You shove up the hem of his shirt, exposing more of his stomach to the balmy air. Blunt fingernails scratch gently up to his chest, your thumb stroking him right over his heart. Distantly, you can feel it throb in tandem with the building heat between your thighs.

Levi’s jaw pops open when your finger knicks his perked nipple, and you seize the opportunity to explore his mouth deeper, overpowering him with a few skillful laves of your tongue. He fights back, though shakily, by closing his teeth down on your bottom lip. The dull pain welcomes a shuddering sound from deep inside you.

He scoffs, breathless, “I win.”

“Like hell,” you hiss back. You grab his hips and drag him forward, angling your body so that your center touches the growing bulge in his pants.

He curses to himself. “Oh, fuck, you’re wearing it?”

“Yeah, I am,” you say against his cheek. You kiss along his jawline back to his ear, nipping at his ear lobe before descending his throat. He tries to writhe over the strap tucked away, anything but subtle in his wordless plea for what he desires. After you suck a few bruises into his neck, you tell him, “Now go lay on your back for me.”

Levi slides off your lap without need for further prompting, blue-gray eyes blinking up at you expectantly where he stretches back on his elbows. His legs are joined and angled to the side, the hem of his shirt raised up to his ribs. His intent to entice you is purposeful—and it’s working.

“Lift your hips for me, baby,” you demand. You work free the button and zipper on his trousers, then hook your fingers under his waistband. He lifts up as ordered, shimmying his legs to help you remove his pants and briefs at the same time. Goosebumps cover his pale legs when greeted by the temperature drop. Your palms rub up and down over his skin to smooth them over.

Your eyes flit up the plush of his thighs to his cock, hard and ready where it lays against his pelvis. A silvery cream has already begun coating his shaft, all the way down from his reddened tip. Carefully, you wrap your fingers around him, jerking him until he’s sighing and limp underneath you.

Dark lashes flutter shut, and his head lolls to the side. He instinctively brings a leg up, anticipating a prodding at his entrance that has yet to come.

He whines, “Don’t tease.”

“I have to prep you first.”

“Then do it quickly. And stop touching me otherwise I’m gonna fucking cum.” For good measure, he whispers, “Please.”

You acquiesce him just this once despite his raging attitude—he can answer to that another time. But right now, all you can think about is watching and listening to him as you bury yourself inside him. You want to weave all those little noises out of his throat, turn him loose and pliant on your cock, and make him make a mess.

You reach for the bottle of lube behind you and generously lather two fingers. He watches you through low-lidded eyes, his tongue dampening his swollen lips as if to prove how hungry he is for it. If his expression alone wasn’t enough proof, then he tells you everything by the way he grabs the plump cleft of his ass and spreads himself open for you.

“Good boy,” you coo. His eyes shut as he basks in the lasting warmth of your praise, and he bears down on the width of your fingers entering him.

You stretch him open with ease, caressing his walls, sinking in as far as their length allows. His chest heaves and his jaw goes completely slack, but you know well by now that two fingers is nothing compared to the thick device trapped under your restrictive waistband.

“Put it in,” he begs, his voice broken and airy. “Take me. Take me. I’m ready.”

“I will,” you promise with a soothing edge to your voice.

You pull down on your zipper and work the toy out, drizzling some lube over the attachment before lining it with his entrance. His body goes completely taut, mouth gaped as the tip teases the soft ring of muscle. He aimlessly pats around the mattress for your hand, which you let him grip for dear life as you slowly push in.

Levi lets out a throaty sound. He crushes your hand with his own and grits his teeth, then goes boneless when your pelvis presses flush against his ass. He’s already taken everything you offered, and he’s never felt better. He reaches over to bring his pillow to his face and hugs it, still gripping your hand.

“Good?” you ask.

He nods, utterly helpless to his own desires. More beads of precome dribble from his cockhead and leave a trail on his lower tummy, but he makes no move to touch himself without your permission.

“I wanna hear you.”

“Yes,” he chokes. “Fuck, ah—”

Your hand finds the little divot in his waist and latches on, pinning him in one place so you can add more momentum to your thrusts. Groans tunnel up out of his throat and mingle with the air around. His hair clings to his sweat-slick forehead.

He rubs his lips together, bruised from kissing, and uses both his arms to cling to the pillow. A crease forms where his brows draw together, an almost anguished look plastered on his dewy features—like it hurts him to feel so ridiculously pleasant.

“Look at you,” your breaths come out shaky, a smile twitching on your lips. “You take me so well, Levi baby.”

“Mmn,” is all he can respond with.

“You need me to touch you, or can you cum just like this for me?”

“Just…” He pushes back onto your cock, craving you even deeper if it’s possible. His hips undulate, and the bedsheets stimulate him where he ruts unabashedly. “Please, please—“

From the way his tongue is poking at his lips and his body is shivering from your strokes, you know he’s close. Your nails sink into the taut skin of his waist, and he throws his head back.

“I’m there!” he cries.

You don’t change any of what you’re doing. You still fuck him with that same tenderness, hitting him just as deep, grabbing him and holding him.

“Let me have it, Levi. Cum for me.”

He finishes with a whimper, clamping down on your cock while white coats his stomach. You stroke him with a loose fist to milk him of every last drop, still bottomed out inside, your body draped protectively over his. He quivers, his jaw wobbling and his body drawing tight until he’s keening from the overstimulation; then you release him. You wait until his breathing evens out.

“You did so good.” You smooth his bangs back, your heart thrumming at the glow highlighting his pink cheekbones. “Give me a kiss.”

He hums softly and tilts his head, parting his lips to make room for yours. He’s a bit lazy kissing you back, no longer feigning a fight for dominance. Your lips continue to move steadily and slowly over his as you pull out. Despite the emptiness, he feels anything but hollow—only a deep, burning satisfaction that stirs every nerve awake.

“Love you,” he breathes. He nuzzles closer to you, his nose brushing yours.

It was quick. A guy who ran a red light didn’t see you crossing the street. Screeching tires, horrified gasps, then darkness.

But when you woke up, nothing hurt. Your body was completely intact, still in the outfit you were wearing that day, but without your bag or your school books.

You also weren’t at home anymore.

You stood in the middle of Kuroo Tetsurou’s apartment, next to the couch you’d sat on countless times, the apartment owner nowhere to be found. How did you get here? You wandered through the rooms looking for him, but not seeing him, tried the front door to leave.

Only you couldn’t.

Your hand went through the knob immediately, and you screamed, backing up into the wall. Only the wall didn’t stop you—you fell through it immediately and landed in the middle of the hallway closet, staring at winter jackets and old Nekoma sweatshirts. In your panic, you scrambled up, hurrying back to the front door to try the knob again and again.

Nothing changed.

It was nearly unbelievable, so you chalked it up to a bad dream that you’d soon wake up from—except Kuroo shuffled back into the apartment that night, eyes bloodshot and red, head buried into his hands the minute he sat down on his couch. You cried with him then, translucent tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried over and over to offer a comforting hand, and failed every time.

It was then that realization settled like a heavy blanket.

You were dead.

Time passed; lives went on without you. You watched Kuroo graduate university and find his dream job with the Japan Volleyball Association. You lingered in that apartment for years, working to strengthen your resolve to show him you were still there for him. Whenever he wasn’t home, you tried to hold onto things, move them to help him whenever he misplaced something. It took a lot of energy at first, rendering you unable to move for days on end, but after years of practice, it was second nature now.

His phone? Whenever he needed it.

Forgot to turn off the coffee maker? You switched it off for him instead.

The report he painstakingly worked on all weekend? Tidy and in a manila folder, on the dining room table waiting for him.

“I think I have an angel watching me,” Kuroo had joked to Bokuto one night on the phone when he found his lost headphones after looking all day. Then he uttered your name and made you gasp. “Maybe they’re out there watching me or something.”

You were beyond ecstatic that he remembered you after all these years, but you knew all good things had to come to an end.

And they certainly did the moment she first walked through the door.

She’s pretty. That’s the first thing you think when you see her. The second is, I hate her.

Kuroo is smitten with her from the get-go, which makes things worse because he doesn’t see her messages. He doesn’t hear the way she talks about him on the phone when he’s out of earshot. But you do.

He’s kind of a loser, but he’s hot, isn’t he? She giggles to her friend and gasps when she feels your hand brush across her face. You’re not strong enough to slap or touch people—and that’s not for a lack of trying—but she looks around the room wildly before settling back on the couch.

“No, no, I’m okay,” she reassures her friend before sighing. “Anyway, he wants to go to the museum next week. The museum!”

That’s when you decide to make her life a living hell.

It’s not because of the unrequited love you were never able to express. It’s because Miki, as you now know her, doesn’t deserve Kuroo. She doesn’t deserve the way he smiles at her; doesn’t deserve the way he brings her flowers or sends her little flirty texts that she barely responds to; doesn’t deserve the way he keeps his face between her legs, making her cum over and over without any reciprocation.

It makes your face harden whenever Miki coos Tetsurou to his face, then complains about him behind his back. Does she not realize what a catch Kuroo is? How anyone would be lucky to have him to themselves? You start small—misplaced items, little shadows in the corner of her eye. You grow bolder when she starts to notice: lights flickering whenever she talks badly about him, disembodied whispers and giggles that are assuredly not from her whenever Kuroo tells a joke.

You can practically feel her nerves and fright whenever she walks into the apartment, and it’s a cold October night when you realize you can finally touch her.

It shocks the both of you; you jump apart from each other without realizing it, and Kuroo looks up from the movie strangely to regard her.

“You okay, babe?”

“Y-yeah,” she stutters as she looks around. “I thought something touched me.”

“Must be my guardian angel,” he laughs as he pulls her into his side, kissing the top of her head. “Sometimes it feels like I’m blessed.”

Kuroo might be blessed, but she certainly isn’t.

That night, as she sleeps, you try again. You touch her hand, and though yours disappears into her skin, you can feel her. You can feel the slow beat of her heart, can feel the way her lungs expand and collapse with her even breaths. It’s enough to make you pull back, holding your hand to your chest as you stare at her sleeping body as you speculate. Touching her made you feel you were alive again, and when you touch her one more time, her heartbeat thrumming through your cold body, the beginnings of a plan start to form.

It takes shape, cracking from its egg and gaining wings the minute Kuroo calls Kenma a few days later.

“Miki just…” Kuroo takes a breath before exhaling sharply. “I don’t know, Kyanma. I wish she was more spontaneous or something. Sometimes it feels like she doesn’t even want to be with me.”

“Spontaneous?” The gamer questions from the other end.

“Yeah, you know, like… crawling under the table before dinner to—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve asked her to sit on my face and she’s said no?”

“Kuro, Jesus, I don’t need to know.”

Both Kuroo and Kenma laugh, but you’re not laughing. You’re angry—angry at the fact that Miki is wasting Kuroo’s love, at the fact that she doesn’t appreciate or respect him like you could. You could have given him everything he wanted if you only had the chance—but that was ripped from you by a man distracted by his phone and shitty luck on your university campus.

That’s when you resolve to give Kuroo what he wants.

The next time Miki sleeps over, you put your plan into motion. You gently touch her hand as she sleeps, and when your hand sinks into hers, you push further. Your arm falls in hers; your legs disappear into her body. When you finally lay your heart over hers, it’s like a jolt runs through your entire being. It’s shocking, almost painful, like a bucket of ice cold water was thrown all over you and forced you awake.

When you spring up, your hands aren’t your own. Your legs are heavy as you slip from bed and pad over to the floor-length mirror Kuroo keeps by his desk.

You don’t stare back.

Miki does.

When you lift your hand, Miki’s arm lifts in the mirror. The touch to her face feels like your face, and when Miki’s fingers pinch her cheek, you feel it.

Holy shit.

“Babe?” Kuroo’s tired voice croaks, and you turn back to him, trying to catch your (or is it Miki’s?) breath. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” you placate him in Miki’s voice as you move back over to the bed.

Kuroo is warm as you slip next to him, your hands running all over his bare chest. God, this is what you’ve always wanted, being able to touch him like this. You can feel his heartbeat beneath your fingers; feel his chest heave with breaths when you lift your fingers to his face.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just had a weird dream,” you agree as you snuggle into his side. This is where you belong—in the arms of the man you love, who you’re sure loves you too, and who would be at your side like this if you were still alive. You close your eyes, relishing in the way his arm is so tight around your body, at how warm his lips are when they press to your forehead.

Only when you open them again, you’re back in the living room and certainly not in Miki’s body.

It wasn’t enough, that one touch of him. You watch as Miki brushes his hair out of his eyes, kisses his lips, and walks out of the apartment. She doesn’t realize how good she has it, does she? That she can touch him whenever she wants; that she can kiss him, hold him, love him without sneaking into someone else’s body for a taste.

The next time she comes over, it’s a bit harder. She doesn’t fall asleep right away—you watch her eyes flit around the room, even as Kuroo sleeps soundly next to her, pillows pressed to his ears like he always does. Finally, when she closes her eyes and slips into slumber, you move. This time isn’t as jarring, and her body feels more comfortable when you sit up.

You glance over at Kuroo’s sleeping body, eyes roaming down his broad chest and toned abs, and lick your lips. If he wants his partner to be more spontaneous, well then, that’s what you’ll give him.

You start with a kiss, a light one to his sleeping lips, hands running all over his chest. When you squeeze at his pecs, Kuroo exhales, letting go of the pillows. You drag your fingers all around his nipples, grinning when they harden under your careful touch, before you make your way down to his boxers.

“Tetsu,” you whisper against his face, pressing soft kisses to his tan cheek and jawline as your fingers grope at his cock through his boxers. His little sound is like music to your ears, and you squeeze again to force another out of him. “Tetsu, wake up.”

He doesn’t stir, even when his dick is hard under your touch, even when you start dragging your tongue down his neck and nibbling at his flesh. You push your hand inside the elastic of his boxers, feeling his cock for the first time ever. Fuck, it’s big and makes your—well, Miki’s—cunt pulse with neediness. You moan against his throat as your feather-light touches make it twitch, groping at his balls to make him squirm.

“Tetsu,” you repeat as you move further down, a glint in your eye that he can’t see. But you tug down his boxers anyway, peeling them off just enough so that his cock springs free. Your mouth goes dry when you see it for the first time, and you know for sure that you’re never going to give this up.

Kuroo moans when you drag your tongue around the tip of his cock, hips jerking when you take it into your mouth. You’re careful at first, seeing how much Miki’s body can take without gagging, and when you realize she has almost no gag reflex, you smirk. You’re able to take the entire length, so you start a quick pace, fingers brushing over his balls as you work.

You whimper when you taste him for the first time, and your fingers dig into his thighs as you hollow your cheeks. That’s when he starts to stir—a quiet groan, a shift as you bob up and down that makes you take even more of him. Kuroo’s fingers wrap in your hair, and you moan when he tugs lightly, his voice hoarse and laced with sleep.

“Miki, what—”

Your annoyance surges at the name, and you lightly run your teeth up his shaft as punishment. It makes him hiss, and you soothe him with your tongue, sucking and licking until he’s groaning again. Your eyes flick up to his expression and your cunt throbs at the sight of him: eyes lidded, trained on the way you suck him, chest heaving with his breaths. Your fingers run over his balls again, squeezing the tight sacks hard enough to make his stomach quiver.

“Shit,” he whispers and with a few jerks of his hips, he’s flooding your mouth with his cum. He tastes so good that you drink in every last drop, twirling your tongue around the head to lick up every part of him. When you’re finished, you move up and capture his lips before he can protest, pushing your tongue past his lips easily thanks to his surprised groan.

Fuck, he’s such a good kisser, tongue tangling with yours and running all over your mouth. His fingers feel electric on your thighs, pushing up underneath the flimsy shorts until he’s groping at your ass. There’s nothing more you want than him inside of you, making you moan and shudder until your eyes roll to the back of your head—but part of you is worried that it’ll push Miki too far. The only reason you’re able to control her is because she’s sleeping… right? An orgasm could wake her up, could push you out of her body in the middle of the act.

So when Kuroo starts trailing kisses down your neck, hands wandering closer to your aching cunt, you take a deep breath and pull away.

“I wanted to do something for you,” you murmur against his lips. “I don’t need anything in return.”

“But—”

“Shh,” you quiet him, rendering him speechless when you kiss him again. “It’s because I love you, silly.” The word love makes him hitch a breath, and you can feel his cheeks heat when you press your nose to his flesh. “Now, go back to sleep, okay?”

You watch him as he nods, closes his eyes, and does what you say. He looks so peaceful asleep, so you stay up a bit later to trail your fingers over his cheekbones, through his raven-locks, down his broad back. It’s only when you can’t keep your eyes open anymore that you fall back into slumber and—

—wake up still in Miki’s body.

Huh?

It’s strange going about your morning in this foreign body, unsure of what to do. You don’t know her morning routine, you don’t know where she works, you don’t know anything other than her young age and her phone unlock code. So when you go to the bathroom, you scour her email, her social media, and her log-ins to find anything. You learn that Miki is a university student studying English, is flirting with a man on Twitter, and has three classes today a bit later in the afternoon. As you’re checking her university information, Kuroo knocks on the door and peeks his head inside.

“You okay? We have to leave soon if you want to make it to your first class.”

What’s going to happen if you walk out the door and she wakes up during the commute? Will you wake up back in Kuroo’s house? Will your soul be lost forever? No, it can’t. It can’t end like this, it can’t.

“Be done soon.”

There’s a splitting pain in your head as soon as Kuroo shuts the door, and it takes everything in you not to cry out. Miki is waking up; you can feel her conscious crawling to the surface, fighting against yours, pushing you out of the way and—

You both take a deep breath when you’re ripped from her body, a strange human-like pain in your chest for barely a moment. It’s like you stole a piece of her life force—she’s pale, sweaty, and staring at herself in the mirror like she doesn’t know where she is. It sends a strange thrill through your body when she checks her phone and immediately messages her best friend, “Something strange just happened. I think I need to see the doctor.”

Sleepwalking. That’s what the doctor called it—and the sleeping pills he prescribes only let your presence grow stronger. One night turns into two. Two nights turns into three days. The weaker Miki grows, the more powerful you become, until there’s a point in time when you occupy her body for a whole week without her soul ever waking up.

And Kuroo is none the wiser—you even hear him talking to Bokuto on the phone, commenting on “the change in Miki that’s making me fall more in love with her.” His lunches are packed for work (his favorites because you know them all), his clothes are always ironed, and when you’re not playing the perfect university student, you’re playing the perfect housepartner, giving him everything he needs.

It’s the second week of occupying Miki’s body when you feel that splitting headache one more time. It makes you drop the spatula in your hands, Kuroo’s stirfry sizzling uselessly on the stove as you're forced from Miki’s body one more time. This time hurts, your whole body seizing up as you gasp for air. Miki fairs far worse—she looks like she’s seen a ghost, skin white as a sheet, eyes wide as she looks all around her. She nearly forgets to turn off the stove before she runs out of the apartment without even grabbing her school bag or her wallet.

The next time Miki comes over is nearly a month later, and she’s trembling as she steps inside. She’s a bit thinner, circles under her eyes and an ashen hue to her skin that shows how weak she’s become.

“Tetsurou,” she whispers as she tugs on his jacket sleeve. “I don’t think I can stay here tonight.”

“The doctor says it’ll be good to get out of the house,” he placates her with gentle hands running up and down her arms.

“But… but there’s something weird here.”

“It’s just for the night to see if it helps. You might be able to fall asleep with me next to you.” Kuroo gives one of his warm smiles and squeezes her arms. “Try for me?”

“Al… Alright.”

You watch her closely all night, lean over her shoulder to read her messages. She’s been avoiding this place because of what happened, and for good reason. The last month has given you plenty of time to stew in your anger, to hone your energy even more as you thought about what was right at the tips of your fingers all this time. Every time you tried to touch Kuroo in your ghost form and failed miserably, it only sowed the seeds of resolve deeper into your being.

Kuroo is yours, and will be yours. Forever.

Miki goes to sleep first, and Kuroo sits on the couch with a beer and a sigh. His phone rings a few times before he picks it up, and you sit next to him as he chats with Bokuto for a few minutes.

“How’s the girl?” You hear Bokuto ask.

“She’s… I don’t know, Bo. Something’s wrong. For a while she was acting like—” Kuroo pauses, thinking for a moment before he takes a sip of his beer. “Nah, it’s nothing. She just wasn’t acting like herself for a bit.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Bokuto answers.

You agree. Everything will be fine because you’ll make it fine.

Miki is defenseless as you slip into her body one more time except—

Something pushes at you from within, trying to force your presence out. It’s like a constant kick to your side, a pressure on your soul that pulls you further and further away. But it’s weak, barely able to keep pushing, and you’re able to quash it with no problem. A swift push, an angry choke, and you’re settling nicely into the body you’ve become so used to.

When you open your eyes, something is different. Usually you can feel Miki’s soul beneath yours, a humming of two different life forces that flowed together like a river.

Now there’s nothing but the thrum of your own soul, beating in tune with the soft and slow beat of your heart.

You lift your hands to touch your face, eyes slipping closed as you search for that underlying current, that thrum of electricity that tells you Miki is dormant and waiting to re-emerge.

Nothing.

You slowly stand, padding out toward the living room where Kuroo sits, still on the phone with Bokuto. You don’t realize you’re crying until he’s hastily hanging up, rising to come closer and wipe the tears from your lids.

“Hey, what’s the matter? Bad dream?”

“Yes,” you immediately answer, clinging to his Nekoma jacket sleeves. “Yes, I had a bad dream but now I’m finally awake.”

“Babe?”

You give him a kiss as your answer, pushing Miki’s body—no, your body flush against his, fingers tangling in the back of his hair. Kuroo must not expect your strength because he stumbles back and drags you with him, hands tight around your upper arms. It’s easy to push your tongue into his mouth, easy to guide him back against the wall until he bumps against it clumsily. Your tongues dance together as he clings to you, long fingers pushing at the back of your shirt to disappear inside.

“What’s gotten into you?” He murmurs against your cheek, hot and sweaty as he tears your shirt from your body. God, his hands feel so good against you, lighting a trail of fire along your skin as he drags his fingers up your stomach. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I just—” You pause to paw at his jacket, helping him out of that before tearing his shirt off right after. “Just need you so bad, Tetsurou.”

You’re careful not to call him his nickname, to call him what Miki calls him when you kiss him again, messy and sloppy as your hands grope all over each other. He squeezes your tits through your bra and you return the favor, nails raking down his stomach hard enough to make him moan. As soon as your bra is off, his hands are on you, fingers tweaking and pulling at your nipples until they’re hard. You whimper, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh, hands disappearing into the back of his pants to squeeze at his ass.

“Shit, you weren’t kidding,” he laughs when you squeeze again, and you muster the most coy look you can when you pull back to look at him.

“Tetsurou.” Your soft voice makes him pause in his motions. “Can I sit on your face?”

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, his body stiff at your sudden request, but then he swallows and nods a few times. “Yeah, uh. Fuck, yeah, of course.”

It’s cute how he tries to hide how excited he is as he lays down on the ground, and you wiggle out of your shorts and panties, holding them up for him with one finger. He exhales out of his nose when you drop them by your feet, and his eager hands immediately find your hips when you swing your leg over his chest. You yelp as you’re dragged forward, but it turns into a gasp when his tongue runs over your folds.

He’s careful at first, dragging his tongue up and down until your folds are wet with a mix of saliva and your juices. But as soon as your hips jerk toward his mouth, his grip on you tightens and your cunt is pressed directly to his face so he can worm his tongue inside. Your fingers bury into his hair, tugging on the strands as he begins to lap you up, tongue pressing against your pulsing walls as he flicks and twirls.

“Fuck,” you whine, trying to keep yourself from rocking against his mouth, but his strong hands guide you to do just that. He helps you glide along his face, grinding down on his mouth like you’re fucking yourself, his sharp eyes on you the entire time. You can’t help but keep eye contact, cheeks flaming when he finds your clit, and you let out a high-pitched keen. “Fuck, Tetsurou, like that, just like that.”

His moan is muffled into your cunt as he dives even deeper, and a small part of you wonders how he can even breathe with how close he’s pressed to your core. His lips encase your clit and give a harsh suck that makes you tug even harder on his hair. His fingers tighten on your flesh, nails digging in as you rock against his face, the fire in your stomach growing to a fever pitch.

“I’m—I’m gonna cum, ah—”

You feel him nod against you, hands holding you down on his face so there’s no pulling away. You give a stuttered cry of his name as your pleasure crests, and you cling to him, shamelessly grinding against his face as you gush all over his mouth. You feel like you can’t breathe, lightheaded from the way he laps you up, tongue running over your sensitive clit over and over again until you’re whimpering and trying to pull away.

You’ve barely come down from your high when you’re pushed to your back. You squeak in surprise, grabbing onto Kuroo’s shoulders as he looms over you, hurrying to push down his sweatpants and boxers.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he breathes before kissing you, full of tongue, teeth, and desperation. His breath is warm as it fans across your face, the grin on his lips making your heart race. Oh, how you missed that feeling. “You’re so sexy.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, mister,” you joke, pulling his hips flush against yours by wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging. You both moan when his hard cock drags along your slick folds, and your hold on him only tightens. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grins, and your heart soars at the simple promise.

He doesn’t know it’s you he’s talking to—doesn’t know how long you’ve been waiting for him to take you, to push inside of you, to groan into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. You paw at him, nails digging into his skin and dragging down once he starts thrusting. His lips are all over your neck and chin as he moves, and you drag him into another kiss to feel more of him. It isn’t enough, even when you’re panting for breath, even when his cock hits something deep inside you that makes you whine. You need more of him, deeper, harder, faster.

You shift so your legs are a bit further up his back and he gets the hint, grabbing onto the back of your thighs and pushing your knees into your chest. Kuroo hits so deep like this, and you whine with every thrust as it brushes your cervix over and over. Red lines mark his skin from where you drag your nails down, but he doesn’t look like he cares—if anything, he looks excited, dark eyes watching your face twist in pleasure for him as he fucks you.

“So good, so good,” you whine, heels lifting until they’re on his shoulders, using it as a way to leverage your hips up and make him hit deep again and again. “Make me cum, please, I wanna—ugh, fuck, wanna cum for you.”

Kuroo shudders, and it takes everything in you to suppress your smirk. You know what he likes thanks to overhearing his conversations, listening to his complaints about how Miki wasn’t vocal enough for his liking. But you—you can give him everything he wants and more, starting with purposefully tightening your walls around his cock to suck him in further.

“Fuck, babe, you’re gonna kill me,” he chuckles breathlessly. You can tell he’s close by the flush on his cheeks, the sweat on his brow, and the way his cock pulses within you with his fast strokes. As soon as his fingers touch your wet and swollen clit, you keen, head falling back.

It doesn’t take long for you to be on the verge of your second orgasm, eyes lidded as you watch his face contort with how hard he’s trying to stave off his orgasm for your sake. You dig your fingers into his wrists, babbling for your release, begging him to make you cum, and that’s what sets him off. With a choked grunt, he spills into your cunt, thrusts sloppy as he paints your walls white with his release. It feels so good, fills you up to the brim, and makes you feel alive.

His eyes are squeezed tightly shut and his hips still, but he never stops rubbing your clit, not until you’re crying out and arching off the ground, walls spasming around his softening cock as you hit your second high. For a moment, you think Miki is back—you’re so lightheaded that all you see is white and color bursting behind your eyelids—but when you open your eyes, Kuroo is grinning down at you, looking back tired but oh-so-satisfied.

“Tetsu,” you mewl, and the grin slides down his face. He blinks once, then twice, shaking his head as he stares at you with a newfound intensity that makes you shiver. “What is it?”

“I thought—” He pauses, blinking one more time, this time for longer. “Sorry, for a second, I saw something weird.”

“What?” Your heart leaps as you move your legs to the floor, hands clinging to his arms. You can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips. “What, Tetsu? What did you see?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” He breathes. “The only person who called me that was—”

“Say it,” you demand softly, sitting up, careful not to let his softened cock fall from where you’re still connected. “Say it.”

Your name sounds like a melody falling from his lips. Not a nickname, not babe, not Miki. Your name and your name only.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer. “I missed you,” you whisper into his skin.

“Wait. Wait, what?”

His cat-like eyes are wide, staring down at your face as you run your thumb over his flesh like you’re tracing every part of him. “I love you so much. I’ve always loved you.”

“Miki, this isn’t funny.”

“I’ve been here the entire time,” you press with a frown. Why is he saying her name now? “Your missing files, your phone, your keys. I moved them for you. Your angel? That was me. I’ve been watching over you, Tetsu.”

“You…. no, that’s not possible.” He tries to pry himself away, but you only cling harder, a pout on your lips. “They died. They died. Years ago, in an accident. If this is a sick joke, knock it off.”

“It’s not a joke. I never left your side,” you tell him softly, thumb running over his bottom lip to make him stop frowning. “And now we have the chance to be together. Forever.”

“I—” It’s like the wheels in his head are turning, his face flashing with a multitude of emotions until his eyes widen and settle on realization. “What the fuck. Where’s Miki?”

“She’s gone, I think.”

“You can’t just—”

“I love you,” you repeat, cutting him off with your firm tone, running your fingers through his hair as you smile. “And you love me too, don’t you?”

You lean forward to kiss him softly, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t respond.

But that’s okay, he doesn’t have to.

He can’t resist your charms, not when you beg him in that voice, pussy sucking him in deeper the more his movements falter.

He begins to rock his hips, the uneven rhythm indicative of his lack of experience. You can’t blame him though; anything is sure to feel good to him if he’s never been touched like this before.

“Baby, is that good? you like that?”

You can tell he’s trying, his hands roaming your body as he thrusts to pinch at your nipples or rub at your clit messily. Though he’s clumsy in his movements, the sheer size of his cock makes up for it. You know he’ll learn to know what you like and how to touch you, but for now just the feeling of being stuffed full is enough to bring you close to the edge.

Unfortunately, it’s at those moments, right when you’re teetering on the brink of euphoria, that he switches his rhythm or removes his hand from your clit. With all that buildup wasted, your cunt aches for release.

“Did'ja cum yet baby?” he manages to grunt between thrusts, nervous that he’s not making it enjoyable for you.

Little does he know that his unintentional sloppiness has you even more needy for him, and each time he’s edged you has only burned him and this moment deeper into your memory.

“N-no, not yet. please let me cum, wanna cum so bad Bo.”

Your voice is whinier than you anticipate, and Bokuto picks up on the hint of desperation as you beg.

“Show me how you like it, okay?” he takes your hand with his and squeezes, letting you take the lead.

Singling out his thumb, you guide his thick fingers to your core, showing him how to tease your clit as he fucks you. Meanwhile, your heels dig into his ass, pulling him closer as you urge, “Deeper, deeper! Ah, just like that!”

Your back arches under his touch and he grins, watching as your face goes blank and hazy, drinking in the pleasure of his cock nudging against your most sensitive spot as the pressure of his thumb against your clit builds.

“Fuck, g’na cum, oh- fuck!”

All the tension in your body suddenly rushes to your core, where Bokuto is still buried deep inside you. While your body and mind go slack, you clench around him, pussy pulsing as you come down from your high. It goes on longer than you’re used to, and through the sound of ringing in your ears, you hear Bokuto groan from above you, unable to hold off his own climax.

Your legs tighten around his torso, and he flops on top of you as you cum together, an intertwined mess of sweaty limbs and whispered feels so good, love you s’ much.

When he finally pulls out, he stops for a moment to admire the mess between your legs, his release mixed with your own. Already he can feel the blood rushing back to his softening cock, and he mounts you again, pushing your legs back despite your whines that it’s too much.

“Shh, baby. I'm not done with you yet.”

The sky is blue, the grass is green and Akaashi is so very pretty. That thought crosses your mind as you drag your thumb along his swollen bottom lip. Tears gather in the corner of his cerulean eyes as he blinks up at you, mouth slightly parted when you push your thumb between his plush lips. He’s a good boy, obedient, and aims to please so he swirls his tongue around the appendage and sucks. You hum in appreciation.

You’re hot beneath the leather wrapped around your body but you can’t be bothered to undress when you have Akaashi beneath you, laid out against the lavender-scented sheets and wrists bound by crushed velvet handcuffs. A string of saliva breaks when you withdraw your thumb from his mouth only to slot your lips over his.

He’s eager, surging forward and squirming as you devour him, teeth nibbling and biting, tongue massaging against his. He tastes sweet, sweeter than the scent of your vanilla candle, sweeter than the honey whiskey you drank while he slipped into bed, lace and velvet gripped in his hands. He’s flushed when you pull away, long lashes casting shadows against his rosy cheekbones. He lifts his head and silently asks, no begs for you to come back to him like a siren coaxing a sailor to dive back into the sea. But you ignore him in favor of raking your nails down his splotchy chest.

Roseate and vermillion decorate his chest— hickeys the color of strawberries and marks in the shape of your mouth paint his complexion like impressionist style artwork. You want to pin him against the wall and show the world just how stunning your Akaashi is.

You nose the band wrapped around his neck, your tongue swiping against the lace-trimmed along the edges. You kiss the underside of his jaw and yank his collar towards the ceiling. He bows his back, a moan slipping from his lips. You sigh and kiss his tears away.

Akaashi looks so lovely in lace.

“C-careful,” he lightly chastises you when you let the choker go. “You’ll rip it.”

“I’ll buy you another one,” you murmur against his shoulder, biting the skin in retaliation. He sniffs, turning his head, and hides behind his arm. He shudders when you drag your finger over his nipple.

“But it’s my favorite one…”

You click your tongue. “Fine, I’ll be careful,” you say as you hook your digit through the offending fabric and pull, snapping it against his skin when you let go. He flinches. “Maybe.”

You lean back and reach for the glass on the nightstand. There’s barely any whiskey left but you press the cup to your lips anyway. An ice cube slips into your mouth and you place the glass back on the coaster. You hover above his collarbone and blow cold air on the heated skin. He jumps, pulling on the cuffs and shaking between your thighs. Your lips curl up into a smile before you purse them and drop the ice cube.

“Ah!”

He must be freezing as you slide the cube along his skin. You suck the ice back into your mouth and hold it between your teeth as you drag it from one pectoral to the other, leaving streaks of water and gooseflesh in your wake. Akaashi looks close to losing his mind when you pull away. You laugh softly and runs your fingers through his curls.

“Color?” You ask, scratching his scalp.

It takes him a moment to answer, his hazy eyes struggling to focus on you. “Green.”

You grin viciously before swirling your hips and grinding down on him, hard. He arches his spine so far you hope he doesn’t break it.