#📂 ; ✰ https:// kuroo tetsurou

[bachibabe]

pairing : kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

wc : 1.2k

content : tit play/groping, kuroo is kinda toxic but it’s fine, soft towards the beginning and more toxic towards the end

18+ → minors / blank blogs dni

The pale white suds dance across your breasts. The pretty pink loofah scrubbing away a hard day's work. Scrubbing the misfortune that seems to permeate your skin away, wissfully washing it down the drain. A sigh leaves your lips, a huddled murmur of relaxation falling from them as you finally allow your shoulders to sag. Allow the hot water to de-tense your muscles. It isn’t as good as a masseuse, but it will do. It has to for now. Dinner still needs to be made. Chores still to be done.

Your brain is is starting to pick up speed, a swell of muscle tightening in your lower back at the mere thought of having to continue with the atrocities of adulthood. Yes, the dishes do count as an atrocity. You’re sure of it. So do the vegetables that need to be chopped, so does the meat that needs to be fried. Stomping your legs won’t do anything, no matter how much you wish it would.

A pout comes to your lip. A kicked puppy, yeah. That’s what you are. Poor thing. Too much, too hard for you. If only Kuroo was home. His business trip is taking too long. Too time consuming. You miss him. Miss him far too much for your liking. But he helps. He makes the world just a tad bit easier. Even when purple grows under both his eyes and your own, he still manages to relax your tightened frame. Holding you close. Telling you not to worry.

But this business trip was necessary, blah blah. You know that it is true, but that doesn't mean you like any second of it. You rely on him, he's made sure of it. He likes it that way, really. The words have come from his own lips. So here you find yourself, craving something that cannot possibly be reached. Washing off the make-up you applied that morning. When the air seemed happier, lighter. The dark of sundown always makes you a tad melancholy.

“What the fuck!!” The last shred of relaxation is ripped from your very bones when the curtain is forced open, cold air hitting your naked form. You panic, fear rushing through you as you do your best to cover your body with your arms, shouting at whoever dare interrupts your warm sanctuary.

The red of fear quickly fades from your vision, your eyes focusing on the shirtless figure in front of you. One that you quickly recognise. Black bedhead, one arm stretched behind his head. A yawn echoing the back of his throat. Oh my god, it’s your asshole. The one you’ve been missing so dearly.

A string of obscenities leave your throat, a soap bar soaring towards his head as you shout for no reason in particular. The shock that he’s home, the realisation that you must’ve missed him sleeping in your bed. The fact he’s staring at you with that annoying , simple smirk on his face. Watching your body, your arm barely covering anything. You whine, holding a shampoo bottle as your next weapon as he holds his hands up, feigning innocence where there is none.

“Calm down, calm down. I just came to see my pretty girl.” That confident grin that makes girls fall to their knees. That's the tactic of war he’s using today. It’s a lie, you both know it is. “I came home early.” He’s already taking off his clothes, the invite doesn't need to be said.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as he steps into the shower, “You didn’t have to scare me like that Roo!” He did, well, he wanted to. He likes scaring you a little. Maybe more than he likes to admit. Your cute little scrunched up face, your insults that are about as light as a feather. The flicker of fear in your eye. He likes it all.

He simply shrugs, arms wrapping around you from behind. Head resting on your shoulder as he closes his eyes. Hums, still drowsy from jet lag even with his nap. His hands touch you casually, rubbing circles into your delicate skin. Moving from your waist to feel you properly. Hold you like he cares.

“Mhmm, tell me all about it later, yeah pretty?” He grabs your body wash– mango scented. Did you run out of the strawberry while he was away? Poor thing, how did you manage without him.

You don’t stop him as he rubs the liquid between his fingers, even though you had already cleaned yourself. You don’t stop him as his hands roam your chest, pretending to just be cleaning the peaks. His hand squeezing, fondling you with no protest under the innocent practice of washing his girlfriend. Casual touches are the most dangerous, especially from a man like Tetsurou.

His left hand gently squeezes your flesh, palming it like a true gentleman would. The soap acts as a sort of lubricant, allowing him to easily slide his fingers over your nipple. Pinching the flesh, twisting it just enough to make your breath falter, to cause your knees to want to slide from under you. But he just acts as if nothing happened, moving back to casually squeezing your breast, rubbing the soap in just right.

His right hand lowers itself. It’s dangerous. More so than you’d like to admit. You’ve forgotten all other sensations save for his hands on your needy body. One that has missed him so much. One that just can’t seem to get off without his touch. You can’t feel the water begin to grow cold, your toes pruning, the cock pressed hard against your back. No, you can only focus on the hand that lowers itself to where you desire him. Where slick has formed at the thought of him touching you so gently. Where you wish his fingers would thrust into you, stretch you, make you feel full.

He hums. He smiles something wicked. One that shows the points of his teeth. Yet, you are too far gone to truly notice it. What a wreck you are, huh? Such a needy thing. So desperate for any ounce of him. It’s cute, really. You’ll just let him touch you however he wants. However he likes with no complaint? Ah, This must be what leaving you alone does. The fight is gone, the brattiness that always penetrates your encounters has been eradicated.

This is what an addiction must feel like. Well, as close as someone could get to being addicted to another human. Taking away his presence, his very being leaves you as nothing but a cute little toy. He can do better. You both can huh? Maybe he’ll make his meeting go a little longer next time. See what that might do. Ah, but he’s getting too ahead of himself.

For now, he’s just meant to enjoy this shower with you. Pump his fingers deep inside of your needy hole, hear you beg in that cute little crestfallen tone. Feel your bodies pressed together after so long. Indulge in each other. Help the other relax. Then he might be able to look towards the future.

Mhmm. Happy wife, happy life.