation flowed between other pressing issues within the hero realm—rankings, patrol rotations, the upcoming hero gala—and katsuki chimed in every now and then with his two cents, no matter how passive aggressive they were. for a fleeting moment, you felt genuinely proud of how composed he’d stayed throughout the meeting, like maybe your tough love and endless reprimand over the years were finally getting through to him.
of course, your relief didn’t last for long; when did it ever around him. some higher up, perhaps a ceo or official of sorts, suddenly switched the topic to focus solely on bakugou. it actually seemed like he was trying to get under his skin, maybe for the cameras or some weird ego thing. whatever it was, it worked. it worked a little too well.
“dynamight, there are actually a few issues i’d like to bring up regarding your…temper, if that's alright,” he pronounced with a smug grin spreading across his lips, eyes now narrowing on bakugou himself. he doesn’t even give katsuki a chance to reply before continuing, “while your results in the field are undeniably impressive, there’s growing concern regarding your conduct during missions.”
bakugou already looks irritated but stays quiet. then he continues, “the public’s trust in heroes depends not only on strength, but restraint.” the room is eerily quiet, so silent you can hear the vibrating hum of the heater in the corner, the click of someone’s pen across the room.
another man joins in, “there have been repeated reports of intimidation toward civilians, aggressive language toward media personnel, and unnecessary destruction during combat situations.” he shifts in his seat, fiddling with a pen between his fingers and clearly not as confident as the first man.
bakugou snaps back, “the civilians are alive, aren’t they?” whispers can be heard around the table. a camera flashes from the wall of reporters lining the room. “my job ain’t keeping people pleased, it’s protecting them.”
the official gives one of those tight-lipped politician smiles. the kind you know is feigned before hearing a word of what he has to say. “and that attitude right there is precisely the problem, dynamight.”
the shift in his behavior comes at that moment exactly. an angered expression bordering on the line of disgust crosses his face faster than you can blink as he clicks his tongue and huffs out some insult under his breath. you watch as he tries to remain calm and utterly fails after about two seconds, slamming a hand against the table and sparks pop at his palms.
“attitude? you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he growls sharply. the flashes of surrounding cameras increase rapidly at bakugou’s sudden anger, almost like they're trying to egg him on.
“dynamight, not now.” you whisper firmly, but to no avail. he’s already practically got steam pouring out of his ears with how quickly he’s escalated things.
another hero begins to chime in, trying to diffuse the situation before it gets out of hand. “bakugou, nobody’s questioning your strength. we’re questioning your professionalism.” they unknowingly just make the situation worse.
“professionalism? you want me to smile pretty for cameras while villains blow shit up?” he fires back instantly, dramatically whipping a hand through the air in emphasis.
the official who started it all chuckles under his breath slightly, like this was all a part of some plan and it’s going perfect. because despite bakugou’s undeniable skills and power, he’s still extremely predictable.
“a top hero should inspire confidence, not fear, wouldn’t you agree?” he hummed with a slight condescending tone. “i mean to be completely frank with you, many people in this industry believe your temperament makes you a liability.” he pauses for a brief moment, clicking a pen as reporters murmur in the background. “perhaps if you spent less time shouting and more time behaving like an adult, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
that’s what finally makes him snap. his chair scrapes against the floor as he pushes himself up, sparks flying from his palms. it happens so abruptly half the people in the room flinch when he stands, bracing for impact.
“say that shit again.” room immediately goes dead silent.
the official tries to maintain authority, saying, “this behavior is exactly what i mean—”
bakugou absolutely loses it. “you wanna talk about behavior?” he leans forward over the table like he’s seconds away from climbing across it. “you people sit behind polished desks acting like you know a damn thing about working in the field.” he snarls. “you read reports and watch edited footage and suddenly think you can tell me how to do my job?”
“dynamight—” somebody tries cautiously.
“don’t fucking interupt me now.” his palms crackle again, tiny sparks snapping in the air. “you wanna call me aggressive? fine. bein’ aggressive is what gets people out alive and ends shit before more people get hurt.”
cameras flash all around you, another murmur can be heard from the reporters. the official straightens in his chair. “threatening behavior isn’t helping your case.”
bakugou laughs harshly. “threatening? if i was threatening you, trust me, you’d know. all you extras care about is public image,” he continues bitterly, glaring around the table now. “you care more about whether i smile at cameras than whether the damn job gets done.”
“that’s enough,” another higher up cuts in firmly.
“yeah? then stop running your mouths.”
the first official exhales through his nose, visibly irritated now. “this is exactly why people struggle to trust you.”
bakugou slams both hands against the table hard enough to rattle the microphones. “i don’t need trust from bastards who’ve never stepped foot into real danger!” silence falls heavy over the room. he shoves his chair back violently and storms out before anyone can stop him. reporters immediately erupt into noise, camera flashes going insane as people start talking over one another.
you close your eyes for one painful second before forcing yourself up from your seat. “apologies,” you say tightly, already exhausted. “we’ll be ending things here.” someone calls your name as you hurry after him, but you ignore it completely, pacing down the hallway toward the sound of another door violently slamming shut. you follow as quickly as you can and enter the office without another word.
“what the fuck was that?” the office door slams behind you as bakugou storms further inside, ripping off his tie before throwing it across the room. “are you trying to get yourself suspended?”
he turns immediately, already furious. “oh, don’t start.”
“don’t start?” you repeat incredulously. “you just screamed at a public safety official in front of a room full of cameras!”
“because he was talking bullshit!”
“and now every headline tomorrow is gonna be about your temper again!”
“i don’t give a shit about headlines!”
“well your agency does!” you snap, stepping closer. “i do! because guess who has to clean up every mess you make?”
he scoffs. “then quit.”
your jaw tightens. “god, you’re unbelievable.”
“you think i’m just supposed to sit there while they call me a liability?”
“i think you’re supposed to act like a professional for ten fucking minutes!”
his expression hardens instantly. “you sound just like them.”
“maybe because they’re right!” he falls to silence, heavy and sharp. you keep going anyway. “every time somebody says something you don’t like, you throw a fucking tantrum and everyone else has to deal with it.”
bakugou steps closer until you’re forced back against the edge of his desk. “you’re really starting to piss me off.”
“good.” you shove a finger against his chest. “maybe somebody should instead of kissing your ass all the time.” his jaw clenches hard. “you act like such a fucking brat.”
“say that again.”
“you heard me.”
his hand suddenly grabs your wrist. “careful.” and before you can think better of it, you slap him hard across the face.
the sound echoes through the office. both of you freeze. your own breathing stops for a second as bakugou’s head turns slightly from the impact. the red mark spreading across his cheek makes your stomach immediately drop.
oh fuck.
his grip on your wrist loosens instantly. you yank your hand back like you’d burned it on a stove or something. “shit—katsuki, i—”
he says absolutely nothing, which honestly feels ten times worse than if he were to yell; for once you found yourself praying for that same anger.
your panic spikes immediately. “fuck, i didn’t mean to actually—i just—you grabbed me and i—” you drag both hands over your face aggressively. “jesus christ.”
bakugou still hasn’t moved. he’s just staring at you with this unreadable expression that makes you even more nervous. “look, i’m sorry, okay?” you ramble quickly. “that was too far. i know that was too far.” you’re met with nothing but silence. “please just say something.” his jaw shifts slightly.
then your eyes drop and immediately narrow. there’s a very obvious bulge pressing against the front of his slacks.
you blink once, staring without even realising it. your brain genuinely fails to process it for a solid second because there is no fucking way you’re seeing this correctly. your eyes slowly lift back up to his face. bakugou looks murderous and absolutely embarrassed. the tips of his ears are bright red now, chest rising heavier than before, teeth clenched so tight it looks painful.
“…oh my god,” you breathe out in disbelief.
“don’t.” he warns instantly.
your expression twists into something between surprise and amusement. “you masochistic asshole.”
“shut the fuck up, y/n.”
you actually laugh once out of pure shock, staring at him like he’s lost his damn mind. “i slap you and you get a boner? what kind of fucking issues do you have?”
“i said shut the fuck up.” his voice comes out rougher this time.
you smirk meanly. “aw, is somebody embarrassed?”
“keep talking and see what happens.”
“what, you gonna get harder?” that’s what finally does it.
bakugou grabs your jaw roughly and crashes his mouth against yours before you can say another word. it’s all teeth and frustration and way too much force, like he’s trying to shut you up through pure aggression alone. your back slams against the desk hard enough to shake it slightly. you kiss him back just as violently.
his hand tangles into your hair instantly, gripping tight while your mouths clash messily. every breath is hot and angry, lingering adrenaline and unresolved tension from the conferance finally boiling over into something worse…or maybe better. you can practically feel how irritated he is about wanting this, which is exactly the reason you grin against his mouth.
in a sort of experiment, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug hard. bakugou actually groans. not even subtle either. the sound punches straight out of his chest before he can stop it, hips jerking forward against yours automatically. his fingers dig into your waist. “fuck—” the entire balance of power shifts the second you notice that tiny loss of composure.
your eyes narrow slightly against his mouth, almost amused now, while bakugou immediately looks pissed that he made that sound at all. his grip tightens hard enough to bruise as if he can physically force himself back into control through sheer aggression. “don’t look at me like that,” he growls.
“like what?” you ask innocently, though the smugness bleeding through your voice ruins the act completely. his jaw clenches.
bakugou kisses you again before you can keep talking. one hand slides up to your throat—not squeezing, just holding—while the other stays locked tight on your waist. it’s possessive, controlling even. a kiss that feels more like he’s trying to overpower you than anything romantic.
naturally, you kiss him back harder. your fingers stay buried in his hair the entire time, nails lightly scraping against his scalp just to feel the way his breathing immediately changes. every tiny reaction only encourages you more. he notices—of course he notices.
his eyes crack open briefly to glare at you through the mess of blond lashes. “you’re enjoying this too much.”
“you’re the one whining.”
“i wasn’t whining.”
you pull sharply again. bakugou’s forehead drops against yours for half a second with a strangled curse under his breath. “fuck you.”
you laugh softly, breath fanning across his mouth. “aw, there he is.”
the look he gives you after that is genuinely unfair, completely wrecked in a way you’ve never seen from him before. within seconds, his hands are on you again, shoving you backwards another step until the backs of your thighs press firmly against the edge of the desk. you barely get the chance to register it before he’s crowding into your space completely, caging you there with his body.
he kisses you again hard enough to steal the breath straight from your lungs. it’s messy and rough in the best ways possible. his grip slides from your waist to your jaw, thumb pressing harshly against your cheek while he angles your head back how he wants, like he’s trying to control the entire thing. you refuse to let him.
your fingers slip back into his hair again, nails scraping lightly against his scalp before tugging hard and forcing his head back just barely. bakugou’s entire body reacts instantly. a rough sound tears from his throat as his hips jerk forward against yours again, pinning you harder against the desk edge. his hand tightens sharply at your waist. you grin against his mouth immediately.
“oh, you really like that, huh?” you tease, voice mocking and breathless.
“shut—up.” his words break apart with a small, stifled moan when you pull again. this time his eyes actually squeeze shut for a second, face flushed as he bites down helplessly on his bottom lip. the sight goes straight to your head.
“holy shit,” you laugh breathlessly. “you’re fucking pathetic.”
bakugou responds by grabbing underneath your thighs suddenly and hauling you up onto the desk in one rough movement. papers scatter somewhere beside you from the force of it. you barely have time to react before he steps between your legs, forcing them apart with his hips while glaring down at you like he’s pissed off about how affected he is. it honestly just makes this whole thing better.
“wipe that smug look off your face,” he growls.
you tilt your head innocently. “or what?”
his jaw clenches. you can practically see the internal war happening behind his eyes—pride versus desire versus the unbearable fact that you now know exactly how to get under his skin.
he leans back in, swollen lips this time quickly finding your neck. his teeth sink slowly into your skin as his sucks, large hands splayed across your back and pressing you as tight as possible to his warmth. his hips rock absentmindedly against yours, tongue flattening against the bite with a low whimper. trailing upwards, his lips shift to your jaw, littering a few, wet kisses against your warm skin until he finally comes back to your mouth.
you can still feel his erection pressing hot and heavy into you as he continuously grinds his hips forward almost without thinking. bakugou’s breathing hitches just barely when you trail one hand teasingly to rest over his throat, pressing your fingers down just enough to elicit a reaction.
he only kisses you harder at that, tongue shoving itself down your throat in a sloppy attempt to gain control. one hand snakes to grip the back of your neck while the other stays spread across your lower back, the warmth from his palms spreading languidly throughout your body.
your hand slides back into his hair slowly this time, fingers curling near the nape of his neck before snapping back just enough to make his breathing catch. bakugou immediately grabs your wrist, not to stop you, but rather to hold it there. “quit fucking doin’ that,” he says lowly, voice rough.
your smile turns wicked. “say please.”
the words catch him completely off guard, eyes widening incrementally. he growls in frustration, biting into his lower lip and refusing to give into your antics.
the hand around your wrist keeps your fingers trapped in his hair while he crowds closer between your legs, still trying to prove he has the power here. your only goal is to prove he doesn’t. you quickly wrap your legs around his hips and lock him in place, trailing one hand to forcefully tilt his jaw just slightly downward, towards you. you tighten your leg’s grip on him as much as you can go, leaving absolutely no space between your bodies.
his reaction is immediate. a rough breath punches from his chest, eyes squeezing shut. his grip tightens sharply around your waist, fingertips digging into the fabric of your clothes. you feel him hesitate for half a second, crimson eyes staring through eyebrows drawn taut into an almost pathetic look. his cheeks are entirely flushed now, a small bead of sweat slipping down his temple.
“don’t get cocky on me, dynamight.” you growl, tugging his face closer to yours with a bruising grip.
he lets out the most pathetic sound at that, hips stuttering into yours as his forehead drops to your shoulder. “s-shit—” he whimpers pitifully into your shirt, breath ragged as his entire body practically gives out. tiny strings of breathless whimpers and broken moans push past his lips as he rocks his hips forward with a declining speed, scarred hand spread over your lower back and keeping you flush against him. small sparks sizzle at his palms as he nuzzles his face further into your neck.
you glance down only to see a darkened splotch forming over the crotch of his dress pants. and despite how badly you want to deny it—you don’t think you’ve been more attracted to a man than you are at this moment.
“...did you just…” you giggle barely with the words, brain still processing what in the world just happened. bakugou still hasn’t lifted his head from your shoulder, fingertips digging into your sides.
suddenly, there's a knock on the door.
“d-dyanmight…? is everything…alright in there? the official didn’t mean to offend you—if you could just come finish the meeting—”
“f-fuck off!” he roars, voice still trembling as he comes down from his high.
“sir, this is an important meeting, could you please—”
“what part of ‘fuck off’ do you not get?!” katsuki is quick to cut him off again, sparks crackling at his palms and heating your skin just barely. “i’ll blow the entire fucking office to bits if you don’t leave me the hell alone! fucking extras…” the words trail off quickly, energy already spent.
he’s still breathless when the man finally complies and leaves you alone, footsteps dissipating as he ventures back to what you can only assume is the conference room. bakugou presses his face into the crook of your neck, as if trying to hide from the overwhelming embarrassment of the entire situation. after planting a small, shaky kiss to your skin, he takes one deep, slightly unsteady breath and finally lifts his head once again to meet your gaze.
the look on his face is one you don’t think you’ll ever manage to forget in your entire lifetime. a few spiked strands of hair are plastered to his forehead with sweat, the rest of his hair a ruffly mess atop his head. his pupils are blown so wide you can hardly see those burning red iris surrounding them, eyelids heavy and long lashes drooping over his glassy gaze just barely. flushed cheeks strike a stark contrast between the blond eyebrows curving pathetically just above his eyes. his lips are reddened and glossy with spit.
this was a side to him you’d never even dreamed of seeing.
without a word, you carefully snake your hand from his hair to cup the side of his face, sympathetically tracing a thumb over his heated cheek. he doesn’t dare to fight back now and instead just leans fully into your touch, gaze staying locked on your own. he takes one last shaky breath before finally speaking again.
“mention this to another soul…and you’re fucking fired…” he mutters, though theres no real bite to the empty threat. if anything, the overwhelming affection pooling within those striking eyes are only making him sound more insincere about ever letting you leave his side again.
“i won’t baby,” you coo softly, just a slightest teasing hint lacing your sweet tone as you tilt your head incrementally.
he groans quietly at the pet name and drops his head to your shoulder yet again, grumbling, “can’t fucking believe this…”
a drunken bokuto (who cannot handle sugary liquor) confesses the depth of his feelings to you — for @cowboylo from nique's server because we talked it about for 2 messages and suddenly, i was inspired — and yes this is a fluff bomb
bokuto koutarou could do a lot of things, but what he couldn't do was handle his liquor. especially if it was sugary. even more so if he was at a karoake bar with friends and you, hands on a mic and the room echoing his delighted rendition of feel this moment.
he laughed delightedly, downing yet another shot of something you couldn't even decipher before handing the mic off to akaashi. the room was chattering, everyone arguing over what song was meant to come next, but bokuto's eyes, warm and golden, stayed firmly on you.
"how was that?" he grinned excitedly, sitting right beside you on the booth. an arm of his slid up behind you to rest on the sill of the booth. he didn't touch you, not directly, but he was close enough for you to feel his warmth.
"passionate," you giggled, reaching over to sip some water. "you should probably drink some of this. all that sugar is going to go straight to your head."
"what do you mean?" he asked offensively, face contorting in absolute offense while he, despite that offense, took the glass from your hands. "i can handle my liquor just fine! i'm a volleyball player! i work out! hinata can barely stay sober!"
"untrue," hinata shouted from across the room, "i handle my liquor much better than he does."
you stifled a giggle while bokuto downed the glass of water like a shot. or a very tall glass of seltzer. he exhaled, setting the glass down and shifting impercptibly closer to you.
"you know," he said, eyes bright and lips curved into the toothiest smile, "i was so happy when you came to the game the other day. i looked for you in the stands and you were right there! and everyone asked me if you were mine and i had such a hard time saying no, so i said maybe someday, and then they asked me why and—"
"woah woah woah!" you giggled, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "lets start from the top. i came to your game. then?"
"then some members of the other team asked me about you."
"why?"
"easy. because i was so excited! i said i wanted to score some cool points so you'd see me and you'd be impressed. then they asked me what we are."
"and what did you tell them?"
he grinned even more, placing a gentle hand on your thigh as he leaned forward just a bit. "that i like you and have the biggest crush on you EVER."
you paused, your heart doing somersaults in your chest. "you mean that?"
"yes!" bokuto laughed, "yes i mean it. i came to karaoke because akaashi said you'd be here and i wanted to spend time with you. i told him that i was going to ask you out on a date."
"really now?" you flushed.
"yes," he nodded earnestly. "I like you. a lot. i want you at every match and i also want to date and go out and have a fun time. could we do that?"
"we can if you remember this conversation tomorrow," you smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair. "ask me tomorrow when you're sober, and it's a yes."
"why not right now?" he pouted. his lips turned downwards, eyebrows contorting confusedly. to him, it was as if youd delayed the payout of a jackpot.
"because you're drunk," you sighed. "ask me tomorrow."
"i'll ask you first thing tomorrow!" he laughed.
bonus: you woke up to your phone ringing at 6am, bokuto's special ringtone filling the air of your bedroom. you shifted gently, answering the call only to have his bright voice filling your ears.
"koutarou," you mumbled sleepily, "'s so early. what is it?"
"i may or may not have a headache," he began, "but you told me that if i remembered in the morning and i was sober, you'd go out with me! so, will you go out with me?"
you laughed into your pillow, a warm fondness spreading in your chest. "yes kou," you responded into the line, the smile creeping into your voice. "we can go out."
a loud "WAHOOOO!" erupted through your room before he remembered what time it was and hung up. you smiled into your sheets, knowing that when you woke up for real, he'd already have ideas for your first date.
Kuroo had imagined that if he ever had a meet-cute with his future girlfriend, it would be something out of a rom-com.
Maybe she’d bump into him in the hallway and drop her books, and their hands would brush as they both reached down. Maybe they’d get locked in the school’s storage closet and have no choice but to talk, discovering they had an undeniable connection. Maybe he’d do something particularly cool in front of her—like nail an impossible volleyball save—and she’d be so impressed that she’d fall for him on the spot.
You know, a great story to tell his future kids later on.
What he did not imagine was this.
He had barely settled into his seat in chemistry lab class when the teacher rattled off instructions about the elements they’d be working with today. Kuroo, who had only half-listened, glanced at the laminated periodic table on their lab station. There were a lot of elements, and he was already regretting not paying closer attention. With a sigh, he turned to the girl beside him.
“Hey, can you check which elements we’re supposed to—”
He paused.
For one, you looked a little startled, like you hadn’t expected him to speak to you so soon. Your lips parted slightly, and your fingers thrummed against the edge of the table, but you didn’t immediately respond. Kuroo furrowed his brows.
Maybe you didn’t hear him?
Before he could repeat himself, you blinked a few times and slowly turned to the periodic table. Your expression shifted into something that could only be described as deep concentration, like you were trying to decipher some ancient text rather than a chart of chemical elements.
Seconds passed.
Then a full minute.
Kuroo’s eyebrows inched up.
Still, no answer.
“Give me a second.”
Ah, there it was.
He could see your eyes darting over the periodic table, and every few moments, you squinted slightly, as if you were trying to bring the tiny printed words into focus. Another thirty seconds passed. He tilted his head, watching as you leaned forward a little, your eyes locked on the chart like your life depended on it.
You would probably set it on fire at this point from how intense you were looking.
“…You good?” he finally asked, unable to stop the curious edge in his voice.
You straightened up so fast it was like you had been caught doing something embarrassing. Which, judging by the way you suddenly looked anywhere but at him, you probably had.
“I, um—” You hesitated, biting your lip. Then, after what seemed to be an internal debate, you let out a small sigh. “I actually, uh, forgot my glasses at home.”
Oh.
Oh.
Kuroo blinked, his amusement only growing. That explained a lot.
“That bad, huh?” he asked, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin on his hand.
“Not terrible,” you muttered, though the way you still weren’t looking at him suggested otherwise. “I can still see—just not, you know, well.”
That made him chuckle.
“Well, that’s going to be a little problem, isn’t it?”
You let out a small, almost defeated laugh. “Probably.”
Kuroo grinned and turned his attention back to the chart, skimming for the elements the teacher had mentioned. “Alright, let’s see… We’ve got—” He rattled off a few element names and their symbols, glancing at you to make sure you were following along.
Then, as if remembering you had an actual task to contribute to, you quickly dropped your gaze back on the textbook for reference. “You don’t have to—”
“Nah, it’s fine,” he interrupted smoothly. “What were the elements again? Aluminum, zinc, and—what was the last one?”
Still looking a little overwhelmed by the sheer speed at which this whole interaction was happening, you answered, “Um. Magnesium.”
“Magnesium, got it.” Kuroo tapped the page, making sure you could at least see where he was pointing. “Here, let’s work on this together. I’ll read it out, and you can double-check if I’m not mistaken.”
You let out a small, barely-there laugh—so quiet that if Kuroo hadn’t been paying attention, he would’ve missed it. But he was paying attention.
He had been ever since you sat next to him, really. He realized that he paid attention to you more than the teacher himself.
Kuroo read the information to you, sometimes exaggerating just for fun—“And this here, my dear lab partner, is the majestic zinc, element number 30, the unsung hero of batteries everywhere”—which earned him an amused shake of your head. You weren’t exactly talkative, per se, but he caught glimpses of amusement in the way you entertained his nonsense.
This must be the manifestation of that one tweet he posted, “My future wife is probably fake laughing at her boyfriend’s lame jokes rn. Be patient, Queen; a true clown is on the way.”
Now that you weren’t caught off guard, you nodded along, quickly jotting things down in your notes. It was then that Kuroo realized something else.
You hadn’t even introduced yourselves.
“You know,” he said, smiling a little, “I think we skipped a step.”
You paused, looking at him curiously, then back at your worksheet. “What?”
“The whole name thing.” He tapped his pen against the worksheet. “I asked you to do something before I even said hi. That’s pretty rude, huh?”
For the first time since he spoke to you, you actually met his gaze. And then, to his surprise, you cracked a small smile.
“A little, yeah.”
Kuroo chuckled. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”
You tilted your head slightly, and then, like you were amused at how backwards this whole conversation had gone, you finally replied, “[Last Name] [Name].”
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “And don’t worry—I’ll be your eyes for today. And for as long as you’d like.”
“Are you this flirty with every person you meet?”
“Only the ones that know their way around a calculator despite not even looking at it directly.”
You rolled your eyes at that, but he could see how his jokes were getting to you. By the time the teacher walked around to check your progress, Kuroo had already decided that this was way better than any cliché shoujo manga meet-cute.
Because really, what could be more romantic than offering to be someone’s eyes for the day—and maybe even for forever?
genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo
a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D
the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.
"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"
"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.
you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.
you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."
then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.
you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.
"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"
"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"
you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.
"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"
"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."
he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.
"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"
and he's out of the door.
was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.
at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.
after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.
"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.
there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.
he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.
"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"
you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"
"s-sure."
when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?
he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.
"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.
"t's okay."
"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.
"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"
"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.
"son of a bitch."
the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.
you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.
now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.
he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'
"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.
your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.
you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.
bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.
you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.
you kick him in the shin.
"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"
"what the hell is wrong with you?!"
"i was going toー"
"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"
"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.
"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"
he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.
"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."
silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.
"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.
you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."
"i'm not confused. i like you."
"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."
"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"
"stop saying that. you don't."
"i do, and you like me tooー"
"what?!" you laugh incredulously.
'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?
you do what is necessary again.
"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.
"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."
you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.
"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"
"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."
you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.
"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"
"we're not going to break it off."
"how do you know that?"
"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"
"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."
"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."
"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."
he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."
"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.
"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."
if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.
"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."
in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.
"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"
he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.
"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."
he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.
"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."
after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.
he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.
when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.
"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."
"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."
"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."
you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.
"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"
he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."
"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."
Hii just a request but could you do the hq boys with an s/o who's pissed because they said smth mean or rude and they basically try to drive next to yn as yn ignores them or smth, I saw this in a movie
notes: i tried to choose some boys i don't normally write for (except iwa cause i love him lmao)
★ daichi probably did that typical guy thing where he tried to logically solve your problem instead of listening and supporting you emotionally, which just pissed you off beyond belief. he'll just sit there, unsure of what to do for a few moments, anxiously looking between you and the road. "what did i do? come on sweetheart, don't be like that..." when you get back home he stops you and makes sure to make it up to you and apologize with a much-needed hug.
★ iwaizumi tries not to let his anger get the best of him but sometimes when he's pissed off, it's hard and he'll just growl out curt responses and unintentionally be rude. when you ignore him because of that on the way home, the reality sets in and he feels real bad. he's awkwardly stiff as silence engulfs the two of you in the car. he calls out your name hesitantly soft and stops you before you get out, so he can apologize.
★ kuroo is very observant. and because of that, he knows exactly what to point out to strike a nerve. if he's had a long day, and he's annoyed, it's easy for him to speak without thinking. he did exactly that earlier and he realized when he noticed the look of disbelief in your eyes as you nodded slowly and walked to the car ahead of him. he called your name softly but you didn't respond, instead choosing to keep walking. he'd said enough. he sits in the car silently for a moment, internally panicking, not even starting the car yet. he doesn't want an awkward, tense car ride back home so he apologizes immediately, taking one of your hands in his, celebrating in his head when he turns your cheek and you let him.
★ sakusa was in a bad mood and made a somewhat rude comment to you, it was moreso the tone that offended you. and since he was wearing his mask, you couldn't tell that he had a regretful look on his face until you got to the car. his fingers are tapping against the steering wheel anxiously as you sit there silently next to him, body turned completely to the window. it takes him a little while to work up the courage to apologize, just cause he's so nervous and he hates when he makes you upset. but he always sorts things out with you, he can't sleep otherwise.
notes: ooh it's hard thinking of bokuto being angry so it's moreso upset for him + another anon asked for kuroo and sakusa so i added them
part one / part two
★ bokuto gets all pouty and crosses his arms when he sees you. looks miserable whenever you enter the room, and obviously you pick up on it, his mood radiates wherever he is. one day you catch him alone and ask him if you've done something. he grumbles no, pouting. but you press on cause you know something's up. he reluctantly confesses, 'i just...i'm in love with you, okay? and i hated seeing you with that guy...' won't look you in the eye, but when he hears you confess that you actually feel the same way, he perks up like a puppy, mood doing a complete 180.
★ iwaizumi starts giving you attitude and barely giving you one word answers when you talk to him. tries to avoid you too but you confront him, literally walk in front of him and block him when he tries to evade you. if looks could kill, you'd absolutely be dead, but he's really glaring to mask his feelings. you pester him until he tells you what's wrong and he answers, frustrated as ever. 'it's because i have feelings for you!' he gets too embarrassed so he looks away but his eyes widen and he stops breathing when you gently grab his face and tell him you feel the same.
★ kuroo is really snarky with you all of a sudden and there seems to be more bite to his jokes. he smirks all the same, but there's something different in the way he looks at you. like he's bothered and itching to tell you something. you get sick of it and call him out when you're just with him and kenma. and kenma is really tired of hearing kuroo rant and not actually do something about it so he mutters at him to just tell you. you obviously get curious/annoyed by this and push him to tell you too. he gives you attitude, saying how he doubts you don't know. (in his eyes you've been stringing him along but that's not true) you tell him you really have no idea what's going on and that's when he breaks, scoffing. 'you're telling me you actually can't tell that i'm in love with you? yeah, right.' when he sees your reaction though, he pauses, his face dropping, now worried about the fact that he just confessed. when you tell him how you feel though, you can see the light enter his eyes again, and an actual smile on his lips.
★ sakusa is suddenly very curt with you, barely looking at you when you're around (when you can see him anyway. his eyes trail after you when you go.) he gives short responses and you can't help but feel hurt. but you can be petty too, so you start giving him the same treatment. soon, you can barely stand to be in the same room together, tensions high when you're near each other. it's silly what leads to your confessions, but the two of you run into each other in front of an elevator, you just roll your eyes and say you'll take the stairs. he mutters under his breath something about you running along to your little boyfriend and that makes you pause. you turn around, confused and offended, asking what that's supposed to mean. his eyes narrow and he asks if you think he's stupid. you respond that you don't know what's up with him but you don't have a bf. then it dawns on you and he can see the gears turning in your head and suddenly his mouth gets dry. you ask if this is why he's been acting like this and then why he cares so much. you notice the blush on his face and he knows you're not dumb enough to believe a lie but he's embarrassed so he gets defensive. 'why do you think? obviously i have feelings for you.' he looks away but he looks back at you, offended and ready to go off when you call him an idiot. he only softens when you say cause you feel the same.
