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valkyriejudgement · 3 months

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Soul-Food - Osamu x Reader

Enemies to lovers - Requested by @notsochillnerd - with Atsumu as a terrible wingman who just wanted to check out his brothers' nemesis...

There is only one thing more annoying than Miya Osamu with his cooking talent, excellent marks, and unfairly good looks: his twin brother Atsumu.

“No.” You say again, arms filled with produce. He’s in your way and he’s not even sorry about it.

“Come oooon!” He whines, draping himself over the railing of the stairs as if this is a photoshoot for some perfume. “I’m so hungry! And Osamu won’t cook for me! I’ll even pay you!”

“Wow, now I want to do it even less, knowing you might not have paid me in the first place.” You snark, patience wearing thin.

“Now get out of my way, I need to get to my room.”

“To do what?” He steps to the side, but his face remains close to yours. You’re not the fastest as it is, even less when carrying that many vegetables.

“I need to cook.”

“Perfect.” His grin is so wide, it could split his face. “You cook, I’ll eat.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

You hesitate, if only for a second. But Atsumu is like a shark and that was the single drop of blood that he needed.

Half an hour later he’s sitting at the little table in your apartment.

Your kitchen isn’t spacious, but equipped with everything you could possibly need - there’s a reason this school costs an arm and a leg each year. And Miya Osamu got the scholarship instead of you.

You wouldn’t have any problem with it if not for your father breathing down your neck. He’s got the money to send you here twice if he wanted to, but in his twisted mind, a 100% is barely a passing grade and you should have been able to win the scholarship, monetary status be damned.

“What are you making?” Atsumu asks from behind you.

“Udon.”

“Why is it black?”

“I’m using Sepia.”

“Why?”

“Because I can.” You snap back, hoping against hope that he will fall quiet. He doesn’t.

You’ve spent almost a year in a class with Osamu.

He might not always get a better mark than you, but he quickly figured out how much you hated it when he did. There’s nothing worse than someone else gloating over your loss.

The teachers love him and tolerate you.

So far they’ve been kind enough not to put the two of you into a group project, or maybe they just played it safe. The sheer bloodlust you feel when he grins in your direction must have tipped them off.

But this year is going to end soon and your teachers expect you to come up with a dish. Your own creation, not unlike the dish you had to make for your entry exam. This time, however, it’s supposed to showcase what you want to do, going forward.

You can’t bring the same thing you made for your entry exam, even though it was perfect and a delight - you made it roughly one hundred times before.

Your father has always been a fan of the Kaiseki Ryori and while you had loved taking part in the Haute Cuisine as a child, feeling grown up as you nibbled on tiny bites of expensive food, it has lost its appeal on you.

After all, there’s a set number of times you can eat a meal, even Chawanmushi, before you get sick of it.

“Hello? Are you still listening?” Nuisance number 2 asks behind you and you flinch, staring down at the dough that you kneaded for too long.

“What’s Osamu doing for his exam?” You ask, feeling a little guilty about your attempt at spying.

“Why do you want to know?”

Nevermind. Now you only feel annoyed.

“Just because. Maybe I want to talk about something other than you.”

You move to throw the dough out, only to be stopped by Atsumu’s voice.

“What are you doing?”

“I messed it up. It’s not going to taste good.”

“So what? I’m hungry.”

“You want to eat gross noodles?” You eye him warily, but he shrugs with a grin.

“It’s definitely going to be better than what I’d produce myself. But since I hate cooking, I’d probably just get takeout pizza anyway.”

“Aren’t you an athlete?”

“Yeah?”

“And they let you eat Pizza?”

“They don’t know. Or they don’t care. Whatever you like better. I mean, they gave me a list of stuff I should keep away from but that’s like, all the food I usually consume.”

“Here.” You pull out a pen and paper. “Write down what you eat in a day. Snacks included. And drinks.”

“Why?”

“If I have to endure your chatting, you might as well get something out of this. Now, shoo!”

You turn, lid of your composter already open when his voice reaches you.

“DON’T THROW AWAY THE DOUGH!”

“Fine!” You snap. “You can eat your disgusting noodles!”

They don’t taste that awful in the end, not with your delicate sauce with mussels and steamed broccoli that turned out so good Atsumu licks his plate clean.

You’d been part of the track club in Middle School, switched to Volleyball in High School because they had fewer practice hours per week. Your marks had always been more important than any side activities, your future as a part of Haute Cuisine decided before you could walk. But it had been fun, especially when Coach gathered you after practice to talk about the importance of self-care. How certain foods could make or break you. How important salt and minerals were for your body, how food was more than calories, protein, carbs, and fat.

You’re not even a little bit rusty when you scribble down a meal plan for him. You keep it easy and as cheap as possible, light on the cooking because you figured he must be the opposite of his twin in the kitchen if he came begging for food… You’re not sure if you’re buying his excuse of a brotherly fight, but you’re not ashamed to say that you didn’t mind him praising your food over Osamu’s. Suck that, Miya!

Meanwhile, Atsumu’s brows are pulled so high, they’re hiding behind his bangs.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Your new meal plan. You follow that, you’ll increase your stamina.”

“But it’s so much work.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“Whatever.” You get up, throw the pen down at the table. Your patience has never been the best anyway.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He follows you to the sink but not to help with the dishes.

“You could cook for me.” He offers it like it’s a great deal. You snort.

“I bet there’s something you want. Something I could do for you…” He wiggles his brows now, looks disgustingly like Osamu when he got a better mark then you. And that kickstarts your brain.

“I want Osamu… I mean the recipe…You know, what Osamu made to get the scholarship. If you can get me that dish of him to try, I’ll cook for you.”

Atsumu grins in a way that doesn’t feel good but he nods.

“Alright, it’s a deal. You’ll cook for me and I get you the dish.” He holds out his hand to sign the deal but you’ve been the daughter of a cutthroat banker for too long to fall for that.

“I’ll cook for a week.” You tell him firmly and watch with a sick satisfaction as his face contorts. He looks awful when he’s pissed and there are definitely not enough moments of the Miya twins looking awful.

“Two weeks.

“One week, only dinner.”

“One week, lunch, dinner and snacks.”

“Are you insane?”

“Do you want Osamu’s food?”

There’s a moment of Silence, and you’re eyeing each other, calculating who’s bluffing and who’s not.

“Fine.” You huff eventually, because you feel it in your bones that trying that damned dish will get you a step closer to figuring out what you need to present for your Final.

You feel like a drug addict, going down the deep end, when Atsumu appears at your door one week later, carrying a Bento-Box wrapped in the cutest fabric you have ever seen.

“Are those little foxes?” You ask, eyeing the reddish-tinted animals on the grey fabric.

“What if ?” He asks back, nose up in the air.

“Jeez, I was just curious.” You snap back and muster him. He doesn’t look malnourished.

“What did you eat this week?”

“Why do you ask?” He sets the Bento-Box on your table and saunters into your kitchen, peering into the still empty pots and pans.

“You’re an awful liar.”

“Okay, so I told Samu that you cooked for me.” He throws his hands up in the air like you’re the one making a big fuss about things. “Told him it was fingerlickin’ good. Got him all angry and puffy.”

You are not ashamed to say that comment lifts you off your feet just a little bit. Hah!

“So?” You ask cooly, untying the Furoshiki with eager fingers.

“So he insisted that he would cook for me. Everything went according to plan, I pretended it wasn’t as good as your food until I asked for the dish he made for his entry exams.”

“Did you know what it was?” You ask as you lift the lid of the box.

“Maybe.” He says and you can hear in his voice that he knew. He probably didn’t tell you just to experience this.

“He made Onigiri?” You ask, your voice a little shrill.

You had made Chawanmushi, a dish literally to die for, practiced one hundred times, and he beat you with Onigiri?

“Try it.” He reaches for one of the Onigiri in the box and you slap his hand away.

“Mine!” You hiss angrily and his grin is almost feral.

“I’ll take a walk around the block then.” He jokes, moving toward the door. “Leave you alone with it.”

“Leave.” You wave him off. “I’ll make dinner later.”

“Half an hour.”

“Leave!” You huff and the door clicks shut behind him.

You bite into the first Onigiri and time stops for a second.

The rice is cooked to perfection, but you know the different varieties well. He must have splurged on this kind, bought from a boutique farmer of some sorts.

It’s filled with tuna and spring onion, but it tastes different then all the Tuna Onigiri you’ve had before. You write down all the different things you can taste, compare them to the knowledge you have but still - did he use a spice you don’t know? A combination you’re not familiar with?

The taste lingers, but you cannot put your finger on it. You feel a little weepy too, as if you had just watched your favorite movie from when you were a kid. You sniff and take the other Onigiri, bite into almost cautiously. It’s Tenmusu, your favorite kind of Onigiri.

This time, literal tears run down your cheeks. The shrimp is crisp, the sweet sauce calling you back to childhood, reminding you of the few free afternoons you got to spend with your mother, just the two of you, no work allowed. You only remember to write down the taste and ingredients when the last bite has disappeared and your hands leave the paper stained.

Well… You’re no closer to figuring out what to make for your finals, but you might be getting your period soon. Why else would you be moved to tears by food?

“Onigiri, huh?” You ask Osamu after class the next day. You can’t help yourself.

He looks up from his phone, surprise on his face. It’s ridiculous how good that makes him look.

“What about it?”

“I heard you made Onigiri for your Entry Exam.”

“Ah, yes.” He smiles, the kind of smile that makes you want to slap it off his face. “Tsumu told me he made you try it.”

You can feel your face go slack. WHAT?

“What did you think?” Osamu asks, way too confident for your taste. “Did you like them?”

You can’t decide between a huff and a snort and the sound that does come out reminds you more of a dying walruss.

“They were probably pitying you.” You point out, nose in the air. “I showed up with Kaiseki Ryori. I made Chawanmushi.”

“Ah.” Osamu sounds like he’s not sure what that is. But you’ve gone over that in class, he’s just messing with you.

“Well, when do I get to try it?”

You blink. “What?”

“Yeah, it’s only fair, right? After you tried mine.”

You swallow thickly, look around for some help, but you’re the only one’s still in the hallway.

“Fine.” You huff eventually, because he does have a point. “As long as I don’t have to eat it.”

His brows furrow and your mind unhelpfully supplies you with the information that his eyes are a different shade than Atsumu’s. Osamu’s eyes are almost as grey as his hair, reminding you of the sky outside.

His mouth moves and you blink, try to focus on his voice, but fail. Your collar feels too tight around your neck and you pull at it, too aware of Osamu’s eyes that flicker to your neck and stay there. God, what’s going on?”

“What did you say?” You ask in the most snooty voice you can manage. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Why do you cook something you don’t like?” He asks. “Don’t you enjoy cooking?”

Something snaps inside you like a rubberband that has been pulled taut for too long.

“Why do you care?” You sniff and he rolls his eyes.

“I was just asking.”

“Sure you were. But you’re psychological warfare doesn’t work on me! You can flutter your long eyelashes at someone else!”

Osamu laughs. “I wasn’t-”

“Neither was I. Well, are you coming or not?”

“Where?”

“You wanted to try my Chawanmushi!”

“Gesundheit.” You turn, not the least bit surprised to see Atsumu standing there. It’s lunchtime for him, he’s coming to collect his goods. “Or was that a codeword for something naughty?”

“Oh god, you’re awful.”

You know that the Chawanmushi has turned out as perfect as all the other times. You can tell by sight and smell, but you cannot bring yourself to try it.

The thought of it has you swallow back bile but you serve it to the brothers with the biggest smile you can manage.

“Here.” You present it in tiny, elegant bowls.

“Are you in pain?” Osamu asks and you drop the smile.

“Go f-”

“Why is it so tiny?” Atsumu asks, eyeing the bowl skeptically. “I’m hungry.”

“I made you Curry.” You tell him off. “This is just a tasting. You can’t eat full bowls with Kaiseki Ryori, you’d never manage that amount of food.”

“Don’t underestimate me.” Atsumu digs in, spoon clinking loudly against the bowl to the point you fear for its life.

He’s done with it before Osamu has even tasted his, still smelling the dish carefully, pulling the spoon through as if to check for clumps.

“It was fine.” Atsumu gives his mark as one would comment on an order of KFC. “Now, the Curry?”

You huff but don’t get up, eyes still trained on Osamu. Then, finally, he brings the spoon to his mouth. If you’re focusing a little too much on his full lips, that’s entirely because he’s the world's slowest eater at the moment and nothing else.

His face remains passive.

Cold sweat runs down your back as he slowly but surely finishes the dish and nods appraisingly.

“It was good.” Osamu says calmly. “The Curry?”

Breathing is a little hard at the moment, but you manage to get up, collect the bowls - you don’t throw them at the floor in a fit of rage and you’re very proud of yourself for that - and get them safely to the kitchen sink.

Your hands shake a little as you serve the Curry in three different plates, but if the boys notice, they don’t comment on it.

“I hope you like it.” Your voice is back to normal, your wounded heart tucked safely back into your chest. “It’s packed with protein and healthy vegetables to make sure you have all the necessary nutrients. You could eat this every day and wouldn’t have to worry about losing out on anything.”

Atsumu digs in without another word. He beams around the spoon, curses loudly.

“This is so good.” He says, mouth full.

“Pig.” Osamu announces next to him, puts the first spoon into his mouth and-

You can see it, in the widening of his eyes and the light blush that appears on the height of his unfairly sharp cheekbones. He likes it. He likes it very much.

You should probably feel a bit more upset about the fact that they insult your Chawanmushi but get high on your Curry, but then again, it just feels good to watch Osamu have the same reaction to your Curry that you had with his Onigiri.

“You should make this for the Exam.” Osamu points out in between a groan and another spoonful of Curry. “It’s amazing.”

“No!” Atsumu shakes his head, still speaks with his mouth full. “The Udon you made yesterday. That was crazy good.”

“What Udon?” Osamu’s voice has a tint to it you cannot place. Does he know about the Onigiri you tried but not about the deal itself? Is he jealous he didn’t get to try them?

“Okay, so she makes the Noodles herself, right? This time without the freaky black stuff-”

“Sepia,” you throw in but he ignores you, “But she used pork belly for the sauce and something creamy and mushrooms, I think-”

“Shiitake.”

“And I tell you, Samu, it was so so good! Like, it reminded me of Mom making that stew, you know? When Dad had that big sale thing and we got to celebrate it?”

Osamu’s eyes light up in a way that has you looking down at your food, heart thrumming in your chest like a hummingbird on speed.

“Can you-” He hesitates for a second. “Can you make me that?”

“I could.” You point out, not at all feeling the upper hand. You feel nervous instead as if this is a test or something worse. You swallow thickly, try to think of something to wager against it. Your mind is unhelpful at best, offering the possibility of a date - as if!

“If I get your recipe. For the Onigiri.”

Osamu’s mouth clicks shut. He blinks, clearly surprised. Then he grins, the kind of grin that tells you this isn’t going to work in your favor, at all.

“Sure. So, Udon tomorrow?”

“I was going to make Katsudon tomorrow.” You point out, pissed that he’s overthrowing your meal plan. Atsumu looks like he’s gotten a glimpse of heaven.

“Really?”

You hate to think about it, but the week is nearing its end and Osamu feels less like the devil and more like the dangerously cute boy from your class now. The dangerously cute boy who’s going to get a better mark than you, take the promised internship at one of Japan's leading five-star restaurants and laugh in your face if you don’t shape up right now.

Your father is as helpful as ever.

He’s currently obsessed with the Yakimono part of Kaiseki Ryori, taking you out to dinner each weekend only to try new variants that you should use for your Final Exam.

The food is good, there’s no denying that, but it lacks the emotional touch you had with the Onigiri.

The same Onigiri that you’ve made three times already. They never taste like Osamu’s.

You’re suspecting that he skipped on one ingredient in the recipe, the one thing you could not put your finger on when you tried them.

“Hey.” Atsumu’s waiting at your door when you return from coffee with your mother. She had been even less helpful, talking about the new dessert dish she was creating. You might have gotten her cooking skills, but you hate baking almost as much as Chawanmushi.

“I thought we said we would skip the cooking over the weekend.”

“Yeah, about that.” He lifts a heavy bag. “I wanted to ask for a favor.”

“I’m not setting for you.”

“Why would I- Never mind, I wanted to ask… Could you like, show me… how to cook?”

You blink in surprise.

“Why would I teach you that? Don’t you have your brother?”

“He’s not a good teacher.” Atsumu points out and you snort.

“So you want to learn how to cook? And stop harassing me and Osamu?”

“No, no, I will still harass the two of you for food, but it looked easy when you did it, so I thought you could teach me, maybe?”

“Fine.”

“I’m even pa- Fine? Oh, wow, that was easy.”

“If I can ask you some questions in turn without you judging me?”

“Me, judging someone? Never.” He puts a hand on his chest, probably aiming for his heart, but he’s now swearing on his left ribcage.

You watch like a Hawk as Atsumu prepares the Omurice. He’s got a bad habit of getting distracted, but he’s not a bad student.

“So…” You swallow your nerves. “You and Osamu used to play Volleyball together, right?”

“Yeah. He could have gone Pro, like me. But he said…” He raises his hands to make air quotes and lowers his voice into a deeper pitch to mock Osamu, “Skillswise I'm just as good as you. But I think that, when all's said and done, you love volleyball just a teensy bit more than me.”

“And you were okay with that?”

“Nah.” Atsumu flips the Omurice onto a plate and hands it over to you. “Try.”

“It’s good.” You hand it back to him. “Eat.”

When Atsumu leaves, you’re left with even more questions than before.

What does it mean to love something so much you’re willing to pass up something good?

Atsumu is making good money as a Pro, even now. But Osamu had no idea if he was going to make it into this school until he tried.

And why did he make freaking Onigiri?

Midnight has come and gone when you put a jacket over your sleepshirt and slip out of your apartment in nothing but booty shorts and bunny slippers.

You’re not sure if there’s a nightguard. There might be, this is still a mixed dorm filled with hormonal teens and tweens.

Even though you’ve never been to Osamu’s place before, you know the route by heart. You had memorized it in a childish fit when you realized his room was just below the fire escape.

You wouldn’t allow him to survive you in case of an emergency.

You knock twice before you can hear movement. The door opens and you almost swallow your tongue.

His hair is in disarray as if he’d dragged his hands through it all night and there’s the imprint of his pillow left on his cheek. He’s topless and you keep your eyes trained on the imprint on his cheek as if you don’t notice his happy trail or his still well-trained abs.

He blinks slowly and yawns.

“What’s up?” He asks. Something moves over his face, quick like a sparrow. “Shit, are you hurt? Did something happen?!”

“No, no, I… Shit, I don’t know, I-”

“Come in.” He pulls you inside, but he calculates wrong, uses too much force for your quivering body. You end up mushed against his chest, face plant right into the warm skin.

If you die like this, you won’t even be mad about it.

“Shit, sorry.” He grabs you and puts you at a distance again, blush high on his cheeks.

“Your Onigiri.” You start, before he can realize that you’re flustered too. “You didn’t list all the ingredients.”

“I did.”

“Did not. They don’t taste the same.”

“Ah.” He makes that insufferable sound like he knows everything you don’t.

You want to poke his abs, but you decide against it, mainly because it would make you look weird. But they do look ni-

“Tea?” He asks and you hold your right hand with your left, just in case it turns sentient.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Your Onigiri don’t taste like mine, because I make them for someone.”

“What?”

“The Tuna one.” He looks at the kettle instead of you, but his voice is wistful, distant. “I always make that one for Tsumu.”

“And the Tenmusu?”

“It’s my Mom’s favorite.” He says softly and you can’t help it, but you start to cry.

“Your Mom likes Tenmusu too?”

“Ah, shit, don’t tell me- Wait, here, take this…” He hands you a tissue to blow your nose and dry your tears.

“So you’re saying your secret ingredient is love? You’re really going to stand there and make me believe that you got the scholarship because you put love in your food?”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to believe me. But there’s a reason your Chawanmushi did not taste as good as your Curry.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Gladly.” He smirks at you and this time your hand is faster than your mind, pointer finger digging into the firm muscle of his right pectoral.

“Don’t mess with me.”

“Why not?” His face moves closer to you, or did you move closer to his? “Isn’t it fun?”

Whoever moved first doesn’t matter now as his breath washes over you. His eyes skip to your lips and you lick them, no thoughts left in your brain.

Behind him, the kettle whistles, signaling that the water’s cooking, but neither of you moves.

This could end very badly, or very great, however you want to look at it.

Your mind, helpful as ever, comes up with a sentence that just slips out of your mouth unprompted.

“Atsumu said that you loved Volleyball a little-”

He draws back the moment he hears you speak, face now closed like a window that has let down its shutters.

“Right, Atsumu.” He says, interrupting you. “You should get back to the bed.”

“But the tea…”

“I forgot.” He takes the kettle off the stove. “I was going to make a hot water bottle for myself. Sorry.”

Somehow, somewhere, you took a wrong turn.

Maybe it was when you started liking Osamu, in this weird way that has you enjoy the bickering and the competitiveness. Maybe it was even before that, when you let Atsumu get away with his needling, fed him Udon instead of throwing him out.

Or maybe it was even before that, when you didn’t put up a fight everytime your father decided for you, when your mother put work before spending time with you.

It’s a good thing that Finals are right around the corner.

You can’t focus in most classes, left staring holes into Osamu’s back.

Atsumu’s stopped showing up himself, probably now a master in cooking for himself. Or he’s gone back to Osamu, to fantastic Onigiri and whatever else he knows how to make.

Four days before the Final, someone bangs on your door.

“Jeez, I’m coming.” You pull the door open to reveal Atsumu, soaked and clearly pissed..

“You okay?” You ask. “Or do you need a towel?”

“Why are you not a couple?” He asks back. “Like, the tension was there, you were practically undressing each other at the table - in front of me, might I add - and yet you’re not even speaking to each other? I even cooked all my meals these past weeks in the hopes of hearing good news but Samu’s acting like a bug crawled up his ass and died.”

“What are you even talking abou-”

“Oh, don’t fool me.” He steps inside and moves toward your bathroom without asking. “I just ran here because all I get from Samu are cryptic messages. Did you say something?”

“No, I-”

“Spill.” Atsumu points at the kitchentable, hesitates for a second, then he points at the kitchen itself. “Make some food while your at it. Also, can I have some change of clothes?”

You make Okayu with ginger and honey, the rice porridge a comfort to your heart and a boost to Atsumu’s immune system.

It’s not a long tale. It could be, probably, but you refuse to go into more detail than necessary. Atsumu might be kind of a friend, in his weird, annoying way, but he’s still Osamu’s twin brother.

“I’m gonna go talk to him.” He grabs the bag with his clothes and stalks off, dressed in one of your oversized hoodies and bright pink pajama pants, both things slightly too short on him.

“Give him a chance when he comes back,” are his parting words.

But Osamu does not show up.

Neither does he the next morning in class.

One of the teachers calls you over after class.

“You and Miya-san are pretty close, right?” She starts, speaks on while you’re still trying not to choke on your spit. “Could you bring him the notes from today? He called in sick. Tell him to take care and rest, so that he can take part in the Final.”

“I-I will.”

You end up in your own room instead, debating if you should just leave everything in front of his door and run. If he’s not at the final, you automatically win. But that’s not a win you’d feel good about, if you’re being honest to yourself.

Before you know it, you find yourself making Oyaku again, with Ginger and Honey, the one food that always gives you comfort and boosts your health. The process is simple, but it still calms you down every time. When it’s done, you look down at two portions and know what to do.

“Osamu?” The door is closed, but you can hear faint shuffling behind it. “I made you Oyaku. I heard you’re sick and got your notes from the teachers. I didn’t tell them that I’m a friend of yours, but she was convinced of it and didn’t let me change her mind. But I… we kinda are friends, right?” You feel so weird talking to the closed door.

“Even if you don’t like me, we got to keep up the reputation. Eat the Oyaku, okay? Winning doesn’t feel the same if you kick yourself out of the game.”

You put everything in front of his door and leave, lingering at the end of the hallway, just out of sight, until you hear his door. When you look back, the Oyaku is gone and all you have to do is wait.

Osamu is already outside when you step out of the classroom.

“Already finished?”

“Onigiri doesn’t take that long to make.”

“Ah, right.” You nod, don’t know if you should avoid his gaze or follow your instinct and look a bit more closely. He sounds healthy at least.

“What did you make?” His voice is gruff when he asks.

“Ginger Honey Oyaku.” You answer, voice soft. “Which might confuse the teachers because I had all the ingredients ready for honey-glazed pork belly but I decided against it at the last second.”

“I’d have loved to try that pork belly.” Osamu sighs dreamily. “But that Oyaku was so good. I could eat that everyday and never get tired of it.”

“Same.” You smile but it falters when you feel his eyes on you and you know you’ve got to say it. “I made it for you.”

“Yeah, I know-”

“No, what you said… about the Entry Exam.” You can feel your heartbeat, like the fluttering of hummingbird wings. If you’re going to pass out during your confession, you’re going to kill Osamu for it.

Behind you, the door opens and two more students step out. Osamu looks at them and back at you and you nod, point down the hallway. “Let’s take a walk?”

There’s a broom closet not far down and you slip inside only to regret it seconds later. There’s barely enough space for the two of you, his breath washing over you as you try to focus on the words you need to say. Out loud, so he can hear them too.

“I want to beat you.” You can hear him snort, but you keep your gaze on your hands. You won’t be able to speak if you look into his eyes. “But you’re also really funny and caring and cute, in a way. I could see myself, I mean, I already, you know-”

“What about Tsumu?” He asks, voice strangely hoarse.

“What about him?”

“Don’t you like him more? You don’t feel the need to beat him every two seconds, right?”

You roll your eyes and groan.

“Seriously? The best thing about Atsumu is that he looks kinda like you.”

If you had wanted to say more - you didn’t, but you hate letting anyone else have the last word - it leaves your mind the second his lips press onto yours.

Your mind’s not yet caught up, but your body is, hands dragging through his hair to pull him closer, to marvel at the softness of it - what conditioner is he using? - to have him a little closer.

His hands are on your hip, your back, roam over your shoulders, leaving warm trails and goosebumps behind.

Then there’s bright light and a shrill shriek and you burst away from each other only to face one of your teachers.

“What? The indecency! During an exam no less! Detention! Detention!” Her garbled words don’t make much sense, but the last word you understand.

Osamu sends you a look, his eyes speaking of little guilt and a promise to continue this latter. You can’t help but feel the same.

As it turns out, Detention automatically overrules your exceptional Exam marks. Neither of you wins the internship. Neither of you cares.

Osamu had applied to an Onigiri shop not far from the school as a second option and with your last name you have no trouble securing an internship with a well-known nutritionist for Pro Athletes.

Your father is not happy about your change in dreams, but when you explain the earning capacity of this position, and the business plan you’re already halfway through making, your excitement swaps over.

Your mother, as usual, barely listens. But you take it in stride, her usual droning on about a recipe she’s working on, by thinking about how in less than an hour, you’ll see Osamu again.

“You guys owe me.” Atsumu declares during Movie night. He’s perched on the edge of the couch, the last piece of the Pizza in his hands. “I’m talking about food for life.”

“We could have done it without you,” Osamu insists, arm around you, face nuzzled into your hair. He pretends he’s watching the movie, but you know better. He’s been thinking about the cheese crackers in your pantry for hours.

“If I hadn’t pulled you out in the rain to talk things through, you wouldn’t have gotten sick and your girlfriend wouldn’t have made Oyaku for you! That’s enough reason for you to love me forever!”

“If you hadn’t interfered he wouldn’t have had to think we were dating instead.” You point out and dig your hands into Osamu’s grip on your arms, moving away from him.

“Babe, what-” He starts but you nod in the direction of your pantry. “Get the crackers. I can’t watch you any longer.”

“Really?” His face lights up like a child in front of a Christmas tree. It’s worth the ridiculous price you paid for the crackers.

“Really.”

He kisses you and the moment could be perfect. But there’s still Atsumu, fake gagging in the background.

623 notes · View notes

valkyriejudgement · 3 months

Text

YOU’VE GOT THE CURE (EVERYTHING I NEED) | B. KATSUKI.

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, soft dom!reader, sub!bakaugou, developing relationships, mutual pining and ambiguous relationships, anal play (m!recieving), dry orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 6.7k

✮ a/n ; an anon comission from a beloved mutual im posting. also just dropping in to say hello

✮ synopsis ; katsuki is too fucking young to have erectile dysfunction, damn it.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

The sound of your typing is especially loud in the empty office. It’s a Saturday and neither of you are supposed to be clocked in, but when duty calls - it’s up to the two of you to answer.

“...I’m going to tell you something. If you so much as fucking laugh I will kill you.”

You don’t look up from your screen.

“Well that’s one way to start a sentence. I’ll try not to laugh.”

Katsuki slams his hand on the desk.

“I’m being serious,” He says in a half-yell. You look up from the edge of your laptop unflinchingly with a displeased frown, shaking your head and throwing your hand up half-heartedly.

“Fine, fine - I promise I won’t laugh. Can you stop being all ominous? You sound like Tokoyami.”

“There’s something wrong with me,”

“Well yes,”

“Not like that,” He hisses, taking a deep breath. He leans forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped seriously as he covers his face. “...I think my fucking..thing..is broken.”

There’s a loud noise like a muffled laugh but when Katsuki looks up your expression is completely blank. Your lips are pressed tight, eyes out of focus as you continue to type. Or pretend to. True to your word, you don’t laugh but Katsuki still wants to fucking kill you.

“Oh? What uhm,” You clear your throat, lips trembling as you try to keep yourself together. “What brought you to that conclusion?”

He nearly snaps his pen in half.

“What do you fucking think?!”

“Hey. Calm down. I’m doing my best not to laugh but you are not helping.”

This is the sort of thing Katsuki would normally take to his grave. Not only is it genuinely humiliating, it is the sort of painful personal detail he wouldn’t share with anyone even if he was fucking them. It wouldn’t matter either, that his dick isn’t working - if the other ways he relieved stress were.

He’s got an average sex drive, sometimes lower but a high libido. Getting off is a physical response to a bodily need. Like eating food or taking a nap. It’s just because it’s a physical need, it is noticeable when the need doesn’t get met. He is painfully aware of it. It’s been weeks and he thinks he’s starting to lose his mind. Worse? He’s exhausted every human option trying to fix the problem himself, save for going to the dick doctor. His testosterone levels are fine, he gets check-ups more regularly than the average person. Given his reputation is at stake, he’d rather not get prescribed anything. He’s bought ginseng and shitty vitamins and medicine he had to ship from overseas. Anything and everything.

Picking up viagra at the ripe age of twenty four would give him psychic damage he won’t recover from, this much Katsuki is sure of. So not that. But everything else, every natural remedy conceived - he’s tried.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose and willfully ignoring the sound of your strained huffing “I can’t fucking get….it up and I don’t know why. I’ve tried everything. Everything. I’m going crazy,”

“You know, it really says something about our relationship that you can confide to me about these kinds of problems. Like I’m so proud of us,”

“Shut up. I’m already miserable enough without wanting to fucking tell you - but the only other option is Shitty Hair and Izuku. I refuse to buy a single goddamn pill for it, and I know if I go to a doctor they’re gonna recommend it and—” He can’t finish the thought. It’s a little too sincere for the kind of conversation you’re having.

You’re a tactless person, so of course - you don’t bother with going along with the mood. Instead you smile like the evil bastard you are.

“And…?”

“You little—” He sighs rubbing his palms over his hands “And because I can trust you to be the least horrible option.”

“So you acknowledge my valiant efforts as your underling and assistant and know you’d be nowhere without me?”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, you’re sweet,” You say, promptly ignoring him “But yeah, I mean - no judgement. I would ask if you’ve had anything major happen but I unfortunately already know that’s not really the case.”

Yes. You, of all people, would know that no major changes have happened in Katsuki’s external life that would make it hard for his dick to function. You spend so much time together. Minus the time he spends working and catching villains in the world - you’re practically glued to his side. You’re in charge of all of his affairs, his schedule, all other personal things. Katsuki is naturally neurotic, but you handle all of it with grace and care. You know everything about him, which is why he is asking you about this problem.

(Does it border on unprofessional? Of course it does. But your relationship to each other degraded that border a long time ago. You’ve already slept in his bed and met all of his friends. And kissed him, but that’s irrelevant for now)

“I need solutions,” Katsuki offers, totally and utterly defeated by the situation at hand. “I’ve done everything. Taken every goddamn herb, done every meditation. Nothing is working. Nothing. I’m going to go fucking crazy.”

“Do you think just sleeping with someone would help? I know you don’t want to ask any of your friends, but maybe an escort? We can do it discreetly.”

“Fuck no. If it were that easy I would’ve done it.”

You pause. Katsuki can see the focus on your face and doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. After an elongated period of silence, you perk up a little. You lock eyes with him and Katsuki briefly regrets bringing the whole conversation up in the first place.

“Hate to ask,” You say, though there’s not enough embarrassment on your face to make anything of that statement. “But uh, have you tried getting off with other things. Like something that isn’t your dick.”

He feels a flush creeping up his skin. “What the fuck are you talking about!”

“This is an important question,” You emphasize, an expression so alarmingly calm Katsuki doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. “Cause if the answer is no, then that’s basically the best solution.”

“How the fuck is that the best solution? Are you insane?”

“Don’t be such a prude, Mr. Dynamight. You’ve bottomed before. It’s not that different. Have you ever tried it on your own?”

“I fucking hate you.” He replies, closing his eyes and frowning. “No I haven’t. Why the hell would I do something so embarrassing.”

“I know you’re super anal retentive - no pun intended there actually, but can you relax a little? It’s a good solution if nothing else is working. Your dick might be broken but an orgasm is an orgasm.”

“Remind me to never ask you for shit again,”

“I’d love that. Just keep me on payroll. Anyway,” You go back to typing. “I think that should be your first move,”

“How the—are you seriously telling me I should go fuck myself to solve my problem?”

You giggle. “Well it sounds bad when you put it like that. But I guess yeah. I can help pick out some sex toys, maybe, do a little research. If you don’t want to do it in your apartment, there might be a love hotel,”

A blush creeps up against the back of his neck. He covers his face with his hands.

“I’m begging you to shut the fuck up. There’s no,” Another wave of humiliation sets in “There’s no way this is how I’m going about this. Like. Fucking none.”

“The only other option is the good old fashioned doctors appointment, then. Which we can squeeze in over telehealth I think - since you got a check-up pretty recently. Want me to do that instead,”

“Fuck, no. I just,” He groans, feeling the stress make his eye twitch “Fuck.”

There’s a bit of silence and a little typing, like you’ve decided to leave him to his thoughts. Which he doesn’t blame you for, because all things fucking considered - there’s not really any more options. He’s a smart man and even he is fucking stumped. He’s going to have to give into something, eventually. He knows that, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.

As soon as he gets close to giving up, you sit up straighter and give a deep long sigh.

“Hey,” You scratch the side of your face awkwardly. “Do you want me to help you….?”

He stares at you. “With what.”

“With your dick being broken,”

“What?!”

“Don’t yell anymore, you’re giving me a headache,” You express, rubbing your temples. “Look. You need to get off, and you’re probably going to have to use your ass to do it. You don’t want to do it by yourself, and you don’t want to do it with a friend or escort. You’d prefer not going to the doctor's office or taking any pills. I’m offering - I’m not really your friend per se and you trust me enough to ask about it.”

He hates more than anything that you have a point.

“You can’t be fucking serious right now.”

“Hey. If you want your dick to stay broken for a while until you figure it out, do you. I’m just saying. Offering solutions is what you pay me for,”

He pulls back a little.

“...Are you fine with that?”

“Oh banging you? Is that what you’re worried about?” He winces at the direct and crass way you speak. “I like you plenty and you’ve got a pretty face. I’m down if you are,”

“I can’t believe I’m considering this.”

“Really? I totally can,” You snicker, and he really, really considers firing you. “It’s not the first time we’ve crossed boundaries with each other. Just consider it, okay? Before you actually blow a fuse.”

He leans back in his chair and groans.

“Fuck. Yeah, whatever.”

It’s another week before Katsuki takes you up on your offer.

Miraculous it took that long, given the amount he suffered stubbornly trying to fix the problem on his own. The lengths he went too are too embarrassing to even disclose or recount but it very quickly became clear that this was not an issue that was going to magically disappear - no matter how hard he tried.

Against his better judgment and after a long, cold shower trying to talk himself out of reality - Katsuki sent you a one line text.

Fine. Come Saturday.

The only thing he could say without dying of complete fucking shame. He’s grateful that’s the time you decided to have some tact.

(Not a lot, since the text back you sent was a peach emoji and a thumbs up. But whatever, he’ll take what he can get.)

It’s Saturday now, and he’s clean. All of him. He’s clean, and just wearing his boxers - sitting on his couch. You’ll be here very soon, and he can’t believe he’s saying this, but he’s nervous.

You did mention you were fine with it. He believes that because there’s been long standing tension between you two for god knows how long he’s not entirely blind too. You sleep at his place sometimes and spend all day with him, and then there was that one time you two kissed (very sober) during New Years. You don’t bring it up because you know he can’t deal with it. Yet he’s comforted by the fact you at least want it (because you’ve said so), and that you’re willing to do this despite the ambiguity in your relationship.

He knows that is inevitably going to come up today. But he really wants to fucking cum. And if it’s with you, then it’s fine. If his head was a little clearer, he would probably reject this whole thing based on his own emotional disparity. God fucking knows he is not in any place to deal with any of that. His heart barely gets by in the office and now you were going to fuck him.

Is he stupid?

Usually no, but because there’s a soft dick and tight balls where his brain used to be, currently yes. Everything put together, it’s a recipe for disaster. He considers telling you to fuck off and forget all this happens.

But then he thinks about the prospect of your hands and your voice and it’s enough to at least get his heart pumping, though his dick still refuses to cooperate.

More than anything, he does trust you. Shitty, smug little fucker you can be sometimes - there’s not a single person who goes out of their way for him. More than just your job, sometimes it feels like every little thing you do is for his sake. Everything you don’t ask of him, every secret you keep. You push him where he needs to go and encourage him to take risks in his career without imposing on him.

He blushes again, laying on his couch. He was nervous before but it’s not any better. Maybe he’s not so much of a dumbass as he is a total fucking masochistic. Is the level of overthinking the shit Izuku goes through? No wonder he’s like that all the time.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears the doorbell ring.

He answers the door shirtless and finds you on the other side. You have a cardboard box and the most nonchalant expression he’s ever seen. Normally it would annoy him, but right now he’s kind of comforted by it. You look at him with a flat smile.

“Hey sexy,” You say with no intonation. “Can I come in?”

He gives you a look of disdain. “Don’t ever say that shit to me again. But come in,”

You laugh quietly as he steps aside. You don’t have much with you other than the ominous box and your bag.

“You look like you’ve showered,” You say, taking your shoes off and putting on the house slippers he keeps for you. You don’t even look at him as you go towards his bedroom upstairs. He follows you with mild (faux) annoyance.“What a shame.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I wanted to get a little romantical and help you clean up but you’ve taken that from me. I’m a little hurt.”

“You’re such a dumbass. As if I’d let you do that,”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport. I’m gonna be playing in your ass today anyway.”

“Not the same thing.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” You say with a wave of your hands. When you finally get upstairs, you look over your shoulder. Katsuki gets the message quickly enough, helping you with the door. You give him a little smile and let yourself in, dropping the box on the edge of his king sized mattress.

He stands in the doorway for a short while, glancing at you before coming in. You put your bag somewhere on the floor before getting back to the box you’ve brought over. He can guess what’s in it, but he stands with you to open it anyways.

Predictably, the thing is full of sex toys. The first question he wants to ask is how much you spent on all of it, but he bites his tongue.

You look at him and do a little jazz hands gesture. “Tah-dah.”

He gives you a displeased look, but you’re well used to this sort of thing from him. There isn’t actually a whole lot in the box. The theatrics of you bring it upstairs were more likely just you fucking with him for the sake of the bit. He frowns. Typical.

You do have some new things in the box. A few expensive look gadgets, like a pair of quirk canceling handcuffs (decorated with leopard print fur) and something that looks like it goes around his neck. The sex toys that are in there are noticeably high quality. You definitely used his dime to pay for this.

“Handcuffs? Seriously?”

“You’re too much of a control freak and I like not having my hands blown to bits,” You say, shaking your head. “We should establish some ground rules and stuff now.”

“Haah? The fuck are you gonna do that we need rules.”

“I’m not just gonna jump scare you with dominating you. But that is what I’m doing. What we’re doing.” You give him a more serious look, that makes him feel more shy than he cares to admit. “You get what I’m saying? You have to trust me a little, okay?”

He makes a petulant face at you. “I already trust you dipshit,”

“This and that are different,” You say, shaking your head. He refrains from disagreeing with you a second time. They’re really not, but he has no desire to explain that. “I’m gonna touch you and be a little strict. Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t care.”

“That’s not an answer,”

He grits. “I want to cum. And I…trust you or whatever. I already agreed to this. If it’s pissing me off, I’ll just kick you offa me. Anyway, ‘s fine.”

“If you kick me I’m suing you for battery. We can have a safeword. I’m not going to duct tape your mouth and I’m gonna talk you through most of it - but just incase.” You say. He pauses, taken aback by how… delicately you’re treating him. He doesn’t know if he should be pissed about it or not. “Any word is fine. We can use the stoplight system too if you want.”

“Stoplight?”

“Red for stop, yellow for slow, green for go.”

“That’s fine. Easy to remember.”

“Okay,” You nod to yourself, tucking the promise to memory before looking at him more seriously. “Are you okay with intimacy?”

He stares at you.

“The fuck…?”

“Kissing and hand-holding and all that other stuff.”

“Is it necessary?”

“Strictly speaking, no,” You look at him knowingly this time. He’s taken aback, but you’re always like this. You look through him, not at him. “Are you okay with it?”

The implication is there. Do you want it? is the question that goes unasked. Too direct for his tastes. He feels heat spread through his body, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah…’m fine with it.”

Your smile is more genuine this time around. He turns away from you a little.

“Okay. That’s everything out of the way. I’m gonna cuff your arms,” You say. It all feels a little sudden. He figures you’d mean business, but still - he’s not all that prepared. He’s had a week to mentally prepared but that feels like nothing compared to now. There’s an authority to the way you talk now he isn’t sure he’s going to get used too. “Repeat your safewords to me when you turn around.”

He frowns but listens. He puts his hands together in front of him, waiting for you to cuff him, shyness making him hot.

“Uh. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go.”

“Good boy,” You say so smoothly it almost rolls off of him. The cuffs go around his wrists, and Katsuki can feel the familiar sensation of losing his quirk. Now it’s just the both of you. “I’m expecting a little pushback, but generally - you’re to listen to me. Clear?”

“God, fuck - yeah clear,” Katsuki says, feeling ticklish all of a sudden. “All this shitty foreplay is making me feel weird.”

You wrap your arm around his midriff in a sudden movement, making him twitch. He can feel your cheek pressed against his chest as your hands hover over his waistband. He takes in a sharp inhale.

“It’s good that you’re feeling anything.” You say, breath just barely above a whisper. “Gonna take this off,”

He just nods, silently. It’s still on soft, but something is happening in his gut at least. You help him take his boxers down. You’ve probably seen him naked before, more than once. You two being attached at the hip was no joke. This time there’s this lingering anticipation that’s there, and that changes things.

He steps out of his boxers. He’s naked and you’re clothed and his head feels like it’s spinning. Your hand guides him to the edge of the bed. He sits and watches you, but you don’t undress.

The first kiss (second kiss) that you exchange with Katsuki is pleasant. You bend down to do it. It’s a chaste way to meet his lips, weirdly soothing while his stomach is starting to tie in knots. It’s a little surprising how..comfortable it is. Your mouth is soft, your lips taste a little like chapstick and you smell nice. You pull away to kiss the corner of his mouth, trailing down his jaw.

Your thumbs draw over the shell of his ear, rubbing the lobe tender. You’re so different. The contrast in your normal personality is a little too much for him to reconcile with easily, but you brush over these things well enough. He looks away when you meet his eyes.

“Do you wanna lay down or kneel?”

His throat is tight. “...Don’t care.”

You laugh a little to yourself, another kiss. “Lay down then. It’d probably be easier if you put your ass up but knowing you, I doubt it.”

He blushes, annoyed that he’s so obviously predictable to you.

The sheets are soft where he lays. You don’t join him on the bed at first. He just waits there cuffed as you shuffle around for things - lubes and toys and pillows. When you do return to him, you pat his side and slide a pillow underneath his back. He quickly regrets laying down, because god the position is fucking exposing.

You get between his legs and settle there comfortably. A hand rests on his bare thigh, rubbing your thumb into smooth, muscled skin. His breath is hitched. You lean down and kiss his hip. Still no dice on the erection, but you don’t seem discouraged.

You flip the lube open and let it pour onto your fingertips. It’s pink lube. This is mildly irritating, but saying anything will feed into your satisfaction so Katsuki bites his tongue. He watches it as you warm it in your hands, patting his leg with your clean hand.

“Legs up,” You instruct. “And deep breath. Try not to tense.”

“Just goin’ for it, huh?”

You don’t reply to that, but you do smile.

It’s not his first rodeo. His second or third, but certainly not his first - but he’s never had it done for a reason like this. There was an exchange prior, that someone was putting something in him for their pleasure too. This isn’t for that. This is just for him, with your skilled hands and your oddly gentle tendencies that he doesn’t see any other time. That proves to be too much, makes his belly feel honeyed with lust.

The warm, thick sensation of lubed fingers presses against the tight rim of muscle. He breathes and unclenches. Tries not to think too hard about anything. He’s desperate, too desperate. At this point, it’s hard to be prideful. Your hands are noticeably daintier than the ones he’s had in him prior. It’s…weirdly nice. Makes the process easier somehow. He’s reminded that you’re just you, and that makes him more nervous.

“That’s it, baby,” You hum, so soft it’s startling. The way the blood starts to rush in that familiar way nearly makes him sick. Oh, fuck. No way. “Oh?”

No way. No fucking way. No way that’s what does him in.

You pause. He takes in a deep breath, ready to say anything to defend himself. Humiliation spreads through his whole body. He can feel how hard he’s starting to burn, like the blood in his body is struggling to keep up with the desire and pump of his heart. His chest and face start to flush a familiar rose as he grits his teeth and closes his eyes.

Weeks. Weeks and weeks of trying to figure this out. And it was you calling him baby, of all things, to get him at half-mast.

He’s too afraid to open his eyes, but forces himself too. He’s expecting a smug laugh or sarcastic jab but instead you just look surprised. You stare at him, unblinking. He’s so startled he stares back.

“Do you wanna…keep going?”

He gets hard. Fuck.

“S-shit,” He says, wishing he could cover his face with his hands properly. “Yeah,”

He can’t read your expression at all. Annoying. You don’t brush over it though - but you don’t force him to acknowledge it either. Maybe you’re just focused on the fact he finally has something to work with and don’t want to ruin it by making him talk about his feelings.

“Baby,” You say again, smooth and deliberate. There’s that twitch again, something pooling in his gut. He starts to feel nervous. You’re doing the same as before, stretching him and teasing the rim - getting him ready for something else. “You like bein’ my baby, Katsuki?”

He opens his mouth, only to close it again. He tries to choke some word about, telling you go fuck yourself - but he always ends up looking at your face. Your lashes on your cheek. Soft touches and even softer words. He stops knowing what he wants at some point.

“Ugh,” His voice grows thicker. “Don’t ask me that,”

(If he were more apt at honesty, he could admit to you that he just wants you. In whatever way. Sometimes you get like this, when you’re not screwing around - and you’re so good to him that it hurts. He likes your sarcasm and dryness.

But he likes too when you’re this sweet on him too - even if that feels shameful as fuck. That feels like it’s crossing so many more lines that you’re usual self. He knows that better than anyone. It is crossing more lines than usual.

He can’t help but think about it anyway.)

You laugh a little. His eyes go lidded as you continue to work him open. It’s a slow process. You circle his hole with your thumb each time before pushing in. You get one finger in without effort. The second one takes a little more. Another heaved breath and unclenching of his muscles.

He hasn’t felt the sensation of something entering him in so long. He can’t remember when the last time was. He’s antsy as you pump your fingers in and out, stretching him slowly. You find the bottle with your free hand, flicking it open with your teeth and pouring lube onto him directly before you keep going.

“That feel okay?” You mumbles

“Y-yeah. Feels fine,” He huffs, closing his eyes “Feels…good,”

“It’ll feel better soon. Just need to,” You curve the two fingers inside of him up. They search and search and search until—

There. Shit, there.

“Oh, shit,” He gasps, arching himself up as you rub it. You smile at him, pleased. “Fuck,”

You whistle. Katsuki can feel his cock throb properly now, up at full attention. You don’t touch him though. Your other hand grips his thigh for support as you focus your wrist and energy on curling your fingers against his prostate. His stomach flutters, waist tightening.

He’s been fucked before, damn it, but this is different. This is controlled and concentrated. Your fingers are perfect in their motion, pinpoint pleasure making him break out into a feverishness. You’re annoyingly good at this. His whole nervous system feels like it’s being unraveled so slowly. Pulled apart like the slices of a fruit, something for you to pick off and eat.

His head feels like it’s full of cotton, tongue too big for his mouth. Thoughts clouded and inhibition lowered. Real pleasure. He hasn’t felt that in what has to be more than a month now. It’s overwhelming. He’s sensitive and muddy and acting stupidly - he’s well aware. It’s an out of body experience being so unwound in general but this after everything is overstimulating.

God it feels good. How can anything feel this fucking good?

His breathing is erratic, heart pumping trying to keep up with it. Euphoric little pricks start at his abdomen and shoot off through his whole body. Like the splintering ends of a falling star.

He’s never had any orgasm that feels like it needs every muscle in his body to pump through him. It starts in his center and spreads out, melts him slowly. Usually the feeling of needing to cum is passing - just building pleasure until the orgasm hits and the high relaxes. His cock is leaking now with every little press along his insides. Little white dribbles of pre-cum sliding down his shift all the way down to his ass. He doesn’t want to think about how he looks, so he focuses on how it feels.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” His voice almost gives. “Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t slow down.”

“You can cum if you want to, Katsuki,” As if to drive the point home by massaging his inner thigh, neglecting his cock “Guess you’re pretty sensitive inside, hm? Gonna make you cum like a girl,”

His blush deepens..

“Haah, fuck - fuck I’m not sensitive. It’s just, hng. Been a while,”

“Don’t be a liar or I won’t let you cum,” You tease.

His eyes shoot wide, brows touching his hairline. “Fuck, d-don’t you dare. .”

You have the nerve to laugh at him. All things considered, maybe you’ve earned. “Just teasing. I’m awful but not that awful. “

“You’re not awful, fuck - just really,” He throws his head back against the sheets. “Need to cum, really need to—”

“Gonna cum without even touching your cock,” You say, half-amused. He shudders when the realization dawns on him.“You’re so sweet.”

He’s drooling. The strength goes out in his jaw as the feeling just builds and builds and builds. It goes on like it’ll never topple.

When it does, it doesn’t feel so much like a rope unsnapping as much as it feels like everything is being pulled from under him. Like the loss of gravity. His abdomen goes tight, the anticipation of it making it impossible to breathe. So close, so close, so close. His brain feels shut off, mindlessly humping along air to capitalize on everything. You’re encouraging only eggs him on further. He lets out a garbled little noise, choking. His voice rasps as electricity flows through him.

And he cums, there’s an orgasm - but nothing comes out. He cums so hard but his balls still feel so tight and full. It feels good but he’s still so fucking hard. It snaps him awake as his eyes open, and you’re staring at his cock a little awestruck.

“Oh, poor baby,” You say - not exactly mocking him but not exactly being kind either. Katsuki stares at you lost and hazy. “A dry orgasm after all of that. That’s just cruel.

He heaves. “What the….how am I supposed to?”

His dick aches. Fuck he almost wants to cry.

Your hand wraps around the base of his shaft in a sudden movement, making him hiss. He almost cusses you out. Sensitive, too sensitive. You put your thumb over the tip of his cock, more pre-cum leaking from it as you. You look mesmerized as it dribbles against your thumb

A long pause.

“Hey,” Your expression is serious. “Do you wanna fuck me?”

“What?”

“I’m really turned on right now, shit. I was planning on just helping you but, you didn’t cum yet and I’m...,” You’re looking at him so directly. His heart pounds. “You can say no,”

Of course he wants to fuck you. That’s what he wants to say. He doesn’t know where he’d find the fucking gall.

“....’s sensitive,” He says instead, flushing with embarrassment. You brighten up. “Just… give me a minute,”

“I will but first,” You rummage through your items and pull out a plug. His eyes widen. “It’ll feel good, I promise.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t reject you. You have some kind of miracle in you - so he feels more inclined to just give in to whatever you say. You look eager to do it. He doesn’t know how he feels about that.

It’s easy enough to put the plug in when he’s already all soft. He’s still sensitive and swollen. He hisses as the cool metal of the plug slides into softened hole, before settling. You give him a little tap on his which he glares at you for. Your only response is laughter.

There’s nothing to talk about while Katsuki watches you undress. You don’t take it all off - just your bottoms. It’s not that he has nothing on his mind. Just that… seeing you like that isn’t making him any less hard. He just… looks at you. Dumbly. You slide your shorts off in one go and your underwear along with it, and you’re all on display.

It’s pretty. Your pussy is really pretty. A horrifyingly embarrassing thing for him to think but it’s true. There’s a fine layer of hair on your mound that he likes. You’re dripping wet like you said you were, and that doesn’t make the situation any easier. You give him a little smug grin as you settle over his lap. He stares at you completely absent-minded, flushed.

“Like what you see?” You tease. He’s too struck to lie to you.

“Yeah,” He rasps. He’s out of his mind right now. He blames it on his dick. “I wish I could take these fuckin’ cuffs off.”

You look at him a little surprised. “You don’t like being cuffed and restrained?”

His ears feel hot, heat prickling up his skin. “Didn’t say that just,” He groans even trying to say it. “...Wanna touch you,”

He trails off. You use your hand to turn his face back to you, cupping his jaw as you bend forward to kiss him. He stares at you wide-eyed, making a noise of surprise. This kiss is different from all the others. Deeper, with more feeling. He gets into it, lifting his head to kiss you back.

When you pull away, you’re all fluttered lashes and adoration.

“After I drain your dick dry,” You say with a confidence that astounds him. “I’ll take them off and let you fuck me proper. But you have to tell me you want that, first. Do you wanna fuck me, baby?”

“Shit. Y-yeah,” He nods, feeling absolutely swept up in your pace.

“Say it.”

“I wanna fuck you, dammit,” He stutters through the last of his sentence. “Don’t make me beg, my dick is going to blow off if you keep torturing me.”

You laugh good naturedly and he feels a little proud that he made you laugh. The thought that he’s beyond whipped wipes the smile off his face completely, but whatever.

You pull back, sitting up as you examine his cock. You hold it up to you, weighing your options.

“I’m too horny to open myself up. I’m just gonna sit on it, ‘kay? Don’t buck your hips up,”

He opens his mouth to protest, but the words die in his mouth. The warm, wet heat of your cunt is immediately overstimulating. He groans so gutterally it startles him. Like it’s punched out of him. This is the only pressure his hard cock has gotten in months and it’s making him feel like he’s on fire.

You don’t give him a chance to cover. You lean over him as you maneuver his cock to your entrance with all disregard for his sanity. You hiss as the tip finds the spot. Fuck you’re wet. Your insides are so soft, so sticky - but you’re still so damn tight.

As you promised you go slowly. It doesn’t help him losing his mind. Worsened by the fact he can see you on top of him, all bated breaths and shaky moans. There must be a dull pain, but you only give him a smile as you get the first inch.

“You’re big,” You say breathlessly. His cock twitches to life. “Feels fucking good. Shit, that’s amazing. Haha, I can feel you so deep already.”

“Please stop talking, before I, haah,”

“Don’t cum yet,” You demand, lowering yourself further and further until you’ve bottomed out. Katsuki feels fucking crazy. “Let me get my fill first.”

“Ngh, easier said than fucking done,”

You just laugh. “Try your hardest, Mr. Hero. Show off your endurance, hm?”

He groans as you start to move. You really don’t regard him at all. You lean over him with one hand and use your other to tease and toy with your clit as you ride his cock with reckless abandon. The room is quick to fill with noise - the sound of skin slapping skin, the skin sticking where your hips meet his thighs.

You’re moaning in little broken waves. He’s not going to last if he listens to you anymore.

He’s biting the inside of his cheek trying not to cum, but you don’t make it easy. You’re riding him with so much force, using him. Your pussy is so tight it’s gripping him, sucking him dry. A vice-like grip, sticky and pliant over the hard curve of his cock. Everytime you bounce and throw your ass a little harder onto him, he can feel you. Feel himself and how deep he is. His hands tighten into fists where they’re cuffed in front of him.

He’s never been… used like this. But he doesn’t hate it the way you disregard him to chase your own pleasure while being so generally mindful of his own. You take and take and take but you make it feel so good.

It’s not helped by the plug in his ass, brushing against his prostate every single time you move. Makes him jolt. Every fiber and nerve in his body is wound as tight as it can possibly go. All of his strength, sanity, and focus he has left in him is trying not to cum, not to buck his hips up and rut into you like a stupid animal no matter how much he wants too.

He can feel you start to cum before you even tell him. Your walls pulse with need and your movement starts to get slower. The grip you have holding you up weakens slightly.

“Gonna cum. Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” You say with a pant. You open your eyes and look down on him “Cum with me, okay? Don’t hold it in,”

The words alone trigger a reaction. But with everything else, it’s like Katsuki explodes. Weeks worth of tension in his body, in his muscles, in his everything - burst at the seams. You cum and he follows you nearly in succession. The hard pulsing of your swollen cunt suck around him like a vice and he goes practically limp feeling his dick finally drain.

He cums and he can’t stop cumming. Pumps out so much white hot seed his head starts to cloud. He fucks up into you, sloppy and dumb. Chasing his high as he pours every ounce of his load into your pussy without so much as a modicum of shame. A month of dryness overwritten by the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his fucking life. He doesn't know how long he stays there, painting your walls with his spend. It just goes on forever, longer than he’s ever experienced.

He has his eyes closed as he goes limp. Fucking hell.

It takes him a while to go soft again. When he finally does and returns to consciousness, he’s still nestled inside you. You give him a smile when his eyes finally open, leaning forward to kiss his hairline.

“Still all there?”

His voice is hoarse like he’s been screaming. “I feel like I fucking died,”

You giggle.

“So… no?”

“Kind of. Barely. What the fuck is up with you.” He says laying his head back, sweat dripping down his back. “Shit.”

“Did you like it?”

He gives you an unimpressed look as you laugh.

“I’m glad.” You say softly. You’re warm. God he’s down bad. “We have a lot to talk about later. You should take a little break for now.”

He nods in agreement to both things before pausing. “For now..?”

“You thought we were done?” You say with a tilted head. He gapes. “I thought you knew I was more ruthless than that.”

He groans.

“You’re insane.”

You chuckle, leaning down to kiss him.

“You love me.”

He lets you kiss him some more and doesn’t bother denying it.

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valkyriejudgement · 3 months

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Hockey player Bakugou and Izuku are so fucking aggressive on the ice everyone expects it of Katsuki but not too many people expect it from sunshine Izuku, especially since a lot doesn't get under his skin.

You make sure to catch your favorite team every chance you get. Bundled up and right next to the ice with the plexiglass where blood and sweat is often smeared from rough checks.

Tonight you're lucky enough to not only be graced by Izuku shoving someone roughly into the ice with the nastiest snarl on his face before he makes eye contact with you and suddenly his sunshine smile is back and his eyes are crinkling in the corners.

You also get Katsuki who grunts and growls as he slams the guys head into the plexiglass shoving him down into the ice and when he looks up at you his mean snark turns into a cocky smirk and a wink is sent your way.

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valkyriejudgement · 4 months

Text

WARMING YOUR HANDS UNDER THEIR SHIRT

im back as a jjk stan this 2022 slayage jjk + bnha reqs open

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO: he swats your hand away the moment you gripped the ends of his sweatshirt. he knows where this is going, he knows you and your cold hands. he even contemplated on buying you gloves at some point because of how frequent your hands turned cold. though he eventually gives in when you start pouting and opts for you to hold his hands instead

ITADORI YUUJI: he's so unfazed when you randomly yank his hoodie up, exposing his toned abdomen from behind. only to put your cold ass hands on his chest, THAT'S when he'll react. he lets out a small yelp and shivers under your cold touch. your hands were so cold that even sukuna came out of no where to yell profanities at you LMFAO

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valkyriejudgement · 5 months

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[baby fever - aka 6:36 PM] ft. iwaizumi hajime

wc: 200

ushijima | atsumu | osamu | sakusa | kageyama

You watch as Miya Atsumu settles into his seat in front of the reporters before setting the little toddler into his lap. She babbles quietly, incoherently as Atsumu answers question after question.

“Yeah,” you hear Atsumu say, “I think the team works really well together because-”

“Wa!” the little girl interrupts.

“Because of our high school rivalries-”

“Wawa-chan!”

You watch Atsumu’s little daughter lock focus on Hajime standing next to you, reaching her stubby arms out to him.

“Wawa-chan!” she repeats.

Atsumu laughs, “she loves Iwaizumi, our athletic trainer.”

You look over at your boyfriend, who’s trying to keep a straight face but also raises a hand to wiggle his fingers at the little Miya, who giggles in return.

“I didn’t know you liked kids,” you whisper at him.

“I don’t,” he says, all the while still making funny hand motions.

“If you like them so much,” you snake your fingers into his large palm. “I could help you out.”

Hajime squeezes your palm in reprimand. “Behave.” He looks over at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Anyway I’d like to get married before that.”

You sigh dramatically, “such a gentleman. You weren’t last night when we were-”

He slips the hand that was holding yours around your waist and gives the fat of your hips a solid squeeze. “Behave.” he whispers against your ear.

“Or I’ll make you later.”

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valkyriejudgement · 1 year

Note

Hii bestie congrats on reaching 50 followers! 🥰

Can I get a scenario with Iida with the nsfw prompt #28? I hope I did that right

Tysm you deserve it! ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

“𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫” + tenya iida

a/n: no lie i think im gonna pass out bc of this concept. i actually put my phone down and had to take a lap around my house i had a lot of fun writing it and even tested out doing a mood board of sorts instead of a character gif just to see how i like it

contains: switch!iida, fem!reader, mutual pining, slight dub con? (not really but tagging just in case), oral (m + f receiving), cowgirl, doggy, tenya is always prepared, friends to lovers, porn with some plot, cameos from momoroki and izuocha, one l bomb at the very end

length: 2.8 k

a/n ii: this was lightly proofread and grammarly works wonky sometimes so please let me know about any mistakes!

adjusting your dress for the 4th time you looked in the mirror.

you looked good, that much was true but was the dress too much? you had never worn a slit this high and the tight fit wasn’t as forgiving as you were used to, but the girls had insisted that you looked amazing.

“iidas gonna drop dead when he sees you!" mina exclaimed and momo agreed. the rest of the people you sent photo inquiries to said the same thing with the same amount of enthusiasm.

looking at the clock there was nothing you could do now. he would be at your place any minute.

the itinerary for the night was very straightforward, go to the charity ball, smile for paparazzi pictures because you were hanging off the arm of the number 6 hero, and have fun for the night. the routine had been the same ever since the first time tenya asked you to be his plus one for a ball.

“i would rather not impose on midoriya and ochako’s relationship by asking her and yaoyorozu is already taking todoroki. please, ____, just for the night?”

and you agreed, not knowing exactly how far things would go. it became a regular occurrence then; anytime iida was in a bind and his family forbade him to go to an event alone, he called you and you obliged him.

you felt your phone vibrate in your purse and glanced out the window to see iidas car.

i guess i lost track of time you thought as you gathered your things and made it out onto the street.

iida was already making his way out of the car to open the door for you, and you smiled at gentlemanly he always was. you missed, however, the way the tips of his ears lit up as he drunk in the way you looked, eyes locked onto how high the slit on your dress was.

you missed the way he swallowed hard at the thought of being with you, like that, for the rest of the night. the same you missed the other obvious tells of his feelings for you.

the drive over to the event was peppered with small talk and music. you noted that iida was being more quiet than usual but you didn’t think anything of it. sometimes people just didn’t want to talk.

taking iida’s hand you stepped out of the car and onto the red carpet. the flashes of light and camera shutters surrounded the both of you as you smiled, waved, and posed. this was always your least favorite part. tenyas hand squeezed yours and he looked at you as if to say im right here, as the paps began to yell out to the two of you.

“love the matching navy blue Ingenium!”

“is she your girlfriend?”

“when are the two of you making it official?”

“is it true you two are engaged?”

“any plans for a future mrs.ingenium???”

opting out of answering any questions you made your way into the event hall, now holding onto his bicep as he led you to where your friends were already sitting. momo and todoroki had been the first to arrive, already talking izuku and ururaka by the bar. you spotted a few other friendly faces in the crowd like some UA teachers as you sat down to talk with them.

“still coming to these things ‘platonically’ i see,” todoroki said, momo nudging him in the side to knock it off.

you chuckled nervously and watched iida to see his reaction. he was slightly flushed but he collected himself quickly, greeting everyone before turning back to him to give a rebuttal.

“____ and i have been like this since high school. nothing has changed yet.” you didn’t miss how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes but momo caught your attention before you could think about it to much.

“we told you this dress would look amazing on you! it looks even better with the accessories and shoes. don’t you guys think?”

murmurs of agreement made their way through the group before stopping on iida.

“what about you tenya, what do you think?” ochako asked with a knowing smirk. if she hadn’t been two people away from you, you probably would have choked her out but you gave a tight smile and squeezed his hand letting him know he didn’t have to do anything he was uncomfortable with.

“i think she looks nice in her dress, yes.”

“and?”

“and that is all.”

you felt your face fall slightly but kept yourself in check. you had loved him for so long and it stung to remember he only saw you as a close friend and a plus one in times of trouble.

the night continued on, and you could feel tenya’s eyes on you the whole time. when you went to get drinks, caught up with old hero friends, got asked to dance with random guys, his eyes never left you. after spotting you frantically trying to get away from mineta- how did he even manage to get inside?- he decided to swoop in and save you.

“would you like to dance, ____?”

you took the out he provided and his hand, saying a half-assed goodbye to your former classmate and letting yourself be led to the dance floor.

with one hand on the small of your back and the other outstretched the two of you danced, albeit a bit clumsily as the drinks you had earlier had set in.

“all that money and your parents never thought you buy you some dance classes, huh?” you teased and tenya blushed a little bit. you both knew he was basically rhythm blind, often needing you to lead whenever you danced together, and you loved to tease him about it, especially because he was amazing at literally everything else.

holding him a bit closer you swayed to the music, rolling your eyes at paparazzi that tried to be inconspicuous about taking pictures of the two of you.

it must have been the alcohol talking, but while enjoying his embrace, you remembered the question yaoyorozu had asked earlier and decided to try and get a straight answer from him.

“do you really think i look just nice in this dress, iida?”

he stumbled over his feet a bit at your words but took a breath, “i think you look lovely in everything ___”

“somehow i don’t believe that. i felt your eyes on me all night and you expect me to believe you think i just look lovely? tell me the truth”

you didn’t even know why you were pushing him so hard, or what you expected to uncover, but the way he looked so nervous as to what you were going to say next was enough proof that there was something there.

“why do you care so much about my thoughts on your appearance?”

“i want to hear what your thoughts on me are. how do you really feel about me iida?”

“t-that would be improper of me, _____.” he gulped. has she figured out how i feel? he thought as he tried to focus on not stepping on your toes.

“but that doesn’t make any sense, tenya, how would-”

“because all of my thoughts about you are improper.”

you looked up to see iida avoiding your gaze, face red, in shock that he had even drunk enough to become so bold. he didn’t want to tell you how he felt this way, but the way the silk of your dress clung to your body in just the right way, and your gold heels accentuated the curve of your legs, how could he not?

the song ended and iida immediately pulled away from you, preparing to bow to you in apology but you grabbed his shoulder.

“i apologize, _____, i shouldnt have-”

“tenya… lets go back to your place.”

tenya almost blew his engines out right then and there but he swiftly took you around to say your goodbyes. the tension between you could be cut with a knife as you told everyone you were heading out early with tenya’s hand on the small of your back.

the drive was filled with your hands wandering across various parts of his body, the effects of the shots you took with kirishima now in full swing. you weren’t drunk of your ass but definitely tipsy enough to get handsy with him while he drove.

his hands gripped his steering wheel like a vice, knuckles turning white while his face turned bright red. neither of you could fully process that this was happening, but you kept moving, making your way all the way up tp to iida’s penthouse.

the interior was spotless, just the way you remembered it. you kicked your shoes off at the door and watched iida move past you and into his kitchen to make glasses of water for you. he took his suit jacket off and placed it on a chair at his island, muscled flexing underneath his dress shirt.

he had just gotten bigger as he grew older, surpassing his brother and father in height and stature. you couldn’t peel your eyes off his exposed forearms and almost didn’t answer when he offered the glass to you.

“we need to sober up before we talk about this,” he said and took a seat. you opted to stand, and the two of you sat in comfortable silence. the water was refreshing and you felt a little bit clearer mentally after having some. the situation began to sink in.

because all of my thoughts about you are improper

“i have improper thoughts about you too, you know,” you spoke up, breaking the silence and making iida almost choke on his drink. a few beats passed before he answered back.

“you do?”

you nodded, “want me to show you?”

closing the gap, you cupped his face in your hands and brushed the strands of hair that had popped out of his hairstyle out of his face. you kissed him and the warmth spread from your lips to throughout your whole body.

iida was shaky at first, but caught his footing, grabbing you by the waist with both hands. you could feel him inching lower but not quite grabbing your ass, presumably to stay respectful, but you moved a hand over his and moved it to where you wanted it, eliciting a groan from him.

the dominant force set in stone, constantly changing with every hard kiss and thrust of your tongues, but you ended up winning out, pinning tenya against his own penthouse window.

pulling away and breathing hard you studied his face. he was breathing hard as well, still flushed, looking disheveled in the neat way that only tenya could. his hair, previously slicked back, was messy and ruffled, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose by a thread.

“are you sure you want to do this, _____?” he asked, voice hoarse.

you didn’t answer him. instead, keeping him pinned against the window, you knelt in front of him, grazing your nails on his thighs and making him shiver. he weakly attempted to pull you back up, but you slapped his hand away and made quick work of his pants, letting them pool around his ankles.

“_____, you don’t have to do this-”

his breath hitched as you grabbed at him, stroking him slowly and gently, gauging exactly what he liked. his eyes were screwed shut above you. is this a dream? he thought. it definitely felt like one he had had many times before, waking up sweaty and painfully horny to an empty bed and cursing himself for even thinking that way about one of his best friends.

but fantasy was steadily becoming a reality as you continued to jerk him off, pressing the occasional kiss to his balls here and there.

iida was a mess, trying to keep himself upright and avoid fucking into your mouth with reckless abandon. when you began to suck on his head gently he almost lost his footing, having to grab the back of your head as gently as possible, in a desperate grab for balance. he cried out, thankful that the entire apartment had been soundproofed for security as you took more of him into your mouth.

“fuck! _-_____, im going to cum if you continue like that- pleAsE- i don- i don’t want to just yet”

you pulled off him with a pop and kissed him one last time. grabbing his hands, you led him to his bedroom, lightly pushing him onto the bed. you were the one calling the shots here.

you stood above him as you watched him get comfortable on the bed. he looked so cute like this, muscles tense and waiting for what you would do to him next.

“i don’t think its fair that im still fully dressed, do you?”

puling the zipper of your dress down, it pooled at your feet and you had never felt more powerful in your life. the look on tenya’s face was priceless as he kept opening and closing his mouth tryint to figure out exactly what to say. you had forgotten you had o forgo panties for this dress until now.

he settled on a low and breathy youre beautiful, as you crawled on the bed next to him, straddling his waist.

“what now?” he asked, hands sliding up and down your hips, squeezing lightly.

“now you get to fuck me, tenya.”

he captured your lips in another searing kiss, moving your hips to grind up and down on his length.

“c-condom!” he choked out and you sat back, letting one of his free arms rummage around his his nightstand for something. he sheathed himself rather quickly, holding your hips up and aligning himself with your entrance and looking up at you for approval.

bracing yourself on his stomach you sank down on him on one go, eliciting a long groan from the both of you.

“god, youre so tight and wet for me,” he murmured as you started to bounce on him slowly. meaty slaps and slick sounds intermingled with your groans and whines. he was hitting you so deep and you were taking him so well.

suddenly, it was like a switch flipped, and tenya lifted you off his cock, flipping the two of you over and pressing your face into the mattress. his hands smoothed over the globes of your ass, middle finger tracing a stripe up your exposed cunt.

“you wanted to hear my improper thoughts about you? I can just show you instead.”

while you had been enjoying flustering him and being in control, you couldn't ignore the heat pooling in your stomach at the way he handled you so much rougher. he was a man starved, finally getting to feel you clench around him in ways he had only dreamed and making the most of it. he held onto you like he thought you would disappear, rutting onto you and pressing kisses up and down your spine.

“aH, t-tenya!”

he rutted into you at an almost bruising pace, reaching down to rub your clit, making you push back against him.

“i let you have your way with me all night, i think its my turn now.”

pleads for him to go faster and babbles filled his ears and yet he continued, knowing he would not cum until you did.

the pleasure was building impossibly high in your lower half and you knew you would cum soon.

“i-im close- ten, please. make me cum on your cock!”

tenya kept up the pace and a few seconds later your orgasm hit you like a freight train, washing over you in waves that seemed to get more intense. iida continued his ministrations, racing to his own release. he came with a low groan very shortly after and almost collapsed on top of you, but he feebly held himself up by his forearms.

panting and sweaty you shifted to turn around and look him in the eyes. i looked absolutely fucked out as you reached up to wipe some sweat away from his brow. tenya leaned into your touch, slowly lowering his face onto your stomach and holding you around the waist in a giant bear hug.

“tenya! you’re all sticky!” you giggled, threading your hands in his dark hair and scratching at his scalp.

he hummed, content in your hold and trying to ignore the gnawing in his stomach that told him the two of you needed to talk about what just happened.

“_____,” he started, but you cut him off.

“i… love you tenya.”

a dopey smile crossed his face as he held you closer.

“i love you too,” he murmured into your skin, exhaustion catching up to him. pressing a final kiss to your tummy, he let sleep overtake the both of you.

you could deal with specifics in the morning.

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valkyriejudgement · 1 year

Text

Kissing Lessons- Tenya Iida x Reader

Pairing: Tenya Iida x Gen! Reader Genre: Fluff Content Warnings: Suggestive fluff, Tenya and reader are third years here, marking (reader is okay with it lol), no actual sex or smut, making out, praise, neck kissing Word count: 1.2k words Tenya has never had his first kiss before. You offer to teach him how.

When Tenya Iida, class 3-As representative, declared that he had never kissed anyone before, you almost did a spit take.

It was understandable; an uptight guy focused on hero work probably didn’t make much time for romance. But at the same time, it was almost unbelievable. Tenya Iida was beyond handsome, if not the most handsome guy in 3-A. You can’t say you hadn’t fantasized about making a move on him in your three years at U.A. together.

So that’s how the two of you got here, sitting across from one another on your dorm bed. Tenya sits cross-legged in front of you.

When you realized the blue-haired boy had never been kissed before, he confided in you that he’d wanted his first time to be perfect. So you offered to teach him. It’s what friends are for, after all.

“So just to be clear you haven’t kissed anyone before? Not even a peck?” you verify, gentle and unjudging.

Tenya blushes and shakes his head from side to side.

“Not even a little.”

You offer him a small smile.

“That’s okay. We’ll start small. Here.”

You wait for his slight nod and straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck. Tenya is leaning against the wall by your bed, and your faces are close.

You can feel his breathing this close, the glisten of chapstick against his lips. His face is so close to yours. Cupping his face with one hand, you close the gap between your lips.

He grunts a little but eventually kisses back. After a few lingering moments of sweetness- chaste, nothing probing- you pull away, hand still cupping his square jaw. You can feel his stubble against your palm.

“See Tenya? That wasn’t so hard.”

He gasps a little, and his hands find your waist. During the entire kiss, he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

His glasses are askew, and a light blush is dusting his face. His blue eyes are wide with shock and wonder.

“H-how. How did you do that so confidently?” He wonders aloud.

You smirk and tuck a lock of his well-kept blue hair behind his ear.

“Practice. Just act like you know what you’re doing and gauge the other persons reactions. That way you can figure out what they like. And ask for consent before doing something huge, obviously. Ask for consent before kissing them. It isn’t too awkward if you’re upfront and honest about it, I promise.” You advise.

Tenya is still flustered, the collar of his blue shirt slightly uneven.

“If you want, you can try initiating. Go ahead.” You say, leaning away from his grasp a little. “I’m all yours.”

Tenya is hesitant when he leans forward to close the gap between the two of you, but when he does, it feels heavenly. Awkward and a little rough, his top lip bumping into yours, but your hands find purchase in his hair and adjust him to your liking. His lips are plush and soft. His breath is minty- he probably prepared for this- and hot against your mouth. He moans a little bit when you tug at his undercut and bring him closer.

His hands press into your lower back, pushing your lower body flush with his. His hands are so big and robust, capable of maneuvering you however he wishes. Your eyes flutter, taking in the senses. You moan softly, and he follows suit. You pull away briefly to switch angles and let your tongue lap out to meet his a little. Tenya’s eyes widen slightly at the intrusion, but you smile reassuringly against his mouth. “This is okay.” You seem to tell him. “I want this,” you hope to convey.

His hands move from your waist to your upper back, under your shirt, trying to feel any expanse of skin he can reach. There’s nothing but the sound of your breathing and the smack of your lips as you bring one another closer, closer, wanting never to let go.

You pull away for air, and Tenya follows your lips, desperate for more. You sigh and give him a chaste peck back.

“You seemed to like that, pretty boy. Want to try more?”

“I- yes, if you so wish to.”

You hum, scooting against the pillows on your bed.

“Then take me.”

Tenya presses you back into the pillows of your bed, pinning you down with his body weight. He is arguably the most muscular of class 3A, exceeding even Bakugo. He has so much strength and could crush you right now, but he chooses to use it gently, pinning you where he wants you, kissing you like you’re the air he needs to breathe. You claw at his back, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull your bodies flush together. You’re surprised when he pulls away from your lips, kisses your cheek, and then moves to your neck.

“Can I?” he murmurs, a low voice asking politely. He is ready for the possibility of you saying “No. This is too much. I want to stop here.” He is prepared to be rejected and return to the quiet of his room to contemplate this last lesson. If that were the case, he wouldn’t feel hurt or entitled at all. Just grateful that he got to have you, like this, in any capacity. Grateful for your expertise and understanding, grateful for your touch and compassion.

So it’s to his surprise when you whisper “yes,” scritching at the base of his well-kempt undercut.

He hums and dives in, licking and sucking at your throat. You moan at the sensation, back arching into his touch, hugging him closer. Tenya braces himself against your bed and almost growls. It happened instantaneously and without you registering it, but your crotches are grinding together, all heat and light and comfort and carnal.

Who knew your formerly uptight, type-A class rep could be so gentle yet sensual and strong?

Tenya pulls away, and his eyes widen at the mark he left.

“I- shoot, I am so sorry,” he panics at the mark left. He fusses over your bruised neck before you cut him off.

“Don’t be, Tenya. I wanted it. I liked it a lot, you made me feel really good.” you praise. Tenya adjusts his glasses, which are fogging up slightly due to his heavy breathing. His cheeks warm with the praise, and his heartbeat speeds up.

You guide him into another kiss, reassuring him that he did well. After plenty of time in class together, you know how Tenya reacts to praise. He thrives for it, chest throbbing. You nuzzle his cheek and jaw, giving him gentle pecks across his sharp jawline. Eventually you pull away, hands cupping his face, eyes meeting his. He seems so gentle here, nothing like the brazen boy or the confident leader that you’ve gotten to know.

“I’m going to ask you again because I care about you and I don’t want to put too much on you. Do you want to go further or stop here?”

Tenya looks up at you, blue eyes shining in adoration.

“More. Please don’t stop here, I want more of you.” He pleads.

You give in his body against yours, hearts beating in tandem. You give him all you’re willing to, and he gives you all of him too. He’s such a good, strong boy, and you’re more than happy to be his friend– or more. Whatever he wants to be, whatever he wants, he’s yours.

Maybe he didn’t need kissing lessons after all.

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valkyriejudgement · 1 year

Note

Guess who's back? it's me I am!

One of my favorite hc's for Iida the idea that his parents believed more in verbal rather than physical affection, so Iida ends up pretty touch starved without realizing it.

So if you could write some touch starved Iida x extremely affectionate partner, I would love that!

(bonus points if you use flustered Iida like last time)

[ Oh hey, nice to hear from you again! I do remember your request for the flustered Iida which was so much fun to write. I think touch-starved Iida headcanons are accurate, poor baby. ]

At first, it was subtle, and you had mistaken it as Tenya being surprised that you reached out so suddenly to lay your hand on his chest. But his skin tightened underneath your palm, and you could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

"I...forgive me," he hesitantly spoke, pressing his fingertips to his now tingling lips, he never imagined his first kiss would happen so suddenly nor that its effect would cause his cheeks to feel so strangely warm. But the two of you had agreed to pursue a romantic relationship and affection such as kissing should be expected.

He trembled when your warm palms glided over his back, making his skin recoil in some odd pleasure and his heart accelerate. He swallowed hard, "I...I assure you the injury is not of any concern," he said with a shaky tone. How he allowed himself to get injured during a simple training exercise was beyond him, yet if this allowed him to feel your touch perhaps it was a worthy sacrifice.

He gasped when you laid your hand on his cheek during class hours, it was shortly after he had scolded yet another student for laying their feet on the desk, and you wanted to get his attention to calm him. The way your thumb so gently stroked his cheek caused him to fluster and he found himself unable to speak and yet, he placed his hand over yours. As shameful as it was to admit, he wanted your touch at that moment. "D-do not remove your hand," he softly commanded.

"Forgive me but may I inquire about a selfish request?" He was uncertain how he was going to bring it up, but he longed to feel your body weight against his. That closeness, that intimacy. He opened his trembling lips and uttered the words, "Will...you rest your body against mine?" He did not expect you to jump on him, nor for the mattress to give a rather loud and unsettling squeak.

"Please...r-restrain yourself..." he whispered through clenched teeth, feeling his back press against the wall and your hands against his chest. Any further words were muffled seconds later when your lips pressed against his and his legs went weak. His mind was blank, and yet his body acted on its own by wrapping his arms around you and deepening the kiss.

He couldn't deny the fact that he felt the slightest bit ashamed for the way he had been acting in your relationship and you had your suspicions about why Tenya caved into your affection every time. Yet, everything was confirmed when he shared the fact he had not been raised in an affectionate family. "My brother was the only one to show any affection toward me and I...I wish to learn how to return the affection you so selflessly give me," you should have known Tenya would turn this into some type of assignment.

Touch-starved was a very interesting way to be, yet he found himself enjoying the control it provided. Whether he wanted to wrap his arms around you, kiss any open area of your skin, or simply touch you...he could. He rather enjoyed the way you welcomed it and the thrill it continued to give him.

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valkyriejudgement · 1 year

Text

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔: 𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒

blurb you’re trying to flirt with your best friend; kuroo’s losing his fucking mind.

# gn!reader, fluff, slight angst(?) bc kuroo’s a dumb bitch, friends to lovers :)

your shirt’s askew, revealing the smooth skin of your neck.

kuroo stares.

he’s not sure how long you’ve been looking like that, but it sure as hell feels like it’s been forever. he feels his face burning, but nothing else is coming to mind. he’s zeroed in on the exposed slope of your neck, and he feels like he can't breathe. or maybe he's breathing too hard.

you wave a hand. “kuroo…? you with me?”

he exhales, hard. “sorry—” he forces himself to calm down; to think about anything but biting you like a crazed vampire. “sorry, sorry. just, remembered something.”

you tilt your head, and it shows the slope of your— kuroo chokes, but mentally. “about?”

about how much i’m in love with you.

what? kuroo recoils at his own thoughts.

“nothing important,” he lies through his own teeth.

your eyes seem to lose brightness for a split second, had kuroo not been paying attention. “oh, alright.” you turn away from him, fixing your shirt.

why does it feel like kuroo’s not the only one disappointed?

you’re on his lap.

okay, he seriously doesn’t know how you pair ended here. it was only supposed to be a movie night (when is it only just a movie night, tetsu-chan? a voice that suspiciously sounds like oikawa whispers in his mind) but then you two inched closer and closer to each other like a gravitational pull.

and now you’re sleeping on his chest and kuroo is just melting because you look so adorable that he wants to kiss the hell out of you. but you’re asleep, peaceful and unaware of his internal conflict—like always.

“love you, tetsu,” you murmur sleepily against his chest as kuroo stiffens.

he runs a hand through his face, exhaling deeply.

“love you, too.”

“this is bad,” kuroo says into the phone next to his ear, gripping the pillow on his lap like it’s offended him. “this is really, really bad.”

it’s the fifth day of kuroo losing his shit while you unintentionally flirt with him while in the same house.

“you’re just making it bad,” kenma says. kuroo hears the clicking of kenma’s mechanical keyboard—it sounds extremely expensive. his best friend sighs, “i don’t get why you don’t just admit it to y/n.”

kuroo bristles at the thought, scowling at an imaginary kenma right in front of him. “you want me to just— hey, baby, this sounds crazy and you might slap me after this, but i am in love with you and have been since middle school!”

he scratches the nape of his neck, suddenly embarrassed at kenma’s deadpanned silence.

“i was talking about y/n giving you awkward bo—”

“woah, woah, hey! keep it PG!” oikawa shrieks, and it’s a painful sound. kuroo honestly forgot that he’s also on the call. “but kenma-chan is right, you know? kuroo tetsurou, you’re not only going to die a virgin—but also a coward for never confessing!”

“i’d rather die both than have y/n avoid me,” kuroo murmurs, and his brain decides to be a bitch and give him a flashback on how you looked so cute with his shirt.

kenma stops clicking, muttering an interested: “oh?”

oikawa makes a noise that sounds part amazed and part bewildered. “wow, you really love y/n-chan, don’t you? i thought this was just horny-kuroo speaking, but this is past that.”

“it’s been past that for ages,” kuroo hisses. “and now i’m torn between just kissing the life out of y/n and hibernating in my room for even thinking about that.”

“nevermind, you’re just really stupid,” kenma goes back to clicking.

sugawara—again, kuroo doesn’t know how they’re here—laughs; it’s the evil one. “we all know that. how could we even expect it to be different?”

“hey, shut the fuck up!” kuroo barks as oikawa cackles, followed by a thump. kuroo assumes he fell on the floor. “just because i’m at the top of my class doesn’t mean you should be jealous.”

“king of the class yet also king of being obliviously a dumbass,” kenma says; and it’s even worse when kenma teases him because it’s so deadpanned that he sounds deadly serious.

kuroo leaves the call, throwing his arms in the air.

he wanted some bro talk. he wanted some bro advice. instead, he got some bro-punch in the bro-face because his friends are keeping an inside joke from kuroo—and they keep saying you’ll find out when the time is right!

kuroo catches a glimpse of you from outside his room where his door is pushed open: you smiling at your phone. it’s a soft smile, and it looks good on you. he wonders when you’ll give that to him.

kuroo sighs to himself, turning away.

when will the time ever be right?

“guys, i think i’m giving up,” you announce one faithful day, walking into the kitchen while kuroo’s rereading his school materials.

kuroo listens half-heartedly, wondering who you’re talking to. and then he keeps reminding himself to focus on his goddamn chemistry textbook.

“no, dumbass. i tried everything!” you yell into the phone, pouring water in a glass. but with one hand on the phone, it wobbles dangerously.

without thinking too much, kuroo rushes to your side, standing right behind you as he steadies the glass for your sake. he will get a heart attack if you break this glass and get it all over you—and he does not want to get one right now.

your warmth is a distraction, and he barely catches it when you smile and thank him.

the person on the phone continues talking as you fill the glass to the very brim, and kuroo finally allows himself to release his grip.

“careful,” he says. “that one’s heavier.”

“gotcha,” you say, grinning in amusement. “no, tooru—” what? you’re talking to oikawa? “i’m not trying to be subtle… tips? fuck that book! that was written by a man anyway, i should know what i’m doing better.”

speaking of, kuroo should probably go back to his textbook.

“yes, i’m just going to do it,” you grumble, and kuroo actually likes that nose wrinkle you do. it’s cute. he pokes it and you stick your tongue out at him. “yeah, he’s right in front of me; you get to have a front row seat.”

but you’re also holding onto his wrist so he’s kind of stuck right now.

you look up at kuroo, stating: “tetsurou, i have been trying to flirt with you for the past week. tell me now, are you not interested in me or?”

“what.”

“that’s not an answer.”

kuroo’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. “you’re serious.”

“as serious as i have been flirting with you,” you answer back.

“what the fuck,” kuroo breathes, and he’s sure he’s blushing madly because you’re unable to hold in your little giggles that make him feel warmer. “what the fuck.”

“still not an answer.”

“i’m fucking in love with you,” he adds hurriedly, knocking the phone away from your grasp in lieu of holding your face. he tries to convince himself that this is real. “and i am so sorry that i am ridiculously stupid.”

“oh,” your eyes soften, hands coming on top of his, “me too. i’ve been in love with you for months now. it’s kind of driving me crazy.”

“try years.”

you huff sharp laughter, squeezing his hands—and he melts into your touch, knocking your foreheads together. “so competitive. are you gonna kill block me from a kiss now?”

“never in my life,” he mutters, and slots his lips into yours; like the way he could’ve been doing all this time.

“can you wear my shirt again? that one really got me going.”

“i’m still here!” oikawa shrieks, mortified.

haikyuu taglist [ @crystal-lilac @jaepann @bun-ina ]

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valkyriejudgement · 1 year

Text

[7:40pm]

“Where is he?” You asked softly. Your eyes roamed across the volleyball members occupying the hallway before looking back at the boy beside you.

Osamu looked at you with a grim look and stuck his thumb behind him. “Sitting in the locker room. There shouldn’t be anybody else in there right now.”

You nodded. “Thanks ‘Samu.”

He dipped his chin in response before continuing to pack his duffle bag. There was a somber tone amongst the team as they began to slowly make their way out of the building.

You headed to the locker room, slightly dragging your feet along the way. Once you were faced with the pale grey door, you found yourself hesitating to open it and laid your hand flat on its surface. Sighing, you turned around and leaned your back against it. What were you doing here?

“Sooo what’s going on there?” Your friend had asked a few weeks ago while grinning like a Cheshire cat. You both had just watched a yellow-haired boy cheerfully wave at you through the classroom window before heading to his own class.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you opted to stare straight ahead at the board.

“Oh c’mon. You and Miya have been acting all buddy-buddy recently.”

“Yep because we’re buddies.” You began to doodle on the corner of your notebook.

Your friend snorted. “When did that happen?”

You couldn’t help but smile softly at the memory of meeting Atsumu for the first time. Your friend was right - Atsumu and you used to have an awful relationship.

You had started Inarizaki a bit later than everyone else. Your family had decided to move into the area after your father had a job transfer, and so you found yourself the awkward new student a few months after the school year had begun. Volleyball tryouts had already passed, but the coach had seen you play at your previous middle school and graciously accepted you after giving you a chance to play a practice game with the rest of the team. The girls were amazing and you found yourself right at home with them - something you were thankful for since you weren’t looking forward to making friends from scratch.

You knew the boy’s volleyball team at Inarizaki was excellent, therefore when the captain needed someone to accompany her to run an errand to the other gym, you eagerly volunteered. You hadn’t had a chance to see them in action and were dying to get a peek at their practice to see just how good they were.

An orange court identical to the one the girls practised in greeted your eyes as you both stepped in the building and your captain turned to you upon entering the gym.

“Just wait here while I go talk to their coach!”

You nodded and curiously began to watch the practice. The familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking and balls hitting the floor put you at ease and a starstruck expression crossed your face as you saw a tall, darker-skinned boy spike.

“Oi.”

Another boy with a leaner figure and slanted eyes spiked with a weird twist to his form and your eyes widened. That was unusual. Impressive.

“Oi.”

I KNOW someone is NOT trying to get my attention by saying ‘Oi’. Who is this uncouth-

You turned to see a boy with yellow hair and an unamused expression on his face.

“Yes?” you said sweetly.

“Cheerleading tryouts aren’t in this gym,” he said shortly.

The fuck?

Okay, technically you and your captain were wearing ponytail holders with ribbons in Inarizaki colours and you both hadn’t changed out of your regular PE tracksuit, so you could maybe see where he might have gotten that.

“Excuse me?”

“This is a volleyball court.” He spoke in a tone that implied that you were a bit slow.

No shit Sherlock. “I’m not looking for tryouts.”

He groaned in exasperation and put his hands on his hips. “Well if you’re looking to watch our practice, we can’t have an audience today. We’re going over some serious stuff and don’t need any distractions.” He turned and left you with your hand half raised and mouth open before you could respond.

“These pigs just think they can crash practice when they don’t even care about volleyball…”

Pigs.

Pigs??

Who the fuck does he think he is?? This little-

Okay, you know what, breathe y/n. Don’t do anything rash. Remember what your therapist said.

You felt a faint tap on your foot and looked down to see a stray volleyball had rolled over to you.

I really shouldn’t. You thought, picking up the ball and ran a finger along the curves and dips.

This is a bad idea. You tossed the ball in the air.

Well, when life gives you lemons. You hopped and felt a satisfying smack as you hit the ball towards the back wall.

Now, the intention was to hit the area beside the offensive boy and give him a little scare, however you forgot that your hits tended to curve a bit (a problem you were trying to fix).

So you watched, horrified, as the ball flew straight towards the boy.

It was almost like the trajectory itself was in slow motion but sped up as it impacted and there was a dull thud sound as it hit his back.

“OW!”

He turned around, eyes flashing and mouth curled angrily.

“Oh god I’m so sorry.”

Is what you meant to say. But you had your pride and also had kind of already committed to going down this path.

��L/n y/n,” you said, matching his glare. “[insert favourite vball position here]. Nice to meet you.”

The noises from the gym all halted and the air was still as the other members of the team stared at the scene.

The boy with the slanted yellow eyes and middle parted hair snorted which prompted the boy beside him to begin laughing as well. You were stunned to see the same face except framed with grey hair.

There’s another one??

There was a sudden ‘eep’ noise and you felt someone rush over beside you. “Oh my goodness I’m so sorry.”

Your captain grabbed the back of your head and wrenched your head down into a bow. “We’re so sorry. RIGHT?”

You yelped when you paused and she sharply tugged on one ear.

“Yes, my apologies.” You muttered.

The girl dragged you out of the gym berating you but sighed and ran a hand down her face as you recounted what had happened.

“Honestly I guess I can’t blame you too much. That was Miya Atsumu.”

“Oooh he’s one of the Miya twins.” They were first-years like you but already quite famous around the school.

She nodded. “Osamu is fairly nice but Atsumu is known for being…difficult.”

You snorted. “Seems like it.”

“He’s a damn good setter though,” she continued.

“Still,” you frowned. “This sport is about teamwork. You can’t be too difficult or else the team can’t function.”

“Agreed,” she said before narrowing her eyes and looking at you from the side. “Though I’ll make you eat your words if that temper of yours makes an appearance on our team.”

You shuddered before walking quickly ahead of her back to the girls’ gym.

—-------------------------------------------------------

After that, your interactions with Atsumu Miya didn’t get much better.

It didn’t help that he was in the class next door to yours. Everytime you met in the halls (which happened a good amount of times during the week) snide remarks were exchanged.

“Oh look, it's the school’s kpop star,” you said drily when you exited the classroom for lunch and found yourself, yet again, in front of him. “Raaah raah.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t you expect to hear crowd noises everywhere you go? You’re always strutting around like you’re the shit and eating up the attention people give you. Well until they start messing with your serves,” you smirked. “It’s too bad you aren’t good enough to not be so easily distracted.”

He looked at his twin beside him. “I told you, squealing pigs.”

“At least I don’t go around grunting like a giant ape.”

The lanky boy whose name you learned was Suna tried to hide a snicker behind his hand.

“Well I almost didn't give someone a CONCUSSION.”

“Oh please,” you turned away from him and waved your hand in a shooing motion. “Your head is too thick to get a concussion.”

“Tch more like your spike is too weak for it.”

“What did you say??” You whipped back around only for a teammate of yours to magically materialise and drag you away by the collar. News of your ostensible assault to Atsumu had spread amongst both teams and your incredible dislike for him was well-known by now.

“I fucking dare you to show up to practice Miya and see for yourself it that’s true!”

“Hai hai that’s enough,” your teammate said tiredly and you crossed your arms, fuming, as you saw him sniggering before turning the corner.

The students in your hallway quickly became accustomed to your face-offs, opting to give you two a wide berth whenever they occurred. Suna often stopped by to film and told you he was going to make a compilation of the best 10 fights at the end of the year.

“He’s not that bad you know,” Osamu said, sipping on his drink. Your eyes rolled up to him from where you were lying down on the bench beside him.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“He’s…passionate. With a one-track mind. I think it’s good you’re so direct to him. It’s the only way that really gets through to his stupid brain anyway.”

You laughed. “How are you guys so different?” Osamu was in your class and at first you had been wary of him - he did share Atsumu’s genes after all - but were relieved to find out he was actually super chill.

“I didn’t wanna end up like him.” He said simply and you chuckled again before frowning.

“It’s a shame…he plays beautifully though,” you said under your breath.

You didn’t notice Osamu side-eye you quickly with an eyebrow raised.

Inarizaki had one of their games recently and you were honestly a bit curious to see how the evil Miya played and also so you could see if he made any mistake for your own satisfaction. However, you had to admit that Atsumu was talented. He was reckless and got ahead of himself but his sets were perfect. Most of the time at least. They were the type that you knew spikers were itching to hit and you wondered what it’d be like to play with someone like him.

Definitely a shame.

—-------------------------------------------------

Of all things, the school’s annual fall event was the reason your relationship with Atsumu improved.

Your friend’s class was putting on a production and she asked you to help paint some of the set pieces as a few people had canceled on her last minute.

“y/nnnnn pleasseee” your friend whined.

“I spend 90% of my life at school and the one free Saturday I have YOU WANT ME TO BE AT SCHOOL?” She grinned, enthusiastically nodding.

“You got some nerve-”

“It’s not my fault my classmates are lazy…I always get stuck doing busy work” she interrupted, shooting you her best puppy eyes. You bit your tongue as you wanted to retort that it was her fault for being the class’s student rep.

You sighed. “Okay fine.”

She squealed and clapped her hands. “Perfect, meet me at 1pm.”

A pit had formed in your stomach that you couldn’t explain as you opened the door to the auditorium. When your friend spotted you, she brightened and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you behind the stage. Large set pieces that outlined what you think was a castle and some trees were set-up but you barely noticed as your eyes found an offensive figure.

Miya Atsumu turned his head to the side, flashing you his signature smile and opened his mouth.

“Nope,” you said and turned on your heel and headed back towards the front. Your friend quickly ran and stood in front of you.

“What is Miya doing here??”

“Apparently he and Osamu crashed into the principal while they were racing to the cafeteria and knocked him down so he’s forcing him to help out as punishment.

“Why is he the only one in there? Where’s Osamu??”

“Technically Atsumu is the one who knocked the teacher over. Osamu managed to skirt away in time so he wasn’t seen.”

You groaned. “I can’t do this. Honestly, we might end up ruining your scenery fighting or something.”

She glared at you. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You winced as she stared at you for a moment with a pensive expression on her face.

“What?”

“Maybe you should hang out with him. Both of you play volleyball…just talk about that.”

“I don’t want to talk to him period.”

She snorted and said, “Just be open-minded. And don’t kill each other. Or destroy my set pieces.” She quickly added at the end.

“No promises.”

You walked back and went straight to the paint rollers, blatantly ignoring the heavy gaze trained on you. Picking it up, you went to the end of the half-painted castle furthest away from him and began to roll.

Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “That side is done.”

You didn’t say anything and scooted a little to where it was unpainted.

“I don’t bite.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you did.”

“Shouldn’t I be more afraid of you?”

You glared at him and instead began to talk to one of the other people painting beside you. There were only three others and they had been fairly quiet at the hostile energy radiating between you two.

However, Atsumu remained eerily quiet as he worked on his set piece and as you focused on yours, you found that time passed fairly quickly. You were finishing up and went to get another paint bucket when you blanched upon seeing Atsumu’s work.

“Oh my god please don’t tell me this is all you’ve accomplished.”

“This is harder than it looks!” He said defensively and you bit back a laugh. When he had whipped around to retort, he revealed that he had paint smudged on one of his cheeks as well as a bit of splatter on his shirt.

“It’s straight lines Miya. I know you act like an ape but I didn’t expect you to have a monkey brain too.”

He opened his mouth with an indignant face but stopped when you stood beside him.

“The lines go this way - see then it looks like bricks.” You brushed lightly on the cardboard.

Atsumu looked at you, eyes wandering around your facial features. He’d never seen you up this close before and without a scrunched up expression on it. Your elbows were almost touching and he frowned.

“She’s pretty ya know.” Osamu grinned as if he knew a secret. It pissed Atsumu to see that expression on his face.

“So what? She’s mean and bitchy.”

“Oh c’mon. It’s partly your fault she acts that way too. She can be sweet sometimes.”

“L/n. Sweet. Right.”

“What, you don’t want my help?” You felt your hackles raise at his frown.

He shook his head. Your eyes were lit with a bright fire - not necessarily one that was hostile but rather with a lively quality in them - and the stage lights cast shadows across the planes of your face in a way that made you look both glowing and vibrant.

Pretty.

His eyes widened slightly and he shook his head a bit to get out of his daze. He must be crazy. The fumes from the paint had probably made him a bit high and out of his mind. Right?

—---------------------------------------------------

After that, your relationship with Atsumu seemed to improve. Your face-offs slowly became more light-hearted and you both began to chat about volleyball, schoolwork, how Osamu and Suna bully him and on and on. He was surprisingly funny and by that, he was easy to tease and rile up. The two of you still fought but it was more so bickering over whether horror movies were better than action movies rather than actual malice.

He’d come to watch a few of your practices and even began going to games if he’d finish his first. You’d find him, arms leaning against the railings of the second-floor seats and a shit-eating grin gracing his lips. You groaned internally when you saw the flash of blonde in the corner of your eye but refused to take your eyes off the service.

There was a yell from the stands. “In!”

You froze momentarily watching the ball hit just outside the line.

“Out!” The referee called.

“ATSUMU MIYA.”

You whipped your head to the offensive boy and mouthed an aggressive “GET OUT.”

All you got in response were mini finger hearts.

Mentally facepalming, you turned your attention back to the game and grumbled about him being lucky that this was just a practice match. You’d definitely get back at him on the walk home later.

Yes, indeed, Atsumu had begun to walk you home. He’d wave Osamu off and claim that he needed to walk off his post-practice high and it was getting darker quickly now anyway and he couldn’t make fun of you if you died on the way home. Most of the time, you guys continued the bickering from the day and joked about stupid things, and sometimes, when practice ran late deep into the night, the two of you would just walk side-by-side in comfortable silence.

And honestly, being friends with Atsumu Miya was nice.

—--------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately, your heart betrayed you and you could pinpoint the moment it did.

You were watching the boys play a match and Osamu had gone in for a spike only to change it into a set straight to Aran. Atsumu looked stunned momentarily before he let out a boisterous laugh. The sound was just like a child’s - a refreshing sound full of joy and pure amusement - and you could practically feel his adrenaline amp up another notch.

Aran scored the point (ofc) and the team gave each other excited high fives before the buzzer rang, signalling the other team calling a time out. You watched him chatter away upon reaching the sidelines and Aran gave him a slap on the back in annoyance while Suna shook his head. You chuckled at their antics but your smile slowly faded as your eyes found the blonde setter again.

The slight chill from the stadium’s A/C,

the feel of your hand gripping the end of a yellow cone,

the excited chatter of your classmates beside you,

the itch at the end of your fingertips to hold that blue and yellow sphere.

You felt your heart beat painfully when you heard Atsumu’s laugh again.

If you learned anything about Atsumu, it was that he was passionate and wore emotions on his sleeve. Life was simple for him - he said what he was thinking and unashamedly acted the way he felt. When he was elated, his joy was infectious and his face would shine excitedly about some new cool thing he pulled off. He was blunt, but honest and you felt a sense of trust in him because of it.

And he had his kind moments.

Once, he found you sitting on the lowest bleacher in an empty gym after a match when your team had lost a crucial game to qualify for the quarterfinals.

Your eyes blankly stared at the ground as you absentmindedly spun a volleyball in your hands.

“You guys put up a good fight.”

You snorted in response. “I could’ve done more.”

“The team worked hard - you worked hard all year. Just get better and kick ass in the fall.”

“Yeah I tried my best and all it got me was there. I made so many mistakes.” You shook your head. “I should have hustled after more balls…I missed the timing on a few blocks…geez,” you inhaled sharply and leaned back on your hands. “I feel so incompetent. What have I been doing this entire time?”

“Hey I didn’t stay after all those sessions just for you to complain they didn’t help.”

You wrinkled your forehead. “Sorry, that’s fair.” Looking up, you gazed into his warm brown eyes, you smiled softly. “Thank you for helping me.”

He stared at you hard for a moment before turning his head away. “This just means I’m forcing you to train harder next year.”

You groaned. “For fucks sake.”

“But really,” he continued. “You aren’t incompetent. You’re like - you’re good.” He said a bit lamely before hesitantly continuing. “You’re good at volleyball, get good grades and get along with people easily. You’re better than most of these scrubs by far.”

“And I’m pretty.” You swept your hair over your shoulder jokingly.

There was a pause. “And you’re pretty.”

“Not to gas you up or anything,” he quickly added.

You giggled, ignoring the sudden increased palpitation in your chest before responding, “Aw since when is Atsumu Miya a sweetie.”

“Shut up, I take it back.” He stood up and plucked the ball from your hands. “C’mon you need to practice serving.”

You narrowed your eyes. “My shoulder hurts.”

“Yeah and your serves sucked so let’s go.”

You were pulled back into the game when the crowd surrounding you stood up, roaring in delight after Suna whipped a point in. Atsumu punched the air, roaring with them and you felt your chest squeeze painfully.

Oh god.

—--------------------------------------------------

Just as you came to terms with how you felt, things soured with the blonde Miya.

Atsumu was passionate and wore his heart on his sleeve. This meant that when he was upset, he was upset. Essentially he turned into a stubborn child.

You were hesitating to open the door because you hadn’t talked to Atsumu in weeks. You were just as stubborn as him and maintained it wasn’t your fault. Both your heads would turn the other way and there was no more bickering - just an icy silence.

And it all started with a stupid bet.

Atsumu had been teasing you for weeks about how someone seemed to daydream more during class recently and it seemed to result in him somehow getting a higher grade than you on a quiz. In response, you shot back that you’d beat him at midterms.

“Okay bet,” he said easily.

“And if I win,” he crossed his arms and tilted his head with a smirk. “You have to wear the Inarizaki cheerleader uniform AND yell ‘GO ATSUMU’ during our game.”

You looked at him unamused. “I thought you didn’t like people distracting you.”

“During my serves. Do NOT do it during my serve,” his face darkened.

“Okay okay moody. But if I win,” an evil look crossed your face. “You have to do the same thing.”

Suna’s eyes widened. “I would literally pay money to see that.”

Atsumu’s eyebrows raised. “You want me to yell ‘GO ATSUMU’?”

You blinked at him in response. “This will be so easy.”

“The pom poms would look so small,” mumbled Suna quietly as Atsumu yelped indignantly.

Your eyelids pressed shut.

I’m so done with the boy’s volleyball team at this school.”

However, what you didn’t know was that Atsumu, though lacking in other areas, was fairly good at math when he tried. This, and the lack of sleep you claimed to have, resulted in him scoring a lousy 2 points above you.

Hence you stood in a uniform, pom–poms in hand and a bow in your hair at the game that would qualify Inarizaki for the fall tournament.

“Suna, please tell me you got this on camera.”

The tall boy waved his phone up. “Oh yeah, with many different angles of her scrunched up angry face. You know-,” He leaned down, hands placed in his pockets, to your eye level. “You’d be prettier if you smiled.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits. “Suna Rintaro you did not just say that. It’s so offensive and plays into traditional gender roles and on behalf of all girls I should-”

“Ap-buh-uh,” his slanted eyes turned upward into crescent moons as he straightened with an easy smile. “Just a joke, princess. You genuinely look good.”

You huffed in annoyance. “I look good in anything.”

You waited for a comment from the annoying setter beside Suna but just found him blinking at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the moment,” he said with an oh so innocent smile.

“Creep.”

“Hey I’m not the one who stinks at math.” He threw his hands up in defence.

“TWO POINTS MIYA,” you moved to smack the back of his head and he dodged easily before speed walking down the hall.

“Oh what’s that I think we have to go warm-up,” he exclaimed loudly before smirking. “Don’t forget to cheer me on.”

“UGH.” You sighed in defeat.

“So when are you confessing your undying love for him?”

You squawked at Suna in protest. “I do not - I- it’s Atsumu - he -”

“I got it, breathe y/n,” he ruffled your hair and gave you a peace sign in farewell before walking off after Atsumu.

“Cheer for your guy loudly Ms. Cheerleader.”

You huffed and you felt a hand slip into yours. Your head spun before you relaxed, recognising one of the regular cheerleaders behind you. She had been kind enough to lend you her spare uniform and teach you some of the cheers.

“Y/n we have to get to our seats!”

“Yay,” you said. Your voice fell flat despite trying to sound enthusiastic.

She laughed and began to tug you into the gym. “Aw c’mon, you look gorgeous. Your boyfriend must be pumped to have you cheer for him!”

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Hmm sure,” she said and made a knowing face at you.

“He isn’t!”

“Oh look, they're warming up. Let’s go to our seats before they start.”

And so you let yourself chant along with the girls beside you, throwing up your pom poms a little late but trying your best nonetheless. Atsumu was on fire as usual, syncing perfectly with Suna and Aran. Osamu made a few service errors, but you knew that he had been a bit ill the past few days. Some of your friends from the volleyball team even joined you and all of you screamed your support from the stands.

Finally the match came to an end and naturally Inarizaki won. You were so proud of the team and as they went around to high-five the other team your friend turned to you.

“y/n, we’re going to the mall to hang out after. Wanna join us?”

You nodded absent-mindedly, your gaze fixed upon the team below. “I think I can join you later. I want to say hi to the boys before I go.”

She giggled. “Of course, gotta see Atsumu before you go.”

“Hey! I want to see Osamu and Suna too!”

She simply laughed. “You’re practically bouncing in your seat. Hurry up and go say bye, we can wait for you outside.”

You nodded in response and took off towards the locker room. Normally, the guys would have a brief talk before changing and Atsumu would be standing outside, a smile on his face and with a slight wave of his hand. You’d thought about changing first to spare yourself from his teasing but honestly, you secretly thought you looked kinda cute in the uniform and wanted him to see you in it again.

A sudden hand clamped around your wrist before you could make it down the corridor and you turned your head in confusion, locking eyes with a stranger. You recognised him as one of the players on the opposing team.

“What the hell are you doing?” You nearly squawked.

“I couldn’t help but notice you in the stands today and was wondering why our side didn’t have any supporters as gorgeous as you,” he said with a wink.

“Thanks for the compliment but please don’t touch me.”

“I saw you with the team before the game too. You’re a popular girl~”

“So what?” Trying to calm your rising panic and you attempted to rip your arm away from him but his grip was too strong.

“What’s wrong? You seem to be already whoring yourself out to them so what’s the problem with one more.”

“Fuck you,” you spit and thrashed against him. You reached your other hand up to slap his face but found yourself pinned against the lockers.

Your eyes widened as he leaned his face toward you with a fake smile plastered on your face. The feeling of being so helpless made your blood run cold and you froze, unable to understand what was actually going on. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself to headbutt him when you heard a loud crack. Your eyes snapped open and you saw the boy holding his cheek and a fuming Atsumu was standing in front of him. You felt a pair of gentle arms slowly pull you away from the two and you looked up to see Suna had wrapped his arms lightly around you, his gaze flatly looking at the other boy.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

You nodded faintly but you were focused on Atsumu’s face. His face - you had never seen any expression even close to that. Fury was radiating from him as he roughly shoved the boy against the locker and raised his arm again.

You wrenched yourself free from Suna’s grip and ran to stand by Atsumu.

“That’s enough Atsumu!” You gripped the arm that he had balled into a fist. “I’m okay.”

“Miya look at me!” you said when he didn’t reply. “Please!”

He finally dragged his eyes away from the boy and you shivered as he focused his glare on you.

“It’s fine,” you repeated softly and he thankfully put his arm down.

“He isn’t worth you getting kicked off the team,” you continued firmly and Atsumu finally let go of the boy whose face had gone white as Osamu showed up. The trio stood angrily in front of him and you realised in that moment they were quite intimidatingly big.

“Don’t show your face in front of us again or I’ll beat the shit out of you,” Atsumu spit.

“C’mon Atsumu,” Osamu pushed his twin away and roughly pushed him in the direction opposite of the player.

“Don’t touch me,” he said growling.

“Atsumu,” you began cautiously as you trailed after him outside the exit doors. “Atsumu is your hand okay?”

“Just what the fuck were you doing?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why were you just standing there? Why the hell were you not fighting back?”

“I was fighting back!” you said, eyes flashing in anger. “I just froze up for a second! Heaven forbid I was fucking scared.”

He shook his head as if your words were bouncing off of him. “How stupid are you? You’re always doing this - not taking care of yourself and acting all airheaded and zoning out. It’s a goddamn chore to watch out for you!”

“Nobody asked you to watch out for me,” your voice increased to match his.

“Maybe if you stopped daydreaming like an idiot you’d start playing like an actual decent player instead of just sleeping on the court. Hell maybe your team would be able to stop being shit enough to fucking qualify for nationals for once.”

“Dude that’s enough,” Osamu looked at him incredulously.

You took a step back. Atsumu knew better than anyone else how hard on yourself you are, especially about volleyball. You had been overstressed recently as your grades were suffering because you kept staying so late to keep practising and you felt like you were drowning trying to balance everything.

Your arms came up to wrap themselves around you protectively.

The anger drained out of his face almost comically fast. “Y/n,” he said, a hint of fear on his face.

You started to back away and shrugged nonchalantly.

“No no, you know what you’re right,” you hated how your voice came out shakily. “It’s my fault that someone harassed ME, it’s MY fault our team keeps losing, and it’s MY damn fault that I’m not strong enough to have it together all the time.”

“Y/n that’s not what I mea-.”

“No, that's exactly what you were saying,” you said, cutting him off. “Fuck you Atsumu.” Tears pricked at your eyes and you blinked them away, refusing to let him see you cry.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

The group of you all shifted to see your friends cautiously looking at you. “We heard yelling and you never came out so we were worried.”

“Yep,” you said, attempting to sound cheerful. “Everything’s good. Let’s go, I’m finished here.”

“y/n,” Atsumu said with a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I’ll see you guys around.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at any of the boys and simply sped off towards your friends.

“That was a low blow,” Osamu shook his head.

Atsumu stared after your retreating figure before groaning and banged his fist against the locker. “I’m so fucked.”

—------------------------------

And that’s the last time you really talked to Atsumu. He made multiple attempts to talk to you in school but always found you surrounded by your friends. They looked at him reproachfully and you were grateful to have such great people supporting you. He tried to confront you a couple of times before and after practice but your captain always made sure to kick him out of the gym and after you would practically sprint home before the boys’ had finished their practice.

“He’s pretty hostile nowadays,” Osamu sighed from beside you. He’d found you hiding on the rooftop during lunch one day.

“What a surprise.”

“He’s beating himself up for it for sure though.”

“Miya, are you defending your brother for once,” you tried to joke.

“I dunno,” he leaned against his arms behind him. “You know how he gets. He’s an ass for sure but he was so worried that day. I’m not sure I blame him entirely though. It’d be infuriating to see anyone in that position. Let alone the girl he -” he paused. “Let alone our friend.”

There was a silence long enough you felt Osamu glancing at you repeatedly.

You really weren’t upset with Atsumu. At first, you were admittedly a bit scared of him - you’d never seen that side of him before. BUt you realised that it was probable that the anger was never directed at you. He defended you without a second thought and likely risked a suspension. Atsumu had supported you these past few months and had been a good, albeit kind of annoying, friend. He had his moments - enough so that you had fallen for him. Was it fair that you cut him out of your life?

“I miss him.” you admitted and tucked your knees against your chest. “I don’t really know how to talk to him though. I just keep hearing his words and I’m scared, like what if he loses his temper and says something hurtful again.”

Osamu nodded. “I can’t promise ‘Tsumu won’t get mad again or say something hurtful and you definitely shouldn’t have to deal with it or make excuses for him. But he cares for you a lot and he doesn’t know how to be concerned since he’s emotionally stupid.”

“Also,” he finally added. “Ma beat him with a spoon when she found out what happened so the likelihood of him doing it again seems very low.”

You giggled. “Aw Mama Miya putting the fear of god in her boys.”

“Mama Miya is very scary.” Osamu made a face. “She’s probably the only person Atsumu will listen to.”

Your giggles rang out across the rooftop and Osamu huffed in amusement. As the sounds faded, your eyebrows drew together. You just needed time. You’d get over his words - they were empty after all - but until you could just see him for the boy you liked again, it’d be better to take a break from seeing him.

—----------------------------------------------------------

A few months passed and Atsumu largely left you alone after a while. You could still feel his eyes on you if he passed by your classroom and you gave quick nods in his direction when you waved at Osamu and Suna.

And then suddenly, here you found yourself after a game, knowing that he was probably in a shitty mood and asking yourself if you were willing to have him lash out at you again. The men’s volleyball team had gone to nationals and lost at the quarterfinals. You had given him a quick good luck after you stopped by to check on Osamu and Suna before the game but had screamed your lungs out cheering him on during the matches. You were shocked and your heart dropped when they lost after fighting so hard to break the tie.

You knew he was taking it hard and would be blaming himself for everything.

How is he? You’d texted Osamu.

Not good. We’re leaving him alone.

Yikes is he being hard on you guys?

Nah tbh he’s p down and not saying much.

The corners of your lips turned downward as you stared at the text. Before you knew it, your feet had led you to the team where they had directed you here.

You took a deep breath and opened the door praying Atsumu was still in there. He was your friend, the guy you had fallen for, and a source of comfort for you when you were having a tough time. It didn’t even matter if he had harsh words - you wanted to be there for him.

The tall blonde was sitting on the bench, his arms bracing his back, and a towel covering his face.

“‘Tsumu.”

No response.

“‘Tsumu.” You called again, standing in front of him.

“Not a good time, princess.”

You reached a shaky hand out to place on his shoulder.

You heard him inhale and a warm hand lifted to cover yours. The other came up to place itself on your hip and his head lolled forward onto your stomach. Your unoccupied hand gently began to rub small circles on his back.

It oddly felt relaxing in that position and you didn’t feel anxious. It reminded you of those quiet walks home where there was a muted comfort between the two of you.

“I’m not going to tell you ‘it's just one of those days’ and anybody gets them. While it’s true, you aren’t ‘anybody’. The standard for you is high - you set it yourself after all. But you always pull through.” You gave a little laugh. “You’re a great guy. That’s why all the people in your life stick with you no matter how callous and insensitive you can get.” You rolled back the towel so you could see his face.

“You too?” His eyes peered intensely into yours.

“Yep. Me too.”

“M’sorry,” he said in a low voice. “Please don’t be mad anymore.”

“I’m not,” you said, your face softening but then frowned. “But I’m not sure if I forgive you yet.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get.” He half-heartedly gave you a crooked smile.

“Dummy,” you shook your head, “I missed you.”

He laughed, getting up and pulling you into a hug. The two of you stood, smiling idiotically at each other.

“Is this a bad time to mention that Suna says you have a crush on me.”

“What???”

You tried to untangle yourself from him but he merely squeezed you tightly in response.

“Take all the time you need. Just let me know when it’s okay to ask you out properly, alright?”

You groaned and buried your face into his chest.

“Okay? Hello y/n are you there? y/n?”

“Fine, shut up, I'll let you know.”

Fin.

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