Belle :)

You kick off your shoes and shuffle down the hallway, already pulling your hair out of the bun you'd done up that morning, now mostly falling out on its own. The bedroom door is cracked open, and when you push it wider, you find exactly what you were hoping for.

Satoru is sprawled across the bed like a starfish, still wearing his teaching clothes—black pants and a rumpled button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His blindfold is tossed carelessly on the nightstand, and his white hair is an absolute disaster, sticking up in every direction like he's been running his hands through it all day. His eyes are closed, one arm thrown over his face.

He looks as exhausted as you feel.

"Rough day?" you ask, and he groans without moving.

"The first years tried to fight a curse three grades above their level because Yuji said it 'looked easy,'" he mumbles into his arm. "I had to bail them out. Again. Then Megumi and Nobara got into an argument about mission protocol that somehow turned into a full-blown screaming match about who ate whose leftovers from the fridge. I had to separate them like they were toddlers."

Despite your exhaustion, you snort. "Sounds about right."

"And then," he continues, finally moving his arm to peek at you with one brilliant blue eye, "Yaga cornered me about paperwork I was supposed to file last week. Do you know how much I hate paperwork?"

"I'm aware." You're already moving toward the bed, unbuttoning your work pants. "You complain about it literally every time."

"Because it's the worst. I'm the strongest sorcerer alive. I shouldn't have to file incident reports."

"Mm-hmm, very tragic." You shimmy out of your pants and leave them in a heap on the floor—a problem for future you. Your blouse follows, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. "My day was also shit, for the record."

"Yeah?" He's watching you now with lazy interest, too tired to even sit up but still tracking your movements.

"My boss is an idiot, the coffee machine broke, I had to sit through a two-hour meeting that could've been an email, and Janet from accounting passive-aggressively cc'd the entire department on an email about someone stealing her lunch. Which, for the record, I didn't do, but she definitely thinks I did based on the way she was glaring at me."

"Want me to hollow purple Janet from accounting?" he offers, completely serious.

"Tempting, but no." You crawl onto the bed and without ceremony, flop directly on top of him, your full weight pressing him into the mattress. You bury your face in his chest with a long, dramatic groan. "I'm dead. This is me, dead."

"Hi, dead. I'm also dead." His arms come around you automatically, wrapping you up even though you're both too tired to really move. "We're both corpses now. This is our life."

"Our death," you correct, muffled against his shirt.

"Our death," he agrees solemnly.

For a moment, you just lie there, breathing in sync. He smells like his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the training grounds—sweat and grass and something distinctly him. It's comforting in a way you can't quite articulate. This exhausted, collapsed-together moment feels like home.

His hand starts moving on your back, slow and gentle, rubbing up and down your spine. It feels incredible, and you make an embarrassing sound of contentment that you'll deny later.

"You're tense as hell," he murmurs, fingers working at a knot between your shoulder blades.

"You try dealing with Janet's accusatory emails and see how relaxed you are," you mumble, but you're already melting into his touch.

"I'd just block her."

"You can't block coworkers, Satoru."

"You can if you're powerful enough." His hand slides lower, still rubbing your back, and you feel some of the day's tension starting to ease. "This okay?"

"It's perfect. You're my favorite human pillow."

"Just human pillow? Not devastatingly handsome boyfriend who you're lucky to have?"

"That's implied," you say, but you're smiling against his chest.

His other hand joins the first, both of them working at your tired muscles, and you honest-to-god almost start purring. This is exactly what you needed. Just this—him, the quiet apartment, his hands on you, the weight of the day slowly lifting.

But then his hands start to wander.

It's subtle at first. His fingers drift from your back to your sides, tracing the curve of your waist. Then lower, skimming over your hips. And then—

He grabs your ass. Both hands, full handfuls, squeezing appreciatively.

"Really?" you ask, lifting your head to look at him. "We're both dead, remember? Corpses don't grope."

"I'm a very motivated corpse." He squeezes again, shameless, and there's a grin tugging at his lips now. "Can't help it. You're lying on top of me in your underwear. What did you expect?"

"Self-control? Restraint? Basic human decency?"

"Baby, you know me better than that." His hands are still kneading your ass, and despite your sass, you can feel heat starting to pool low in your belly. "Besides, you love it."

"I love that you can't even wait until we've recovered from our respective terrible days before getting handsy?"

"Exactly." He's fully grinning now, that cocky, insufferable grin that makes you want to kiss him and smack him at the same time. "Your ass is the best stress relief. It's science."

"That's not science, you idiot."

"It's my science."

You snort, but you're not moving away. His hands are warm and familiar, and honestly, after the day you've had, this isn't the worst thing in the world. You let your head drop back to his chest, eyes drifting closed.

"Comfortable?" he asks, voice softer now.

"Mmm," you hum in agreement. "Don't stop."

"Wasn't planning on it."

For a while, it's just quiet. His hands keep moving—sometimes squeezing, sometimes just resting there, thumbs drawing lazy circles. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear, steady and strong. The tension in your shoulders is almost completely gone now, replaced by a different kind of warmth, something slower and heavier.

You're half-asleep when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness pressing against your hip.

"Satoru," you mumble, not even opening your eyes.

"Hmm?"

"Are you seriously getting hard right now?"

There's a pause. Then he says, "...Maybe."

You lift your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised. He has the decency to look slightly sheepish, but there's heat in his eyes now, that familiar hunger that never really goes away when it comes to you.

"We were having a nice moment."

"We still are."

"You've got a boner."

"I do…That doesn't cancel the nice moment."

You stare at him for another second before letting out a laugh.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"I come home exhausted, use you as a human mattress for ten minutes, and somehow I'm the problem?"

"You are absolutely the problem."

"I literally haven't done anything."

"You climbed on top of me, got all comfy, made that little happy humming noise, and then fell asleep on my chest."

"I hummed?"

"You hummed."

"I don't hum."

"You do when you're really comfortable."

You narrow your eyes. "I've never noticed that."

"I have."

You glare at him.

"…Baby." He exhales dramatically, like he's carrying the weight of the world. "You're makin' me so hard."

You snort. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm trying to be respectful."

"Are you?"

Silence.

"…No." He grins without an ounce of shame. "Not really."

Despite yourself, you laugh again, dropping your forehead back against his shoulder.

"You're ridiculous."

"I know."

His arms tighten around you just a little. "But you look so comfortable."

His voice is quieter now. "So happy."

You burrow your face further into his shoulder.

"…I like when you're like this."

You feel yourself smile before you can stop it. "You're such a sap."

"Only for you."

There's a comfortable silence. Then his hands drift just a little bit lower again.

"…Okay," you mumble. "Now you're definitely not being respectful."

"No." He gives your ass another shameless squeeze. "I'm definitely not."

Before you can respond, he's sitting up, keeping you in his lap, and capturing your mouth in a kiss that's hungry and demanding. You can taste his desperation, feel it in the way his hands grip you like he's afraid you're going to disappear.

When he pulls back, his lips are already swollen, his eyes are dark with want. "I need to taste you," he says, and it's not a request. "Get up here."

"Up where—"

But he's already moving, sliding down the bed and pulling you with him. "On my face. Come on."

"Satoru—"

"Please." And there it is, that needy edge that makes your stomach flip. "I've been thinking about this all day. About you sitting on my face, riding my tongue until you come. Please, baby. I need it."

How are you supposed to say no to that?

"You're ridiculous," you say, but you're already moving, letting him position you. He's lying flat on his back now, looking up at you with such raw want that it makes you shiver.

"Not ridiculous. Desperate." His hands come up to grip your thighs, pulling you forward. "Now stop stalling and sit on my face."

"Bossy," you mutter, but you're lowering yourself down, and then—

"Oh fuck," you gasp as his tongue makes contact, sliding through your folds in one long, deliberate stroke.

He groans under you, the vibration going straight to your core, and his hands tighten on your thighs. "That's it," he mumbles against you. "Right there. Don't move."

But you're already moving, you can't help it, grinding down against his mouth as he licks and sucks and devours you like a man starving. His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, holding you exactly where he wants you, and when you try to lift up, worried about suffocating him, about being too much—he just pulls you back down harder.

"Satoru—"

"Stay," he demands, voice muffled. He pulls his face back to look up at you. "Fuck my face. Come on, baby, I can take it. Give it to me." Then he lowers his mouth to you again.

It's obscene, the wet sounds of his mouth on you, the way he's completely lost in it. His tongue circles your clit, then dips inside you, then back to your clit, and you're already shaking, already so close.

"That's it," he encourages, and you can hear the smugness in his voice even now. "You're dripping, baby. such a mess on my face."

"Shut—up," you gasp, but there's no heat in it because he's right—you can feel how wet you are, can feel it on his chin, his lips, and it should be embarrassing but it's just hot.

"Make me," he challenges, and then he's sucking your clit into his mouth, hard, and you cry out.

Your hands fly to the headboard, gripping the edge to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. You start to really move now, riding his face with purpose, and he moans underneath you like this is exactly what he wanted all along.

"Fuck, yes," he groans against you, the vibration making you gasp. "Just like that. Use me, baby. Take what you need."

His hands guide your hips, encouraging the rhythm, and his tongue is relentless—circling, flicking, pressing flat against you in a way that makes your thighs shake. You can feel yourself getting closer, that coil of heat tightening in your belly.

"Satoru, I'm—fuck—"

"Do it," he demands, voice rough. "Come on my face.”

His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, and that's all it takes. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, pleasure rolling through your entire body. You're grinding down against his mouth, riding it out, and he's groaning underneath you like this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

When you finally come down, shaking and oversensitive, you try to move off him, but his hands tighten on your thighs.

"Not yet," he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, your hip bones, anywhere he can reach. "Just—give me a second. You taste so fucking good."

"You're gonna kill me," you pant, but you're smiling.

But he's already diving back in, and you gasp as his tongue finds your clit again. Your whole body jolts at the sensitivity, but he doesn't let up—he's relentless, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he works you over. The pleasure is almost too much, bordering on overwhelming, and you're already moaning his name.

"Satoru—fuck—it's too much—"

"I know, baby," he groans against you, the vibration sending another wave through you. "But you can take it."

He's eating you out like he's starving, like he can't get enough, and your whole body is shaking. Your hands grip the headboard tighter, your hips moving against his mouth almost involuntarily. The pleasure is building again, impossibly fast, and you're gasping and moaning as he works you toward another orgasm.

"Oh god—Satoru—I'm gonna—"

"That's it," he encourages, his tongue flicking faster. 

Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, even more intense than the first, and you're crying out as pleasure crashes through you. Your thighs are shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up, and he's groaning underneath you, clearly getting off on how much he's affecting you.

When you finally collapse, completely spent and oversensitive, he finally releases you, and you fall onto the bed next to him, breathing hard and trembling.

"And I'm dramatic?" He's grinning like he just won the lottery, his face wet, his hair a complete disaster. "That was—fuck. I love you, baby."

"You're insane," you say, but you're pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

"About you? Absolutely." His hands are already roaming again, cupping your face, then sliding down your sides. "But I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh really?"

"Really." He's kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. When he pulls back, there's something vulnerable in his expression beneath all the confidence. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Then show me," you challenge, and his eyes darken.

"Oh, baby."

He's fumbling with his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers, and his cock springs free—flushed and hard and already leaking. You reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length, and he hisses.

"Fuck, baby—"

"What?" You stroke him slowly, base to tip, and he's already trembling.

"Your hands—shit—they're so much smaller than mine. Look so good wrapped around my cock."

"Yeah?" you tease, giving him another slow stroke.

"Yeah." His voice is strained. 

He gently removes your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, and then he's pulling you against him. His arms wrap around you, one hand sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip possessively. You can feel him, hard and hot against your thigh, and he's just... holding you there.

"Satoru—"

"Give me a second," he murmurs, his voice already rough. His breathing is uneven against your neck, and you can feel the tension in his body—the way he's trying to maintain control. "Just—fuck—you feel so good.”

His hips shift slightly, and you feel the length of him drag against you—not entering, just the pressure of him sliding through your wetness. The friction makes you gasp, and he groans.

"There it is," he breathes. "That sound. The little gasp you make when I—" He does it again, a slow roll of his hips, grinding against you. "When I touch you just right."

"Satoru, please—"

"Please what?" His hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"You know what I want."

"I do." Another slow grind, and you can feel how wet you are, how easily he slides against you. "But I wanna hear you say it. Love the way your voice gets all breathy when you're desperate for me."

"You're killing me—"

"Good." He's kissing your neck now, teeth grazing your pulse point. "You've been killing me all day. All week. Every time you look at me with those eyes, every time you smile at me like I'm the only person in the world—fuck, baby, you have no idea."

His voice is shaking now, and you realize he's not teasing anymore—he's barely holding on. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, and you both freeze.

"I can't—" His forehead drops to your shoulder. "I can't think straight around you. Can't control myself. You just—you exist, and I'm gone."

"Then stop trying to control it," you whisper, and you feel him shudder.

"Fuck." He shifts, lining himself up properly, and then he's pushing in—slowly, so slowly. The stretch is intense, pleasure edged with the sweetest hint of pressure as he fills you inch by inch. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good. So tight. So perfect."

"Satoru—"

"I know. I've got you." He's only halfway in, taking his time, letting you adjust. His forehead is still pressed to your shoulder, and you can feel how much restraint this is taking him—the way his muscles are tense, the way his breath comes in short gasps. "You're taking me so well. You always take me so well."

Finally, finally, he's fully seated inside you, and you both just breathe for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of being completely connected.

"Okay?" he asks, lifting his head to look at you.

"Yes baby," you manage. "You can move.”

"Thank fuck." He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in. The drag of his cock against your walls makes you gasp, and he groans. "That sound. Fuck, I love that sound."

He sets a steady rhythm, deep and deliberate, each thrust making you feel impossibly full. His hands are everywhere—cupping your face, tangling in your hair, gripping your hips—like he can't decide where he wants to touch you most.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, watching your face. "All flushed and breathless. The way your eyes get all hazy when I'm inside you—fuck, it drives me crazy."

"Satoru—"

"I love you so much." His voice is rough with emotion now, not just desire. "Love everything about you. The way you feel, the way you look at me, the way you let me have you like this—"

"I love you too," you gasp, and his hips stutter.

His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and when he opens them again, there's something raw there.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Fuck." His pace falters, becomes less controlled. "You can't—you can't just say it like that when I'm inside you. You're gonna—shit—"

"You feel so good," you tell him, cupping his face. "So perfect. You always make me feel so good."

His breath catches, and suddenly he's kissing you desperately, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, less measured.

"You're everything," he gasps against your mouth. "Everything to me. The way you trust me, the way you look at me like I'm—fuck, baby, I can't—"

"You are," you insist, and his composure cracks completely.

"Fuck—" He's moving faster now, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Love how you fit around me. Like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other."

"We were," you gasp, and his eyes flash with something fierce and possessive.

"Damn right we were." He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust is devastating. "There it is. That's the spot, isn't it?"

"Yes—fuck—right there—"

"I know, baby. I know." His voice is breaking now, emotion and desire tangled together. "Gonna make you come again. Wanna watch your face when you—fuck—when you come because of me."

The pleasure is building so quickly you can barely breathe. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, his back, trying to anchor yourself as he drives into you again and again.

"That's it," he encourages, watching your face like he's memorizing it. "I can feel you getting tighter. You're close, aren't you? So fucking close."

"Don't stop—"

"Never." One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it. Let me see you."

The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot and his thumb on your clit is too much. Your orgasm hits you hard, pleasure crashing through you in waves that make your whole body tense and shake. You're clenching around him, and he groans at the sensation.

"Fuck, yes," he breathes, still moving, fucking you through it. "That's it. That's my girl. You're so good. So beautiful. Fuck, I love you so much."

When you finally start to come down, gasping and trembling, you expect him to follow you over the edge. But instead, he slows his movements, pressing soft kisses to your face.

"Satoru—"

"Not done with you yet," he murmurs against your lips.

Before you can respond, he's pulling out and lifting your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The new position opens you up completely, and when he pushes back in, he's somehow even deeper than before.

"Oh fuck—" you gasp, and he groans.

"There we go." He starts moving again, and this angle is devastating. Every thrust feels impossibly deep, hitting places that make your toes curl. "How's that, baby? That good?"

"Yes—fuck—Satoru—"

"I love you so much," he says, his voice rough. "You know that? I'm never letting you go. You're mine. Always gonna be mine."

"Yours," you agree breathlessly, and something in his expression goes even more intense.

"That's right." His thrusts are harder now, more purposeful. "Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna love you for the rest of my life."

His hand moves to your stomach, pressing down, and suddenly his eyes go wide. He can feel himself inside you, the bulge of his cock with each thrust, and something feral takes over his expression.

"Holy shit," he breathes, completely mesmerized. His hand traces the outline, feeling himself move in and out of you, and he starts fucking you even harder, unable to look away. "Look at that. Look at you taking me so deep."

You're already building toward another orgasm, the intensity of this angle and his words and the way he's looking at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen—it's all too much.

He's transfixed, watching his cock disappear inside you again and again, feeling the movement under his palm. His breathing is ragged, his movements becoming more frantic.

"Can you feel that, baby?" he asks breathlessly, his voice completely wrecked. "Fuck—I'm so fucking deep—you feel that?"

You look up at him with half-shut glazed eyes, your mouth parted open, completely fucked out. "Yes—fuck—yes, Satoru, I feel it—"

He groans at the sight of you—at how thoroughly wrecked you look, at the way you're falling apart beneath him. "You're so hot. So fucking hot. The way you look right now—fuck—I'm obsessed with you."

He's fucking you harder now, more urgently, his hand still on your stomach feeling himself move inside you with each thrust. The visual seems to drive him wild, and his movements become almost desperate.

"Come for me again," he demands, his other hand finding your oversensitive clit. "I know you can. I know you've got one more in you. Come on, baby. Give it to me."

"Satoru—I can't—it's too much—"

"You can." His thumb presses harder, circling your clit. "You can, baby. I need you to.”

The pleasure is building impossibly fast, almost painful in its intensity. You're so sensitive from your first two orgasms that every thrust, every touch feels magnified.

"That's it," he encourages, watching your face. "I can see it. You're right there. Just let go, baby.”

His voice is breaking, his control completely shattered, and then something raw escapes from him. 

"I want you—" His hips snap forward harder. "Fuck—want all of you.”

His composure finally snaps.

"They've been on my ass my whole life about the bloodline. About heirs. About duty." Another hard thrust, his voice is cracking. "And I never—fuck—never wanted it."

He's breathing hard, almost gasping between words.

"Not until you."

His forehead drops closer to yours, his movements becoming more frantic.

"Only you. Want to marry you—want to wake up to you every day—want to call you my wife and—ah—know you're mine—"

Your orgasm crashes through you even harder, triggered by his words, by the desperation in his voice, by the sight of him completely undone above you. You're clenching around him so tight he gasps, your whole body shaking with the intensity.

"Fuck, yes—" He's just… staring at you, still moving, still feeling himself inside you. "So beautiful—The way your face—the way you sound—fuck—"

The sight of you completely wrecked under him, the feeling of you clenching around him, the way you gasp his name—it pushes him over the edge.

"Ah—fuck—fuck—fuuckk—" He buries himself as deep as he can go and comes hard, spilling into you in hot pulses. His whole body shudders with the intensity of it, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel the warmth spreading.

He collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you but clearly boneless. For a while, you just breathe together, sweaty and satisfied.

"Holy shit," you mumble.

"Yeah." He's pressing kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. He can’t seem to stop touching you, his hands running over your skin like he needs the contact. "You're amazing. Incredible. Best girlfriend in the entire world."

"Best girlfriend, or best pussy?" you tease, and he pulls back to look at you with mock offense.

"Both. Definitely both." He's grinning now, that soft, genuine smile that he only gives you. "But mostly you. I love you. Like, so much. An embarrassing amount."

"I love you too, you needy disaster."

"Your needy disaster," he corrects, and he's still touching you, hands running over your skin like he can't bear to stop. "Mine now. No takebacks."

"Wouldn't dream of it," you say softly, and you mean it.

He pulls you closer, tucking you against his chest, and you can hear his heartbeat starting to slow. The exhaustion from earlier is creeping back in, but it's different now—satisfied, content, the good kind of tired.

"We should probably shower," you murmur, but you're already half-asleep.

"Later," he mumbles into your hair. "Right now I just wanna hold you."

"Clingy."

"Yep." He doesn't even sound ashamed. "You're stuck with me. Forever. Hope you're ready for that."

"I think I can manage," you say, smiling against his chest.

"You know," you say, grin turning wicked. Iwaizumi rakes his brain, trying to figure out what you're talking about. He runs through the things you talked about, Mattsun and the funeral home, Makki being unemployed and broke, Oikawa's game last week, something about your shitty ex-boyfriend—

Oh.

The new girl Mattsun has been hooking up with.

"Cock warming," you say, giggling. Like you're reading his mind, realising exactly what he's thinking right now. He knows you saw. Saw the way his cheeks grew flushed at the conversation. Saw the way he avoided eye contact, while Makki was too distracted with teasing Mattsun.

"There's no way it can be that good," he'd said. Mattsun had leaned back against the couch and smiled lazily, the way he always does, the way Iwaizumi knows makes girls fawn over him.

Iwaizumi hadn't added anything to the conversation, hoping to stay clear of any suspicion. Apparently, that wasn't enough, because when he'd looked at you, you were already looking back. Smiling, in that way that meant your mind was going a thousand miles per hour. Planning. Scheming.

Your tiny tank top slipping off your shoulder all the while.

"Hajiii," you sing-song. His eyes dart towards his bedroom, hoping to escape, and you notice, your eyes narrowing at him. "C'mere,"

You pat the spot next to you on the couch as you sit up. He obliges, because what else can he do? When you're sitting there, hair slightly dishevelled from when Makki ruffled it on his way out, looking so, so sweet.

"Wanna try it?"

Your voice is syrupy sweet, dripping honey and temptation. You're halfway crawling into his lap, one of your hands placed on his thigh. Iwaizumi swallows.

"We shouldn't," he says, and it makes you pout, pushing further. You lean in, and he can smell your perfume now, something sweet and flowery.

You're always flirting with him, but this. This is something different, something heavier. There's no deniable plausibility here, no light teasing.

Iwaizumi will admit that he's always secretly basked in the affection you'd reward him. He's used to girls fawning over Oikawa, or making out with Mattsun at parties, or going on dates with Makki. But you. You've always danced around him, making him feel special. Lightheaded.

"Hajime," you pout, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Why not?"

He swallows again, throat feeling dry. Why not?

You're fully straddling him now, sinking into his lap.

Why not?

Wrapping your arms around your neck, you're looking down at him, still smiling.

"Have you ever tried it?" you whisper, while you play with the hairs at the back of his neck. Poor Iwaizumi has to hold back a groan as he closes his eyes.

"No."

"Do you wanna?"

You know you're being bold. But you've been holding back for so long. Who can blame you for finally breaking when you've been watching him squirm around all night?

"It could be fun. We could put on a movie or something," you say, and you grind your hips into his experimentally. Your grin widens when you feel that he's already half hard. His hands fly to your hips, holding you still as he takes a deep breath.

You can see the turmoil in his brown eyes, feel the storm rising in him.

"Okay," he says, releasing your hips.

The look on your face is victorious, and you move your hands down, squeezing his shoulders in excitement.

"I pick the movie," he manages to bite out, and you nod eagerly, hands flying down to the waistband of his shorts.

"Sure, Haji, whatever you want," you murmur, focused on the new objective at hand. Iwaizumi grabs your hands, placing them behind your back. You look down at him, frowning. Finally gaining some footing, Iwaizumi tuts at you, shaking his head.

"Let me pick a movie first," he murmurs. He keeps your hands where they are, with one big hand on your wrists, while he leans over you, grabbing the TV remote off the coffee table. He leans back on the couch again, casually opening Netflix. You stare, dumbly, waiting for the next instruction.

The thing you've always liked about Iwaizumi is that he doesn't let you get away with any of your antics. With Oikawa, it's a constant game of who'll back down first, of who can get away with the most. Mattsun is largely unaffected apart from the times when he'll tag along to help you torment the others. Makki is so easy to tease that it's not even funny.

When it comes to Iwaizumi, he's steady. It's always annoyed you a bit. When he's with Oikawa, it's like it's second nature for him to get riled up. But as soon as it comes to you, he's like a rock. He never lets your antics reach him. Not even the outrageous sleep sets you'll wear or the innocent cuddling when you're having sleepovers.

It's fun.

But now that he's finally given in, you don't know what to do.

"Go grab your blanket," Iwaizumi murmurs into your ear. It takes a few seconds before you spring into action, shuffling towards your bedroom. You quickly grab it, before checking yourself in your mirror before you head back to the living room.

Your face feels hot, and you fix your hair.

This is Hajime. Your Hajime. The guy you've known since you were fifteen, the guy who used to buy you sodas from the vending machine before class and save you from Oikawa's relentless teasing all the time. The guy you moved in with three years ago when you moved to Tokyo.

Because it's cheaper. And easier. And it's nice to have a friend in the apartment, to rant to and cook dinner with.

The guy you've been flirting with for as long as you can remember. Under the guise that it's friendly. And fun. And that there's definitely nothing more to it.

"Did you fall in there?"

"No!"

You pad back into the living room, blanket wrapped around you. Iwaizumi has already picked a movie. You think it's a comedy, judging by the look of it. He raises a brow at you, and you smile as you make your way back to the couch.

"Hi," you say, and he smiles back, patting his thigh.

"C'mere," he says, echoing your own words from earlier, and you oblige instantly, this time settling with your back against his chest. He lets you get comfortable, and you pull the blanket over you. The movie is already starting, but you're not paying attention.

Not when Iwaizumi smells so good.

"Why are you so nervous all of a sudden?" he asks, and one of his hands finds your hip underneath the blanket, making soothing circles with his thumb.

"I'm not nervous," you protest, and you feel him chuckle beneath you, clearly not believing you.

"Right."

A beat.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

He's giving you an out. A last chance to take it back, to not change your friendship into whatever this is. But even then, you know this has been a long time coming. You'd be an idiot to try to stop it.

"No, I want to," you say.

"We can just watch the movie."

"Hajime."

There's a warning in your tone, telling him not to worry anymore. You feel him relaxing, finally, and he grunts, settling into the couch at last. His hand not on your hip roams your side, before he settles on your tit, squeezing your soft skin.

"Okay, baby."

He flicks your nipple through the fabric of your top, and you gasp, squirming. You feel the bulge beneath your ass, and it makes you a little dizzy to know you have this effect on him.

You try to focus on the movie. A girl is screaming at her roommate, throwing things at her. There's a weird-looking dog. Iwaizumi's hand on your hip dips underneath the waistband of your shorts.

"Proper stretching is important," he says, cupping your pussy over your panties. "To prevent injury."

It makes you giggle, the way he speaks like you're one of his athletes. He keeps playing with your nipple while he thumbs your clit with his other hand, applying dull stimulation. You gasp softly, spreading your legs to give him more access.

You don't need to look behind you to know he's smiling. Especially when he dips his fingers into your underwear, stroking your folds and finding you soaking already. He spreads your arousal over your folds, still not giving you any real relief.

The roommates are in their principal's office. She's telling some other story, something about a real nightmare roomie.

"Did you seriously pick a movie about bad roommates?" you ask, and Iwaizumi presses his lips to your throat, planting a wet kiss there.

"It seemed appropriate."

"Excuse me, I am not a bad room— Oh,"

You're interrupted when he presses a finger inside you, testing the waters. When you melt into his embrace, he adds another finger, slowly working you open. It's easy when you're already so aroused, feeling like you've been ready ever since you saw his reaction to your friends discussing cock warming hours ago.

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh," you answer, too distracted to form proper words. He curls his fingers, and your mouth falls open in a quiet moan.

"Not even when you wear these shirts," He pulls your shirt down, as if making a point, exposing your tits to the cold air of your living room. "Constantly one bad move away from flashing me?"

"I'd say that's just philanthropy,"

He laughs, surprised. Moving your hair to the side, he kisses your throat again.

The main character in the movie is at a summer camp now. Desperately trying to make friends and failing.

Iwaizumi adds a third finger, and you squirm, getting used to the pressure. He palms your clit to help you, and you bite your lip. Even through your shorts and the blanket, you can hear the sounds of how wet you are, as he keeps a steady pace.

"Hajime," you gasp, feeling your orgasm already building. Iwaizumi seems to feel it too, with the way your warm walls flutter around his fingers. He removes his fingers from your pussy, bringing them to his mouth and tasting. He hums at the taste.

You watch over your shoulder, mouth agape. He grins, though his cheeks are flushed, betraying his otherwise calm demeanour. He plays with the waistband of your shorts.

"Take these off."

With his help, you shimmy off both your shorts and underwear, leaving you wearing nothing but a tank top and your fuzzy socks. Iwaizumi guides you forward with a hand on your back, so he can pull his cock out of his pants with the other.

You go to look over your shoulder, wanting to see, but he grabs your chin and points you towards the TV instead. The girl in the movie has made a friend now, and they're rooming together.

You hear the slick sounds of him stroking his cock, and then he taps your ass. With a pout, you straddle his legs properly and sit up so he can position himself at your entrance.

He slowly guides you back on his cock, and you whine at the stretch, still watching the movie, despite being unsure what the plot even is. The girl is angry because her roomie is messy, you're pretty sure. Your vision swims, and you find it hard to focus on anything at all.

"Ease up, baby," Iwaizumi bites out, and you try your best to relax as you sink down further.

Iwaizumi is big. Big and thick, and when your ass finally meets the back of his thighs again, it feels like he's in your throat. He makes you lean back, and you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. He holds you tight by your hips, keeping your squirming to a minimum as you get used to the intrusion.

Finally, you feel like your pussy is getting used to the fullness, and you relax slightly, leaning entirely on his chest. He rubs soothing circles in your hips, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Good girl,"

He laughs when you clench, as he wraps his arms around you. You feel dizzy, warm all over. A light sweat is starting to form on your forehead, and you grip his arm.

The girls in the movie are at a party, all of them wearing a white top and a pair of jeans. Iwaizumi laughs into your ear, deep and warm.

"They look just like one of Mattsun's girlfriends," he states, and you slap his arm.

"Don't talk about Mattsun's girls when your dick is inside of me," you bite back, and he presses down on your stomach in response, making you moan out.

"You have Mattsun's girl to thank for this, don't you?" he teases, and you roll your eyes. When you don't say anything back, he hums, and you both settle into a comfortable silence.

It lasts about five minutes.

The main character is talking a guy, who you think might be her love interest, in a kitchen.

You can't focus.

It's too hard. It feels like all of your nerve endings are on fire, your pussy growing more and more sensitive with each agonising minute that passes.

You want him to move. To fuck you.

Iwaizumi has the patience of a saint. Maybe it's from the years of diligent volleyball practice every day after school, maybe it's from constantly keeping your three other best friends behaviour in check.

Whatever it is, it's certainly going to be your downfall.

He keeps you still in his lap, the only torturous friction you get being when he laughs at the movie. The movie that's really not that funny.

"Haji," you ask, with trembling lips.

When he doesn't reply, you squirm. That makes him take a deep breath, and he squeezes you in warning when you clench down on him.

"It's too much," you complain. Your mind is swimming, eyes going glassy. The only thing you can think about is getting fucked.

Preferably hard.

"You're being so good," he replies. He rocks into you slightly, making you whine. "You can keep being nice for me, right?"

"No," you say, shaking your head.

"This was your idea." Iwaizumi chuckles. His breath feels hot on your throat, only making your mind even fuzzier.

"I changed my mind."

"We can stop if you want to."

The hands on your hips start to push you away.

"No, please, no, no, no,—" you panic, digging your hands into his thighs as you lean back in his lap. The slight friction makes you moan, squeezing your eyes shut.

"But you changed your mind?" he asks. His voice is teasing, but there's a slight strain there.

Looking over your shoulder, you meet his gaze, batting your eyelashes the way that always works with Makki when you want to steal his snacks. Iwaizumi smiles, taking in the pout on your lips, the pretty way your brows furrow.

You look so cute.

So cute, he wants to squeeze you.

"Hajime,"

There's a lilt to your voice, a saccharine sweetness. The one Iwaizumi has always had a weakness for, even if you don't notice it yourself.

"Yeah?" he breathes. He nods, and you nod along, mirroring him.

"We could do something else instead," you say. He feels you clench down again. Your pussy is so hot and wet, it makes him groan. He thinks he'd do anything you asked of him right now.

The movie is long forgotten now. You're unsure if the roommates are still even friends at this point.

"What do you wanna do?" he asks, and when you lean down to kiss him, he moans, leaning into the kiss. He grabs your chin, angling you so he can kiss you better, moaning into your mouth.

The angle is slightly uncomfortable, and you pull away with a pout, like it's somehow Iwaizumi's fault. He groans, head falling back, when you sit up, his cock leaving your warmth with a slick sound.

You turn around so you're facing him, promptly sitting down in his lap again. It makes you both moan again when he reenters your slick heat. You run your fingers through his hair, tugging on the short locks.

"How are you gonna watch the movie now?" Iwaizumi smiles, taking you in. He must admit, it's better this way. When he can see your every expression, the way you're panting slightly. His gaze drops down to where you're connected. The sight makes his jaw slack, and he can't help but bring his thumb down to your clit, circling the bud slowly.

"I'm watching something more fun."

Your voice is whiny, but you're smiling. You grind your hips into his hand, and he feels you clench when the tip of his cock hits somewhere deep inside you.

"Is that so?"

"You're very handsome, Hajime,"

"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Iwaizumi says, breathless. You're gathering speed now, but you're still just grinding against him. It's a sweet kinda torture, the way he can feel your pussy pulsing around him, yet you're barely moving.

"That's not true," you object. You kiss him again, only a peck, letting him chase you. "I tell you nice things all the time."

"You question my patience all the time," he responds. He tangles his hand in your hair, holding you still as he ghosts his lips over yours. Your breaths mingle, and you moan into his mouth.

"Like right now, you mean?" you ask, and he nods, before he kisses you again. Firmly.

It's nice. It's nice to run your fingers through his hair and hear his little groans when you tuck hard enough. It's nice how warm and big his hand is on the back of your head. It's nice to feel the firm and steady pulse of his cock inside of you, lighting up all your sensitive nerve endings.

Iwaizumi is nice.

He's more than nice, but your head feels empty, unable to find another word, filled with nothing but the feeling of Iwaizumi's tongue against your own, as he kisses you silly.

"Fuck me, Haji," you whisper when he pulls away for air, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

"You're the one who wanted to change activities," he replies. "You do it,"

He leans back and pats your thighs. You glare.

"I'm the one who suggested movie night in the first place."

Iwaizumi raises a brow at you.

"Movie night?" he teases. You nod, attempting to be the picture perfect of innocence. "This is your version of movie night?"

He motions to where he's still buried inside of you. Where you're dripping, staining his joggers. Hopefully, you haven't stained the couch. Yet.

"Yes."

"Well, I picked the movie. So it's your turn to pick something now"

Something akin to determination washes over your expression. You put your hands on his chest, and slowly you start going up and down. You moan in unison, and your brow pinches as you start to ride him.

The slick sound fills your living room, and you pant, your thighs already beginning to burn. Iwaizumi notices. Because of course he does.

"Your form is—"

"Do not comment on my form," you cut him off, digging your nails into his chest.

"I was gonna tell you it's good." His eyes drop down to your tits, and the smug look on his face is worse than any comment. It only fuels your fire. You ignore the ache, doubling down as you start to ride him harder. You move your hands up, wrapping them around his neck. You don't press, just keep them there, and his jaw falls slack, eyes going lidded.

"Fuck," he says, nodding. He puts his hand over one of yours, and he moans when you press down lightly on his throat. You feel him twitch inside you, and it makes you smile.

"Haji, you gonna come, ah, just from me choking you?" you tease and, he laughs, voice soft, like he's out of breath.

"I'm gonna come from how good you look bouncing on my cock like that," he replies, without missing a beat, and the admission makes you falter. He whines when your knee slips, and before you can think, his hands are on your hips, guiding you up and down.

He does it like it's nothing, muscles tensing deliciously with each push and pull. You collapse onto his chest, moving your hands to his shoulders. He doesn't seem to take notice, too focused on the way you're clenching around his cock.

It doesn't take long for you to feel your orgasm start to build like that, not when he's hitting all the right spots, while telling you how pretty you look taking him. You barely get to warn him before it creeps up on you, making your toes curl as warm pleasure burns through you.

He moans, voice turning pitchy as he follows right after you, pulling you flush against him as he finishes inside, filling your cunt to the brim. It makes you whimper, and you rest your head on his chest. Your eyelids feel heavy as you both take a few minutes to collect yourselves. You listen to the way Iwaizumi's heartbeat slows as he comes down.

He runs his hands up and down your back, occasionally pressing into sore spots.

"You have a muscle knot here," he eventually says, pressing into a spot right between your shoulder blades. You yelp, twitching in his lap. Cum spills out from your sore pussy, dripping down his balls. "Are you doing the exercises I taught you?"

"Hajime!" you scold, getting off his lap. You grab your panties from somewhere on the floor, putting them on and stomping towards your room. Iwaizumi watches the way the insides of your thighs glisten with his cum.

"I was just asking," he says, putting his still half-hard cock back in his pants as he follows you. "Also, you should really go pee—"

"Shut up!"

   thank you for reading!

you forcibly expel the image away with a shake of your head.

“you wish,” you smack his arm a little too hard, and it has him groaning between a chuckle. ignoring the flush in your cheeks, you raise an eyebrow at him, “i still can't believe you offered to do this by the way.”

“i can’t believe you agreed,” he quips just as quickly and well…fair enough. because you couldn’t either.

satoru readjusts so he’s on his knees and dips his head, his eyes following the length of your body until they land right between your legs. 

you watch them dilate until only a thin ring of blue remains, and the longer he stares, the more heat rushes south. cool air feathers over your cunt and the achy tease of it, coupled with the weight of his rapt attention, have your legs trying to close again. 

satoru doesn't let you get far though. he grumbles his disapproval, freehand spanning over the plush flesh of your thigh and spreading you open again.

“don’t go shy on me now.”

your hips shift a little. “you’re staring.”

he huffs out a laugh, hand spasming over soft skin, “can you blame me?” he asks with a good helping of reverence and not a lick of denial in the question.  

his eyes never stray away and fuck, you don’t even think he’s blinking.

“almost want to take my time with how pretty she is,” his chest rises with a deep inhale, like he’s trying to breathe you in. “wet too.” 

one look at your face lets him know that you would walk out if he tried, and he has to stifle a grin. 

“maybe next time,” he decides, and when he sees you about to tell him there won't be a “next time”, he lifts the vibrator and presses the tip of it against your clit. 

and for someone who claimed it didn’t work, the effect it has on you is intense. your breath hitches, body bucking up, and he groans at the sight of your tits bouncing under your shirt. 

he nearly dropped to his knees in anguish when you refused to take it off, but the way your nipples stiffen under the fabric almost makes it worth it.

“oh shit,” the moan draws his attention away from your chest, and he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth at the fucked-out look on your face. 

satoru drags the silicone toy along your slit, and while glittery wetness immediately drenches it, it’s not nearly enough.

so he rears back and draws his cheeks in. when his lips part, a fat blob of spit splatters onto your clit. your hips pitch and the mess drips all the way down to your ass. 

satoru watches your head roll against your pillow. hair splaying out messily and eyes a little too glassy, “toru,”

“too pretty for your own good, ” he husks quietly. as if it was only meant for his ears.

he presses himself against your thigh. cock thick and hard as it strains under his jeans, and you clench around nothing. suddenly painfully empty. 

with how easy it is for satoru to map your reactions, someone would think this wasn’t the first time the two of you were doing this. it's like he can sense what you need long before you do. so, when your lips part to beg him for something your mind can barely string together, he's already nudging the vibrator against your entrance and slowly pushing it inside.

he pumps it in and out of you in deep, teasingly slow strokes that make it impossible to bite back your moans.

they sound embarrassing to your ears. all too high some moments and wavering into soundless gasps in others, but satoru clearly doesn't share the sentiment. he grinds his cock against your thigh harder, and it pulses with each sound that pours out your mouth. he feels them wash over his back and light up the base of his spine in a white-hot beam. 

“you’re so fucking hot,” the vibrator is turned up a couple notches, and you freeze when you feel it. 

you’re close.

a broken gasp escapes, then you react how you always do. 

you run from it. 

panicked and restless when your hips shift back and each pulse has you squirming.

you only get far enough to make an inch of the dildo slip out before a hand curls around your waist and holds you in place. 

“where are you going?” gojo tilts his head at you and you think his eyes are the brightest you’ve ever seen them.

slowly, something clicks into place behind them, and a huff of laughter bubbles out. 

“wait…don’t tell me you're a runner,” he's so tickled you're tempted to hit him again. but it's impossible to do anything but jerk when he plunges the toy to the hilt again. “well shit, baby, no wonder you thought it was broken.” 

his eyes crinkle at the corners, and you would’ve found his wide grin cute if he didn't turn the intensity all the way up.

he lets the toy buzz inside of you and when you recoil, both hands grip your hips and swiftly tug you back.

“nuh uh, we can’t have you running away when you’re so close.”

“f-fuck, i can’t,” you whine. head shaking from side to side, and he coos. 

“of course you can, pretty,” satoru drapes his body over yours, one burly thigh snug between your legs to keep the toy in place. and to keep grinding against your soft thighs.

“you’re doing so much better already,” he murmurs quietly, hips already moving against you. “just need me to hold you down and make you take it, hm?”

he phrases that like a question but slants his lips over yours to muffle your answer. satoru groans into your mouth, tongue swirling around yours and teeth sinking into your bottom lip. 

your fingers twist into the sheets, clutching at them as if they would ground you. it proves useless because the filth coming out satoru’s mouth is clearly trying to leave you wrecked by the end of this.

“god, the sounds you make around fake cock,” he grunts against your jaw, hips shuttering for a moment before rutting harder. “should’ve—shit—just offered you the real thing.” 

arousal pools around the vibrator to drip down onto the sheets below and it takes everything to keep your eyes from rolling backwards.

“oh my god,” you whimper, and he licks up the seam of your lips.

“be a good girl and stop holding back. let yourself feel it,” your hips roll upwards and his chest rumbles with a sound that doesn’t even sound human anymore. “yeah, there you go, fuck yourself on it.” 

he was delirious. blabbering almost as much as you were, but at least he was halfway coherent. your limbs seal around him. legs coiling tight around his trim waist and hands sneaking under his shirt to scratch at his back. 

your nails must dig in a little too deeply because a hiss is punctured against your lips. you draw back, scared you hurt him, and he shakes his head. 

“do it again,” he pleads. palming your clothed tit. “like you mean it this time.” 

a shocked huff leaves you, “jesus, you’re insane.”

the unhinged laugh that echoes through your room only proves your point, but you oblige. your nails rake over his muscled back, and the sound he makes makes your clit pulse.

“oh, c’mon baby harder,” you cut into skin, and he chokes. “ah—fuck yes!”

satoru doesn’t bother holding himself up anymore. he just lets all his weight bear down on you, basically trapping you under him. 

he drops his head to the swell of your breast, and your back bows when he latches onto your nipple through your shirt, sucking it into his mouth and wetting the fabric. 

“cum for me,” he hums against the peak when you tense under him.

you have a brief moment of panic when your breath gets stuck somewhere in your chest. it wracks with a broken sob, and even when you go limp with your release, the vibrations between your legs don’t stop.

satoru shudders not long after you. moaning between your breasts while his cum makes a mess of his briefs. it spurts onto material in thick pulses and you swear you feel it on your skin. warm, sticky and sleek.

he stays on you for a second longer, then lifts himself onto his elbows so he doesn’t accidentally smother you. 

it’s only when he slides the vibrator out that air returns to your lungs. tension leaves your body and your spine loosens again.

your eyes flit over to him and they bulge when you see him raise the toy to his mouth. glossy lips wrapping around the silicone, as he sucks your arousal and cum off of it. 

the slurping noise he makes while he keeps his eyes on yours has liquid heat building up in your belly again, so intense it’s like you didn’t cum seconds ago. he releases it from his mouth with a pop and grins widely.

“see? works perfectly.”

you had a total psycho for a best friend, and whatever craze that infected him had to be spreading. because when he parts your legs again, murmuring something about making you squirt with round two…

you let him. 

art by @/thatsallitchief

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note: hi this is a scheduled post. period cramps currently have me on my ass but i’ll be back online as soon as i can. lmk if you saw any errors okay? okay.

The sound of their collective panting filled the air, the thud of fists against skin echoing off the walls as they tested each other.

Quick jabs, hits to the ribs; it was push and pull as they were nearly on equal ground, two decorated professionals with national titles.

You had to keep a close eye— track his movements to take note of any injuries, run over how exactly you would deal with each one. It was your job to.

But, admittedly, you found your gaze wandering against your will lately. More often than you wanted to admit.

It was difficult to ignore the way his biceps flexed with each jab, how soft blond tufts fell over his face, stuck to the sweat lining his forehead, the low hang of his boxing shorts highlighted his abs straining with each motion.

"Fuck!"

The sharp curse broke your trance, eyes snapping up, immediately alert.

Eijirou's hands flew over his mouth, his fighter's stance softening, hesitant hands reaching out towards his friend whose head was angled down, fighting to not reel.

"Woah, man, I am so sorry—"

Katsuki slapped his hand away, wiping at the blood beginning to drip down his nose with the back of his hand, unyielding eyes meeting Eijirou's.

"Keep it goin', Shitty Hair. And you,"

He didn't bother to look at you as you approached, keeping his burning stare on his opponent while waving you off with a harsh motion of his free hand. "Get back."

His bite was nothing new. You didn't bother to fight the eye roll, stepping closer to assess the extent of the damage. "Don't be dumb. Let me look."

"You deaf or something? Beat it."

More blood trickled down, coming over the curve of his lip. You had worked with Katsuki long enough to know that he pushed himself until he was battered, had nothing left to give.

Your job was to keep that from happening.

With a sigh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow.

"You are gushing blood. Come on—"

"Get your fuckin' hands off me, you piece of—"

"Again, don't be dumb—"

Eijirou blinked between the two of you, watching as you wrestled to keep Katsuki's arm in your grip, ineffectively attempting to drag him away. With a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, he began to take backwards steps towards the bench where he kept his water, knowing there was little else he could do in this situation.

"I'm gonna take five. Go with her, man."

Feeling Katsuki's resistance give in just enough, you tugged him towards the med bay, giving Eijirou a grateful look over your shoulder. You hoped he didn't feel too guilty. Sparring was never supposed to get this intense, after all. But, mistakes happened.

You offered soft apologies under your breath to the few nurses on the same late shift as you were with a tight smile as you rushed past them to guide him into the room at the very back, shutting the door behind you.

It was just you two now.

Katsuki was still panting, worked up from the fight. There was probably enough adrenaline in his system to keep him from feeling the real pain of his affliction.

You pushed him back onto the bed against the wall to your right with a hand over his chest, feeling the warm muscle rise up and down under your palm before you turned to rummage through the cabinet, fishing out a medical kit with a crease forming between your brows.

"Are you trying to get yourself put on medical leave before your match next week?"

He didn't say a word, only the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room as you felt his glare against your back.

You sighed.

"Right before I get off too..."

"Yeah," He scoffed, a mocking edge to his voice. "'Cause I did that shit on purpose."

"You kept pushing. That was stupid and you know it, the best athletes know when to call it quits."

Katsuki scoffed, his jutted lower lip pursing as you set down the kit beside him, opening it up to fish out some gauze. "Maybe we should get you in the ring. Since you're such an expert."

You pushed his thighs apart with an unimpressed look, standing between them to get as close as you could.

A hand went behind his neck, gently tilting his head down so the blood wouldn't trickle back into his nose, go down his throat.

You carefully pinched the sides of his nose bridge to stop the blood flow, wiping away at what had escaped with clean gauze.

“You love making my life harder,” you muttered under your breath. “Can’t you just admit I'm right? Say you’ll be more careful?”

“The day I say that shit you can put a gun to my head.”

You rolled your eyes, but he continued.

"I don't say shit I don't mean," he sighed out, abs flexing as he winced slightly. “If your meddling ass didn't get in the way, I would've won.”

“Or you would've gotten your ass beat, but whatever.”

“I've had worse. A fucked up nose is nothing."

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" you raised a brow, getting a new piece of gauze. "You never know when to stop, Katsuki. That's your issue."

The room settled into silence only the hum of the AC, your shifting, and the quiet, reluctant winces that slipped past as you tended to him.

His eyes never left you.

Sometimes, you wondered why.

Why he allowed you to treat him, why he let you get close. But you shook yourself out of those thoughts, reaching down to grab an ice pack. No time to get sidetracked, not now. Especially on something that was very likely nothing.

"Bleeding stopped."

He didn't respond, eyes downcast as you alternated between pressing it to either side of his nose bridge.

When he finally spoke, his words were quick. Quiet.

"I was going for his blind spot."

Said like he had to explain himself to you, or maybe himself.

But he didn't have to. You knew that his slip ups were extremely rare, he never made the same mistake twice— he beat himself up over every error, obsessed over earned perfection, victory.

His high standards for himself were what got him so far, but you knew they got to him. That, quietly, he sometimes needed reassurance, like anyone would.

“I know you were.” you finally responded, voice gentle, without pity.

"Eijirou's right side was open and he was getting tired. That was the right move. You would've gotten him."

He blinked down at you, as if assessing your honesty before a slight smile touched his lips. He gripped the edge of the small bed a little tighter, leaning down closer.

"Knew you were starin'."

Your heart jumped in your chest, but you pushed it down.

"Well, that is my job."

"It's your job to watch for injuries. Not stare."

You couldn't help what came out of your mouth next.

"Maybe I was staring at Eijirou."

"You think you're so funny."

"I think your ego's inflated."

"Wanna say that again?"

You pressed the ice a little too harshly into the side of his nose, drawing a small groan from him.

"Save it, Katsuki."

You packed up your kit and gathered the bloodied gauze to throw away, rinsing your hands before coming back to assess your work.

Blood clean, no signs of continued bleeding. A small bruise forming under his right eye from the trauma, expected.

It took everything in you to ignore the weight of his eyes, how he looked at you with an intensity reserved for his opponents in the ring. Calculating, searching. You could feel the burn crawling up the back of your neck. Professional, keep it professional.

You nodded a little too quickly, turning on your heel. "Yep, all good. No more sparring, but you can go back now."

He tugged you by the back of your shirt collar before you got too far, pulling you back between his legs, face only inches away from yours.

"You don't want that."

The sudden proximity along with his words made your heart spike, as if caught.

What did you want? The question made you uneasy.

(Or, maybe it was the answer that you knew deep down that made you want to crawl out of your skin.)

You pushed back slightly, deflecting.

“I want you to see Dr. Tanaka as soon as you can. I'll make an appointment for tomorrow morning since he left for the day. I think your nose is broken.”

“No it's not.”

It wasn't. If it had been broken, you would've known from one look, you would have been angrier with him. But that was your out, your excuse to get away. And he had called your bluff, gaze unmoving.

"Don't play dumb right now."

“I'm not playing dumb." the words came snappy, brave; but you were just so close, that fire faltered. His hand that had gripped the back of your collar had shifted carefully to the front, so close to your neck that you were afraid he might feel your heart try to burst out of your throat.

"You're just…" you trailed off, struggling to find your words. "…difficult. You're being difficult.”

"Difficult?" a dry sort of laugh. "You're the difficult one. For someone smart you can be pretty fuckin' dense."

You bit the inside of your lower lip, eyes darting between him and the door.

You knew what he meant. This back and forth between you was nothing new. But when it got too real you had always gotten away, said something and acted like nothing had happened once you cooled down.

The sounds outside seemed to be getting louder, closer. These doors didn’t have locks. Anyone could come in, find you like this. One of the nurses checking in, a gym goer looking for band-aids.

“Or maybe you do know. Hm?”

The question pulled you from your thoughts in an instant, made your eyes snap to his— first mistake. Once his crimson stare bored into yours, you couldn’t look away.

Could you have been that obvious? You thought your moments of distraction were fleeting, imperceptible to the average eye.

He had never commented on it before, slipping back to his normal self even after your closest calls.

But you should’ve known better. Katsuki Bakugou was not average in any sense of the word.

(Of course, he noticed. Of course he did.)

You sputtered something before you could think, just wanting to hear something other than the sound of your own thoughts.

"Some…someone could—"

"No one's gonna come in." his voice flat, dismissal easy. All matter of fact as he craned his neck down closer to you.

"Unless you want Eijirou to come in. Since you were, what, staring at him, right? That what you want?"

"What?!" the word was almost a squeak, high and taken aback. "That's not— "

You fought the strange heat crawling up your face by shooting him a look, eyes narrowing.

"Katsuki. I was joking."

He hummed.

(Unbelieving? Amused? A bit of both?)

"Sure you were."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. The deflections that had once come so easy were heavy on your tongue. There was no joke, no eye roll, nothing you could say to slip away. Not this time.

You sighed, next words defeated.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to be real with me." you could feel his breath against your lips; hot, charged. "Tell me you don’t want this, that you haven't thought about it.”

“Katsuki…”

It came out weaker than you wanted. Small, kind of breathless. Almost pleading.

For what— to let you go?

(To keep going?)

He kept egging, eyes not once leaving yours. “Say it. I'll stop.”

And you knew he would. Because he was being serious, you could tell by his voice— how it was low under his breath, softened. 

For you, he was being intentionally careful.

Just the thought made you want to cave. But the entire reason your relationship worked, why you were able to handle him, was because you didn't give in.

"There are rules about this sort of thing—"

"You think I give a fuck about bullshit rules?"

"Yeah, I know you don't." you gave him a look. "But I do. I could lose my job, you could get me fired, or…"

You swallowed back the rest of it.

He didn't have to know how it made you afraid, testing the fragile nature of this relationship. How giving in meant that all of this could shatter, that this could all amount to one big mistake.

Katsuki blinked, taking in your expression. He looked off to the side for a beat, lips pursing in thought before, carefully, he took your hands into his.

"You know I won't let that happen. I don't see any of the other shitty medics here."

You snorted a little. Because you did know. You cocked your head to the side, a small smile tugging at your lips. "They're not shitty."

He didn't retaliate, just raised his brows slowly. The truth of his words wasn't what mattered, it was the implication behind them.

(You're the one I see. You.)

His earlier words rang in your ears.

Tell me you don't want this, that you haven't thought about it.

You couldn't, because you had.

Countless times— whenever you watched him hover over his opponents, keep them locked underneath him, the heat in his eyes, a cocky smile on his lips.

He wormed his way into your mind, more often than not, late at night. When sleep couldn't find you and your bed felt exceptionally cold. Empty.

(Him. You imagined him.)

Denying all of that was exactly what you should have done. That would have been the rational thing to do, the smart thing.

But as you traced his face, followed the soft curve of his cheeks against the otherwise harsh lines, watched the furrow of his brow deepen ever so slightly, as if he, of all people, was nervous— you couldn't fight the feeling anymore.

Because you wanted to kiss him, and you wanted him to kiss you— more than anything.

Hesitantly, you brushed your thumbs over the bruises on his knuckles.

“No, I… I do. Want this, I mean."

Something in his expression shifted. Surprise, for a brief second, before that cocky gleam in his eyes that you had seen when he was in-action settled over his face. Only, a little different. (A little sharper, hungrier.)

"Yeah?" he pushed closer, nose just barely brushing yours. "You want this?"

Slowly, you nodded.

"Yes."

His gaze darted from your eyes and lips before the sliver of space between you finally disappeared.

The kiss was tentative, careful. So unlike him that it caught you a little off guard.

Soft. His lips were so soft against yours.

He kissed you like he was trying to figure out the shape of your lips, go slow enough to savor the moment, commit the feeling to memory. The hand near your collar came up to cup your jaw, angle your face just right.

You had thought about what this would feel like for longer than you would ever admit. Did he think of you the same way? Were you what he had expected?

When he pulled back just enough to breathe, he drank in your expression; your pretty lips plush and parted, wide doe-eyes blinking up at him.

He groaned, "Fuck it."

You yelped when calloused hands gripped your arms, hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, thick biceps flexing as he pulled you down to straddle his thigh.

You planted your hands on his chest to steady yourself on instinct, unable to process it for a second. Your thighs were around his leg, his hands at your waist, holding you in a way you had only ever thought would exist in the secret fantasies you let yourself indulge in. The small bed creaking under your combined weight. His chest rising and falling under your palms.

Sometimes, you forgot how strong he actually was. How he wasn’t just some other annoying, short-tempered guy— his body was molded to his profession; brute strength and jagged lines carved from a life in the ring. His shoulders broad, a tapering waist, arms nearly the size of your head. He could probably pick you up and snap you in half if he really wanted to. Your stomach flipped at just the thought.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, he flexed the muscle of his thigh; deliberate, testing. Sharp eyes watching as your face flushed at his bare muscle pressing up against your core.

Your breath hitched, warmth pooled down between your legs, heart beating in your ears as his large hands slid down to rest over your hips, holding you steady— pulling you down closer.

"Feel good?"

Your ears burned at the mocking edge to his voice. You squirmed, caught between wanting to slap that smug look off his face and slowly seek more friction by grinding down.

You didn't have to choose, not when his hands slowly guided your hips down, back and forth against his hardened muscle. You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly embarrassed, ineffectively fighting the whimpers that threatened to slip past with each movement.

His gaze never once left you, taking note of every little reaction.

Heat crawled up your face at being watched so shamelessly.

Leaning forward, you distracted yourself by pressing soft kisses up the side of his throat, staring to grind down on him yourself, your tongue darting out before gently sucking soft marks into his skin.

He let out a strained sigh, tilting his neck back just enough to give you more access.

You hooked your arms loosely around his neck, pecking across his jaw. Your fingers curled into the hair at his nape, giving it a soft tug, pulling his head back so his eyes met yours.

Pupils blown, eyes heavy with want, hair falling over them all messy and disheveled.

You didn't know how you had gone so long without this, how you could have ever wanted to keep your distance. Now that you let yourself have a taste, you didn't think you could ever get enough.

Tugging him to you by the hair, you pulled him to kiss you again.

This time, it was feverish, insatiable. Months of tension and denied desire pouring over all at once.

He kissed like he was still chasing you; like he had something to prove, like he wanted you to feel that you were his favorite taste. A clash of tongue and teeth, nipping at your bottom lip. Each time he pulled back to breathe it lasted less than a beat before he rushed back to steal the soft sounds that slipped past your lips as your hips continued to buck against his thigh.

But the fabric, it was in the way. No matter how hard you grinded down on him, there was too much between you and what you wanted, and the frustration was showing. Your slight sighs turning into small huffs, brows pinching against your will.

The next time Katsuki pulled back, you didn't let him kiss you again. The small string of saliva between your lips broke as you spoke, softly panting. "I want 'em off."

He looked down at your request, pinching the fabric of your pants between his index and thumb. Eyes looking up into yours carefully, like he was uncertain if that was something you really wanted.

You nodded, a little frantic.

"Off. Please."

He got straight to it. Getting them off wasn't pretty, but a controlled sort of desperate.

His movements were precise as always, fairly smooth, but you could feel that something was simmering under his palms as he moved you around to get them off just right, even more so when they finally rested over your bare legs, eyes slightly dazed as he gave the flesh a tentative squeeze.

You bit your lip at the feeling, skin burning under his touch, wanting it all over you.

You glanced down at your shirt.

"This too."

He scoffed, but there was something like a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Fuckin' bossy."

His hands slid under the hem, bunching the fabric up over your chest, too impatient to get it all the way off. He reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor as he took in the shape of your bare chest, the way your nipples hardened at the cool air of the clinic.

For a beat too long, he just stared.

On instinct, you wondered if something was wrong, if there was something about you that was weird or unappealing, the feeling twisted in you. But before you could tug your shirt back down, he cupped your tits with both hands, feeling the weight of them, squeezing slightly.

"Been waiting for this shit for so fuckin' long, y'know that?" He groaned out, leaning forward to bury his face into them.

You whimpered as he pressed wet kisses across the skin, thumb brushing over one of your nipples while his tongue lolled out to lick over the other, sucking it between his lips.

You began grinding down on his thigh again, the feeling so much more intense with just your panties on. You shifted your hips to find the angle that felt best, rubbing yourself down against the hard muscle of his thigh beneath you, solid and perfect, the friction sending sparks up your spine, your breaths coming out in shallow pants.

Each roll of your hips made your breath come a little faster, especially as his mouth pulled off one of your tits to give the other a fair share of attention.

Your nails dug into his shoulders when he nipped at your chest, sucking harshly, catching your sensitive peak between his teeth just to hear you whine. His tongue was hot against your skin, wet and needy.

Katsuki could feel your arousal starting to coat his thigh, soaking through your panties, smearing over his leg with every drag of your hips. Smiling against your chest, he pulled back with a soft pop, looking down at the glistening mess you left behind.

He moved a hand down between your bodies, slightly nudging your hips up with his leg to give him enough space in between to feel you over your panties, the fabric evidently damp as his index and middle finger stopped right above your clothed clit, pressing against it just slightly, enough to pull a shaky sigh from your lips.

"All this from just my thigh?"

There was a smug, slightly demeaning tone to his voice, like he was surprised you were so wet, as if it wasn't his fault. It made you want to throttle him. Or kiss him. Or both.

Your brows furrowed. "Shut up."

He only chuckled, drawing a line down your clothed slit. All slow, agonizing. Self-satisfied at the soft whimper that slips out of you.

"It's a simple fucking question. Haven't even touched you properly yet."

You huffed, mustering your most serious expression to meet his eyes. "God, just quit teasing, Katsuki. You're being mean."

He raised his brows, that smile on his face only widening. "You think this is mean?"

Finally, finally, he hooked his fingers into your panties, pushing them aside. The first touch, skin-on-skin, made you gasp. He dragged his fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, slow and deliberate, before circling your entrance.

"I can show you mean."

His eyes were locked between your legs, watching his own fingers move. "Look at you," he murmured, almost to himself. “Fucking soaked."

He pushed one finger inside, slow enough that you felt every inch. You whimpered softly, walls fluttering around him.

He groaned softly, watching your face contort, feeling himself get even harder in his shorts.

"Tight," he breathed. "Gonna add another. That okay?"

You nodded frantically, beyond words.

The second finger stretched you more, made you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. He worked them deeper, curling them slightly. Your chest heaved at the intrusion you fought to not cry out, your nails digging into his shoulder as he hit just the right spot.

"There?" His voice was rough, satisfied. "That the spot?"

You couldn't respond, forehead falling into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he curled his fingers again, rubbing that soft patch inside you with devastating precision.

Once he found it, he didn't stop, pumping his fingers in and out, hitting it with precision each time.

You grinded down into his hand, feeling the heel of his palm press up against your clit. You chase the feeling, shameless. Lost in the sensation, the overwhelming feeling of him all around you.

You mumbled into the skin of his neck incoherently about how you were: "Almost… 'm gonna…"

You could hear his voice right by your ear. Hoarse, determined.

“Yeah?” his efforts nearly doubled. “Close?”

You could only nod, coherent thoughts gone from your mind, only a desperate haze of want.

"Yeah. Yes. Please, please more…"

He kept at it, silently savoring your desperate sounds.

You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, moans muffled into his skin as the tightly wound up knot came undone. Your breaths getting heavy in your lungs, head getting fuzzy, eyes fluttering shut, nails having left angry red lines down the skin of his upper back.

He ran a hand up and down your back as you collapsed against him, coming down from the high. He let you rest against him, breathing from a moment before pulling you back with a small kiss to the side of your head.

"Look at me."

It didn't sound like a request.

"Hm?"

You watched with hazy eyes as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, the loss making you whimper. They glistened under the harsh light of the clinic, coated with the evidence of what he'd just done to you.

He held your gaze as he brought them to his mouth. His tongue darted out first, licking a long strip up the slick-covered fingers. Then, he took them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes never once leaving yours.

Your breath caught in your throat. Heat flooded through you again, despite having just come. Tasting you off his own fingers like you were the best thing he'd ever had— it was almost too much.

When he finally pulled his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, he smirked at your expression.

"Tastes good," he said simply, like commenting on the weather.

You clenched around nothing, already missing him inside you, feeling spent but somehow needing more.

"You're shameless."

"Last I checked, I wasn't the one humping your thigh."

Your face burned, a small, angry sort of pout settling on your lips.

He snickered, hand sliding up to your waist, giving it a small squeeze. "Little too late to get all embarrassed. Shit was hot."

"Uh huh…" You gave him a look, "Um. Thanks, by the way... that was—" You trailed off, not knowing how to express what you feel just the right way. "Good. It was good."

Katsuki snorted. "Just good?" you rolled your eyes, but leaned into his teasing with sweetness, something he didn't quite expect.

"Much better than good."

He searched your eyes for a beat, a hand coming up to brush back some of your hair. Then he pecked your lips— soft, almost sweet — before tugging your shirt back down carefully.

That was when you slowly realized, he was wrapping this up. But… he didn't cum?

He didn't cum.

"Hey, wait you didn't—"

He knew what you were talking about, the strained bulge in his shorts was nothing short of obvious.

"Does it look like I care."

His dismissal of his own need threw you off.

"Katsuki, that's not fair. I can't just—"

"Sure you can. You just did."

You turned his head towards you, pulling him into a soft kiss, parting his lips with yours, trying to not get lost in tasting yourself on his tongue. Gently trying to urge him to let you have him the way he had you.

You try to convince him, urge him to let you return the favor, do something.

You ran your hand over the bulge in his shorts, traced it gently, wanting. He groaned against your mouth, the sound strained in the back of his throat, like he was holding himself back. "C'mon, Katsuki," you palmed him over his shorts, wanting to hear more. "Let me? Please?"

He looked like he could give in, his jaw tense, eyes screwing shut as your finger hooked into the waistband of his shorts, drawing out a breathy sigh. You froze when the intercom crackled above you.

"The gym will be closing in ten minutes. Please begin wrapping up your sessions and make your way to the exit. Thank you."

You blinked. Fuck.

"…I can be quick?"

That was a lie. Ten minutes wasn't nearly enough time to do what you wanted to.

He waved you off with a snort, tugging your hand away from his throbbing cock, taking it upon himself to adjust the hem of your shirt with more care than you thought possible from someone like him.

"Relax." He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Shit’s not a big deal. Can take care of it in the shower."

The mental image of him standing under the shower, hand wrapped around his cock, thinking about this — you — made something low in your stomach tighten.

You must have made a face, because he huffed out a laugh.

"But if you want to make it up so bad," He leaned in closer, nose brushing yours. The soft curve of his lashes was so much more apparent this close. He pressed a final, lingering kiss, grinning softly as he spoke. His voice low against your lips, promising. "We'll go for round 2."

may blabs: baby's first smut dont throw tomatoes at me.. ok

btw if u ever genuinely have a bloody nose do NOT tilt your head back. that blood will go down your throat and if it gets into ur stomach u could throw up and that is not good so do NOT do that ✌️✌️

big special thank u to the mutuals ( @updownandbatty & @cupidkats & @hushedlotus ) AND irls i bothered w this fic… u are goated ❤️‍🩹

again, art in the header is not mine, credits to the artist !!!

taglist: @nanakamii 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ :