haikyuu snippets

resistance ;; kuroo t. | f

inspiration - someone in yagami yato's discord server told me that they don't get flustered easily.

i convinced them otherwise.

this is just all over the place because i wrote this off the top of my head in a fucking discord chat so don't yell at me. i just felt like sharing this with the world only because i can.

and by off the top of my head, i mean that all i had to go by was kuroo and a short list of kinks and that was it.

warning: dom asf kuroo, degradation. slight bondage and choking.
predator/prey themes if you squint hard enough.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Kuroo knows you like wearing his clothes. We been knew. Who wouldn't like wearing his clothes?

He likes seeing you in his oversized shirts and hoodies, but what really gets him off is his old Nekoma jersey. Both the white or red versions make him turn on you like a trick of the light.

And so there comes a day where you slept in one of his old jerseys. Before he goes off for work, he turns to you at the doorway and says, in an almost joking, teasing manner, "I better see you like that when I get back." He has a great big grin on his face, the lightest ounce of blush across his cheeks. That jersey, when on you, does things to him, and by god if you aren't wearing it when he gets home.

Later on, close to the evening, he gets home from work. Now keep in mind, Kuroo goes to work in a suit. full suit with a tie and everything. He comes home, his first instinct is to take the jacket off and escape the business suit he has been trapped in for hours.

And by god, he looks into the living room and you changed your clothes.

The jersey is gone. You're wearing your own clothes. Yeah, he likes what you wear, but where the fuck did his jersey go?

He had a fairly good day up until now, and seeing you without his old Nekoma jersey on made him switch attitudes faster than even Koutarou Bokuto.

He had the iconic smirk that he kept throughout high school across his face. Key word: had.

He went to hang the overcoat for his suit near the door he wanted to get it off, he always moves it to a closet later but as soon as he noticed you without his jersey, he dropped it onto the floor.

"You know it's expensive to dry clean that, right-" you sit and stare from your place on the couch, unaware of the gear switch in his mind.

"I don't give a fuck."

As soon as he cut you off, he was already walking towards you, his hands moving to remove the crimson tie from around his neck, ripping it away so swift and hard it flipped the collar of his white shirt, similar to how a victorian vampire would wear a collared shirt.

"Where is my jersey?" Tetsurou grabs your arms, holding you by your wrists, one in each hand. His grip has blurred the line between gentle and rough, his golden gaze staring into your soul.

"What?" You questioned, blinking a few times.

"Where," he parroted himself, slowing down his words so you could hear him clearly, "is my fucking jersey?"

You could only stare up at him. There really was no point in trying to escape him; hell, he's fuckin 6'5" and a former high school athlete. This moment may as well have created the saying; resistance is futile.