A/N: i swear this has plot. it's short because they're probably all drabbles. attempting humour is hard. also, The Vindictive Paradise will update tomorrow after my beta has finished raking through my mistakes. :D enjoy. and p/s this is also my attempt in trying to put my smut practices into work bc this doesn't need much plot. sexual kuroko, what else do you need.

"I'll suck it out of you like a milkshake."

Seijūrō cocks his brow.

"That's highly suggestive, but expected from an incubus like you."

The creature slinks from furniture to furniture, draping himself over a vanity and curling his pointy tail around a bottle of cologne. Little leather wings twitch as he drops the vial into his palms, examining the tiny writings engraved on the metal. For a second there, he furrows his bottle blue brows and takes a whiff of the glass object before scrunching up his cute button nose. "So this is how you humans camouflage your scent? It's unnaturally pungent."

"Humans do excrete sweat, if you haven't noticed all this while," he replies, running his fingers across piles of paperwork and drawing out a manila folder half-drowned in between. Flicking through the content, Seijūrō squints at something particularly displeasing printed on the pages and smacks it shut once more. "We're not roseate creatures like you, for your information. We do not bleed perfume nor ooze cologne from our pores. You were made for seduction, so you're highly optimized to appeal to your victims, don't you think?"

"… yes, I think so." The creature hums, coquettishly tipping his head to the side and kicking his legs in the air like some vogue American pinup. "Thank you for enlightening me."

"You're welcome."

It's amazing how sane he is, just holding up a conversation with an underworldly creature as if they often drop by his windowsills for a chat, 680 meters up in the air.

"Would you like some tea?" Seijūrō finds himself asking, drawing himself up from his armchair and making his way to a discreet kitchenette behind the many great pillars of his office. "I don't usually offer this to unwelcomed guests, but I'm feeling inexplicably gracious today."

Round thighs with opaque stockings pulled up, obnoxiously tight shorts that barely cover a pert bottom, exceedingly provocative corset top with its laces taut over his arched spine, this sexual creature drifts on the wind over to his side and drapes himself over Seijūrō's shoulders like he's a fur tippet. "That's nice of you, thank you." He hums, peering downwards at the many metal containers of different brands of fine tea, and points decidedly to a shockingly yellow box. "That one. It has a nice smell inside it."

"Oh, so you can tell?" Seijūrō pops the lid open, spooning out the grainy contents and stowing it shut once more. "This is vanilla, not quite my taste, but it was a gift from a friend of mine."

His little toes curl as he inhales sharply at the wondrous scent smoking the air, and exhales a tad bit too breathily near Seijūrō's ear. Warm breath fans over his neck, ghosting over erogenous zones Seijūrō never knew they existed, and the electric shiver shimmying down his spine is purely carnal. "It's my favourite smell, Seijūrō." He leans down, his throaty voice nuzzling Seijūrō's cheek, and smacks his lips wetly like he's finished sucking the sexual life out of his words. "Did you know that vanilla is a natural aphrodisiac?"

The redhead chuckles to himself, drenching the teapot with hot water and clapping the cover over the steam. Does counting to ten work on curbing arousal? "No wonder you're always hungry then."

Oh, how delightful it is when the incubus laughs, tilting his head back like he's tickled down his sides. It's a sweetly ringing sound falling from honeyed lips that kisses all life out of the redhead, a spellbinding song forbidden for others to hear. He presses his chest closer to Seijūrō's back, moistening his lips with a wet pop, and doesn't hide the smile gracing his lips. Seijūrō knows, he can see the catlike mischief in the creature's eyes reflected on his cabinet's glossy surface, but he sweeps it under the rug and carries on with his handiwork.

"Isn't it about time you tell me who you are?" he says conversationally, lifting the teapot and settling it snugly on the silver tray he's kept nearby in case of uninvited guests. "I'm aware that you're an intelligent incubus, seeing that you've found my office in Akasaka, top floor, but playing dress-up at your age is rather shameful. Unless, of course, that's the rudimentary clothing for creatures like you."

Feigning acrid cuteness that smothers Seijūrō like sticky caramel, the incubus latches itself tighter around his shoulders and nudges his cheek against the other. "What are you saying, Seijūrō? You know who I am."

Yes, yes he knows.

But what he can't understand is how did his object of affections suddenly sprout wings protruding from his shoulder blades, wearing clothes that resemble something more like what Mayuzumi Chihiro reads discreetly behind his cubicle, with that spindly tail currently curling around his thigh? It's plainly obvious what he is, an incubus of an erotic nature that makes his interest in Seijūrō as bright as the LED displays in Akihabara, but why on earth would his ex-teammate from Teikō days suddenly pop up by his window in awful cosplay?

Not to mention that those wings do function too.

It's either Kuroko Tetsuya's an accomplished engineer now, or succumbed to a mythical curse that renders him into an incubus.