(Nsfw ahead!)

The locker room was nearly empty after practice, everyone having already showered and left for the day. Everyone except you and Shintarō. You were finishing up tying your shoes when you noticed him still standing in front of his locker, completely dressed in his uniform except for his jacket.

"Shintarō? You're not leaving? Don't tell me you're staying late to practice." You asked, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

He adjusted his glasses, a slight blush creeping up his neck. "I... need to speak with you about something." You raised an eyebrow. Shintarō rarely initiated conversations, especially with you, his loudest and most obnoxious teammate. "What's up?"

He took a deep breath, clearly uncomfortable. "I've been... missing shots. During practice. Even during the last game."

"Yeah, I noticed. Your accuracy has dropped like 15%. It's like you're not even trying." You said bluntly, trying to jab him. His blush deepened. "I've identified the cause. It's... personal." Shintarō pushed his glasses up his nose, his eyes darting anywhere but at you. "It's... physiological. I've been experiencing... tension. In certain areas. It's affecting my focus."

You blinked, then a slow grin spread across your face. "Wait, are you saying you're horny? Like, really horny?" His face turned crimson. "I would use more clinical terminology, but essentially... yes. And it's affecting my performance on the court. I've tried taking care of it myself, but the relief is temporary and insufficient."

You couldn't help but laugh. "So the great Shintarō needs help getting off? That's rich." He bristled at your tone. "This is serious! My career is at stake. And I've observed that despite your... obnoxious personality, you have a certain... effect, should I say, on people."

You were genuinely curious about what he meant, so you leaned in closer. Shintarō's voice dropped to a near whisper. "The way you carry yourself. The confidence. The physical presence. I believe you might be able to help me achieve lasting relief." You stepped closer, invading his personal space. "Let me get this straight. You want me to help you with your sexual frustration so you can stop missing baskets?"

He nodded stiffly, still not meeting your eyes. "I've calculated that if I can achieve satisfaction before games and practices, my accuracy should return to normal levels. But I need... assistance."

You circled around him slowly, like a predator examining prey. "And why me? Don't you have your weird friend Takao?" He snapped at your words. "He's a friend! That's different! I would die of embarrassement!" He turned to finally look at you. "This is... physical. I need someone who can handle my needs without emotional complications. Someone direct."

You stopped in front of him, so close your chests were almost touching. "And you think that's me?" His breathing hitched. "I believe so. Yes." You reached out and trailed a finger down his chest, watching him shudder. "And what exactly would this 'assistance' entail?"

Midorima swallowed hard. "Whatever is necessary. I'm not... experienced in these matters. I just need the tension relieved." You smirked. "Oh, I can definitely help with that. But you'll have to do exactly as I say."

He nodded eagerly. "Anything. As long as it works." You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear. "Good. Because I have some very specific ideas about how to help you with your... tension."

Midorima's breath caught in his throat as you gently bit his earlobe. "Starting with you stripping out of that uniform and showing me exactly what kind of problem we're working with."

His hands trembled as he reached for the buttons of his shirt. "Right now?" You chuckled. "Unless you want to keep missing baskets tomorrow during practice?"

That was all the motivation he needed as he quickly started stripping.