tsvkjko

[tsvkjko]

something about kuroo - who always wears that stupid, sleazy smirk plastered across his face - breaking out into a big, cheesy, genuine grin when he sees you

[tsvkjko]

All the grip I lost on reality went straight to my pussy

[tsvkjko]

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

[tsvkjko]

coworker! kuroo but he’s getting promoted and he’s gonna be your boss soon. that’s not gonna stop him from flirting with you tho🙄

you remind him constantly that it’s inappropriate now, but the thought sends shivers down your spine.

he notices and OF COURSE, he teases you for having a power imbalance kink

what an idiot… (you now realize he’s right)

-💋

kuroo starts dressing just a little bit nicer when he gets promoted. his hair's a bit neater, the knot of his tie is tighter. he irons his shirts more meticulously.

(and oh, is it distracting.)

but kuroo gets to eat his own words the first time you bat your eyelashes and call him sir when you drop something off in his office.

(he chokes on his coffee.)

[tsvkjko]

😵‍💫

DRIP.

kuroo tetsurou x f!reader — 18+, 1.5k, roommates to lovers, dry humping, spit kink, alcohol, fingering

"I would come so fast if a girl spit in my mouth."

Your eyes slide from what's currently happening in the movie that you're watching—exactly that, and it’s somehow not a porno by any means—to your roommate, who's seated beside you on the couch.

Kuroo's lips slot over the opening of his beer bottle, and you're momentarily distracted by the bobbing of his throat as he swallows, the flex of his biceps when he brings it back down to rest against his knee.

His eyes meet yours, and he grins, lopsided and shameless. A little buzzed. Wholly unapologetic.

It’s always like this between the two of you, this lack of a filter that fizzes like carbonation through your veins. This push and pull of toed lines and thinly veiled flirting.

It’s only a matter of time until it boils over.

Until one of you has to eat your words.

“I think you might have to pay extra for that,” you tease, tongue darting out between your teeth.

Kuroo drags a hand through his messy black hair, huffing out a laugh.

—

It’s a Friday night, and the bar is hot and packed.

You’re sitting in Kuroo’s lap (because there’s nowhere else to sit, because he grabbed you by a belt loop and tugged you there when you waved off the seat Akaashi offered you).

Bokuto sets down a new tray of shot glasses on the tabletop.

MSBY won their game earlier, and this is now the second, no third “toast” that’s graced the table full of players and friends. Except you’re a glass short this time, so Kuroo’s fingers come up empty.

He makes a soft grunt of discontent, chin hooked over your shoulder while you press your glass to your lips, the alcohol sliding into your mouth.

Later, you’ll blame it on the previous shots, whatever liquid courage inspires you to turn to Kuroo, one hand cupping his jaw. He stares up at you, lips turned downward in a confused pout.

Then you trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

You swipe it back a forth, slowly, before pressing down in the center.

And he gets it.

You’re not sure why or how he does, maybe he can just see the way you’ve yet to swallow.

Kuroo’s lips part, and his light grasp on your hip tightens just a fraction.

You tell yourself the way your drag your fingers through his hair and tug is just to position him better, to tease him, not because you think about carding them through his perpetually tousled locks all the time. Either way, Kuroo groans when you do it.

And then you lean in and spit the shot directly into his mouth.

Kuroo swallows, slowly, throat bobbing again in that wholly distracting way.

His lips are wet with the spillage, and he runs his tongue along them, rather than using the back of his hand to wipe them clean.

Your chest burns with the realization of how badly you want to kiss him, want to chase the taste of the drink that lingers past his lips, on his tongue.

Kuroo’s gaze is heavy when he looks at you, though the moment is quickly disrupted by Atsumu and Hinata’s raucous laughter at something entirely different going on at the other end of the table.

“Thanks.”

—

You’ve both sobered up by the time you get back to the apartment, and Kuroo collapses on his back horizontally across the couch, eyes falling closed.

“Make room. I need to do that, too, after all that dancing with Atsumu’s drunk ass,” you tell him, nudging his knee.

Kuroo grunts, but he doesn’t move.

Instead, gravity suddenly shifts on its axis without warning, and you find yourself plastered atop him. Something in your chest shudders at being pressed up against every inch of Kuroo’s warm body, a sensation only further exacerbated by the arms that snake around you to pull you closer still.

“‘m tired,” Kuroo mutters into your hair.

You feel like you should make a joke, pretend to complain. You should act like you don’t want to burrow impossibly deeper into his embrace.

But you’re tired, too.

And Kuroo’s comfortable.

(Comfortable and far closer than your bed, in the opinion of your sore feet, at least.)

When you rouse, you’re not sure how much time has passed, only that you’ve gone pliant in your sleep, your legs now spread to straddle Kuroo’s thighs.

Objectively, you knew Kuroo had a big dick. His friends make jokes about it often enough.

But the thought of it in theory is something entirely different than feeling its length slotted against the heat between your legs now.

He’s hard.

You inhale slowly, unable to ignore the steady, soft hum of pleasure at the way the seam of your denim shorts is situated directly atop it. You’re not even moving, but you can feel the pressure pulsing in your clit.

Then Kuroo shifts, ever so slightly, and you can’t hide your gasp at the feeling that alone drags out of you. Your body arches involuntarily.

“Stop moving,” Kuroo mumbles, and you become very aware of the way his fingertips have slipped just beneath the bottom of your tank top to rest against your bare lower back.

You shift your head to look at him, though it’s a mistake, really—his tired, half-lidded eyes have nearly been your undoing many a quiet, soft morning in your shared kitchen.

“You moved first,” you retort.

Kuroo huffs.

And you don’t think about how you’re running out of excuses for the decisions you’ve been making tonight when you look him dead in the eye and purposely roll your hips down against him.

“Fuck—“

Kuroo’s answering groan is immediate, a low, rough sound that sets every nerve ending in your body aflame. And your cunt aches with need, the tease of friction from your tight jean shorts not nearly enough right now.

So you do it again.

Kuroo’s hands quickly find a home curled around your hips, and he thrusts upward in a slow, firm push, one that has you seeing stars as he drags the length of hard cock directly down your cunt.

Your pussy spasms, your thin cotton panties doing nothing to shield your sensitive slit from the pressure of the seam of your shorts digging in. It feels so good, you could cry. Pleasure burns hot down your throat, dripping down each notch of your spine before it leaks out of your wet hole in a slick gush of arousal.

Kuroo fists a hand in the belt loops that rest above the curve of your ass, and you gasp at the way your shorts tighten further. Your cunt throbs as you dry hump his cock, your soaked panties sliding against your puffy, sticky folds.

“Kuroo,” you whimper, because it feels so fucking good, but you’re cock drunk enough to feel greedy now, to want more—

Logistically, you’re not sure how Kuroo gets a finger up your shorts from the back. They’re short enough that it’s a negligible path from the hem to your cunt if he goes up a leg and pushes the material aside, though it’s really a tight fit either way.

But Kuroo manages.

And it’s all you can do not to choke out a sob when he sinks a finger into your bare, dripping pussy, quickly adding another when you start to sloppily fuck yourself on the digits while you continue to hump his dick.

You don’t realize you’ve started drooling from the intense pleasure rapidly blossoming inside of you until Kuroo’s mouth is sliding against yours in a filthy, wet kiss while you tremble and shake and come all over his fingers.

And that’s when you remember—

You pull back from the kiss, pussy still spasming from the aftershocks of your climax as you continue to rock on Kuroo’s still-hard cock.

He stares up at you, unblinking, pupils blown wide.

And when you cup his chin again, Kuroo immediately parts his lips for you, and you feel the way his hips rock upward in anticipation.

When you spit in Kuroo’s mouth this time, there’s nothing quiet or understated about the way he moans as he swallows it down, the way he surges upward to kiss you hard while he desperately ruts against you.

The way you can feel his entire body react at once.

“Oh fuck—“ Kuroo roughly gasps into the kiss, and you can feel his cock pulse as his orgasm hits him, his body shuddering while he moans and floods his boxers with hot, sticky cum.

You collapse back on top of him, well aware of the mess between you but too exhausted to move.

Kuroo seems to feel the same, based on the way he idly strokes your back and presses a kiss to the top of your head in lieu of making any move to sit up. Head resting on his chest, you lift it slightly to look at him.

His eyes are closed, but you see his lips tilt upward in a grin. “Told you.”

[tsvkjko]

SIGH

everything is romantic | t. kuroo

pairing: tetsurō kuroo x gn!reader

synopsis: kuroo being down bad and falling in love with you anytime he could. based on everything is romantic by charli xcx.

warnings/genre: modern au, timeskip!kuroo, established relationship, fluff, suggestiveness, cursing

a/n: just something cute and short because i #needhimsobad #yearner #onekissplease

in a place that can make you change

freshman year of college.

he is leisurely walking the campus with some of his friends before his night class. the quad is alive, voices and steps bouncing off the brick walls. loud, but weirdly comforting.

that is probably why he was not paying attention when walking into the student center, slamming right into you.

you.

and the first time in kuroo’s life. okay maybe the third time if you count some mishaps in high school and that one time kenma thanked him, he was shocked. like movie scene shocked; his eyes wide, mouth slacked open, and his palms becoming all sweaty.

the most unnatural feeling storming with another feeling that he at times believed he was too logical to feel. love.

he wants to laugh at the absurdity of it but instead he keeps his wide eyes on you. frozen. he wants to stay still, right here.

with you gawking back at him.

“i’m so sorry,” you squeak.

he feels like he’s about pass out. and he kind of hates how corny this all is but with you at the end of it, he wants it all. he wants more.

he wants to study your eye color. he wants to know if you’re going to laugh at his bed hair. he wants to know if you like the beach as much as he does. and he hopes you hate grilled salted mackerel fish so that you could always give him yours.

“it’s okay,” he says back and he’s trying to train his eyes to hear his own voice. making sure it doesn’t sound as weak as his knees are. “are you okay?”

he’s trying to look you over. but he can’t stop looking at your eyes. the books that were in your arms are scattered at his feet.

the student center feels like it’s home. right here. just you two, staring at each other.

“i’m okay,” you say as you smile at him and your nose crinkles. he for sure thinks that he is going fucking crazy. “are you?”

he wants to tell you that he feels like he’s a changed man. as soon as he bumped into you. the electric field of the student center changing him and he wants to be so entangled with you that he continues to change.

but instead, he breathes in a shaken breath and he smiles back at you.

“i’m great actually.”

early nights in white sheets with lace curtains

four years later.

your hair still smells like the sea - salty and wet. despite being a mile away (you’re just on the other side of the bed). he swears he could smell it. as if your smell is imprinted in his nostrils.

the sun, still in the sky but the colors dwindling with the dusk sky pushing in, is trailing into the room at a snail’s pace. the hues of pink and orange dancing along your bare back.

the colors still no match to your beauty. just an added arrangement to your everlasting color, the kind of color that’s burned behind his eyelids — always there, even when he blinks, he sees them. he sees you.

and there you sit, on the edge of the bed. your back to him, the white hotel sheet wrapped lazily around your body.

“i don’t think i have ever seen anything as beautiful as you,” he whispers into the room. and he knows you’re going to roll your eyes. he kind of wants to roll his too because of how normal corny things sound slipping off his tongue when it comes to you.

but you laugh most of the time, so he’s never going to try to stop.

you look over your shoulder, a light blush dusting your cheeks. another color added to your ever growing rainbow. he feels his cheeks tint too. a little competition on who could make the other blush.

“we left a cliffside overlooking the bluest water we ever saw,” you playfully roll your eyes at him. “you’ve saw more beautiful things.”

“i don’t think we should argue over what my eyes deem the most beautiful,” he says back and along with the eyeroll (he loves being at the receiving end of) you send him a smile. small and sweet.

“fine, no arguing,” you shrug, turning your head back to the window. he hears the laugh that wants to escape your mouth.

and he doesn’t need to actually hear it to feel it. he has the vibrations of your laugh etched on him like a spotify barcode.

with a light breeze coming in through the lacy curtains, your hair sways a bit and the salt water smell drifts to him and he smiles because he knew. he knows everything when it comes to you.

“come here,” he whispers and he feels the shiver that rips through your body.

you turn to him, your eyes racking over his body like you’re trying to etch him into your brain the way you’re in his.

you crawl over, the white sheet still entangled on your body and he almost feels jealous.

you’re inches away and because he’s selfish and he wants to be the one entangled with you, he grabs you. his hands find their home on your waist as he shuffles you up.

you’re straddling him and and he feels grateful for the new position. he could see the dusk wash over you, playing with the colors of your eyes and the tint on your cheeks and ears.

“we have dinner reservations,” you shyly whisper and he chuckles a bit because after four years, you still get flustered under his stare.

“i know. i made them dummy,” he whispers back. you laugh and he feels his heart swell and he wonders if you feel it too. “i just want to be close to you.”

he runs his hands up your sides, trying to stay near your ribs to feel the flutter of your heartbeat.

“you’re so corny sometimes,” you lean down as you say this. your nose brushing his and he almost wants to push you back so that he could see your smile as you said this.

“my special talent when it comes to you,” your lips are brushing his so softly, like a feather brushing the tip of a nose.

your laugh is muffled as his lips finally meet yours. a soft battle.

and with your moans on the tip of his tongue, he realizes, for possibly the thousandth time since he’s met you; he’s in love with you.

fall in love again and again

he’s standing at the alter. his palms aren’t sweaty like people said they would be. he’s not crying — yet. but if you do that nose scrunch smile when the doors open, he’s finished and bokuto is most definitely going to laugh at him.

for the most part though, he feels calm. he feels ready.

that’s a lie. a little one.

he feels impatient, because all he wants is for you to walk down already. for you to walk right through the doors, a smile of your face. that smile that you only ever send to him. the one that meets every facet of your face. your eyes gleam, your cheeks tint, and your nose crinkles up a bit. maybe even a giggle when you look at him.

because he for sure didn’t do his hair and he knows that makes you laugh. even after six years.

but before that, he thinks he should wait. and despite his bouncing leg because he just wants to see you already. he wants his hand in yours and he wants to hear that weary sigh you let out whenever too many people are looking at you. he wants to appreciate that he is so lucky to be here right now. appreciate the fact that you’ll forever be his and he’ll forever be enchanted by your smile. (legally that is. he doesn’t need a piece of paper for your smile to grace his life with every ounce of love he may ever need).

he wants to pause and just think about every instance where he fell in love with you. every single moment as a collective swiping through his mind like those powerpoints he makes for work. a simple slideshow showcasing the smiles, the laughs, or just the moments where you’re standing away from him; your back to him but even then he knows it’s because you’re waiting to lead him somewhere.

he thinks back to the moments he catches you reading. you finding beauty in the words on the book your nose is buried in and him finding beauty right there on the couch. you read pages and he reads you.

or when you first told you loved him. it was three months after he realized he was in with love you. the night was young and the breeze was cool but he felt warm. you didn’t have to touch him. just the three words and the smile that you lead with the statement and he knew that he’ll fall for it everyday of his life. you could’ve waited sixteen years to tell him and he would’ve waited happily. his heart in your hands and your smile etched on his eyelids.

or after your first argument. it was over something so stupid and small but when he saw that one little teardrop from your right eye (if he had a ruler he would’ve measured how far it dripped before your hoodied covered hand swiped it away). he swallowed his pride and apologized. so quickly because he fell in love with you again.

he thinks of other moments: him having to explain volleyball to you (and you still not fully understanding), you always giving him your grilled salted mackerel (even though you secretly love it), you laughing at his bed head every morning and how you watch him at the doorway of the bathroom, trying to fix it before work.

or now, you finally walking to him.

greeting him with that smile and the nose scrunch. he feels his eyes getting watery. he ignores bokuto’s snicker.

eyes on you, he knows that he’ll fall in love with you again. as he did all these years. waking up everyday and falling in love with you again.

©twilightsumu all rights reserved. please do not repost/modify my work.

[tsvkjko]

roomie!iwa’s face when he lets you play on his playstation and you get The. BIGGEST. Crush. on Soap from call of duty. you can’t stop talking about soap and his huuuuuge forearms, and he starts subconsciously working out his arms more. what’s that even about, anyway?

-💋

PLEASEEEEEEE HAHAHAHAHAHA. wait wait wait. then seijoh 4 comes over. and they can’t understand why iwa is so annoyed when they want to play COD. he’s just muttering under his breath the whole time about how he doesn’t get the big deal over soap, he’s not even that cool.

then you get home and your face lights up when you see what’s on the tv screen. you lean over the back of the couch waxing poetic about soap’s arms and suddenly it all clicks for the rest of the boys. iwa spends the rest of the night shooting all of them death glares every time someone snorts or giggles when soap pops up.

[tsvkjko]

“i really don’t get how you’re not dating him yet.”

your best friend’s words linger insistently in the back of your mind as you glance over at kuroo from the passenger seat of his car. they slip down your throat, fluttering hard in your chest when his eyes flick to yours as he slows to a stop at a red light.

the clock on the dash reads 4:38 AM.

some song on some playlist that you made on his phone plays through the speakers.

green washes over his face, and he crooks a smile at you before turning his attention back to the road. tucking your chin into your shoulder and turning to look out the window, a fresh wave of something flutters behind your ribcage as you incidentally inhale kuroo’s familiar scent.

your fingers pinch the edge of one of his hoodie strings. he’d immediately shrugged it off when he picked you up at the airport, trading you the worn material for the two suitcases sitting on the sidewalk beside you as he popped his trunk.

it’s unusually cold for an early june evening.

and you’re not dating kuroo because he’s your roommate.

because he’s one of your closest friends.

because you have a boyfriend.

—a boyfriend who made a face over video chat when you hesitantly asked him if he’d be willing to pick you up from your flight that had been bumped to a red eye last minute. who rattled off some convoluted excuse about work and being tired and not having gas in his car before shifting his attention back to the video game he was playing.

and yet here kuroo is, looking soft and rumpled and tired behind the wheel as he drags a hand through his hair before his finger twists the volume knob up.

(on a song that you love.)

(your boyfriend always skips this one.)

here kuroo is when you know he’s got to be at the office by 9 AM, completely unbothered by the two-hour round trip from the airport back to your shared apartment.

here kuroo is, showing up for you like he always does.

showing up without being asked.

(he’d texted you shortly before your flight left to ask when you’d be landing, if you were just going to crash at your boyfriend’s after he picked you up.)

(“you’re not taking an uber by yourself in the middle of the night,” were the first words out of his mouth when you answered his call after texting back that your boyfriend wasn’t getting you.)

it’s funny, the way kuroo’s actions seem to unintentionally peel back the shoddy wallpaper that’s been plastered over the seams of your relationship for years. the way you see cracks now in places you’d once thought whole, emptiness in corners that seemed full by illusion alone.

“there’s a cool lookout to watch the sunrise just off of that exit,” kuroo interrupts your thoughts, gesturing toward a reflective sign indicating the upcoming turn off.

“aren’t you tired?”

kuroo’s palm slides over the steering wheel as he taps his turn signal, fingers drumming thoughtfully against the gear shift knob. “good coffee spot nearby, too.”

you tilt your head. “don’t you have to work today?”

he smiles at you, and your heart drifts on a gentle, warm current when he winks and says, “already called in sick.”

kuroo’s never uttered those three words all of your friends have said time and time again—you deserve better.

(he’s never said them because he doesn’t need to.)

[tsvkjko]

i’m not usually a rin girlie but… DAMN

dee… please elaborate on spitting in rin’s mouth while he’s jerking off 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

18+

>>: If you’re going to jerk off to porn in the middle of the night could you at least wear headphones

Suna: sry

Suna: ill cum faster if u wanna just come spit in my mouth

Suna: lol jk

—

it’s been three days since rintarou sent you those texts, too high and tired and horny to temper a filter between his brain and his fingertips as they skirted across his phone screen.

you’d ignored him, naturally, and he’d come hard to the thought of you listening to him jerking off through the thin wall between your room and his.

(he’d woken up later to the sound of you making far more noise than was necessary out in the kitchen at some ungodly early hour, cum dried across his fist.)

nobody ever said suna rintarou was a good roommate.

it’s been three days, and rin feels just as dazed now as he did that night, but it’s for a wholly different reason.

“you know you’re kind of pathetic, right?”

whatever porn rin had been watching at full volume (no headphones, of course) sits forgotten on the dimmed screen of his laptop, the device pushed aside to make room for your thighs to straddle his lap.

rin blinks up at you, at the way you’re staring down at him expectantly, fingers buried in his dark hair, pulling just hard enough to keep his eyes on yours. (as if he could look anywhere else after experiencing the sight of you storming into his room wearing nothing but a tiny pair of sleep shorts and one of his goddamn shirts—)

“yeah,” he gives you a crooked smile, a lick of arousal flaring hot in his gut when you give his hair a rough tug in turn.

you roll your eyes, and he fights the urge to rock his hips upward. you’re sitting up on your knees, hovering over the erection that he’s been lazily palming through his boxers for the past half hour as you cage him in against the headboard.

“i have to be up at six for work,” you tell him, voice tinged with annoyance.

rin slowly pushes the heel of his palm into his shaft, shivering at the sensation.

“i can’t control when i get horny,” he shrugs, teeth dragging against his bottom lip as he feels more precum begin to soak into the growing wet spot on his boxers.

“i feel bad for whoever you’re sleeping with if you always take this long to come.”

rin tilts his chin even further, relishing in the way it tightens your grip on him, pain blooming on his scalp.

“it’s called edging,” he breathes out.

you level him with an unimpressed look. “well i want to go to sleep, so open your mouth.”

his cock twitches at the implication, and lips obediently fall open for you. and he swears he hears the word pathetic muttered under your breath again, but it’s all noise as blood rushes in his ears when you lean in, lips ghosting over his own.

rin’s not sure when he shoved his boxers down to let his flushed, leaking cock spring free, not sure when he wrapped his fingers around his throbbing shaft.

but he’s already groaning, hips thrusting as he fucks into his fist when your spit lands on his tongue.

“fuck,” he moans, mouth pressing into yours in a not-quite kiss as you card your fingers through his hair.

his dick feels like it’s on a hair trigger when he eagerly swallows your saliva, a desperate sound tumbling up his throat, hot pleasure flooding his veins. his balls ache. rin thinks he might die here, maybe.

that’d be okay.

and because you know he’s pathetic, you do it one more time, tilting his jaw as he feverishly strokes his dick.

when you spit in his mouth this time, rin comes with a shout, hips stuttering hard as he pumps rope after rope of hot, sticky cum from his cock, not at all sorry for the way half of it ends up splattered across your thighs.

(you leave him panting atop his sheets before he can get a word in. and he doesn’t bother trying to clean you up, not when he can imagine you splayed out in your own bed, touching yourself with slick, wet fingers coated in his cum.)

[tsvkjko]

oh my god this is reader messing around with roommate!kuroo

me @ dilf!kiyoomi

[tsvkjko]

IT’S ROOMMATE!KUROO TIME AGAIN.

you’re at work and you’re stressed because the train you usually take to get home got cancelled, but as soon as you leave the building where your office is, you see your dear roomie waiting for you, leaning on his car.

“i saw on my phone that your train got cancelled, so i came to take you home”

that man is a lifesaver

-💋

(roomie!iwa would as well)

WAHHHHHHH this is so cute. also the mental image of kuroo leaning back against his car, legs crossed at the ankles, pushing down his sunglasses slightly when you walk up before opening the passenger side door for you...............???? put me out to sea right this instant.

[tsvkjko]

my search history is between me and the little kuroo photocard in the back of my phone case.

[tsvkjko]

i love you kuroo “oh yeah?” tetsurou

[tsvkjko]

cw: dry humping, grinding, cumming in pants, messy and whiny kuroo :p reblogs, comments and likes are really appreciated<33

It starts with a kiss.

Deep, slow, teasing.

Kuroo’s lips move against yours like he’s got all the time in the world, like he’s savoring every second of it—until you grind down against him.

And suddenly, he’s got no patience left.

“Fuck—baby,” he groans, hands gripping your waist like he’s trying not to lose control, fingers digging into your hips as you roll against him again. “What the hell are you doin’ to me?”

His voice is thick, breathy, already wrecked. It’s hot.

But it’s even hotter knowing that you’ve barely even touched him yet.

“Tetsu,” you murmur, feigning innocence as you grind down against him, feeling the hard press of his cock straining against his sweats. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking.”

And he is. His breath shudders, his fingers tightening on your hips as his head falls back against the pillows.

“Fucking hell,” he groans. “You know exactly what you’re doin’.”

Of course, you do.

Because Kuroo might talk a big game—cocky smirks, lazy teasing, acting like he’s always got the upper hand. But right now?

Right now, he’s a fucking mess.

“Look at you,” you hum, rolling your hips again, making sure to drag yourself slowly along the length of him. “All needy and desperate just from this?”

“Shut up—” His words cut off in a whine when you grind down harder, pressing your full weight against his cock.

Oh. Ohhh

That noise? That little, desperate sound?

You need to hear that again.

“Knew you’d be like this,” you purr, leaning down to nip at his jaw, then his ear. “All talk, but the second I get on top of you, you turn into a pathetic little mess.”

“Baby,” he groans, his hips jerking up against yours, chasing the friction like he can’t help himself. “Holy shit, don’t—don’t say stuff like that—”

But he loves it.

His cock twitches beneath you, and you can feel how badly he needs it, how close he is—his breath hitching, his hands trembling as they grip your hips, his thighs tensing beneath you.

“Gonna cum like this?” you tease, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Without me even touching you?”

“Shit—shit, I—fuck—”

Kuroo’s body tenses beneath you, and then—ohhh, fuck.

You feel it. The way his cock throbs against you, the hot, sticky mess he makes inside his sweats as he gasps through it, his head thrown back, his fingers tightening so hard on your hips you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow.

For a second, the only thing you can hear is his ragged breathing.

Then, finally, he opens his eyes, still hazy, still catching his breath.

And you grin.

“Now, do you think you can handle the real thing?” you hum, rocking your hips just a little, making him whimper at the oversensitivity.

His breath stutters, and you can see the way his body twitches with overstimulation—yet his cock still twitches beneath you, hard again already.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me.” he exhales, voice wrecked.

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry for the short break!! I will work on all my requests now!! thank you all for your great support 🙂‍↕️💞

[tsvkjko]

KUROO TETSUROU HCS ⋆˚࿔

texts in lowercase but is a grammar freak and will make fun of you endlessly if you misspell a word

kind of guy to remember one weirdly specific fact about you that not even you remember and then overreact if you ask him how he knows that

always has a backup plan, and then a backup for the backup plan

fast walker and will not slow down for anyone, except maybe kenma on a good day

refuses to use emojis unless its ironic, but started using it too much that he cant stop

has a really good sense of smell to the point where it freaks other people out

has very strong opinions on pens and will only use gel unless its absolutely necessary

has a habit of rolling up his sleeves even if its literally like snowing outside

unusually good at wrapping presents but purposefully makes it look bad to not ruin his ‘image’

has ten million tabs open and will refuse to close any of them until his phone/computer literally shuts down because of how many there are

very particular about the tightness of his shoes and the shoelaces being even

has no problem wearing mismatched socks but will change if his shirt is wrinkled

doesnt remember anyones phone numbers, not even his own

enjoys doing his chores and errands at night

refuses to use shopping carts and will carry everything in his arms

has a bad habit of clicking his pen to the point where yaku went through his bag when he wasnt looking at replaced all of his clicker pens with pens with caps

secretly loves 80s rock but his guilty pleasure is pop

prefers taking the stairs over elevators and says its for no reason but hes actually just afraid itll break while hes in it

has a specific order he does things in the morning and if its thrown off he feels wrong all day

can tell when someone is about to sneeze before they do and it pisses everyone off because they wont be able to sneeze after he’s said something

always reads the terms and conditions

a sucker for romantic cliches and sappy love stories

is a morning person but not by choice, his internal clock wakes him up at 6 am, no matter how late he sleeps. he hates it.

learned how to cook when he was little because his parents worked a lot and he got so sick of convenience store food that he started cooking out of spite

doesnt feel at home in his place post timeskip because theres nothing in it

starts books and never finishes them

texts people “let me know when you get home” and genuinley gets annoyed/worried if they dont

the last one to leave the party, not because hes having the most fun, but wants to make sure everyone else is okay first

he acts like he’s terrible at handling emotions but is probably the best person to ask

has an irrational fear of missing emails so he checks his inbox obsessively 

post timeskip, he keeps a separate phone for work because he hates his work mixing with his life

chronic snooze button user but is somehow literally never late

[tsvkjko]

Imagine how mad Kuroo would get if you hid his hair gel mid argument

[tsvkjko]

words can’t express how i feel whenever i see a new kuroo headcanon i agree with, especially if it’s super specific. like YES! he absolutely would be a girl dad!! you think he hates pistachios for no reason whatsoever? me too!! feed me kuroo headcanons please n thank u.