Kuroo Tetsurō was never the type to panic. He was the guy who handled everything with a lazy smirk and a sharp remark, the one who thrived under pressure. But when it came to you? When it came to his pregnant wife?

Yeah. That was a different story.

"Oi, sit down." His voice is firm, but there's no mistaking the gentle touch of his hands as he guides you toward the couch. His brows knit together, scanning you like he's analyzing game footage—assessing every little detail. Are you too warm? Are you eating enough? Are you tired?

You sigh, exasperated. "Kuroo, I’m pregnant, not dying."

He scoffs, crouching down so he’s at eye level with you. One hand rests on your knee, the other tilts your chin up. "Yeah, yeah. But let me remind you, Mrs. Kuroo, that you’re carrying our kid, and I take my responsibilities very seriously."

A smug grin tugs at his lips, but it softens when he watches you. He’s worried. And you can tell—he always has that habit of ruffling the back of his hair when he’s trying to act normal.

"Have you eaten?" "Did you take your vitamins?" "Is the baby kicking?"

He’s relentless. But it’s not annoying—not really. Because behind the teasing, behind the cocky attitude, he’s completely in love.

Later, when you’re curled up against him, his fingers trace idle circles on your belly. He talks to your unborn child like it’s already here—like they can already hear every single ridiculous thing he’s saying.

"You better be nice to your mom, y’know? She’s carrying you and dealing with me, and that’s a full-time job."

You laugh, and his arms tighten around you. He lives for that sound.

"I can’t wait to meet them," he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your temple. "But for now? I’ll take care of you first."

And he does. Because Kuroo Tetsurō is a lot of things—but when it comes to you, he’s a husband first.