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mikaelan-s · 3 years

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aphrodite — kageyama tobio x f!reader n*sfw

cw: slowburn, pwp — handjob, semi-public, cum-eating, let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

tobio wonders if hinata would have something to say about him leaving early.

he already knows the answer — of course, he'd tried to dismiss himself from team japan's late night gathering at as early as 9. the dark lights of the private room and the low baseline of song he couldn't hear the lyrics to, the setting is all too unfamiliar to him. despite the presence of his teammates and his trainer, and koutarou's and atsumu's words slurring on traces of liquor and laughter — despite the smiles that touch kiyoomi's lips every now and then when hajime leans over to whisper something or another, this isn't the open spaced gym where they so often spent their evenings training. it's territory that he'd never once stepped foot into and it leaves him a bit lost, his blue eyes fluttering uncertainly between the faces he sees practically every day of his life. the intense focus he'd grown so accustomed to seeing on them has long since melted away with the alcohol that flushes their cheeks, all appearing as relaxed as tobio wishes he could feel. he pushes a heavy exhale through his nostrils and checks the time on his phone, and nearly jumps out of his skin when hinata taps his shoulder.

"you look constipated, kageyama."

the snort he lets out leaves him without his conscious will, a solace in this familiar banter that he finds beneath the dimmed lights. "if i did say i had to take a shit, will you let me leave?"

shoyo beams up at him with a mischief that gives him his answer, and tobio tells himself that he shouldn't have expected anything more. "nope!" the orange haired man loops an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close, laughing at the harmless glare he receives. "c'mon, tobio! you always skip out on us on weekends."

truly, tobio can't deny that he doesn't often accompany his teammates for more than practices during the week. it isn't that he doesn't enjoy the time he spends with them, but he holds with him a hesitance to show to them any more of what he can give outside of being their setter on court. it's irrational, he knows all too well, had told himself so on each instance he'd turned down invitations from koutarou or hinata to go out to eat, but tobio can't help but fear that somehow, his teammates won't find him good company to enjoy barbecue and beer. he doesn't need to be told that his social skills pass far lower than the standard, doesn't need to hear from someone else that he's as dry and bland as the sand that scatters so vastly across empty deserts. he doesn't want his teammates to think him too dull or uninteresting, and so he keeps himself out of situations in which they'd ever need to say so. that is, until tonight. maybe he should have fought harder against hoshisumi's and hinata's insistence — perhaps made up an excuse for wanting to spend more time in the gym or needing to shop for groceries. maybe he shouldn't have bent under iwaizumi's gentle urging to spend some time away from practice for once, should have assured him that a night out at the club wouldn't help him relax. as it is, it's too late now, and it's all he can do to will his hours to gradually count down until he can return home and collapse into the comfort of his bed.

there's a knock at the door, and you enter the room; tobio feels the blood flush all over his body when his eyes find your figure.

rhinestones glisten all across your brown skin like diamonds, the teasing two-piece that layers beneath them clinging to your breasts and hips in a way that leaves nearly nothing to his imagination. the pink fabric that holds your mounds together accentuates their fullness, pushing them together while a thread of small rhinestones dips between your breasts and ties back around your waist: the transparent sash that hangs around your hips holds to every curve and dip of your figure, so that tobio is left to take in every gentle sway as you enter the room. the sight of you flusters him so badly that he immediately averts his gaze to his interlocked hands; he doesn't know where else to turn them, and it's all he can do to focus on his breathing as he hears your honeyed voice introduce yourself to your attentive audience. 'aphrodite.' that's what you'd told to them as your name, and he hears the smile on your words in the place where he keeps himself from seeing. he takes in the laughter you share with koutarou over the joke he'd made, the way it rings so sweetly over the dimming music just as the summer winds that would ghost over his skin. your voice calls to him just as a siren would to a sailorman at sea, beckoning him to meet your eyes and discover what your smile looks like, to meet the reflection of neon lights in your eyes, and to yearn for the softness of your skin beneath his hands. it's a temptation that he finds himself losing against, and when all restraint leaves his body on a weary exhale, he allows himself to seek out your image once more.

when he does, he finds that your eyes are already locked on his.

he becomes trapped under your gaze, the smile on your red painted lips feels as if you're teasing him with something he can't imagine. and truly, what does tobio know of sensuality and seduction? the world you show to him as you sway your hips is something he hadn't ever considered any farther beyond erotic dreams and passing fantasies. it curves and forms to your body as you wrap your legs around the pole and pulls your figure to create art and wonders he could only yearn for from afar. you appear to him as the very picture of desire that floods his vein and keeps his eyes trained on you, and your eyes on his are the hints of a drug he wonders if he could get addicted to, should you ever offer to him a taste of you.

but, oh. tobio's mind screams to a sudden halt as, just for one second, your eyes flutter away from his. it's one, minute second, but it's enough for doubt to come rushing back to his mind on crashing ocean waves beneath the pull of the full moon. why should you ever give thought to someone like him, when there are those here within the very same room whose eyes rever your figure as a goddess? in the company of gods, why should you ever find interest in a mortal man with mortal worries and mortal desires. you are, after all, aphrodite come to life — there's nothing that plain, uninteresting and entirely bland kageyama tobio can offer to you that could ever be worthy. he's certainly no hinata shoyo, who shines like the golden god apollo; he's no ushijima wakatoshi, whose presence alone demands respect under the powerful hand of the war god, ares. he can't embody the spirit of dionysus in the way that miya atsumu rejoices on righteousness and fruitful rewards, his strength should pale in the face of bokuto koutaro, whose spikes sing the hymns written for heracles. in the end, kageyama tobio is but a man and a mortal, a king whose throne could never give to the goddess aphrodite the riches she deserves.

"hey."

and then he hears your voice, and it's so much closer to him than the first time he'd heard you. his gaze travels from his intertwined hands and finds your exposed thighs standing right before him, and for a moment, tobio panics. his heart races on a million butterfly wings, fluttering between his lungs and filling up his throat so that he forgets how to breathe. what is he supposed to do? this is no volleyball game — he feels so out of his depth that he might as well be drowning. if he lets his eyes travel any higher, he'll be met right with the innocent pink panties you wear, and he's not entirely certain he'll be able to survive if he lets it happen—

he hears your laughter, melodic and sweet and gentle, and distantly it mortifies him that you find amusement in his momentary crisis. your fingers touch beneath his chin softly, and as a flower should gently unfold its petals, he allows you to ever so softly tilt his face upwards until his eyes meet yours.

"hey, hey— take it easy now, i won't bite." you coo as your thumb traces little circles right beneath his bottom lip, so close that he wonders if the tingling he feels is a hallucination. your eyes soften as if you behold something tender, as if tobio appears to you as a precious thing, to be cared for with adoration. he's left with a wonder, an awe for the sight of you leaning down to caress his skin with the back of your hand, and within his chest arises an unfamiliar flavour of yearning that he can't put a name to. beyond the encouraging hoots and cheers that mellow out beneath his teammates cheers, tobio searches his young heart for what the feeling could be.

"you seem a little distracted, sweetheart," you muse, curiosity on your tone as you tilt your head ever so slightly. there's the smell of honeyed strawberries that clouds his mind and makes it hard for poor tobio to think, his pants becoming a little tighter than he remembers them to be when his eyes flicker down to your chest. oh dear, oh dear— he's close to panicking once more at the sight of your breasts so close to his face, the material of your bra only doing so much to keep them from slipping out. his nerves fry on static as he flits his gaze back up to your face, wishing for nothing more than to sink beneath the leather sofa when he sees the amusement in your smile.

"uh—" is his unintelligible response. your smile widens and he wants to disappear. "sorry."

"oh, you're just too cute!" it's as if he can feel your laughter thrum beneath his skin, your proximity so positively maddening that tobio fears he may lose his mind to you. your hands come to rest on his shoulders and you ever so softly press your fingers down; he finds that there's a strange, foreign comfort in the notion that coaxes his aching muscles to relax. "you seem a bit tense... will you let me take care of you for a bit?"

take care of him...? tobio doesn't understand, and his confusion is told by the creasing of his brows, the way his lips slightly part in an unspoken question. what do you mean by that? he can't imagine how you could take care of him here in a private room, surrounded by his teammates whose cheers only got louder and more encouraging. ushijima's amused smile and shoyo's enthusiastic nods, they all provide him with no valuable answer, and he's so lost on your words until he looks back at you and find your eyes seeking for something — an answer to your question. you look to him for permission, and, ah. he reaches his epiphany with flushed cheeks and a stuttering heartbeat. he recognizes that there's a promise on your smile.

you want to give him a lap dance.

once more, tobio stutters, flustered beyond salvation as he flails for his words, though your eyes never once fall from his even as his teammates grow rowdier, atsumu's teasing calls of 'can i be next!?' filtering through your ears like a white noise. you're patient and gentle, and won't move without tobio's say so — there's something within that lone motion that brings to his stomach a different kind of butterflies, that leaves him breathless and teaches him a yearning for the air that is you. within this moment, tobio wants you so terribly, and all he can do to show it is to nod his head once. when you gift him another smile, he understands that it's enough.

his teammates cheer him on, but it all filters through his mind just as the heavy baseline passes through his lungs and sets fire to his skin. perhaps, he considers distantly, the burning he feels is from your touch, from the way your fingers dance along his neck as your knees press down on either side of him. your face is so close to his that he feels your chilled breath against his cheek: it warms him in a way he's never before experienced. and your eyes, they gaze at him with something that he recognizes, something that glistens behind your lashes as the rhinestones that wrap around your neck, and it's a startling moment of clarity that tobio realizes that it's lust that you see. you're showing to him the very same lust and desire that consumes him as you grind your hips against his — you breathe against his neck the same wanting, the same sin that consumes him as his hands reach experimentally for your hips, approval dancing in your gaze as you allow him to guide you.

"that's it, sweetheart..." you purr into his ear — with the way his mind clouds, the pleasure that skyrockets through his veins, your voice is all he's able to focus on, your praise his tether to the earth. "you're doing a good job."

he wonders if your lipstick will leave pretty marks along his neck, to provide him a reminder of the fluttering kisses you press into his skin, along his jaw and beneath his chin. he wonders if your words will leave behind tattoos, your touch, marks — you, an afterimage of this blessing you give to him.

"does it feel good?"

"yes..." his response comes on breathlessness, desperation that leaves him breathless as he cranes his neck to give your lips more access. "so good..."

"mhm?" you hum, and, heavens, the way you grind down on his aching cock is so dangerously delicious, he feels as if he may fall apart right there beneath you. almost as if in warning, his fingers dig a little deeper into your bare skin, and he fights the urge to loop them between the bands that sit snugly atop your hip. a shiver runs down his spine when you blow ever so slightly on the shell of his ear. "tell me how good you feel, sweetheart."

tobio's absolutely mortified when a low groan slips past his lips, but his terror only lasts so long when your eyes glance up towards him, and the untethered lust that he sees alight in them locks around his neck and ceases his breath. in your eyes, he finds ruin and promise of desires forbidden: to show to him pleasures that only aphrodite herself could ever gift to man and god. he sees in your eyes a want for excitement, for sex — a desire for him.

"don't turn shy on me now, baby," your words pull him back to surface he'd disappeared beneath, the slow drag of your crotch pulling so tantalizingly along his aching erection. he follows your guide as you cup his cheeks, absolutely helpless to your gaze that kind him in place and your lips that tease his by the corners. what will it be like, he wonders, if he turns his head to the side? if he should meet her lips on a want that invades his blood and lights him on fire? does she taste like the honey-strawberry that he smells on her? would her lips be as soft as her touches?

"more—" he hardly registers the gasp that leaves his lips, the single word escaping him before he can think to stop it. there's greed and hunger on his mortal heart, his body flushed under infernal fire and sin, but gods be damned, he can't bring himself to care. to aphrodite, he'll give himself, his heart to be offered on a silver platter, his mortal body to be used for her pleasure, if only she'll keep him here by her side. "more..."

he feels your hips come to a slow stop, where your warmth encompasses his lap and he feels his cock twitch against you when you pull back to look into his eyes. he's so far gone, he can't properly understand the smile that crawls across your lips, red paint smudged and your chest rising and falling deeply. you take in his image — midnight hair tussled by your fingers, your lipstick stained all along his neck and his jaw: his eyes half lidded with lust and his breathing ragged. his mouth that hangs open ever so slightly as he leans forward, almost pleading for you to devour him and ruin him for what he's worth. his hands on your hip that urge you to move, his cock that presses flushed against your heat, all of this and more entices you on wicked intentions, and within your chest blooms destruction.

so for now, you give him what he wants.

tobio feels the room spin when you dip your head down and press your lips to his, your hands cupping his head on either side all that keeps him from falling apart right then and there. he inhales the taste of you, pushing himself closer, ever wanting for more, more, more— he learns on this night the flavour of your drug and grows so addicted that, when you pull away, he immediately chases after you.

"ah ah ah," but your finger against his lips stops him in his tracks, and you can't help but laugh at the slight pout that takes on his expression. "we can't get too greedy, sweetheart... we only have so much time, after all." you sigh, and with your forehead pressed against his, your slightly laboured breath misting against his swollen lips as you gently run your thumb over them, you realize that you're wanting for more from him as well. this man who would so readily give himself to you, his taste of blueberries ignites an interest, a sort of morbid curiosity as you wonder to what extent you could possibly bring him.

"i have to go now, alright?" tobio almost whimpers pathetically at your words, and you console him with a soft coo and gently leaning down to press one last kiss to his lips.

"come see me again, though. just you next time, hm?"

the words you whisper against his lips has his interest peeking, his eyes holding an almost puppy-like wonder as you lean back with your hands pressed against his chest. "would that..." he hesitates to ask, ever so mindful of his teammates who'd been attentively watching the exchange. "would that be okay?"

"of course, sweetheart." you hum, and tobio melts under the way your palms run soothingly across his chest. "i'll be all yours then, alright? i promise."

when he enters his apartment that night, it's with the remnants of you burning hot against his skin. the teasing pats on his back from atsumu and bokuto, the quiet concern that lays beneath aran's and kiyoomi's smiles, it all melts away under the memory of your body against his, of the touches and kisses that remain even after your lipstick washes away beneath the running shower. the cool feel of the tiles pressed against his back does so little to keep away the heat that very well near consumes him as he throws his head back, his hand wrapped around his cock as he clings on to the memory of your body, your kiss, you. he strokes himself slowly, in time to the way you rolled your hips into his, soft pants and moans echoing off the bathroom walls as he dreams of more, of your own hands replacing his, your lipstick painting his cock, of your mouth swallowing him as far as you could take him—

"nngh—!"

soft pants fill the air as he works at himself, fantasizing about how your lips might feel on his stomach, how you might litter pretty little marks between the crook of his thighs. he envisions your tongue licking along his shaft, the smiles you gave to him that night would tell of false innocence as you looked up at him from down on your knees. and when he thinks of the way you would finally, finally— after having teased him so long, wrap your mouth around his tip, he loses himself entirely. a loud curse escapes him on a broken moan as he cums into his hand, his hips stuttering and his legs shaking from the force of his ecstasy. he feels so good, so good, so good, his chest heaving as his hand only barely slows down its motions. he imagines the way mess he'd make all over your red lips, he envisions his cum running down your chin as you scoop it up into your hands and swallow what you can, and he can't stop his eyes from rolling back into his head as waves of pleasure shoot right down his spine and leave him gasping.

this is the first night that kageyama tobio masturbates to the thought of you; the first instance in which he loses his control on the sinful ecstasy that he sees hidden beneath your smiles. even in your absence, you continue to drive him mad, as if you are a liquor made of fire that should burn through his soul. the gentle caresses you left on his cheek gifts him with waking dreams of you, with desires of time spent longer, to be taken care of you once more — lovingly, just as you'd done that night with your patient words and your kind whispers. to be desired by a god, he'd learned that sweet honour if only for a moment, and now that he's had a taste, he looks for more.

yet, something still holds him back.

not for the first time in his life, kageyama tobio wishes that he wouldn't worry so much. the ringing nodes of his fears and anxiety tell so evidently in the way he spins the volleyball between his palms during practice, in the way his focus seems ever so skewed during cool down stretches. the single decision to visit you once more or not — it's so much heavier, so much more daunting than he'd imagine it to be. would he dare walk into olympus and call out your name, to kneel before your alter and seek out your touch? you'd invited him, yes. told him to come alone, sure. but tobio, he has its doubts and he fidgets in place — could he ever be worthy of your attention this way? surely, he couldn't have been so special. perhaps it was only by chance why you came to him that night, rather than another one of his teammates, and perhaps it was only through that chance that he could even dream of this opportunity.

and, he considers. if it's only through mortal luck that he has this blessing, shouldn't he go through with it?

his desire for you finds for him the courage he needs, leads him right into your domain where he waits with baited breath. this dimmed room, it's much smaller than the one he'd visited before with his teammates. the couch so much smaller and the space between the pole table and where he sits far less than what he remembers. and just like before, you dance before him, only this time, he's your only audience, and you keep your eyes trained on him and him alone as your body turns and spins.

"it's good to see you again, sweetheart."

your voice pulls him in on baited breath when you speak to him, your smile kind and indulgent as you slide down the pole. your legs are spread wide, your hands locked above your head as you show to him the deep blue set you wore specially for him, and you feel pride swell in your chest as you watch his eyes of the same shade taking in every bit of you. "i've been thinking about you, you know?"

he forces himself to swallow, his breath hitched inside his throat as he watches you turn to show him your ass. your eyes trained on him as your manicured nails gently trace over your brown skin make it hard for him to find his words, and it's all he can do to take a deep breath, if only to distract himself from the feeling of his cock twitching beneath his clothes. "you... you have?"

"mhm," your response comes on a teasing hum. "you were so adorable the last time we met... so good for me."

his chest soars on your praise and takes him to the skies.

"i was a little disappointed that we couldn't spend more time together," you muse, though now, he can't find a hint of that disappointment in your smile, not a trace of it to be seen in the way your eyes glint beneath the dimmed lights. tobio finds that his heart sings with an anticipation he's learned to associate only with you, his stuttering breath turned obedient to await your command to fill his lungs with you. when your fingers beckon him forward, he becomes nothing more than a snake that would dance to the tune of a charmer, so utterly mesmerized by your melody as you gently take his hand and guide him to your stage.

you push his back softly against the pole and push your body up against his, your breasts against his chest and one of your legs settling between his sends his heart racing beneath your palm. "tell me, tobio," the way his name slips from your tongue is like a sweet, sweet poison that floods his system with burning ice. "have you been thinking of me too?"

beneath your palm, his heartbeat thrums violently, and he sees it in your eyes the moment you find your answer. you know he has, he knows that you know. yet you're not kind enough to take this as your response. you lift your hand to his cheek and gently trace your thumb against his skin, letting your eyes wander to his lips before fluttering back to meet his misty gaze. "hm?"

"yes..." he whispers, and his word is so quiet that he fears you may not have heard him. "yes... i've thought about you..."

you exhale, and tobio swears he can taste a phantom of you against his tongue as your breath frosts against his skin. you're so close to him like this, you fill up his space and rewrite his universe, the stars and the moon that pales in comparison to you as you trace your thumb beneath his bottom lip. he feels as if he might collapse.

"mhm?" your voice lilts, "what have you been thinking about with me, sweetheart? won't you tell me?"

somewhere beneath his ecstasy, tobio remembers embarrassment, his blood rushing to his face as he reminisces on the nights he'd spent moaning your name. all those lewd pictures he'd dreamt of, all the things he'd been wanting to do to you, they all come bubbling behind his lips and spilling out on your sweet coaxing.

"i... i thought about the way you rode me..." he confesses his sin before you, though it isn't remorse he feels. with your hand sliding down his chest and his stomach, he gets high on lust and casts aside his inhibitions.

a moan gets caught in his throat as your hand ghosts over his erection, and you watch the way he bites his bottom lip with star-dusted eyes. "what else?"

"it... it wasn't like before..." god, it's so hard to think, to focus, to speak with his head spinning, his lungs filled with you. the feeling of your fingers that trace over the shape of his cock with feathered touches, of your breath that dances across his lips on phantom memories of a kiss lined with liquor, it all makes it impossible for him to put his fantasies into words.

"no?" the single word is so deviously innocent, obliviousness a false play as you cock your head to the side. "what was different?"

and tobio wants to tell you, he really does, but it all escapes him on a single, breathless moan pouring out from his lips as you apply pressure between his legs. he can't help the way his eyes squeeze shut, the way his hip bucks up to meet your touch and you smile, drinking in the sight of his expression.

"i think it'd be much better for you to show me, sweetheart."

blue irises flutter out to meet your gaze, an invitation lighting under muted red lights just as it did on the first night he met you. just like then, you ask him for permission — for his go-ahead before indulging in pleasures he could only ever idealize. just like then, you won't go any further until he says it's okay.

tobio doesn't need much time to make his decision.

as soon as he eagerly nods his head, you smile and take hold of his hand. his body gravitates towards you like a magnet, as the moon would be pulled toward the earth when you gently guide him from off the stage. he follows your lead like an obedient puppy, falling into the sofa while you come to settle on top of him — the sight of you straddling him like this, it brings with it a sense of deja vu that feels unreal, and he worries that this is but another wild dream that he'll surely wake up from. he worries that you're a delusion conjured by his unholiest fantasies, and that perhaps this would be a cruel punishment for the daydreams he's had of you. desperately, with an aching heart and pleas that pour out of his chest, he prays to olympus that he won't awake from this dream. that you won't disappear, that the image of you, the feel of you, that you won't vanish on wisps of smoke and leave him without.

don't go, he begs with the fingers that grasp at your hips: don't go, it rises from his lungs on the grunts and sighs he gives to you on offerings. stay, his heart beats on staccatos that rise and fall with laboured breath, and the heat of you pours into him through the aftertaste of smoke: stay, stay, stay.

your hands come to cup his cheeks, and tobio's eyes behold you as he would the sun. your smile is just as warm, ever so tender, and sweet, and so, so kind, and the vision of you lights his veins with gold and glory, teaches him of reverence and worship worthy of you. he inhales and finds himself consumed by a sudden stillness, where his world spins and he reaches a single understanding. you are real — the warmth of your body pressed against his, your hands that cradle his face and the smile on your lips, it's real. you won't leave him, you won't vanish. he's holding you and you're holding him, and — if only for this one night — you belong to him.

“tell me about the way i rode you.”

he shivers under the warmth of your breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he recalls the memory of his dreams. “your hands…” he reaches for them settled on his chest and guide them slowly, sliding down his torso until they came to settle by the hem of his top. “you were touching me all over, sliding them beneath my shirt… playing with me however you wanted.”

you hum curiously as your tongue traces along his neck, your fingers sneaking beneath his button-up to trace little circles against his skin. “like this, sweetheart?”

tingles run up his spine as you press light kisses against his collarbone and tobio breathes heavily, chest heaving as an almost whimper lodged between his pursed lips. “yes… yes, just like that…”

deft hands work to unbutton his shirt, your motions so painfully slow that tobio feels as if he could jump right out of his skin. when the final button opens up, you allow your lips to mark the new territory as your fingers explore the terrain. you pull away to look into his eyes, and the smile you give to him is that of a temptress. “what else did you think of?”

the hands that would set the ball with such certainty and unwavering confidence, they tremble as they reach for yours once more, pulling them lower until your fingers brush against his pants. “you…” he forces himself to hold your eyes despite the way his voice wagers ever so slightly. “you took out my cock… and… and you gave me a handjob…”

“oh?” your voice lilts pleasantly as your brow raises, a little surprised that he managed to say something like that. “is that right?”

tobio turns bashful with a helpless pout, his gaze averting to look anywhere else but at your amused expression. isn’t it your fault he’s had those thoughts? despite his bratty attitude, he manages to nod his head once rather than verbally affirm, but for you, it’s answer enough.

“well then… let’s make those thoughts a reality, why don’t we?”

cold shock runs through his veins the moment your words settle in, and his eyes turn wide as he feels your hands working at his belt. it’s all as if it happens in slow motion as you pull at the waistband, taking it lower and lower until his hardened cock springs up from its confines, a wince touching his brow as the chilled air hits him.

“you’re already so hard…” there’s surprise on your whisper as you take him in, entirely in awe of his dick. it was certainly pretty, thicker than you’d expected it to be with his pink tip leaking precum. when your gaze flickers back to his face, you find him watching you with nervous anticipation, his bottom lip worrying between his teeth and his brows furrowed together. you can’t help but find the sight of him endearing like this and you chuckle breathlessly, cooing as you reach up to cup his cheeks and lean your forehead against his.

“had you wanted me this badly, tobio?”

his shaky breath touches your lips as your hands reach to cup his pecks, and a loud gently squeezing them as you press your crotch right over his dick. the pressure he feels is so different to what he remembers now that there were less clothes between you and him, your heat pressed up directly against him and doing very little to alleviate his lust.

“c’mon, sweetheart…” you purr, dragging your nails along his toned body before pinching one of his nipples between your fingers. tobio jumps at the sensation, hissing loudly as his body jerks forward, almost as if caving beneath your touch. “you can’t hold out on me now.”

“please— please i need you…” from behind his lashes, he sees you smile before you duck down to press kisses along his jawline, your hips slowly pulling along his length and causing him to let out a trembling groan. “o-oh.. fuck.”

he gasps when he feels your teeth nip at his skin, sucking a new bruise as you moan softly. “gods, tobio… the things i’ve wanted to do to you,” your words against his neck fill his minds with sin, the thought that you’d dreamt of him just as he had of you, it’s almost too much for him. you lift your hip a bit, sliding your hand between your bodies and taking hold of tobio’s cock.

“nngh—!” his hips buck immediately under your touch, desperately seeking more from you. his eyes screwed shut and his lips opened to let loose obscene noises, you can’t help the heat that pools between your own legs, almost certainly ruining your panties with your slick.

you work slowly at his dick, tugging and pulling while his hips buck with each motion you make, his tip hitting your bare stomach and smearing precum all over your skin. all his moans flow freely from his mouth, tears lining his lashes as he peers at you with a plea on his lips.

“kiss me…”

the words are whispered on desperation, a prayer that clouds your mind and pulls you into action. when your lips meet tobio’s, hunger and lust surges through you and pulls you deeper than you could ever hope to resurface from as your tongue slips into his open mouth, his cock twitching in your hold and a dirty moan filling your lungs. he breathes you in and you devour him, taking from him all that he’s willing to give and more as you bring him closer and closer to the edge.

a string of saliva connects your lips when you pull apart, dribbling down between your breasts and cooling against your skin. “let me make you cum, tobio,” the gasp that envelops your words is otherworldly, an almost plea to your tone that throws him in for a loop. “please.”

please. you’re begging for him to cum, and the thought alone was enough to finish him off as thick, warm spurts of his cum shoots out of his cock. “aaahhh—! fuck, nngh!” he groans loudly, his hips jutting without his will as it all spills across your fingers and your stomach. his broad chest heaves with uneven breaths, each drag of air shooting straight to his dick as you continue pumping him slowly, the sounds of his slick filling the room over his low whimpers.

his cum slips down your hand as you lift it to your lips, and you lock your eyes with his as you take your fingers into your mouth, sucking off the mess he’d made of them.

“how was that, sweetheart?” you’re a little breathless as your fingers slip from your mouth, chest heaving as if you’re coming down from your own high. the thought that you’d liked touching him so much fills his mind with fog. “did i make you feel good?”

instead of answering immediately, tobio leans in and pulls you into a kiss, overtaken by greed and hunger and selfish desire after having a taste of you. there’s the lingering musk of his cum on your tongue and he groans into your mouth, drinking in what spills out from you before pulling away for air. “yes…” he breathes against your swollen lips— your lipstick smudges beneath your chin, and he’s positive you’ve left a mess all over him as well. “yes… that felt so fucking good.”

your smile widens as you chase after his lips once more. “i’m glad i could.”

“but what about you?” you’re beginning to recognize the familiar push of his bottom lips, and you find your heart melting as he leans his forehead against yours, concern in his blue eyes. “i dreamt about making you feel good, too…”

“you did make me feel good, sweetheart,” you tell him, though he adamantly shakes his head in a motion you find terribly cute.

“not like that — that’s not what i mean.” he insists as his thumb rubs circles into your hips. “i was touching you, kissing you…” red flushes across his cheeks, and for a moment, his eyes fall away from yours. “doing… other things to you…”

you smile sweetly, ducking your head to peck his lips so that he would meet your gaze. “we could always find time for those things and more…” you hum, and the promise on your tone pulls tobio’s heartstrings with a hope he almost feels too fearful to let himself feel. “right?”

are you… are you saying what he thinks you’re saying? his eyes search yours, his excitement and innocent prayers all revealed in his awe-struck expression as he watches your smile turn into a wide grin. “can we??” gosh, he should be ashamed at his eagerness, though he can’t find it within himself to worry about it as you laugh and cup his cheeks between your palms, a notion he begins to discover he enjoys very much.

“if you’ll let me?” you ask, and he wonders if he imagines the slight waver on your tone, a fear that teases his memory on an almost alien familiarity. alien, abstract and strange, because never in a million years would he ever imagine such uncertainty to be found in you. and yet, as he watches you purse your lips, your eyes watching for any sign of a possible rejection, tobio finds his chest soaring on the realization that maybe, just maybe, his goddess found something in him that she desires.

kissing your lips once more, he lets his hands mirror your actions and cups your cheeks, and indulges in the bright smile that plays across your face when he smiles at you. “yes.” the mortal king vows, and the way your expression lights up so joyfully causes his own smile to grow.

#kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x reader #kageyama x reader smut #kageyama tobio x reader smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! x reader smut #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x reader imagine #kageyama x female reader #kageyama x you #kageyama tobio x you #kageyama x y/n #kageyama tobio x y/n #univer.se #rosé;

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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 3 years

Text

We Met Within This Screen [chapt. 7]

[Donnie x reader]

chapter 6 here

"Nothing gets past me, especially not you and your nervous habits, Donatello," Splinter's voice bounced around Donnie's head.

The brothers all looked at each other incredulously, Donnie's anxiousness replaced by complete bafflement. Everyone was wondering the same thing: How did he know?

"You wonder how I knew," Splinter said pointedly, "as if you four are any good at keeping a secret."

They waited for him to go on, but instead there was another uncomfortable pause, Splinter assumedly expecting them to say something. It was Mikey who finally broke the silence. "Are you gonna, like...tell us what we did wrong? How you knew? So next you can't—"

Splinter scoffed and brought his staff down on the youngest's foot. Mikey yelped, bouncing away on one leg. "Teach you how to lie? I have taught you many skills, but one that will always elude you is how to keep something from me. Parents have a sixth sense, you know." He turned to Donnie, regarding the rest of them with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You three, to your rooms. Come to the dojo with me, Donatello."

The three were quick to scatter, Mikey whining into Raph's ear about being sent to their rooms so early, and Raph huffing that he'd been dragged in too.

Swallowing, Donnie followed behind him a few paces, not sure what to expect but nervous all the same. He was lead in and instructed to sit down on the floor, Splinter settling down in front of him. Donnie's fingers brushed along the ridges of the knuckles of his other hand again and again as he tried to find something to occupy them with.

Resting his palms in his hands, Splinter began to talk, voice less harsh than Donnie had anticipated. "I know that we lead a very isolated life, my son. But you must keep your priorities in perspective. You four need each other, and betraying one another's trust does not help that case."

"I'm sorry, Master Splinter," Donnie apologized and hung his head.

"Perhaps you should apologize to your brothers, just as they should to you."

I did put them on the spot, especially Leo, thought Donnie, considering now that he had put him and Raph in a weird position. They had to choose between ratting on him to Splinter and keeping it under wraps for the sake of not stirring up the pot needlessly. As much as Leo was a stickler for the rules, he didn't want to create dissension between him and Donnie. So, they chose the latter option, and now all four were in trouble with their father.

"Okay. I guess...but, Master Splinter, how did you know?"

"About your secret antics?"

Donnie let out a humorless chortle, feeling a twinge of embarrassment that he had actually thought at some point, he was getting away with anything. "Yeah, it...it wasn't very much of a secret."

Stroking his chin, Splinter plainly said, "It was only a suspicion, until you confirmed it."

That night a few weeks ago when Splinter came to him in his lab. The way he squeaked when he was confronted just prior to them going to talk alone. Why didn't I think of that? It was a classic trick, one their father had deployed quite a few times on them. He'd been baited into giving himself away. None of them could tell when he was bluffing or if he actually knew. Save for Leo, who managed only twice in their time to make heads or tails of it.

"I really walked right into that one," Donnie whimpered under his breath, palms pressing down on his knees.

"You did. But," his tone turned more serious, looking him dead in the eye, "you must fix your mistakes, son."

"How?" asked Donnie softly, searching for his father's guidance, but it would find no purchase. He was hard pressed to find a solution immediately.

Splinter shut his eyes and thought. It was a tricky situation, indeed. He gathered that if anything, this was an excellent lesson for Donnie, as well as the others. Under his own supervision, of course; there wasn't room for any more blundering.

Standing up, he placed his staff under his hand. "I trust that you will find a way. You have a brilliant mind, Donatello. Use it well," he told him, and went to leave the training room.

Donnie was still sat on the floor contemplating Splinter's words, honored yet uneasy at the same time that he was being entrusted to fix things. How, he didn't know. Truly. He was at war with himself trying to balance his logic with his emotions, trying to make the two meet gracefully, but it felt impossible. Whichever road he chose, it was a betrayal to the other. One left behind while the other took the wheel. And thoughtlessly, he blurted out, "What if your heart is telling you something completely different, Sensei? What if everything feels contradictory, and—and like there's no right answer, even though you do have this mind, you just can't seem to…"

Donnie's voice tapered. Slightly surprised, Splinter stopped in his tracks, brows high as he looked back at him, who was so clearly riddled with a deeper kind of conflict. Critically discouraged, but still the sliver of will in those eyes of his. His heart went out to him.

Splinter had known that Donnie was interacting with a human. What he hadn't known was that he was in love with the human.

There was a moment of understanding, and Splinter realized that Donnie could not do this on his own. It reminded him of the times the turtles had all been children, the way Donnie looked to him for wisdom as he grappled with himself. Sighing, Splinter sat back down, this time close to him. Donnie was despondent, reverting to staring at the edge of the mat he sat on. "I know your struggles, my son. It seems like there's a sacrifice no matter what you choose, does it not?"

"I don't want to let you guys down. But, I...you know, I'm sorry, Master Splinter, but you don't understand."

He didn't want to say bluntly that he wanted to think of himself and his needs, unlike usual. He knew Splinter would probably not approve of that. None of them had much of a chance to make a selfish decision, aside from everyday things such tucking into the pizza before it even made it back to the Lair. So far, the number of times he could recall making a consequential choice for the sole purpose of indulging himself, was an astounding zero.

"What makes you think I would not understand?" questioned Splinter, and Donnie regretted that he'd said it. He didn't miss how Donnie looked to be becoming mildly sour (among other things), though not at him specifically.

It was then Donnie clammed up, shut down the conversation, he was not going to say it. "It" being what he assumed Splinter wasn't privy to, that he had undoubtedly fallen hard for his friend. But knowing his father, he could totally have had a clue. Splinter didn't always need the details to make an assessment when it came to his sons, whom he knew all too well.

Letting out a crestfallen huff, Donnie rested his chin on his knee, arm obstructing the better half of his face. "It doesn't matter," he mumbled.

Splinter stayed quiet. He didn't want to drive Donnie off—not when he was in such a turmoil. The atmosphere changed to a cold one. Donnie didn't acknowledge him until he put his hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze and saying, "I will tell you again: I trust that you will figure it out."

What if I make the wrong decision?

"For all of our sakes, I hope you're right, Sensei," Donnie responded. Splinter smiled and got up, prepared to leave the matter at that until any further updates. Until the phone in Donnie's back pocket began to vibrate out of the blue. He wanted to answer, but what, at that point? What should he say?

A minute went by of more persistent vibrating, and Splinter's ear twitched, certain he knew who it was. He was disappointed with the carelessness that had brought them to that moment, but what was done was done. None knew if the girl had any suspicions. "Are you going to answer it?" he asked, sort of prompting him to pick the phone up.

"May I?" Donnie thought he might have sounded a little eager.

Splinter let out a calm hum and motioned for him to do it. Donnie lifted his finger to press accept, but Splinter interrupted firmly, "Speaker, Donatello."

Eyes flitting to Splinter, he accepted the call and reluctantly turned on the speaker.

"Bo, what was all of that earlier, dude? You had me worried sick!" spoke [y/n], more concerned than angry (which Donnie was somewhat relieved about), but he sunk down sheepishly upon seeing the look on his father's face. He gave Donnie a questionable glance at the word "Bo", as he wasn't aware of the details. Donnie wasn't about to correct her right now.

"I–...hey, [y/n]," he said, forcing himself to turn to the side so he wouldn't have to look at Splinter. The eyes on him made him feel put off to the point he couldn't focus on her voice, but the fact that Splinter was right there, listening in, and both were fixing to find out just what kind of mess they had on their hands. "Believe me when I tell you, you don't want to get caught up in this," he told her, "I can't—"

"Listen," she started, exasperated, "I've heard it before. 'I can't tell you this', and 'I can't tell you that'," she went on, "Be honest with me, Bo; is it that you can't or you just won't?"

Splinter's thoughts were undetermined. Donnie couldn't read anything from his stoic expression.

"It's not that I won't," he rebutted, pitch going up involuntarily, "Why won't you listen to me when I say I can't?"

"Because there's something going on, with you, and I know my eyes weren't just playing tricks on me. I saw something crazy—I heard it, too, when I called you the other day!"

I am so dead. Donnie's stomach did a flip. He couldn't face his father, but behind him, Splinter placed his hand on his face, covering his eyes. He shot Donnie an intimidating glance, and Donnie waved his hands nervously, listening to her go on as he backed up. Pivoting around from the jabs sent to his side by Splinter's staff, he jumped away with his comically long stride, trying to avoid the onslaught while juggling the phone. He muffled a grunf of pain when the cane managed to whack his head.

"Hold on!" he said, and Splinter stopped and narrowed his eyes, the voice on the other end of the phone also going silent. Donnie couldn't regain his composure while being chased around the dojo, so he finally was able to sputter out, "W-what did you see?"

"I was on the balcony, 'Don'. I heard your voice on the phone and saying the same thing from the roof, and saw two giant...turtles! With weapons, fighting what looked like ninjas?! What even is this?" she yelled.

She'd put two and two together. There was no fixing.

Only acceptance.

Blinking, Donnie nearly dropped the phone. Splinter shut his eyes, slowly shook his head, and turned around. The sound of his cane tapping the floor as he walked was the only thing he could hear after he tuned out the speaker.

He was now alone in the dojo, under the light that streamed through the grate above him, standing in the hush.

He turned the speaker off. She, on the other end, was quiet, too, in disbelief. And probably rightfully feeling betrayed, in a way, Donnie thought. The friend she'd come to care for so much turned out to be someone she couldn't have even imagined.

Licking his lips, he put on the most level tone he could and said in a struggle, "You can't tell anyone. I-if you say something, I'll... we'll…"

I could never threaten you, [y/n].

"You'll what?" she asked, voice low.

Then, all the could hear was her breathing. The dojo was completely quiet, the room was large, and there he was, in the middle. Donnie liked smaller spaces. Darker spaces, like his lab. He felt exposed in that moment, even when no one could see him.

"Be in danger," he said in earnest.

There was some rustling, then the sound of wind on her end. He barely heard a sliding door shut.

"Come here," she told him firmly.

His eyes went wide. "What?" he questioned, stupefied.

She sighed, "No more lying, Bo—Don—I don't know. If what we have really matters to you…"

A mix of emotions swirled in him as he waited for her words. She hesitated.

"I'll come," he whispered, finishing her sentence.

"You'll come."

Blowing a breath out from between his lips, and nodded. Sorry, Master Splinter.

He snuck through the Lair to the exit of the sewers.

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