Kuroo <3 - Blog Posts

“baby, i have some bad news.”

if it weren’t for the goofy smile on kuroo’s face, you’d be a little more concerned by his words.

he’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs—all dolled up in his white dress shirt and black trousers. his interview with the jva is in about an hour’s time, so of course you dragged yourself out of bed to see him off—for good luck and whatnot.

“ugh you’re right, that tie does not match,” you grin, wrapping your blanket around yourself as you stroll down the remaining steps. his tie is solid black, but you thought a joke would do him some good—that, and you just wanted to see the priceless look on his face.

“first of all, ouch.” he clutches his heart with his right hand, feigning hurt as he passes you the coffee mug from his left. “and second of all, it’s pouring out.”

“so? you’re not made of sugar,” you hum, slowly shuffling into the kitchen as you sip at the hot beverage. he trails not far behind, stopping beside you as you watch the droplets stream down the window.

“i mean, i am pretty sweet,” he grins, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

“i think it’s pronounced lame,” you laugh. he peers down at you, and you can see the indent in his cheek from him biting down on the flesh—because heaven forbid you make him laugh.

he drops his arm from your shoulders, and swipes the coffee right out from under your nose. leaning against the counter, he tilts the cup back and downs the entire thing, finishing with an extra obnoxious ahh.

“as i was saying,” he pauses, sliding the empty mug onto the counter with a satisfied smirk. “you’ve seen my hair when it’s wet—totally not professional.”

“right, because your hair is so professional to begin with,” you respond, choking back a laugh of your own.

“hey, business in the front.” he smoothes a hand over his fringe before spinning on his heels and ruffling the locks at the rear of his head. “party in the back.”

“did you put that on your resume?” you ask, smiling as you watch him reach for a new coffee pod. he presses a few buttons, and within seconds you have a brand new cup brewing.

“yeah, i did.” he plants his hands on your hips, caging you between himself and the counter. “right under the paragraph about how sweet i am.”

he kisses you, and it’s innocent—no ulterior motives in sight. that is, until you pull him back in by his tie. you knew what you were doing, lighting that fire under his ass. now he’s overwhelming. the way he’s wedging his knee between your legs, taunting you with his little gasps that spill into your mouth—it’s making your head spin.

“how long do we have?” you breathe out, the urge to give him a little more than luck becoming all consuming.

he glances down, squinting to make out the tiny hands on his wrist. twelve minutes until he has to leave—more than enough time. he grips the back of your thighs, guiding you up onto the marble surface. the blanket that once hugged your figure is now discarded onto the floor, and now the warmth comes from his hands as they begin to wonder.

it’s the two of you versus the clock, and he’s not thinking with his head anymore—not that he usually does. he presses himself against you with force, and you have to plant your hands on the countertop for balance. but, it feels rather wet, and hot—and now the scorching cup of coffee that was waiting for you is settling into the fabric of kuroo’s dress pants. don’t get him wrong, he was all for making a mess, just not this kind.

“tetsu i,” you gasp, eyes widening as he pulls back with a hiss. the stain forming on his pants is practically invisible due to the dark material, but unfortunately for him—the splash zone wasn’t limited to just his lower half. “i have some bad news.”

The sun isn’t out yet, but there’s blue city lights cascading from the blinds along your bedsheets, and they mix with the linen in a way that lets you know that it isn’t quite morning. You blindly reach for your bedside table, letting your palm smack against the wood until you meet your phone. You squint at the light as it meets your eyes, and then furrow your brows as the time blurs and unblurs in your vision.

It’s three in the morning, 3:27, to be exact, and by the time your senses start to really come back to you, you realize there’s a gentle whirring coming from somewhere in your home. You go to turn, shifting in the sheets to see if your husband, Kuroo, is awake, only to see empty sheets, pillows stacked against your back in his place. And once again, you find your brows furrowing, a little click of your tongue as you scan your bedroom for any sign of your husband. Though your door is set slightly ajar, you can’t find traces of him anywhere—no papers scattered across his nightstand, no pens or journals laying atop your dresser, not even the sound of his distant footsteps settling into the floor of the hallway..

Instead, the little whirring that you’re certain first woke you, stops, and now you’re certain that if you don't find out what that was, you’re going to go insane. That and, obviously, finding your husband. A thought of your own priorities flits across your head, but you only sigh, blowing air out through almost-closed lips, and get up, letting the cold air hit the exposed skin of your arms and legs as you get out of bed.

You grab one of the folded blankets from the ottoman that rests at the foot of your bed, wrapping it around your shoulders and letting it drag along the floor as you walk—your footsteps light enough that they hardly make a creak in the wood, the balls of your feet taking a majority of the pressure anyway. Your cat, whom you had not seen on that same ottoman, perks up and runs after you, presumably awaiting an early breakfast (which, much to his dismay, he will not be getting, but he’ll give you hell for it anyway, you're sure). 

So you walk, little Peanut trailing along behind you, and make your way down the stairs until you arrive at the entryway of Kuroo’s office. Peanut starts to meow at your feet, but just inside you can hear the shuffling of papers and the click of plastic against plastic. Slowly, you open the door, knocking against the wood as you move inside. Peanut rushes in before you can even fully see Kuroo, settling down by the heater. Kuroo turns when you've just barely made it into the room. He’s still wearing the clothes he slept in and, supposedly, will continue to sleep in those clothes, but he’s standing over your files and his desk like he’s just finished something that he’s terribly proud of—his eyes crinkled at their corners in a barely-there smile. And yet, he looks almost apologetic, despite being nearly a foot taller than you, he looks small, his shoulders slumped a bit as he plays with his hands in front of him.

Kuroo’s always been an attractive man to you, but now he almost seems a little prettier. You can’t decide if it’s the way the blue light hits against his skin, still tanned from your honeymoon, or if it’s the way the black strands of his hair still stand out wildly against each other from just getting out of bed. No matter the occurrence, you smile at him, choosing to ignore the weight of the blanket around you and the red that’s sure to be present in your eyes at this hour.

“What, are you doing paperwork for your secret business or something?”

Kuroo laughs, his shoulders visibly relaxing at the sound of you teasing him. He shakes his head, waving you off as he goes to pick at another stack of papers.

“Yeah, yeah, you caught me. Genius,” He pokes back, and you roll your eyes, taking a few strides across the room to reach him and wrap your arms around him, your head leaning against his back. “I was just shredding a couple things. Felt cluttered.” He laughs a bit at himself at the end of that, and then turns, craning his neck to see where you stand behind him. “Sorry if I woke you.”

You hum against him, a wordless gesture of you’re fine, and then stand there for a moment—you're sure that you’re on the verge of falling asleep standing up when Kuroo goes to move again.

“Uh, I need to, you know, shred a few more things.” You press your forehead against his back, groaning into him as he laughs at you again, breaking himself free from your arms as he moves a few more things from files to what you presume must be a “shred” pile. And then the whirring sound comes back as he starts to shred things again, much louder this time and much more annoying, but you’re a little glad to have both found the source of the sound and your husband in one fell swoop. So you lean back against the one clear part of his desk, watching as he moves between pile and shredder, pile and shredder.

“One question,” you begin, speaking just over the noise. Kuroo hums in acknowledgement, quickly meeting your eyes before returning to the papers. “What prompted you to start shredding things at three in the morning, exactly?”

Kuroo sticks out his bottom lip, downturning his mouth as he shrugs and sorts through a few more papers.

“Call it divine intervention,” He replies, and you only roll your eyes, leaning across the shredder to swat at his arm while he laughs, feigning a bit of pain at the motion. “Okay, okay, I woke up and was bored. This seemed like the best option.”

“You know, generally if people wake up at three in the morning, they go back to sleep. Maybe tell their wife they love them-”

“Well, you weren’t awake, now were you.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he copies the movement before he shreds his last papers. You tilt your head, looking at the window into the compartment of the shredder. You step forward, a hand out in front of you and reach for the paper in Kuroo’s. But the warnings for him to stop reach his ears a little too late, because he’s already pushing the papers through the shredder, trying to force it through the blades as the shredder makes a terribly sad clicking noise. Peanut perks up at the sound, scurrying out of the room and, from the sound of his paws against the ground, up the stairs as well.

“Babe, I think-”

“No, don’t worry I got this, it does this sometimes.”

“Yeah like, when it’s jammed?”

Kuroo looks up, brows drawn together. “When it’s what?”

Laughter splutters from your lips, though Kuroo widens his eyes, his gaze darting between you and the shredder.

“I swear I didn’t know shredders could get jammed,” He says, standing up and trying to pull the sheets out of the blades. Yet, undoubtedly, they stay where they are. you mumble something about him making you laugh, and Kuroo just backs away, watching as you bend down to unplug the shredder. 

“You are so smart,” you begin, taking the top of the shredder, stuck paper and all, off of the bin. And what you say is true. If you didn’t know it by the way you’ve known him for years now, by the way he sat by you and talked you through math problems you didn’t quite get in college, you would certainly know it by the array of degrees hung above his desk. But in this moment, with that look on his face and his hair hanging in his eyes, a too-full bin for your shredder sitting in front of you, you’re sure of one thing. “But god, you are so stupid sometimes.”

He narrows his eyes at you, playful in the way he purses his lips, and you just shrug, settling your blanket around your shoulders as you kneel on the floor in front of the shredder. You know Kuroo’s watching you as you pick at the pieces of paper, cutting them away with the nearby pair of scissors until you can start to loosen the pieces from the blades—ever so carefully. 

“You know, normally shredders turn off when the bin is getting full,” Kuroo begins, peering into the shredder’s contents to see what’s been sitting inside. If you know him, you’re sure that it’s been a few months at least since he’s emptied this, and who knows how long he’s been up shredding things. You turn over the top to see bits of shredded paper stuck in the blades, and sigh. You know you should go upstairs and grab your old tweezers, that you should use those to grab the paper and move on, but the blanket is warm and your legs are tired and frankly, you just want to get this done so you can both go back to bed.

So you start picking at the paper with your fingers, careful not to touch the blades, much to Kuroo’s displeasure—he’s making those sounds he makes when he doesn’t quite know what to say, stumbling over breath and syllables instead of real words.

You just shrug, still focused on picking out the pieces of paper with your hands, while Kuroo gives up with a groan and a backwards tilt of his head. You chuckle a bit at him, more through your nose than through your lips, and then watch as he picks up the bin and goes to empty out its contents.

It’s not long after that you sigh and lean back, the rest of the paper finally out of the blades and, thankfully, not a cut on your hands in sight. When you look up, Kuroo has half of the bin emptied into his office trash can, the other half too much paper to even try to fit in there.

And though normally you would love to poke fun at him for this, though you’d love to make some comment that makes him roll his eyes and knock his shoulders into yours, you’re feeling particularly tired right now—you’re fairly certain it’s closer to 4:00 than it is to 3:30 now—and you’d feel much better if you could just get back in bed like most normal wives do with their normal husbands.

you almost make yourself laugh. Wouldn’t normalcy sound nice?

“You stay there,” you start, finally letting the blanket fall from your shoulders and into a sad little pile on the ground, “I’ll take that out and get another bag, you finish whatever it is you need to do.”

Kuroo goes to say something, and from the look on his face you knows it’s going to be something along the lines of well, there wasn’t really an end-goal, per se, and the thought of that makes you want to drag him upstairs and force him to sleep, so you just stare at him, a little blankly, and at your expression he puts his hands up and does a look of playful surrender.

So you grab the bag out of the trash, and then notice a few pieces of paper scattered on the floor around the can, so you lean down, going to pick one of them up to throw into the bag with the rest of them. And then you stop.

The paper seems a little thicker, cardstock, maybe, and there’s a familiar frilly design that seems to roll around it, disappearing in certain places to fade into a soft tan. You pick it up, turning it over in your fingers and scanning the bag that hangs off of your arm for more pieces of the document. you find more of the blue design that carts around the edges, and then your eyes fall onto another piece of cardstock. This time, with hard, block lettering, an a and part of a g sitting next to each other. You look a little further down, and then, staring back at you, is the mess of part of your own signature, you’re sure of it.

You turn, slowly. You’re a little scared to see Kuroo’s face, honestly, whether or not he even knows what he’s actually done. You aren't surprised to find that he’s oblivious to your realization, instead he’s leaned over his desk, sorting through papers and mumbling something to himself, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little betrayed by the fact.

Because, held in your own hands, shredded up into a reused bag from your grocery store, is the stupidest decision you think Kuroo has ever made. It tops the time in college he only ate mac and cheese for two weeks, it’s above every time he blacked out and made you take care of him and his awful hangovers the next day, it’s even above all the times he proposed to you with no real plan, just popping the question to think, hey, maybe you’ll say yes this time.

“Kuroo,” you start, and he hums, eyes meeting yours for a quick moment before returning to his papers. “Did you shred our marriage certificate?”

Kuroo stills. He turns, sending a rush of air out of his lips and clicking his tongue while he leans back against his desk.

“No.” The ‘o’ is drawn out, accompanied by the shake of his head. “No, that would be a stupid idea, right?”

“Right.” Your voice is steady, your tongue running against the back of your teeth. “That would be very stupid.”

“Yeah, exactly, so I definitely did not do-” He pauses, smacking his lips together- “that.”

And you could kill him. In cold blood, right here, you could become a murderer in your own home. You won’t (you’ll think about it until the day he dies), you would never. What you do, however, is drop the bag with the shreds of paper in it, sending cheap confetti (or in this case, cheap confetti mixed with confetti that accompanied the cost of a several thousand dollar wedding), flying through the air and scattering along the office floor.

You put your head into your hands, smoothing out creases that are beginning to form in your skin, and against everything in your chest, you yell.

“Why?”

You look up from your hands to see Kuroo biting at his lip and slowly gesturing. you swear you can see the gears turning in his head.

“So, you know how you love me? Like, a lot?”

No, you think.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, voice a little hardened, tone a little flat.

“So, I was thinking,” He starts to move towards you, still gesturing wildly as he keeps trying to explain, “that you only really need marriage certificates for divorce, right? And we’re never getting divorced, so there’s definitely no need for that to be around.”

And Kuroo, your husband, the one who asks you to tie his ties in the morning and stumbles around the kitchen because he never learned to cook properly, the one who read over your every paper in college and reads over your every story now, is also the only one of this Earth who could ever make you feel this kind of anger. It’s the kind of anger that you can feel in your throat, like it's clawing at you and you have to attempt to dispel it with every shaken breath. You do, of course, one in, a second out, until you can finally bear to fully bring your face out of your hands.

“We needed that.” If you say any more, you’re sure you’ll want to yell again, but Kuroo stares at you blankly, his lip still caught between his teeth. “You know, for taxes, health insurance, a mortgage.”

And as if in one final realization, Kuroo nods, eyes a little wider, a breath escaping through his nose.

“Those aren’t like, that important,” He says, and there’s a joking lilt to his voice, but it gets cut off by the tilt of your head, your eyes feeling a little more tired than usual. You stand there staring at each other for a moment, and then in one movement, you stand up, grab the blanket, shake the shreds of paper off of it, and walk towards the door, avoiding the papers like they could be shards of glass.

“That’s it,” you say, “That’s it, I’m going to bed.”

Kuroo goes to follow you, chasing you with the sound of his voice as he says, “Okay, I’ll come with you. You know, I feel like maybe this is something we should talk-”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“We will talk about this tomorrow. I hear the guest bedroom has a very comfortable mattress.”

Kuroo stands in the doorway. For a moment, it looks like he wants to fight you on this, to chase after you up the stairs as though he could make everything perfect with a true love’s kiss, something to break you from whatever curse tonight could be and instead flood you back into what used to be normal married life.

But you're sure he couldn’t possibly know what that would mean at this point. As you ascend the stairs, you see him furrow his brows before turning back into the office. you know, deeply so, that he loves you. That he does these things more out of impulsivity than true stupidity and malice, because he’s always been like this. He’s always been one to stay up late, to do things last minute because there was always something that seemed more interesting going on elsewhere. Or even just that, if a thought ever were to pop into his head, it had to be acted upon. Nearly twenty proposals later—most done in the midst of disaster, when you had flour in your hair or dirt in your knees—you should know better than to think anything is out of malice.

But you know that doesn’t stop him from making stupid decisions. It really never has. So though you feel a pang of guilt as you cross the threshold from the hallway into your bedroom, you can’t say that it stops you from crawling into bed. It doesn’t stop you from drowning yourself in the drenched moonlight of linen sheets. It doesn’t stop you from placing your back against the pillows that Kuroo placed there. It doesn’t stop you from closing your eyes and, in an instant, falling back to sleep.

But you wake up awfully early. It’s to the sound of Kuroo more than it is to the birds, to the feeling of his palm on your shoulder more than it is to the sunlight washing your skin. But still, you wake, squinting your eyes at him as he stands over you, bags dragging down and into the rise of his cheeks, his hair a calmer mess than it was before, but still struck with that feeling of unkempt bedhead.

This early in the morning, with this little sleep in your bones, you almost forget why you’re upset with him. But then you catch the piece of shredded paper that’s caught on the old, oversized t-shirt he won at some bar playing some drinking game, and you feel a pit settle in your stomach. You close your eyes again, take a breath, and then look back up at Kuroo.

“I have a surprise.” His voice is almost a whisper, but there’s an air of excitement that seems to coat each of the syllables. You don't speak, only let him guide you off of your bed and down the stairs. Peanut once again trails behind you, letting both of you know that now is certainly time for his breakfast. After what you’ve been through, he probably deserves it soon.

But you both walk, and Kuroo brings you through the door and into his office once more. You yawn, rubbing your eyes at the way the morning light shines through the window above the desk, but when you open them once more, you find that there’s been a mosaic created along your floors.

Well, maybe mosaic is a bit of a stretch. There’s shredded pieces of paper scattered all along the office, some that have been placed together in groups that seem to make up other documents, but the one that sits in the middle is made entirely of cardstock—with that frilly blue pattern circling the edges, the words ‘MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE’ written out along the top. At the bottom, both of your signatures are put together, and though the lines aren’t perfectly together and you can tell it’s been shredded and forced to rejoin, it’s still the certificate, nevertheless.

“That cannot be valid anymore,” you say, and Kuroo laughs. You glance over and find him leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh, definitely not.” He pushes himself off the wall then, stepping over some shredded and half-put-together papers to kneel down, picking up the certificate so now you can see that it’s all been taped together. “But it might make for a fun memento.”

“You know, as much as I really love a good memento-” Kuroo rolls his eyes at you, he knows well enough that you hate souvenirs, always have, and don’t dare let him try to buy you something no matter the occasion. He usually does anyway. “-I don’t think a memento can put me under your health insurance.”

“Health insurance, smealth insurance,” He says with a wave to his hand. He’s met with another glare when he looks back up at you. “I’m kidding! Just like, promise me you won’t get injured for the month it takes us to get the replacement.”

You take in a breath, holding it in your chest while you stare at your husband across the room. He shrugs again while you look at him.

“You are insufferable.”

“You know, I hear some people say that’s my charm.”

Kuroo places the certificate on his desk, trying to prop it up against the wall as it slides back down the desk. He grumbles for a moment before trapping it between the wall and journal, mumbling something about a frame before he turns back to you.

And then you laugh at him. Nothing bright or loud, in fact it’s rather soft, barely taking up more space than a breath would. Instead, it’s the way your face scrunches and the shake of your head that makes everything seem like it’s almost okay.

You are aware of quite a few things in your life, one of which being that paper shredders do, in fact, jam, but one of the other things, and one of the things that you prefer to know, is that a craving for normalcy is hardly ever satisfied. So as you stare at your husband, laughter bubbling up your throat, you figure that you should’ve expected this.

“Okay but if we get the certificate, I have one condition.” you laugh again at the prospect of if, but let Kuroo continue anyway. “You still can’t divorce me.”

“Deal,” you agree, “But only if we call them by nine.”

reblogs and feedback are super appreciated ❤︎

GIVE ME FIXING EACH OTHER’S CLOTHES WITH KUROO RIGHT NOW 😨‼️ love u hehe <3 if u don’t want kuroo please do whoever u would like most :)

ofc ofc anything for u my love <33 - "fixing each other's clothes" w kuroo **suggestive!!

if you were to tell this story to anyone else, you'd say he's not normally like this. that kuroo is always professional and kind and that he would never dare to act like this—never. but that's not true, never would be true, because the way his breath fades into your own and the way he bites at your lips in the dark corners of this work event is entirely too familiar to you.

there's a distant call of his name, but he's too busy slipping the strap of your dress down your shoulder to ever notice, laughter pricking at ever kiss he presses to the skin there.

"kuroo," you whisper, and you can feel him smile against you, "kuroo."

he looks up at you now, the first button of his shirt is undone, his hair a bit messier than it was a moment before, and just a little bit of lipstick smeared across his mouth.

"we need to head back," you say, and he rolls his eyes, leaning back down to press another kiss to your collarbone, but you tug back on his collar, pulling him up until his eyes meet yours. "and fix you."

"that's a very long process, babe," he says, laughing when you swat at his chest and start buttoning his shirt back up. "you're no fun, you know that?"

"i'm plenty fun when your boss isn't looking for you."

he sighs, lolling his head back as your fingers trail over his collar and set it back into place.

"my boss can suck my di-"

"ah, nope, not here. you can't get fired today."

"yeah, yeah, whatever," he replies, and then leans down to you for the last time, pulling the strap back up your shoulder (but carefully trailing kisses in its wake anyway).

send me prompts from this list for a drabble !

kuroo + “are you trying to seduce me into healthier sleeping patterns?” for @therescrackinmytea <3 thank you for requesting this! this shit was so funny to write, i hope you love it babe!!

“hey!” kuroo shouts, cradling his hand to his chest rather dramatically. “did you just bite my finger?”

you turn back to your laptop with a satisfied smirk. “i asked you to stop poking me— nicely. you didn’t. play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

your husband groans loudly, dropping his forehead onto the edge of the table. “but aren’t three warnings customary before punishment?”

“for children, maybe,” you hum distractedly. “not adult men who are trying to distract me from this spreadsheet.”

you pause, briefly glancing up at him, brow raised. “and don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

“biting is for the bedroom only. which is where we should be because i’m tired,” he whines, turning his head so his cheek is smushed against the table. “it’s almost midnight and we both have work in the morning.”

you check your notes before filling in another column. “you know where the bedroom is.”

“come with me,” he begs, dragging himself up off the table and walking around to where you’re seated, wrapping his arms around your waist and nudging his face into your neck. “you’ve been working late the past two nights. you need to sleep.”

“i can’t,” you sigh for the dozenth time tonight. “i need to finish this first.”

“you’d rather fill in spreadsheets than turn in with your sweet, sweet, husband?” you feel him pout against your skin. “i think that’s grounds for divorce.”

you roll your eyes, turning your head a little to press a little kiss to his cheek. “husbands are replaceable. jobs are forever.”

that just makes him whine louder, pulling away to walk to the opposite end of the table. “okay, you’ve left me no choice. it’s time to bring out the big guns.”

“tetsu, if you take your shirt off—”

you scrunch your nose when his shirt hits you in the face, falling into your lap.

against your better judgement, you sneak a glance at him. he’s standing shirtless and cross-armed, putting toned biceps and abs on display, staring straight at you. “for every minute you don’t come to bed, i’m removing one article of clothing.”

“you only have two other things on,” you point out, using your pen to gesture to the plaid pyjama pants.

“then i guess you only have two minutes.”

you shake your head a little, trying your best to focus on the numbers on your laptop screen. “are you seriously trying to seduce me into healthier sleeping patterns?”

he shrugs, sending you a sly grin. “is it working?”

it was, admittedly. late nights at work or doing work had carved into a considerable amount of alone time with kuroo. lately, the two of you had been so tired that you’d knock right out as soon as your heads hit the pillows, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t missed your late night chats in bed.

he also looked really good. had he been—

“and before you ask, yes, i’ve been going to the gym with akaashi. guy’s got a solid routine.”

well, you certainly couldn’t argue with that.

so you close your laptop, stretching a bit before pushing out of your chair and shuffling over to his side. “okay, fine, you win this time.”

“it never fails,” kuroo just laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in to plant a kiss on your forehead. “i swear, it’s like you only married me for my body or something. which i’m totally okay with, by the way.”

“of course,” you scoff, playfully pinching his side. “because when i get fired and we can’t pay bills, we’re going to have to sell your body to put food on our table.”

“hey, i’d be an amazing prostitute. want me to prove it?”

little moments on the rooftop

featuring: KUROO TETSURO

pairing: implied she/her pronouns ?? (

type: SUMI’S ONE-SHOTS

warnings: okay there's a kissing moment and the term "masochist" is used in a joking manner and ummm yeah that's about it tbh

genre: slice of life/fluff

a/n: trying to start writing little things so i can get back into the flow of writing again idky i haven't had any motivation recently :((

"hey," a voice called out to you in the night.

you turned your head to see the bedhead haired boy, standing at the rooftop entrance door. he was in his familiar nekoma volleyball team jacket with a pair of checkered warm pajama pants.

you had situated yourself on top of blanket and a few other blankets that were wrapped around you. "hey."

he walked over to where you were sitting and took off his shoes, gently stepping onto the blanket. he crossed his legs as he sat down. you opened the one blanket you had wrapped around you just so he could scooch himself in next to you.

"god you and your long limbs. so difficult to deal with," you mumbled as he tried to settle within the blanket.

"hey! leave me and my long limbs alone," he huffed with a pout. the both of you bursted into laughter with a half smile etched on your face that he grew to love and cherish.

looking away from each other, you looked out into the view in front. ithe both of you could see the lights from the downtown skyscrapers into the distance.

in front of you, though, you could see your neighborhood lit up with the usual and casual street lights. occasionally, there would be a car or bicyclist going by but it was relatively quiet during this time.

as the both of you stared into the distance, you leaned your head onto his shoulder. his body tensed for a moment but you eventually felt it soothe down.

"mmm you smell nice," you told the boy. "did you put on some new body lotion or something?"

"yeah. obassan bought some new body lotion but i don't think she knows which one is my regular one but it's okay. i like this one though," he explained.

"you smell like that rose scented perfume i showed you at the mall the other day," you told him.

he sniffed the sleeve of one of his hands. "how do you even smell that? it clearly smells like strawberries."

"does not."

"does too."

"it literally said on the package 'strawberry scented.'"

“…”

he looked over at you, his smirk growing on his face. “you don’t wanna admit that i’m right huh?”

"i hate you."

"no you don't. otherwise, we wouldn't be here now, would we?" he said with that mischievous grin on his face.

"stop it or i'll plant my fist on your nose," you rolled your eyes.

he comically put his hand on his forehead to show his pain and agony. "are you a masochist or something? you're always putting me through pain huh?"

you laughed and lightly flicked your finger on his cheek which had you laughing but him wincing in slight pain which turned into eventual chuckles.

he starts mumbling something under his breath. you couldn't seem to catch them though.

"hm?" you responded.

"i love being with you. so damn much." he replied.

you looked up at him as he continued to look towards the scenery in front. you lifted your head off his shoulder which had him confused, forcing him to look at you.

and then you took his face in your hands and kissed him. it wasn't those messy, desperate kisses that you had when the both of you made out. it was a kiss that was slow. and passionate. and in a way, comforting. a kiss that explained more than words could ever.

he slowly responded back with his hands wrapping around your waist. he pulled you in closer to him, trying to get you as close as he could to you.

he pulled away and a blush started to etch its way onto his face. you couldn't help but let the snarky comment come out of your lips. "aww is my favorite pretty boy blushing?"

with no response, you realized he may have been a bit too flustered your sudden kiss.

you forced his face to face you. looking into those golden pools in his eyes that you always sought comfort and joy in, he smirked and leaned in to kiss you back.

“i'm always blushing for my pretty girl.”

Fill-a-Page February day 23!

I was in a Kuroo kind of mood today. His hair is such a disaster zone omg.

sucker for you.

summary: you’re dramatic, there’s no doubt about it. so when you get annoyed at your vampire boyfriend, what do you do? wear all the things that would cause his suffering, of course.

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

genre: vampire!kuroo, human!reader, fluff//humor, established relationship, (flashback) meet cute, (mentioned) college!au, v domestic, reader is dramatic <3 

word count: 5.6k

a/n: we’re in spooktober! starting off the month with some wholesome vampire!kuroo and his wonderful human!gf heehee <3 hope you enjoy!

“y/n! i’m… oh no.”

kuroo stands at the door of your shared apartment, face falling at the sight of your figure on the couch with stubbornly crossed arms. but it wasn’t your crossed arms and furrowed brows that caught his eye first, but what was hanging around your neck.

you were wearing a string of garlic around your neck.

freaking garlic.

Keep reading

scott pilgrim 😁😁😁

rb this + in the tags tell me who ur 7 anime crushes that ur new lover would have to defeat for ur heart