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Description
“Oi, [First] how long are you going to be?” Kuroo called out, exasperated from the ungodly amount of time you were taking in the bathroom. By this rate he’d probably have to piss outside.

Which, thankfully, made his junk pretty convenient.

“Give me a minute!” you shot back. “I keep missing spots!”

“Missing—what are you doing in there?”

“I’m shaving my legs, you jerk!”

“How long does it take to shave legs? You only have two, don’t you?!”

The two of you traded banter back-and-forth for a good two minutes until he finally gave up and let you be. Honestly, you thanked whatever god was out there for that. Listening to him talking about how shaving shouldn’t be time-consuming while you were in the middle of shaving the seemingly endless amount of leg hair was infuriating.

Still, it did take you a little longer to do than usual. It probably amounted to the fact that you hadn’t done it in about three months prior—it was winter and you always wore pants or stockings anyway. Kuroo never noticed.

But the weather was starting to heat up which meant the hair had to go, loathe as you were to say it.

Kuroo passed the time by going through your phone and taking pictures of himself. The two of you had such a comfortable relationship that you could just casually go through each other’s things and not feel upset or defensive about it. Most people you knew couldn’t understand it.

After taking a total of thirty-eight photos and spending another five minutes uploading them to your personal blog with captions like “my hot stud!” and “caught the bae sleeping!” he’d completely forgotten how much he needed to pee. He’d also forgotten why you were taking so long in the bathroom to begin with.

He checked the notes of the selfies he’d uploaded to see them quickly garnering attention from your followers and cackled impishly to himself. He was such an ultimate prankster.

You’d interrupted his fun when you practically kicked down the door to his room, managing to scare the wits out of him. “Kuroo!” you barked.

Convinced that you somehow knew what he did, a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. He was gonna get it. “Y…yes… sweetie-pie?”

You stormed over to him, an undecipherable look on your face, and took your pants off.

He raised a brow in curiosity. Were you about to fuck? Because it seemed like you were about to fuck, and he didn’t know if he was scared or excited.

You swung your leg onto the bed and landed it beside him. “Feel my legs,” you commanded lowly.

“You… I… what?” Why were you being so aggressive? Were you trying to make him cry? Because if you were, it was kind of working a bit.

“Feel. My. Legs.”

He frowned at you but nonetheless complied with your demands, raising a callused hand to run across the—

“Holy shit,” he gasped.

Your legs felt like they’d been coated in silk. The way his hand glided across the impossibly smooth plane of your skin kind of turned him on a little. It was like the clouds of heaven were your shaving cream and the blade of Zeus was your razor.

A look of smugness washed over your features as your boyfriend was hopelessly hypnotized by your immaculate skin texture.

“You like?” you asked, a playful undertone ringing in your words.

“Hell yeah!” He laughed before he moved to rub his cheek on your leg. “It’s so smooth! How did you do this?! Is it always like this when you shave?”

“Most times, yes.” You reached a hand down to pinch his other cheek between your fingers. “We should shave your legs someday, too.”

“Someday?!” he repeated, clearly insulted. “Let’s do it right now!”

Your eyes lit up in excitement and he returned the energy twofold. You pulled away from each other and sprinted towards the bathroom to grant him the gift of freshly-shaven legs.

Suffice it to say, by the end of the evening the two of you couldn’t keep your hands – or legs, for that matter – off each other. Even the following afternoon when you were attending his volleyball practice you continued to feel each other up, effectively creeping Kenma out.

You made a mental note to shave your legs together more often.

Description
“Oi, [First] how long are you going to be?” Kuroo called out, exasperated from the ungodly amount of time you were taking in the bathroom. By this rate he’d probably have to piss outside.

Which, thankfully, made his junk pretty convenient.

“Give me a minute!” you shot back. “I keep missing spots!”

“Missing—what are you doing in there?”

“I’m shaving my legs, you jerk!”

“How long does it take to shave legs? You only have two, don’t you?!”

The two of you traded banter back-and-forth for a good two minutes until he finally gave up and let you be. Honestly, you thanked whatever god was out there for that. Listening to him talking about how shaving shouldn’t be time-consuming while you were in the middle of shaving the seemingly endless amount of leg hair was infuriating.

Still, it did take you a little longer to do than usual. It probably amounted to the fact that you hadn’t done it in about three months prior—it was winter and you always wore pants or stockings anyway. Kuroo never noticed.

But the weather was starting to heat up which meant the hair had to go, loathe as you were to say it.

Kuroo passed the time by going through your phone and taking pictures of himself. The two of you had such a comfortable relationship that you could just casually go through each other’s things and not feel upset or defensive about it. Most people you knew couldn’t understand it.

After taking a total of thirty-eight photos and spending another five minutes uploading them to your personal blog with captions like “my hot stud!” and “caught the bae sleeping!” he’d completely forgotten how much he needed to pee. He’d also forgotten why you were taking so long in the bathroom to begin with.

He checked the notes of the selfies he’d uploaded to see them quickly garnering attention from your followers and cackled impishly to himself. He was such an ultimate prankster.

You’d interrupted his fun when you practically kicked down the door to his room, managing to scare the wits out of him. “Kuroo!” you barked.

Convinced that you somehow knew what he did, a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. He was gonna get it. “Y…yes… sweetie-pie?”

You stormed over to him, an undecipherable look on your face, and took your pants off.

He raised a brow in curiosity. Were you about to fuck? Because it seemed like you were about to fuck, and he didn’t know if he was scared or excited.

You swung your leg onto the bed and landed it beside him. “Feel my legs,” you commanded lowly.

“You… I… what?” Why were you being so aggressive? Were you trying to make him cry? Because if you were, it was kind of working a bit.

“Feel. My. Legs.”

He frowned at you but nonetheless complied with your demands, raising a callused hand to run across the—

“Holy shit,” he gasped.

Your legs felt like they’d been coated in silk. The way his hand glided across the impossibly smooth plane of your skin kind of turned him on a little. It was like the clouds of heaven were your shaving cream and the blade of Zeus was your razor.

A look of smugness washed over your features as your boyfriend was hopelessly hypnotized by your immaculate skin texture.

“You like?” you asked, a playful undertone ringing in your words.

“Hell yeah!” He laughed before he moved to rub his cheek on your leg. “It’s so smooth! How did you do this?! Is it always like this when you shave?”

“Most times, yes.” You reached a hand down to pinch his other cheek between your fingers. “We should shave your legs someday, too.”

“Someday?!” he repeated, clearly insulted. “Let’s do it right now!”

Your eyes lit up in excitement and he returned the energy twofold. You pulled away from each other and sprinted towards the bathroom to grant him the gift of freshly-shaven legs.

Suffice it to say, by the end of the evening the two of you couldn’t keep your hands – or legs, for that matter – off each other. Even the following afternoon when you were attending his volleyball practice you continued to feel each other up, effectively creeping Kenma out.

You made a mental note to shave your legs together more often.