Professor Kuroo had been teaching biomechanics at the university for three semesters now. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and a lazy smirk that only made his lectures more distracting than they already were. The lab coat didn’t help either—white sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms that clearly hadn’t given up weightlifting since his volleyball days.

He was unfair. Unfairly hot. And unfortunately, married.

That little silver band on his ring finger should’ve been enough to stop you. Should’ve.

But it didn’t.

You sat in the front of the lecture hall every Tuesday and Thursday, skirts shorter than they needed to be, eyes glued to him like you were studying his face instead of the slides. You laughed a little too loudly at his dry jokes, showed up to office hours with questions you already knew the answers to, and just last week, you “accidentally” spilled your iced coffee across the shared desk so he’d have to lean over you to help clean it up.

“Again?” he’d muttered with a raised brow, handing you napkins.

“Guess I’m just clumsy,” you smiled sweetly, eyes flicking to the chain around his neck.

You wondered if his wife gave it to him.

He rarely mentioned her. Didn’t even keep a photo of her in his office. Not that you were looking. (You were definitely looking.)

Today, you were extra bold. Lip gloss. Tiny red dress under your cardigan. Office hours again.

The hallway was quiet as you knocked.

“Come in,” Kuroo’s voice called.

Kuroo didn’t look up right away. Just scribbled notes in a planner with that silver ring glinting in the lamplight.

You sat across from him. Slowly. Carefully. Legs crossed.

“Hey, Professor,” you said, your voice intentionally soft.

That got his attention. His eyes flicked up, briefly resting on the hem of your skirt. You didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened for half a second before he schooled his face into its usual easy calm.

“You again,” Kuroo said, closing his planner. “What is it this time? Misunderstood the reading? Need help with the review sheet? Or is it coffee-spilling round three?”

You leaned forward, letting your lip gloss catch the light. “I was just thinking…” you tilted your head, “…it must get so exhausting being so brilliant and… untouched.”

Kuroo blinked once. Twice. Then let out a low chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re really not subtle, are you?” he said, eyes meeting yours in a gaze that was no longer playful—just sharp. Measured. “Listen, I’m flattered. I am. But this…” He held up his hand, gesturing to his ring. “This isn’t a decoy.”

You smiled, undeterred. “I know. I just thought maybe you missed being wanted.”

kuroo paused. Just for a second.

And that second was enough. Enough to show you he had thought about it. Enough to tell you this wasn’t a game to him anymore—it was a test.

And Kuroo wasn’t going to fail.

Kuroo pushed his chair back, standing tall, towering over you now.

“I’m your professor,” he said, voice low but steady. “And I love my wife. You’re smart—use that.”

You stared up at him, searching his face for any sign of weakness.

But there wasn’t any. Just that infuriating, unreadable smirk.

Then Kuroo opened the door.

“Class dismissed,” he said.

And you knew that for all your efforts, Kuroo Tetsurō wasn’t going to be yours. Not this semester. Not ever.