Smut for ALL ANIME WEEBS

Irresistible

HEY HEY HEY, sorry for not posting in a while but I just got back to  what I usually write, and my great editor Anime-freek has finished up. but I have a not so good work load right now so posts won't be as frequent. warnings DIS an ATSUMU X OTSAMU SHIP WHICH MEANS INSEST. any way hope you enjoy!

When their parents said Atsumu wanted to come visit him in Tokyo, Osamu's first instinct had been to say no.

He has several reasons, all of them perfectly valid. First, he doesn't want his teenage brother hanging around when he finally has a break between terms. Second, he doesn't want Atsumu in his space, messing around with his things, the spoiled teenager that he is. Could do with some peace and quiet, some time to himself, laze around without a little brother to look after.

But then Atsumu, fucking brat, whines 'Samu-nii, please? And, well.

This is another reason: Osamu is entirely too weak to his younger brother.

Hard to control himself, sometimes, when he smells chocolate — practically tastes it at the back of his tongue. Hard to keep his hands to himself when Atsumu nearby, beside him, on his bed, on the couch, half in his lap. Fantasies filled with the scent of cocoa and of omega, lingering on the clothes Atsumu borrows (steals). Mischief in honeygold eyes and a toothy grin.

And now that sweet-cocoa scent is here, in his tiny apartment, seeping into his floors as Atsumu lies sprawled on the tatami. He's playing some gacha game on his phone, Osamu doesn't know. He's doing his best to ignore Atsumu as he prepares them dinner (tuna onigiri, at Atsumu's request, it was a long train ride and he's hungry).

"Thanks, nii-san," Atsumu drawls, taunting, when Osamu finally drops a plate in front of him. Osamu just rolls his eyes and takes a seat on the other side of the small, low table.

"Shut up and eat," he mutters, reaching for his laptop.

He settles on continuing his Conan binge watch; easy to play in the background, doesn't need much paying attention. He grabs one of the rice balls and picks up a few pieces of pickled radish (Atsumu better thank him for breaking out the good stuff), and settles down to eat.

"So what d'you wanna do tomorrow?" he asks, because he honestly has no idea what to do with Atsumu. His grand plan for the two weeks of term break had been to laze around and practice cooking. Play some games. Hit the gym. Maybe get into a pick-up volleyball game or two.

Atsumu shrugs, careless. "D'know. Maybe the Skytree?"

Osamu stares at him. "What are you, a tourist?"

His brother steals a piece of his radish. Brat. "I mean, what else d'you do in Tokyo? Shibuya? Akihabara? Kabuki-cho?"

"I am not taking you to Kabuki-cho."

"Boring." Atsumu makes a face. Osamu pinches his fingers with his chopsticks. "Hey."

"Fuck, just — fine, I'll take you to the Skytree. We can get sushi after."

It should not make him feel like this, the sight of Atsumu's sunny grin, but Osamu still feels warm in his ribs. Fucking hell, he needs to get a grip. He stuffs the rest of his onigiri into his mouth, turning to watch Conan knock Mouri out yet again to solve another case. Safe thoughts, simple thoughts, nothing at all to do with the way his brother's licking at his own fingers, picking off the stray grains of rice and flakes of tuna.

Fucking hell, Osamu should never have agreed to this. Or should have at least stocked up on sake before Atsumu arrived.

There's a soft, disconcerted sound from beside him. Osamu glances up, frowning. Atsumu's pink-cheeked and frowning, something a little — off about his scent. It makes Osamu set down his food, leaning across the table to touch the back of his hand to Atsumu's forehead. Warm.