Reader:F Character:Tobio Kageyama Rating:E Summary: As you reached, your boyfriend pulled down the front of your tank top and started to suck on your nipples. His warm mouth against your skin. You gasped and recoiled back to your side of the bed but he followed you. Warning:Breast Worship, Nipple Play, Creampie, Minor Breeding Kink, Smut Ask Box: Open|Check Out ThreadytoGoDesign|Join me on Patreon
You were leaning over your boyfriend Kageyama. Your breasts in his face as you went over to grab his bottle of water to drink before bed because you forgot yours.
As you reached, your boyfriend pulled down the front of your tank top and started to suck on your nipples. His warm mouth against your skin. You gasped and recoiled back to your side of the bed but he followed you.
His lips still against your nipple, as he palmed the other one with his hand. He let out a small groan as his cock rubbed up against the front of your shorts. He pulled away for a second, noticing how raw you were getting, “I wish there was milk in here.” Then crowded your space and started to suck on your nipples even more as he rutted against you. His cock hard in his sweatpants.
“I wonder if you’re wet.” He asked quietly, “Do you enjoy the feeling of this?” He gave a hard thrust of his cock against you. He leaned up and kissed you on the lips, “Get on top of me so I can make them nice and raw.” Then got off of you to lie down beside you on the bed. He took off his t-shirt and bottoms and laid there naked while you got your tank top and shorts off.
You straddled his waist just above his cock and leaned in so he could put his mouth back on your soft, supple beasts. He teased the skin between his teeth which made you grow more wet as you moved back a little to seat yourself on his cock.
His cock opened you up in ways you never felt before. You gripped onto his bare chest and started to move up and down onto his cock. You were wet around him, a tight hole that he could fuck while he played with your nipples, moving back and forth between two in prominent lust.
Your cunt throbbed around him as you continued to move up and down on his cock slowly, letting pleasure wash over you as he bit and tugged gently at your nipples. Your hands on his chest as you rocked against him. His cock throbbed inside of you.
“I want no one else, only you. You’re mine. I mean it.” He groaned as he moved against you. His lips sucking on you, “I adore you.” He gave an open tongue lick against your sensitive, hard nipples.
“Fuck, Tobio.” You whined as you continued to rock against him. Your moans got louder the deeper he pushed into you. He held onto your hips while his mouth sloppily made out with your hard nipples. His cock ached inside of you, yearning for release.
“One day these are gonna be filled with milk and I’m going to have my fill.” He purred, his cock jolting inside of you. He held onto your hips to keep you anchored against his cock, your hole stretched to accommodate his length and size. He was already packing and the stretch always felt so good.
“No one has tits like you.” He said, “No one at all, and they’re all mine. My little dairy cow.” He purred.
You blushed and playfully smacked him, “Don’t be mean!”
“But your cunt seemed to like it. And I like when you struggle around my cock. Makes it all the more easier to stuff you.” He went back to sucking on your breast.
You continued to rock yourself up against him, feeling pleasure slowly creeping up on you. You gasped a little bit and moaned. His teeth on your nipple, his cock inside of you. It was a wonderful feeling.
“I know you like it.” He purred, “I know you do, because you’re my good girl. Everything you do I’m in love with, you’re mine.” His voice was low and primal, you were turned on by him.
How could you not be, he was your boyfriend who loved to play with your breasts. If anyone made you feel confident in them, it was him. He looked at you with those lusty eyes as you continued to ride him. His hard cock pushing against your most sensitive areas.
“Please Tobio. I love you.”
“And I love you, keep working those hips. C’mon.” His voice was a purr, on the verge of orgasm. His licks became rougher, he started to leave bites around your nipples, bruising your skin. Marking you as his.
He continued to buck his hips to meet your pace. You looked amazing getting lost in pleasure like this. His fingernails bit at your skin as he helped you move against him. His eyes rolled back a little as he felt the shivers of orgasm crawl up his spine.
It wasn’t long before you felt the overstimulated of your pussy and nipples. You gripped onto his shoulders, bouncing yourself on his cock while your nipples was in his mouth.
He tugged at your flesh with his teeth and groaned when he felt the tightness around his cock and the feeling of more sticky wetness against his cock. And with a soft moan, you came around his cock.
He grunted in response and came with you. Spurting cum deep inside of you with the promise of getting you pregnant. You’d look even better with milky breasts in a few months. He dropped his head onto the pillow, his mouth open and panting like an animal.
You dropped yourself onto his chest and panted. You felt his strong arms wrap around you tightly as he roll over to his side and took you with him. Protecting you with his strength, his cock softening inside of you. Holding all the cum inside.
He kissed under your ear and said lowly, “You’re mine. And only mine. You and your soft tits. I could suck on them all day. Next time.” He said even lower, his voice a growl, “I’m gonna make sure they get bigger.” And his hand traced down to your pussy that was sticky with your love making, “And that’s a promise.”
“Tobi.” You moaned as he kissed your neck. He had a fascination with your breasts and it was the type of fascination that wasn’t going anyway anytime. It’ll only grow with time.
+Bench presses three times your roundabout weight at the gym, records it (flexing afterwards with a smile on his face, as his shorts hang dangerously low on his hips and you swear you can see both his V lines and the beginning of his happy trail) and proudly shows it to you heavily hinting athow he can take the brunt of you riding his cock like an Amazon, while making sure to support you with his physical prowess and the strength, he certainly does not hide, of his shredded body so that your thighs do not burn, but instead slowly rock back and forth letting your walls clench around his thick length while he does all the work for you.
+ Bullshits that he knows how to deal with aphrodisiac ingredients, and that he is a pro in the kitchen, so he tries very hard to cook you a five course meal with recipes he found on the internet and that were even half decently made, but when it comes at the dessert, he says “I’d rather have you, as a dessert,” wanton and his eyes half lidded, because he might be a gentleman, as shown by the candle still burning in the middle of the table and the careful but elegant mise-En-place but he very much wants to lap and lick your pussy more than the passion fruit ice cream sitting in his freezer, looking into your eyes when you provide the only cream he actuallylikes.
+Tried to write verses of poetry for you and how he feels everytime that he sees you - which did not turn out very well, but he kept a rhyme and probably embarrassed himself reading them more than you did listening to them. However, as he makes a habit out of it, leaving you post-its or just simple scribbles of his ‘writing’, you find out that he also writes some other spicy ones (surprising better articulated) where he is sure you can’t see them and from which you get the idea that maybe he is very much into letting you give him head while he fingers you until you come on him and his leaking cock stuffs your throat, choking your moans.
a/n: i’m taking request btw :) my inbox is open. also, this is kinda long so grab your popcorn haha
oikawa
- oikawa is obsessed with you whether he wants to admit it or not
- which is wild because no one would’ve expected him to ever be more obsessed with anyone other than himself
- but here you are
- and he LOVES being around you
- just being in your presence makes him all giddy and smiley
-though he does try to compose himself whenever you guys are around his teammates but usually fails
- he’s not obsessed in a weird or creepy way, but just enough for you to know that he’s all about you and only you
- and you love it
- and of course oikawa’s obsession with you rings no surprise that he’s obsessed with being inside you
- as long as he’s close to his pretty y/n, he’s happy
the two of you had just finished a long and strenuous two rounds of sex and were more than ready for bed. but when oikawa got out of bed to get towels for the two of you to clean up with, you felt extremely empty. you were exhausted, that’s for sure. but a big part of you just wanted him filling you up again, even if nothing else happened. you pout, knowing that your attentive boyfriend would notice when he came back, which he did.
“hm, what’s wrong pretty girl?” he asks softly as he starts to gently clean his mess off of your stomach with a warm towel.
“i want you inside of me again.” you say in an almost whisper, a little embarrassed by the words that just left your mouth and he laughs lightly.
“you’re so cute.” he says as he tucks a piece of hair away from your face and gives you a kiss. “but i’m so tired.” he finishes, then plops down on the bed beside you, big spooning you.
“no, we don’t have to have sex again, i’m exhausted too. i just want you inside me.” you say shyly. you feel his dick twitch behind you and can’t help but smile a little, knowing you’re about to get what you want.
“oh, like cockwarming?” oikawa asks and you nod in response. “hm, ok. yeah, we can do that.” he smiles before kissing your forehead. he was already big spooning you so he was in the perfect position to just slip it in. he pulls down his shorts just enough so that his member could spring free, then pulls the panties that you were wearing under one of his shirts down just enough for him to have access to what he needed. he teases your folds with his tip a little bit, causing you to tense up. then he slowly pushes himself inside you, it not being too difficult with you still being wet from earlier. the two of you moan in unison, both sensitive from your previous interactions. once he’s fully in, he stays there and wraps his arm around your waist as he plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.
“does that feel good? is that ok?” he asks before pressing more soft kisses on your shoulder and your neck.
“it’s perfect.” you coo and he pulls you a little closer with the arm he had slung over your waist.
“goodnight princess.”
“goodnight oikawa.”
-you definitely have morning sex when you wake up
kageyama
- let’s be real here, he really doesn’t know what any kinks are
- he just learns what he likes and what he doesn’t like from you and waits for you to tell him if it’s a kink or not
- you end up having to tell him that basically anything sexual can be a kink after he keeps asking you “is that a kink?” every time you two do something new in bed
- you find his lack of knowledge on the subject adorable though, even though you constantly tease him about it
- he honestly just goes with the flow and follows your lead in terms of sexual things
- not that he’s the submissive one, you just know more about sex so sometimes you have to give him extra guidance
- he doesn’t mind it though, he wouldn’t wanna learn it from anyone else but you
- and you just so happened to teach him his new favorite kink
you two are making out on kageyama’s bed. it starts off innocent at first but slowly progresses into a messier and more heated kiss. you’re on top of him, tugging on his hair while he grips onto your hips. you begin slowly grinding against him causing him to moan softly into your mouth. his sounds were always so pretty and always instantly made your core pulse. you continue grinding on kageyama, giving both yourself and him pleasure. but it isn’t enough. in one swift motion he flips you over so now he’s the one on top. without detaching his lips from yours, he pulls his member out of his pants and lifts up the skirt you’re wearing then slowly pulls down your underwear, revealing your wet core.
“pretty.” he mumbles before licking a teasingly slow and soft stripe up your folds. you moan at the sensation and shut your eyes in pleasure. he continues to please you with his tongue before inserting two fingers into you. it hurts a bit more than usual but you shrug it off because the pleasure outweighs the pain. he continues with this for a few minutes more before he can’t take it anymore and positions himself at your entrance. he slowly begins pushing himself in, but as soon as he’s all the way in, you yelp in pain.
“ow ow ow! stop!” you groan, and kageyama does as told.
“what’s wrong? s-should i take it out?” he asks, concern laced in his voice.
“no no, keep it in just let me adjust to it.” you say. the day before, you and kageyama had some hardcore sex. you had unintentionally somewhat intentionally made him jealous so that he would punish you, and oh that he did. but your poor pussy was suffering the consequences.
“ok princess, i won’t move. just let me know when you’re ready.” he says softly and you smile at his sweetness. he starts kissing you again, this time more deep and passionate as opposed to the sloppy, heated kiss that got you here in the first place. you were slowly beginning to relax around your boyfriend while he was losing his mind trying not to bust inside of you. something about not moving but still being inside you, feeling you around him. the anticipation. it’s driving him crazy.
“oh no, i’m gonna cum.” he says shyly as he pulls away from the kiss and accidentally cums inside of you. he hides his face in the crook of your neck in embarrasment and you just giggle at him, as that isn’t the first time that’s happened.
“is, is that a kink? not doing anything, just being inside you? because i think i have that kink.” he mumbles into your shoulder.
“it is actually, it’s called cockwarming.” you say as you gently stroke his hair, trying to relax your still clearly embarrassed boyfriend.
“hm, well can we never do cockwarming again, that was embarrassing.” he sighs before finally removing his head from the crook of your neck and looking at you.
“i don’t think it was embarrassing baby, i thought it was cute. but if you don’t wanna do it again we don’t have to.” you reassure him and he blushes at your compliment.
“maybe we can do it again sometime then, but for now it’s time to get you cleaned up.” he says before picking you up over his shoulder and taking you to the bathroom.
kenma
- anyone who knows kenma knows that he is always preoccupied with video games
- whenever he’s playing, it’s fairly difficult to get his attention
- as his girlfriend, you’ve somewhat learned to accept this, even though you would like more attention from your boyfriend
- but you take what you can get, knowing that’s just how kenma is and you wouldn’t ever wanna change him
- but sometimes you get needy
- really needy
- and kenma isn’t always the best at reading that
- so you take it upon yourself to get the kind of attention you’re craving from your boyfriend
kenma doesn’t really get flustered too often. but when he does, oh anyone in a ten mile radius can tell. the first time you saw him really get flustered was when he gave you his hoodie while you were out on a date. it had gotten colder than you expected so he gave you his jacket to keep you warm, and as soon as you put it on, the boy went red. he couldn’t even form coherent sentences at first and you thought it was the most hilariously adorable thing ever. ever since that day, you’ve worn his clothes whenever you wanted his attention; hoodies, sweatshirts, t-shirts, you name it. today is one of those days. kenma has been gaming all day in some sort of tournament and you’re beginning to get frustrated because of how badly you’re craving his touch, so you pull out the big guns. you put on one of his favorite hoodies, one that you’ve never worn before, and head into his gaming room. he’s sitting is his gaming chair deep in concentration, shooting at someone and talking to who you assume is kuroo on his headset. he doesn’t even notice you at first until you come sit in his lap, your legs resting on either side of his as you lay your head on his shoulder.
“hi kitten.” he whispers away from his mic before placing a gentle kiss on your lips and you hum in response. you played with the hair at the nape of his neck for a little bit before your overwhelming feeling of neediness comes back. you lift your head from kenma’s shoulder, now somewhat blocking his view of his computer screen.
‘i want to feel you inside me’ you mouth to him. he hadn’t even realized what you were wearing until right then, and his cheeks blush bright red. he places a finger under your chin and uses it to pull you in for a kiss. “go for it.” he whispers to you as he pulls away, reverting his attention back to his game that he had forgotten about for a quick second. you easily slip his member out of the sweats he’s wearing and give it a few strokes to get him hard. you were wearing absolutely nothing under his hoodie in hopes that this would be the outcome, and when he notices that as he glances from you back to his computer screen every so often, he mumbles
“dirty little kitten, this is exactly what you wanted hm?”
“mhmm” you respond and he smiles.
you continue what you’re doing and position kenma’s tip at your hole before slowly sinking down on it. your breath hitches at the feeling of being filled up, while kenma clenches his eyes shut and bites his lip in order to hold back his moans. once he’s fully inside you, you lay your head on his shoulder again and just stay there.
“hm, that’s it? you just wanna cockwarm me?” kenma asks curiously.
“mhmm. just wanted to feel you inside me, that’s it.” you say sleepily, slowly drifting as you shut your eyes.
kenma can’t help but smile, “you’re adorable.” he says before planting a kiss on your cheek. you smile a small smile in return before dozing off on kenma’s shoulder, him still buried deep inside you.
every so often you would move around in your sleep and kenma would have to bite his lip to hold back a moan so the friends he was playing with wouldn’t hear, but it was worth the risk because he loves just being this close to you, and you do too.
sugawara
- suga’s high sex drive really surprised you when you two first started dating
- his kinkiness surprised you too
- you thought he would always be very gentle and vanilla
- but you were very mistaken
- not that you’re complaining though
- he’s always open to trying new things
- so when you bring up the topic of cockwarming, he’s intrigued
“is that something you wanna try bunny?” he asks after you finish explaining to him what exactly cockwarming is.
“we don’t have to if you don’t want to, i just think it’d be interesting to try.” you shrug
“i agree.” he says, before leaning over to start kissing your neck. that’s your weak spot, so you take this as suga saying he wants to try right now. the two of you are currently on the couch, in the middle of watching a romcom but clearly that romcom has been forgotten as suga continues to make little love bites on your neck. you lift his chin to kiss him because you know if you don’t stop him now, he’ll cover your whole body in hickies. the kiss is soft, but passionate and you can feel yourself quite literally melting into it. somehow you end up straddling suga, still lost in the kiss. you suddenly notice a pair of familiar fingers making their way down to your most sensitive area. he teases you, rubbing his fingers over your pajama shorts, knowing you’re getting needy because of the way you’re starting to softly moan into his mouth. he takes this as a sign of you wanting more and breaks away from the kiss so he can take off your shorts and your underwear, with a little bit of help from you. once your bottom half is completely naked, he grins and begins kissing you again. the sensation of your bare core against suga’s sweatpants was teasing you, so you began moving your hips to get some friction. suga moans a little at your sudden movements and you can feel him getting harder. he pushes you up off of him slightly so that he can pull his sweats down, them ending up just hanging around his ankles. now both of your bottom halves are naked, and you’re staring at each other in anticipation.
“sit on it bunny.” suga instructs and you follow his orders, sitting down on his length and feeling every inch against your walls. that feeling when he first inserts into you will never get old.
“mm, suga.” you moan. he instinctively thrusts after hearing your pretty noises, completely forgetting what you guys were supposed to be trying.
“no, don’t move.” you laugh at him and he blushes apologetically.
“sorry, i couldn’t help it. you’re just so pretty.” he apologizes and you melt.
“it’s ok suga, you’re adorable.” you smile. “i’m gonna turn around now, but keep you inside me and we’ll finish the movie just like this, yeah?” you say.
“yeah.” he nods in agreement. without pulling suga out of you, you turn so that you’re no longer straddling him but sitting in his lap with your back facing towards him, your face now facing the tv. you guys finish the rest of the movie exactly like this, you sitting on suga’s lap with his member deep inside of you and suga occasionally thrusting up into you just to get your reaction.
a/n: if you don’t know what this trend is, it’s basically just someone getting on their knees and acting like they’re about to give their partner head but not lol
- you and tsukishima have the kind of friendship that has everyone around you thinking you’re dating
- always teasing each other, play fighting, “fake” flirting
- it’s pretty obvious that you two have a thing for each other
- well pretty obvious to everyone but you two
- one day you invite him over to just hang out while your parents are away for a little
- he responds to your text with “the only way i’m coming over is if you give me head. wouldn’t come over otherwise.”
- and you respond with “obviously. why else would i ask?”
- that was the way you two joked with each other ALL the time
- some people think it’s strange, but it works for you guys which is all that matters
- although this time you wanted to mess with him extra
- he gets to your house within the next five minutes, the two of you living in walking distance of each other
- as soon as he rings the doorbell, you open the door, get on your knees, and tie your hair up
- and he FREAKS
- “Y/N!!! YOUR FRONT DOOR IS WIDE OPEN! EVERYONE CAN SEE!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” he yelps as he quickly enters your house and slams the door shut.
- you laugh hysterically at his reaction
- “you did not actually think i would suck you off in front of all my neighbors did you? my god tsukishima, that reaction was priceless.” you cackle
- he turns bright red and scoffs at you in return, crossing his arms in frustration
- “i’m sorry, i just saw the opportunity and took it.” you apologize
- “no that was good. i’ll admit, you got me.” he says throwing his hands up in defeat.
- “you? admitting defeat? hm, maybe i will actually give you head.”
- before he can respond, you’re on your knees again. and this time, it isn’t a joke.
kageyama
- you and kageyama have only been dating for all of one week
- a very fresh and new relationship where you are still getting to know each other
- you were at his house, laying on his chest as the two of you were sprawled out on his couch
- you were watching tiktoks on your phone while he was scrolling through twitter on his, when a video popped up on your for you page that gave you an idea
- kageyama is a bit awkward and gets flustered easily, whether he wants to admit it or not
- so you knew this little trick would be fun
- you wriggled yourself out of his embrace and got on your knees in front of him
- his eyes were glued on you, wondering what you were up to
- “what are you doing?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow
- he sits up so now you’re positioned perfectly in between his legs
- “what does it look like i’m doing?” you respond as you begin tying your hair back
- “i-i, i uh, i don’t know. that’s why i asked.” he stutters, already getting flustered.
- you place your hands on his legs before moving down, his breath hitching
- then you swiftly let go and look under the couch and pick up the dollar you had conveniently placed there for this prank
- “looking for this, duh.” you say, waving the dollar around
- “oh god.” he sighs before burying his face in his hands.
- “i can’t believe i fell for that.” he mumbles into his hands
- “should’ve seen how eager you looked.” you chuckle lightly
- he removes his face from his hands and reveals a very flushed and embarrassed looking kageyama
- “you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.” you tease
- “shut. up.” he groans
daichi
- you guys are at your house baking cookies
- you know, just cute couple things
- but you’re extremely clumsy
- so of course you accidentally drop the ball of dough you were rolling
- “shit!” you groan before bending down to pick up the dropped dough
- but as you were reaching for it, you got an idea
- you dropped down to your knees with daichi hovering above you
- “i can’t believe you really just dropped the whole ball of- oh?” daichi was laughing so hard at your clumsiness, he hadn’t even noticed your current position
- on your knees and looking up at him with what he called “sexy eyes” which are the eyes you give him whenever you want sexy time
- “oh yeah? so we’re doing that now? shouldn’t we finish the cookies first princess?” he says as he runs his fingers through your hair before lightly caressing the side of your face and lifting your chin up slightly
- that alone makes you want to forget the whole prank and give in, but you really want to see his reaction
- “yeah, that’s what i planned on doing?” you say as you pick up the fallen dough and stand up to go throw it away “why? what’d you think i was doing?” you finish
- daichi’s mouth goes agape in a small ‘o’ before he clenches it shut and frowns at you
- “oh, you’re gonna get punished for that later princess.” he huffs at you as he continues rolling balls of cookie dough
- “can’t wait.” you smirk
asahi
- asahi is always a giver in terms of sexual favors in your guys’ relationship
- he always makes sure to please you and make sure you feel good
- but whenever you return the favor, he gets all shy about it
- something about using your pretty little mouth is just overwhelmingly pleasurable for him
- and he’s embarrassed about how quickly it gets him off
- so it’s difficult to get him to allow you to even do it
- “asahi, pleaseee let me give you a blowjob.”
- “no baby, i don’t need one right now.”
- “but i wanna give you one.”
- “not today.”
- ‘not today,’ that’s how most of the conversations about this topic ended so you gave up trying for awhile
- until a tiktok sparked something in you that is
- you ask asahi to shower with you one morning and of course he says yes
- you guys start by actually showering
- you gently lather yourself using your loofa before “accidentally” dropping it
- you kneel to pick it up before being met face to face with asahi’s “special area”
- you look from him, to it, then back up to him again
- he’s watching you nervously, all of him wanting you to just take it despite how embarrassingly quick he knew he would finish
- but instead you just pick up the loofa and stand up, now looking at his normal head rather than his smaller one
- “oh.” he sighs before gulping lightly
- “what?” you ask
- “i though you were gonna-”
- “would you have let me?” you question
- “i would have actually.” he admits shyly
- “hm, let me continue then.” you smirk before going back down and glancing up at him
- he gives you a cute little smile before you do your deed
request: hcs sakusa, kageyama, and ushijima being needy and clingy for the first time that makes their girlfriend confused af please thank you ❤
a/n: i’m not sure if this person wanted their request to be nsfw or not and i couldn’t ask bc their account is deleted so i just went ahead and made it kinda nsfw lol.
kageyama
- kageyama very rarely initiates anything between you two
- he just waits for you to do it because he’s a bit awkward when it comes to showing affection
-doesn’t wanna embarrass himself :(
- he’ll kiss you if he notices you peeking at his lips or giving him any other little signs
- but he won’t typically kiss you just because he wants to
- you’re usually the more needy one who starts the cuddles, and the kisses
-the sex
- he’s just inexperienced with relationships so he looks to you for help
- and you don’t mind, you think it’s kind of cute how timid he is
- so when he actually shows you affection without you inducing it
- you’re just like ???
- you good?
- but also v happy, because come on
- needy kags
you’re minding your business, relaxing on the couch after an immensely eventful day while anticipating the arrival of your boyfriend who is on his way home from volleyball practice. all you need right now is a nice, long, tight hug from him. just to bury your face in his chest and melt into his embrace and you’re mentally preparing yourself to initiate that, knowing very well that isn’t something kageyama would willingly do himself. sometimes you wish he would. you wish he would just know when you want him to be affectionate without you having to show or tell him that’s what you need. but you can’t help who he is, and you wouldn’t ever want to change him. so you’re at peace with being the initiator.
you hear the gentle clicks of kageyama’s key unlocking the front door of your guys’ apartment and feel a rush of excitement fill your chest. though you’re so worn out from your day’s activities that you don’t leave your spot on the couch to greet him, but wait for him to come to you instead. as soon as he finds you in the living room he gives you a small smile before walking towards you.
“hi babe.” you smile as he gets closer. you expect him to sit on the opposite end of the couch like he usually does, and once he did that you would crawl over and place yourself in his arms the way you had planned. though, to your utter surprise, he steps out of his shoes and squeezes onto the couch beside you. he lays a little lower along your body so that his head rests on your chest and he wraps his arms around your waist. you don’t know exactly how to react so you just stare down at him wide-eyed and inquisitive. neither you nor him say anything for a little while before kageyama finally speaks.
“i missed you a lot today for some reason. like i always miss you when i’m away from you, but i don’t know. today was different.” he admits, his arms gripping a bit tighter around your torso. what a coincidental, yet pleasing turn of events. you thought you’d be the one with your head resting on kageyama’s chest as you hold him close, but here he is turning the tables.
“is something wrong? did something happen at practice?” a sudden rush of concern fills you at your boyfriend’s unusual behavior. he looks up at you, pulling his head out from your chest carrying an unreadable expression on his face.
“no, i just um…missed you.” he repeats. the pause in between his words lets you know there’s something more that he isn’t mentioning, and you’re determined to find out what it is.
“there’s something you’re not saying.” you frown at him and rather than responding, he moves up your body so that your faces are leveled. he looks you in the eyes before running a gentle hand through your hair and kissing you. his lips are soft, timid, just as they always are. but there’s something new behind this kiss, a sort of fervor that you’ve never quite experienced from kageyama. it throws you off, making you hot as you grow flustered. part of you wants to pull away and ask what’s going on, but the other part of you has always wanted kageyama to take the initiative like this, so you opt not to break the kiss. the kiss deepens to a point where you know there’s only one thing it can lead to, and when kageyama’s lips trail strenuously down to your neck, you pull away breathlessly with a raised eyebrow.
“tobio, what is up with you?” you ask softly.
“i told you, i missed you.”
“you’ve never missed me this much after just going to volleyball practice though.” you frown.
“no like, i reallymissedyou. certain parts of you. i couldn’t stop thinking about you, especially after yesterday.” he confesses and it finally clicks. he missed feeling you. you giggle a little at your realization causing kageyama to frown at you.
“why are you laughing?” he huffs, the furrow in his brows deepening.
“all you had to say is you’re feeling needy baby.” you smile, ruffling his hair playfully.
“i’m not.” he states, averting his eyes from yours and you let out another laugh.
“yes you are. you just said you couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday? there’s one specific, not so pg, thing that happened yesterday and i’m sure that’s exactly what you were thinking of.”
kageyama goes red, and that lets you know that your assumption is correct which causes a wide smirk to form across your face.
“you want me to do it again?” you ask, seduction seeping through your words. kageyama just nods, clearly too flustered to even speak. you feel a little giddy at the thought of kageyama wanting you all day, and even now as he lays in front of you unable to conceal his desperate expression. whether he wants to admit it or not, the obvious cannot be denied.
you slip away from kageyama, moving yourself off of the couch an onto the floor. you sit on your knees while watching kageyama reposition himself so that he’s sitting upright on the couch with you square between his legs. he looks down at you, anticipation rapidly filling his gaze as flashbacks of yesterday’s events cloud his mind. pretty images of you with his cock stuffed down your throat swarm his head and you notice movement in his lower region. his volleyball shorts have a painfully noticeable tent and you can’t help but smile to yourself at the fact that your boyfriend is already hard just from thinking about you.
“you really did miss me huh?” you tease.
“always missing you, and your pretty little mouth.”
ushijima
- it comes as no surprise that ushijima isn’t usually needy given his personality
- he loves you
- and loves your attention, your affection, your intimacy
- but it’s not something he really needs or craves 24/7
- he’s decently affectionate though
- just not ever enough to come off as needy
- always gives just enough to let you know that he loves you
- but never much more than that
- so when one day he’s a bit more touchy and lovey than usual
- more vocal than usual
- you borderline short circuit
- because what??
- where is the real ushijima and what have you done with him??
- cue extremely flustered reader
it’s a sunday morning. the sun has barely just risen from its grave of hills and you’re sound asleep with no intention of waking up anytime soon. though ushijima has other ideas in mind. he had gone to sleep a lot earlier than usual the night before due to his circadian rhythm being extremely thrown off balance. with all the traveling he does, and his late night practices and games, his sleep schedule never truly has time to adapt to any sort of pattern. so some days he’s out like a light a nine pm and others he’s wide awake until four in the morning. it’s quite an irritating series of events, but sometimes he’s grateful for it because of mornings like these. mornings where he wakes up with the sun, you still sound asleep beside him looking peaceful as the sunlight illuminates you. it’s moments like these that make ushijima realize how in love with you he truly is.
normally he wouldn’t wake you up when he wakes up before you. he would just let you sleep while he goes to the living room to watch tv, or do some laundry, work out. but today he has this urge, this funny feeling in his stomach that’s pushing him to wake you up. he just wants to talk to you. and hold you. and kiss you. normally he could wait for those things, but he feels almost as though he needs to, now.
he moves a bit closer to your sleeping form, looking you over before placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder that’s exposed from your pajama top. he trails more kisses down your forearm before making his way back up, moving his mouth a bit higher. his lips meet the skin of your neck softly as he leaves an unnecessary amount of kisses there, waking you up as you begin to notice the sensation. it takes you a few seconds to fully come to consciousness while you open your eyes, wiping any sleep that you have out of them before they focus on ushijima.
“mm, what time is it?” you groan sleepily. ushijima glances at the clock on the nightstand behind him.
“just turned six.” he answers and to that you roll your eyes.
“why are you waking me up at six in the morning toshi? i love you but i need my sleep.” you say, letting your eyes fall closed again.
“just felt the urge to.” he says softly, feeling a little guilty about waking you up. you open one eye to look at him, slightly confused by his statement.
“why?” you question.
“i don’t know. i just wanted to kiss you i think. i still do.” he admits, leaving you no time to respond before he does just what he said he wanted to. your brain physically stops working and you forget what kissing even is for a moment because you’re so in shock. not only had ushijima woken you up, something that he never does because he respects your sleep schedule and doesn’t want yours messed up like his. but he woke you up, to kiss you? you must still be dreaming right?
his lips feel alluring against yours. his large hand has found its way to the back of your head, his other arm snaking it’s way around your waist to pull you closer. this makes the kiss feel different. more passionate, more needy. needy. that word sticks in your mind while ushijima kisses you in a way that he rarely ever does, and you suddenly have the answer to the question you were mentally asking yourself. you unintentionally smile into the kiss, causing it to fizzle to its end. ushijima pulls away and looks at you, a pink blush spread over his cheeks.
“toshi?”
“hm?”
“is this urge you mention, just your way of saying that you’re needy?” you ask, trying to hide the smile that wants to spread across your face so badly.
he takes a moment to think about it before locking eyes with you.
“yeah i guess, maybe you have a point.” he shrugs, not too fazed by the realization.
“normally i would be pissed over you waking me up at six in the morning, but since you’re never needy like this, i’ll let it slide.” you giggle and ushijima shies away from your gaze a bit, looking down at the pillow beneath him.
“is this how you feel? like when you’re begging me to touch you? because now i understand.” he admits, letting his eyes fall back on yours. you giggle again, his question was genuine but you found the blunt nature of it humorously adorable.
“yes exactly. is this your way of asking me to touch you toshi?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.
“that was my goal when i kissed you, but then you stopped.” he states.
“oh really? my apologies then.” you sit up from your spot in bed and lift yourself over ushijima so that you’re straddling his waist and notice a prominent bulge poking against the thin fabric of your pajama bottoms. you’re about to tease him for it but he speaks up before you can.
“i want you to ride me.” he says shortly, but there’s a twinge of desperation laced in his words, almost as if a ‘please’ were meant to be placed at the end, that makes your core pulse.
you don’t respond verbally, but you do in fact respond with actions.
sakusa
- it’s not that sakusa has never been needy for you
- his germaphobia just gets in the way of allowing him to show it
- there’s been plenty of times where he’s wanted to be more affectionate towards you
- or where he’s noticed you want him to be more intimate
- but sometimes it’s really difficult to push past the idea of spreading germs
- though as his feelings grow stronger for you he tends to forget about germs quite often
- an ‘idc about germs, i just want you’ type beat
- the first time this happens you are so completely confused though
- especially given the circumstances
- you almost can’t even enjoy your boyfriend’s newfound affection at first because you’re so concerned
- then you realize what’s up and you’re like
- sakusa forgetting about germs because he wants you so bad?
- so cute
you were out of town for two weeks with some friends on a trip you had planned forever ago. the trip was planned long before you or any of your friends had gotten significant others, but you guys figured you’d keep the plan the same as it was initially intended. meaning that sakusa didn’t get to come along with you. he was fine with this at first, agreeing that it’s healthy for couples to have some time away from each other to hang out with friends. but after the first four days he was already over it and wanted you back home. the remainder of your trip was fun for you, but not such a great time for sakusa. he never knew he could physically miss a person that much until now, so the day you told him you were on your way back may as well have been christmas for him with how excited he was.
you arrive at your apartment, duffle bag in hand and the moment you open the door, you’re startled by the presence of your boyfriend not so patiently awaiting you. you set your bag down and flash him a bright smile as he moves closer to you.
“you’re finally back.” he says pulling you into a warm hug. his hold on you is firm and protective, and you know he’s telling you he missed you even if he’s not actually saying it.
“it was only two weeks silly.” you chuckle into his chest.
“two weeks too long.” he mumbles into the kiss he’s placing on the top of your head. you’re taking a moment to appreciate this nice moment before realization suddenly hits.
“wait! kiyoomi, you’re hugging me?” you point out, disconnecting yourself from him.
“yeah? so?” he asks, confused by your confusion only making you even more confused because, what?
“you’re not grossed out? you don’t even know if i’m clean. i was just on a plane.” you frown. sakusa has never heard so much concern come from you at one time and now he understands your questioning.
“don’t bring it up, i wasn’t even thinking about that.” he cringes a bit now that it’s been brought to his attention. he grabs your wrists and brings you closer so that you’re inches away from touching.
“i was only thinking about you. i missed you more than i thought i would. missed holding you.” he confesses before pulling you into a hug again and your heart literally dissolves. never would you ever have imagined this to happen with sakusa, but you’re not complaining. not in the slightest. you wrap your arms around his torso and look up at him, your chin gently pressing into his chest as you do so.
“so this doesn’t bother you?” you ask, still worried about him nonetheless.
“oh it does. a lot. but the germs are worth it for you.” he says, granting you a sweet smile. he takes your chin between his thumb an pointer finger before planting a tender kiss to your lips. you soak in the cute gesture, kissing him back a bit more roughly in an attempt to milk this moment for all that you can get, highly aware that this isn’t something that is gonna happen very often, if ever again. but sakusa pulls away a bit, though still holding you close to him.
“maybe we can continue this in the shower?” he suggests.
to any other person, their boyfriend saying these words to them would be an immediate inclination that they’re in the mood for something more risqué. but with sakusa you know that, even though he is a lot more touchy today, he’s suggesting it because he’s beginning to feel uncomfortable and you completely understand.
“i’m down for that.” you smile and let sakusa lead the way to your guys’ bathroom.
what you were expecting to be an innocent shower to cleanse you of your germs, ended up being a shower in which you had to clean off an entirely separate mess instead.
“do you want me to take a closer look?” he asks, scribbling a few last things on the small notebook. you nod hesitantly.
going to the doctor was never your favorite activity, but given your recent problem it was necessary. lucky for you, the doctor seems more than happy to fix you up.
“alright, just lay back, and open your legs so i can take a look” he says. you do as told, laying down on the cold parchment paper covered bed, and spreading your legs, your tiny skirt riding up your thighs.
“spread them” he says. god, you know he’s just being professional, but the way those words rolled out of his mouth sounded so sinful. “wider” he puts his hands on your thigh, prompting you to do as he says. it’s a little weird for him to touch you like this, but you brush it off as something he does with all his patients.
little did he know, you’re getting special treatment for wearing that tiny skirt, a dainty girl like you should know better than to wear something like that to a doctors office.
“let me take a look” you unintentionally hold in your breath, his hands roaming from your legs to your inner thigh. you remind yourself it’s all in the most professional manner, but something about his fingers fingering in the same place for so long makes you think there’s something else behind his touches.
“hm” it’s a simple reply before he shies away from you and rummages through something in his drawers. he pulls out a pink toy. a sex toy.
it’s not what he normally uses with his patients, but he’s willing to make an exception for such a pretty little thing like you.
he looks back over to you, lying helplessly on the bed. thoughts of everything he could do with such a pretty girl laying on the bed of his office, but he’d have to wait a little longer. he notices the blush that spreads on your cheeks when he reveals the toy.
“aww, don’t be embarrassed, i’m a professional, you don’t have to worry about…” there’s a slight pause he uses to take in a breath. “the things i’m going to do to you” he says with a sigh.
next thing you know, your fingers are clenching down around the parchment paper, almost tearing through it. his hand is pressing the toy on your clit, the vibrations making you squirm in your seat.
as much as he assured you that he was a professional, he couldn’t deny the hand on your chest had nothing to do with the procedure, he shouldn’t be rubbing his fingers along your perked up nipple, but who were you to stop him when it only drove you closer to the edge.
“you know, it doesn’t seem like you have any problems with your libido” he says, reminding you of why you came to his office in the first place. he’s right, all of your problems seemingly went away as soon as he stepped into the room.
a loud slap snaps you out of your thoughts, his gloved hand coming down hard on your cunt. “o-ow!” you cry, bucking your hips into his touch.
“did that hurt? i’m so sorry” he says, but from the smirk on his face, you can tell he’s far from apologetic. “are you close, princess?”
“mhmm” you whine, trying your best to hold back from him. one of his fingers slips into you, the wetness between your thighs making it easy and putting you to shame. between the stimulation to your swollen clit, and his finger curling upwards and finding your sweet spot, you’re convulsing and clenching around his digits in just a few seconds.
“good, good” he says, soothingly running his hand over your arm. “good girl” he coos. he pulls away from you, walking over to his desk and cleaning the toy, putting it back into the drawer. he takes your panties, still bunched up on the corner of the bed, and tucks them in the pocket of his coat.
“doctor” you call him, and god the way the title slips out of your lips is enough to make his cock twitch, already hard from seeing you cream around his fingers. “it still hurts” you pout, playing with the hem of your skirt while you sit on the edge of the bed. you spread your legs invitingly, “i think i need you to take another look” you say, eyeing the bulge in his pants.
being your fav’s puppygirl, and having them grab your hips and manhandle you until you’re straddling their waist while they’re laying down, rubbing your wet heat against their cock and sighing at every roll of your hips.
“alright puppy,” they groan, their breath hitching when you look up at them with eyes sparkling with excitement and anticipation. “sit”
kageyama tobio was only supposed to deliver the weapons to ushijima’s best customer once every two weeks. he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you—law student by day, top dancer and escort at washijo tanji’s club by night. when you ask the impossible of him, kageyama has to choose: his life or yours.
pairing: adlers underboss kageyama tobio x escort fem!reader (with hair), part three of three ; 7.2k, nsfw (18+, mdni)
warnings:depictions of sex work, actual murder, implied sexual abuse; the sex is tame, kageyama’s still and will forever be a simp
thanks to:@anime-nymphand@vanille–kiss for coming up with the ideas for me and helping me look into ways to murder and dick kageyama down like friends should LOL <3 also for betaing, and vani for the amazing banner as always!
Creating a plan is easy. Executing is the hard part.
No matter how well he plans or thinks of all the variables, humans aren’t predictable. Their schedules may be, their mannerisms can be studied and copied, but when presented with the possibility of death, everything can go haywire in a split second.
That’s why Kageyama knows it’s important to bend the outcome to his will.
After years under Ushijima’s liege and working in the Adlers clan, he knows exactly what to do. Remove outside variables, craft a plan that’s solid enough, and make sure the evidence is in your favor. Murder is easy. It’s simple enough for him to wait for a target, grab their neck from behind, and snap it in one swift movement. What happens after is the tricky part: making them disappear, making sure there are no traces of his presence left, making sure the police lose leads quickly and never pick them up again.
It takes him a few days to come up with the plan, and another two days to work on the kinks, but by the end of the week, Washijo Tanji is a dead man walking with only a few months left to live.
Kageyama’s involvement is easy.
All he has to do is continue coming every two weeks like clockwork, which is where he currently is. He sits in Washijo’s office, listening as the man brags about his “perfect” yacht, another girl he brought under his wing to “mentor”, and how you have a renewed spirit ever since he struck some sense into you. Kageyama’s hands tighten in his slacks as Washijo praises your work ethic, and it’s hard to keep his face completely plain when he laments,
“Sorry. I know you have a thing for our Daisy, but she’s out there fucking around on you, huh?”
Kageyama doesn’t say anything. He only nods and lets Washijo ramble about going out on his boat again this coming weekend.
Because Kageyama’s first target isn’t Washijo Tanji, but the bodyguard who stands outside the door to keep others out: Saitou Akira.
Akira is as predictable in his routine as anyone else. Every afternoon he gets an iced cafe latte and sandwich from Doutor. Every other day he visits the gym for almost two hours before showering and going back to his apartment. Once a week he visits the movie theater close to his place, and he shops at the local market multiple times a week, friendly with the old woman who runs the business. Every night, he takes the subway to work before acting as Washijo’s lapdog, keeping poor and needy women under lock and key.
There are plenty of people who need extra money, so it’s easy to find some underground fighters to do his dirty work. Kageyama makes sure that Akira doesn’t see his face, but he supervises the hit. One early afternoon movie, one abandoned alleyway by his apartment, one too many punches and kicks, and Saitou Akira lays broken and battered on the cold ground. It’s Kageyama who calls the ambulance from a burner phone, discarding it as soon as he hears the sirens coming from the distance.
When he steps into Ushijima’s office to discuss contraband business later that night, Kageyama clears his throat.
“Washijo is requesting one of our members to act as his bodyguard for the time being, Boss.”
“Where is his bodyguard?” Ushijima asks as he looks up from a file containing pictures of the next shipment. “Saitou Akira, wasn’t it?”
“He is currently in the hospital after being attacked earlier this afternoon.”
The Adlers’ boss studies Kageyama, his dark brown eyes all-knowing as they analyze Kageyama’s calm expression. Kageyama Tobio isn’t an idiot—he knows Ushijima can see right through him. He always has, starting from the night he approached him at the convenient store, to now when he leans back in his chair with a hum.
“Why is he requesting our assistance?”
“He says he trusts us thanks to our long-standing relationship.”
Ushijima goes silent at Kageyama’s lie, finger tapping on the top of the desk as he considers the fake proposal. The room feels suffocating, closing in the longer Ushijima thinks without uttering a word. Kageyama feels sweat drip down the back of his neck, and his hands clench and unclench again, but he keeps his face absolutely stoic until Ushijima nods.
“Take Sokolov. He’ll fit in with Washijo’s clientele anyway.”
Kageyama bows his head and turns toward the door, but Ushijima calls his name and makes him turn around again.
“Don’t bite off more than you can chew,” Ushijima warns evenly, his tone light and unmatching his serious expression. “If you do, you will be saying hello to Hoshiumi.”
“Of course, Boss.”
Kageyama bows his head again, avoiding Ushijima’s piercing stare as he shuffles from the room, his first part of the job complete.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
“We heard about what happened,” Kageyama says as soon as he sits down in front of Washijo’s desk. Today the man is jumpier than usual, his old face looking even angrier and ashen than normal. Kageyama sets the briefcase on contraband on the desk before clearing his throat. “To Akira-san.”
“Those fucks are after me and my money,” Washijo grumbles, just like Kageyama expected. It’s why he paid the assailants handsomely to demand information on Washijo as they beat Akira within an inch of his life, after all.
“Ushijima would like to offer you a replacement for the time being.” The lie quickly gets Washijo’s attention. The man turns with a curious lift to his eyebrow. “Since you’ve been a valuable customer, it’s the least we can do.”
“As you should,” Washijo hums. “I pay you good money after all. Who do you have?”
As soon as Washijo sees the picture of the Adlers member, Kageyama knows he has him. Sokolov is tall, large, and has a meanness in his resting face that could scare off even the worst opponents. Kageyama knows it’s all a front, that Sokolov is actually a touchy-feely drunkard who loves men and women a little too much, but Washijo doesn’t, and that’s all that matters. The man readily agrees to have Sokolov watch over him until Akira is out of the hospital and fully recovered, whenever that may be.
“I’m sure it won’t be much longer than a few weeks,” Washijo says.
Kageyama knows that isn’t true, because he paid a little extra to make sure Akira’s hand was smashed enough that it would need rehab for at least three months.
When he bows and leaves Washijo’s office, he locks eyes with you immediately. You’re on stage, already halfway through your routine, breasts barely covered as you shimmy around the pole. You keep your gaze on him the entire time, a sly smile on your face as your clothes come off one by one the longer the song continues, until you’re finishing your set and disappearing into the backroom. Kageyama knows to follow, the night already paid for, the guards moving aside after so many times visiting.
He’s not even two steps into the room before you’re on him, your arms wrapped around his neck and your lips hastily pressed against his. Kageyama welcomes you, kicking the door closed behind him so no one can see, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you close. He’s the one who purchased an hour of your time, but you’re the one kissing him like it’s not long enough, like if you don’t touch him now, you’ll never be able to again.
“Hey—” He tries when you pull away to breathe, but a quick shake of your head renders him silent.
“I want to forget,” you whisper before leaning forward again to fulfill your wish.
His lips only leave yours to tug his clothes off, yours following with barely a push on his hands. Your body is slightly sticky from your performance earlier but he doesn’t care, not when you sound so good moaning as he kisses and licks the column of your neck. His cock is hard and pulsing against your thigh, and though you’ve slept together a few times already, he’s still lost whenever he’s with you.
Your breathy sounds spur him lower, his tongue and lips wet as they slip down to your chest to take a nipple into his mouth. He knows how you like it now, knows how to make you arch into him and grind against his throbbing length for more friction. That’s exactly what you do when he sucks and circles with his tongue, fingers trailing lower to squeeze at your stomach. You part your legs for his wandering hand, and keen when his fingers brush your folds. You aren’t wet enough to push inside yet, so he offers his fingers to you, wordlessly begging you to open. You listen, hooded eyes on him as you suck his fingers like you would his cock, tongue running along the length and around the knuckles until a string of saliva is left when he pulls them out.
Kageyama is careful when he pushes his fingers inside, first one until you’re wet enough, then two just like you like. He already knows how to fuck you—as if you’ve trained him to always provide, and he’s happy to obey. His fingers scissor and curl until you’re a moaning mess, and when he moves his mouth from your stomach to your clit, you whimper his name. Shit, he loves that, loves how you make his name sound perfect, the end syllable lost to a needy ‘oh’ that’s drawn out as he sucks and licks your nub.
He works you until you’re practically humping his fingers, your fingers threaded in his hair to keep him on your clit. Kageyama knows you’re close by the way you gasp for breath, walls clamping down around his fingers as he fucks you. When he sucks harder, circling with the tip of his tongue before flicking over it, you cum all over him with a few lengthy moans. This is his favorite part: watching you fall apart for him, your lips parted, body warm and shuddering, thighs clenching next to his head as pleasure overwhelms you.
When you finally relax and sink into the plush bed, Kageyama pulls away, trying to catch his own breath. He’s about to blow just from your taste, and it grows worse when you beckon him between your legs. Once his cock glides against your swollen and glistening folds, you both make a quiet sound. He does it again, pitching your legs up so your feet are on the bed and you can match his pace.
“Fuck,” you whisper when he bumps your swollen clit with the head of his cock. “Tobio, please, now, I need you.”
You need him. He’ll never admit it, but those words send his heart soaring. Ushijima doesn’t need him—not really. If he betrayed the boss like Hoshiumi, he’d be six feet under and there would be another underboss within a day. His sister doesn’t need him either; though she calls nearly everyday, Miwa is busy with her salon, the one he helped her purchase. His parents never came back for him, his grandfather left the world a year ago, and the universities he applied to didn’t bother asking him to apply again. The only person Kageyama had was himself, keeping afloat in a world that never welcomed him.
Butyou.
You fish a condom out of the drawer to your right, and once it’s open and rolled on his cock, he pushes in. You make the most beautiful sound—a mix between a choke and a groan, your head tilting back as he bottoms out, pulls out, then does it again. Kageyama knows the positions you like by now, knows how you want to be fucked, but tonight he wants things hisway. He wants to memorize every pinch of your nose, the flush on your cheeks; wants to watch his cock disappear into your hole, slick with your juices thanks to how wet you are; wants to lean down and tilt your head up with a firm hand on your neck, making you meet his messy lips in a kiss full of tongues and moans.
The bed creaks with his movements, your breath hot on his face as you gasp his name. Your walls pulse around him as he moves faster, angling his hips to hit that spot you like, the one that makes you tilt your head back so he can lick and bite at the column of your throat. His fingers grab at your nipples, twisting and pulling with his urgency, goosebumps rising on his flesh when your pussy squeezes him and signals your looming orgasm. He’s the one that finishes first, burying himself into you when his orgasm slams into him faster than a bullet. His hips keep shallowly thrusting until he fully empties himself in the condom, his sweaty forehead pressed against your shoulder as he comes down from his high.
Your needy whine spurs him on, and he bites around your shoulder and neck as his trails his hand down. He helps you with a finger on your clit, rubbing circles until you’re tugging at his hair painfully as you lose yourself a second time. It’s hard to see at this angle, but he can hearyou: your moans right in his ear, your whines of his name, the way you pant and mewl and groan for him.
He stays like that for a moment, savoring the peace and quiet he barely gets anywhere else. Your heartbeat is fast but slowing, lulling him into a sense of security he hasn’t felt in a long time. Only when you shift and jokingly complain about him being heavy does he move, pulling himself from you, tying the condom off, and throwing away the evidence of your tryst. When he turns back back, you’re already slipping your see-through thin robe back on, not bothering to clothe yourself otherwise.
You flit around the room, grabbing the hair dryer Kageyama brought you last time from the drawer of the desk. You place it on top of the desk, next to a crystal statue of a swan that Washijo bought for you on the first boat ride. He spotted the little microphone inside immediately, barely a minute after you told him about Washijo’s “gift.” He’s trying to spy on Alders business—and yourbusiness—but with one flick of a button, your conversation will be drowned out by the ringing of the hair dryer.
You look beautiful as you saunter back over, and Kageyama has to force himself to pay attention when you beckon him over to the edge of the bed to sit next to you.
Now it’s time to discuss why he’s really here.
“We’ve been on the boat twice,” you tell him with a sigh, running a hand down your face as if you don’t want to remember. “Last time, I had to ‘earn my ride’.”
Your meaning doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and hot shame streaks in Kageyama’s stomach thanks to what he’s forcing you to do. Everyone has their role, and yours happens to be making Washijo invite you out on his boat over and over, no matter how you have to make it happen.
“Sorry,” Kageyama grunts, unsure of what else to say. He feels extremely awkward, sitting here in the nude, the high of your meeting fading into a coldness that he’s sure you feel too.
“I’m doing this willingly,” you remind him, just like you’ve reminded him multiple times since you concocted the plan on that stormy night in your apartment. With Washijo inviting you to his yacht again, that means the plan is going smoothly. “He asked me to come again next weekend.”
Kageyama nods. “A place for me to hide?”
“I’m still looking for the perfect spot, but there’s a pantry in the hold that I think you can fit into.”
“Cameras?”
You shake your head. “What happens on the boat, stays on the boat.” The sharp look you give him nearly makes him shudder. “Drugs, booze, and everything otherwise.”
Kageyama exhales, ruffling his sweaty bangs, trying to will away the image of you and Washijo together. It already haunts him when he sleeps—that, and the betrayed look on your face when he couldn’t do anything the night Washijo slapped you. It springs up the minute he closes his eyes, boring a hole into his skull until he wakes up in the middle of the night, head pounding and phone lighting up with a text from Ushijima about something you need to take care of.
“Check the harbor next time. Once our job is done, the police will pull the footage.” For usual Alders’ business, Ushijima asks their hired hand to wipe the evidence with the few clicks of her mouse. Since this isn’t Alders’ business, he has to go old school. “You have to get him—
“—on the boat the day before his contract ends. I know.”
An unspoken word passes between you as you stare at each other. There’s still about two months left, and he knows how difficult it is for you to let Washijo touch you. To let him think you’re loyal once more after the beating and abuse he gave you. Kageyama’s heart drops when you pull your gaze from his, and he reaches out, running a hand underneath your chin to tilt your head up. Your gasp is soft, almost drowned out by the whirring of the hair dryer. He isn’t sure what to say to make you feel better; he’s not sure there is anything he can say to take your pain away.
So Kageyama leans forward and places his lips on yours, soft, sweet, delicate. And you kiss him back just as tentatively, eyes slipping shut as he tells you everything he wants to say without breathing a word.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
Kageyama isn’t sure if time passes quickly or slowly.
The days go quickly when he runs Ushijima’s errands, oversees Futakuchi and Aone’s work, and goes to the meetings of the clan leaders. They’re good distractions, because whenever he’s back in his apartment, time slows to a crawl, the ticking of the clock in the corner ringing in his skull.
He goes to the club, the restaurant, your private room. He meets Ushijima, Washijo, you. He goes back home and pretends he isn’t dying to off Washijo early. Now that it’s early summer, he’s taking his yacht out more often, rubbing it in his face every time they meet. Daisy is a little tease. Always knows what to say to earn another ride, doesn’t she? Can’t let anyone have her, she’s far too valuable.
Kageyama sits there, eyes focused on the pictures on the back wall. Washijo has one now that’s him standing next to his yacht, a proud smile on his face, the name Highwindnow in new shiny black font on the side. While Washijo rambles about the gun he bought this week, Kageyama imagines how he’ll feel when he finally climbs abroad himself in a few weeks. Excited? Nervous? Righteous? Now that he’s been in the Adlers so long, he’s grown used to violence, used to making someone “disappear” as easily as tricking the idiot sitting across from him. Will it be just another day at the office? Or will he finally be free of the torment of helplessness, knowing that he finally freed you and the other girls from your shackles?
“Isn’t that right, Kageyama?”
He blinks back into focus, glancing at Washijo. The old man looks like he’s expecting some kind of answer, but since Kageyama couldn’t care to listen, he can only stutter, “Sorry?”
“You’re not very bright, are you?” Washijo’s snort is pitying. “I asked if you know the reason I keep so many firearms on me.” Kageyama isn’t even finished shaking his head before Washijo rambles, “It’s because of the power. No one will dare question me with two barrels pointed right at their face, right? Not even you.”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Good, good, I’m glad you agree.” Washijo sets down the rifle and smiles in a way Kageyama wishes he wouldn’t. “Tell Ushijima-san that I’ll be extending our business contract in two months. I expect he’ll show up himself for the re-signing.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Good, now get out of my sight.”
Washijo dismisses him as easily as his girls, and Kageyama remains absolutely stoic as he bows his goodbye and exits the office. He gives Sokolov a nod as he passes by, taking a seat in the furthest booth so he can wait for you to appear on stage. As the music and lights pulse around him, Kageyama has to contain a laugh. After nearly a year of dealings, Washijo thinks he has the upperhand. Because of his money, because of his patronage, because of the contract—whatever the reasoning, he thinks of Kageyama as no more than one of his workers, someone under his tutelage that can be easily bossed around.
Only he’s forgetting who the Adlers really are, and Kageyama is more than happy to remind Washijo who he is dealing with.
Kageyama starts counting down by the Fridays he comes to see you.
Two weeks.
Four weeks.
Six weeks.
And then the day is here, a Saturday in July that is sweltering and muggy, perfect for a day away from the crowded city heat. He finishes his jobs easily, getting the blessing from Ushijima to go to the Kanagawa Prefecture to “celebrate” the end of Washijo’s contract on his yacht. Tomorrow, Ushijima will walk into Il Giardino, re-sign Washijo to another year long contract for contraband, and seal your fate. That’s why tonight has to go perfectly.
Kageyama stops at the store, picking up food and drinks that make it look like he’s going to a celebration. He makes sure his face is visible in the CCTV as he walks to the Highwind, climbing on board like he was invited. He ducks down inside, away from the cameras, away from the lies, and hides the fake groceries where Washijo won’t check. Inside the bag sit a pair of black gloves and a pocket knife for later, if everything goes right.
This is the part of the plan that’s the most tentative: Washijo can’t find him before the night is over; you have to be the perfect actress and feed him drinks while you fawn over him; your stories have to be solid when the police come knocking. There are a lot of variables Kageyama can’t control, things he can’t be 100% certain of—but there are things he can predict, such as Washijo’s penchant for wanting to “relax” with copious amounts of drinks and drugs, just like you told him over the last two months.
As soon as he hears Washijo’s voice, the shuffle of feet, and the rock of the boat as they climb abroad, Kageyama slips into the small pantry you mentioned weeks ago to hide. His heart thunders in his chest, louder than the heavy footsteps coming down into the kitchen that definitely don’t belong to you or Sokolov. Washijo talks to someone about club business—someone underpaying here, someone becoming a regular patron there—but it goes over Kageyama’s head. He’s too busy holding the pantry door shut as Washijo’s footsteps and sounds come closer and closer to his hiding spot. He can’t breathe, his lungs tight as Washijo’s voice drifts closer then further away again, only to return even closer than before.
Just when something heavy hits the table top, your voice cuts in like a saving grace. “Washijo-sama! Why are you making your own drink? Let me!”
“Finally,” Washijo grumbles. There’s a clang that Kageyama recognizes as an ice scoop. “I thought you’d never finish changing.”
“Do you like it? I bought it for you.”
It burns Kageyama’s veins to hear your giggle, to imagine what you’re wearing for someone other than him. Is it a new dress? A new swimsuit? He’s never seen you in a bathing suit, but he has seen you in far less. That’s what he thinks about to calm down, imagining the way you smile for him, whisper his name, and run your fingers through his hair as he leans against your shoulder and pretends you’re not both trapped in your choices.
“I’d like it far better off.”
Kageyama grips the pantry door handle so hard it starts shaking, but your flirty gasp and giggle mask the rattle. “Washijo-sama! Not until we get a drink to celebrate.”
One drink becomes two, becomes three. He can hear the roar of the motor as the yacht moves out to the ocean, the vessel rocking with the light waves of the summer breeze. He can smell the food you cook later, hear the sizzle of the meat mingled with the sounds of you mixing drink after drink for Washijo to become belligerent. Later he even overhears Washijo peeing, the owner complaining to himself that Sakusa’s cocaine was taking too long to have an effect before he stomped back upstairs to the deck.
Still Kageyama doesn’t move. He’s had it worse, like the time he spent days on a stakeout for Ushijima when some of his product went missing. With frequent cracks in the door for more oxygen, he sits perched in that pantry, waiting for the signal to come out to complete his mission for the night.
It comes in the form of your overexaggerated laugh.
“Oh, Washijo-sama, this view is to diefor!”
Kageyama is sure it is, because it’s going to be the last thing Washijo Tanji sees.
He’s quiet as he grabs the gloves and knife from the grocery bag, then creeps up the steps to the deck, catching the eye of Sokolov through the circular window in the door. Sokolov nods and moves out of sight, off to grab a bucket full of water to carry out his part of the plan. Kageyama dons the black gloves and remains still until Sokolov passes by again, this time not looking into the stairwell as he goes. He only needs to wait another minute until there’s a knock on the wall—the signal that everything is ready for him.
The door doesn’t even make a sound as Kageyama slips from it, his footsteps lost to the sounds of the waves and the boat rocking. You don’t even acknowledge him as he walks closer, but Kageyama knows you’ve seen him. You pull Washijo closer, murmuring something that Kageyama can’t hear, before you lean forward and kiss the old man.
It’s the perfect distraction. The perfect bait.
Washijo doesn’t even sense it coming when Kageyama grabs the back of his neck and wrestles him down, sticking him face first in the bucket of ocean water.
The old man flails for his life, kicking and jerking, managing to clip Kageyama in the leg with his boots. Even though his shin radiates with pain, the Adlers’ underboss doesn’t move. He holds Washijo’s head down, watching in disinterest as the old man scratches at Kageyama’s covered arms to no avail, as he fights the bubbling water for his quickly fading life. Eventually the jerks become less frequent, the bubbles less violent, and then they go silent all together. Washijo’s body slumps forward and doesn’t move, even when Kageyama lifts his hand and takes a step back. He stays there, unmoving, arms and legs bent awkwardly with his face down in the bucket.
Washijo Tanji is dead.
When Kageyama glances up, both Sokolov and you are staring at him. Sokolov nods and moves forward, grabbing Washijo’s lifeless body and dragging it over to the side of the yacht. Kageyama doesn’t even watch Sokolov throw it overboard; his eyes are on you instead, on the redness around your eyes from stinging tears, on the way your chest heaves for breath, on the way you catch his questioning gaze and give him a stiff nod before springing to action.
You have a job to do.
While you run off to grab your phone to call the coast guard, Kageyama grabs a pocket knife and grabs the life preserving ring that sits on the deck. He quickly saws at the rope keeping it tied aboard, fraying the center to make it look like the rope snapped during rescue. It can’t take too long because Kageyama can hear your frantic voice, begging the coast guard to hurry and come because your boss drunkenly fell overboard and is floating away.
When Kageyama is done, he turns to Sokolov.
“Jump.”
The underling listens immediately, not even shrugging out of his expensive suit before he jumps overboard into the ocean. He splashes in the waves, making it look and sound like he tried to rescue Washijo, though the man’s dead body floats further and further away with the tide. Kageyama yells nonsense to Sokolov as he works: grab him! Don’t let him go! Sokolov, come back, we can’t lose you too! It’s all an act—he knows you’re being recorded, knows that his voice will be heard behind your pleading and your begging.
The rope frays enough that Kageyama tugs it apart with his hands, making it look like someone ripped it. He throws it in the water near Sokolov, and the man dunks it a few times before tossing it closer to Washijo’s floating body. It’s far enough away now that the plan will be believable if you can keep the act up, and based on the way you whimper, fake tears roll down your cheeks as you keep talking to the coast guard, Kageyama knows it’s in the bag.
Eventually Sokolov comes back, and Kageyama slips off the gloves to hand them to him. Sokolov dons them, dipping them into the bucket of water before he throws the used water overboard and sets the bucket aside like it was never used. The pocket knife goes next, and the blade makes the faintest plopping sound as it’s swallowed by the water, drifting down into the darkness of the ocean, the last shred of evidence against him buried in dark blue.
Orange and yellow hues reflect off the waves, making the ocean shimmer in the setting sun. He can’t see Washijo’s body anymore, but he can see you. You, standing in the sunlight, the light around your head looking like a halo. You, in a pretty summer dress that ruffles with the breeze, the one Kageyama almost broke the plan to see. You, who is staring at him with wide eyes full of hope, because after months of working, planning, heartache and strife, your hard-fought freedom is finally a reality.
Kageyama has to swallow down the heat that rises up and grips his heart when he reaches out his hand and you immediately take it.
You were right earlier.
The view reallyis to die for.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
The call comes right when Kageyama expects it to. The interview goes just how Kageyama knew it would.
You are allowed together in the cold and dingy interview room, your hands clasped together on top of your lap as you shakily recount the story for the officers.
“Washijo-sama invited us onto the boat to celebrate our engagement earlier that day. I had gone a few times before and thought it would be like all the other times. Only this time, Washijo-sama slipped and…”
Kageyama has to give it to you. The way you turn and bury your head into his shoulder to muffle your tears has his stomach lurching, even though he knows it’s all rehearsed and fake. While you calm down, Kageyama finishes the story: he slipped over while trying to pee off the side; the rope for the life ring snapped; Sokolov tried to save him after that, but Washijo went under too quickly; the waves carried him further out until he was gone forever.
“The body hasn’t been found,” the detective on the right says once Kageyama finishes the tale. “If it is, we’ll call you. Until then… maybe don’t get on any more boats.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sorry it happened on your engagement day,” the female detective on the left says as she stands. She glances at you pitifully, and that’s when Kageyama knows for certain that the plan was a complete success. “I wish you both luck.”
“You’re too kind,” you recite, watery but thankful.
Kageyama keeps his hand in yours the entire walk back to his car, and he doesn’t let go even as he starts the engine and sets off back to your apartment. As soon as you’re out of the police station parking lot, you squeeze his hand and burst into laughter. It’s a deep-bellied laugh, one that has tears rolling down your cheeks as you gasp for breath, clutching the dashboard in front of you as you duck your head to contain yourself. Your body still racks with tearful laughter, long enough to tell him that these tears are real, raw, and everything you’ve kept inside for the past few years.
He doesn’t say anything as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building. When you’ve finally calmed down enough, you squeeze his hand one more time before letting go, muttering at him to follow you. The day is clear, the opposite of when he first followed you inside. The purple hyacinths are gone now too, past their prime for blooming now that the sweltering heat of summer hangs thick over the city. Your apartment is just as sticky, and the silence is drowned out by the whirring of your old air conditioner as you turn it on its highest setting.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” Kageyama mutters.
You pause midstride to the kitchen, turning back to him. You’re no longer crying, but your face is blotchy from your episode in the car, and there’s a scrunch in your brows that shows you’re thinking about how to answer.
“Will you?”
Kageyama nods.
“Before you go?” You ask again, a mirthless smile on your face.
“Huh?”
“Our time together is over. The three months are up. I won’t have a job at the club anymore, so you can’t—”
Kageyama takes a step forward. “What are you saying, dummy?”
“I’m not a dummy.”
“Yes, you are.” The air conditioning whirrs in the background; there’s a vibration in his pocket that’s probably from Ushijima telling him to hurry up. He ignores both to step in front of you. “Your job is… not all I wanted you for.”
“Then what?” Your voice is quiet, the most vulnerable he’s ever seen you, even after planning a murder together. “What do you want, Tobio?”
“You,” he grumbles, heat in his cheeks that he tries to hide by looking off to the dirty dishes on your kitchen counter. “Always just you.”
Your touch is light and tentative as you run your fingertips over his cheek, dancing down to his lips before you exhale. “What if you don’t want me anymore? What if you realize it was all…”
When you don’t continue, he cocks an eyebrow. “All…?”
“I don’t know!” You throw your hands up, turning away from him and setting your hands on your hips. “The thrill of the chase, a chance to help a needy woman, a… fuck, I don’t know, an attraction based on a common goal or something.” You turn back with a pinched expression that punches him right in the gut. “Any of those could be true.”
Kageyama stays quiet, but the phone vibrates one more time. You both ignore it, staring at each other like you’re trying to figure out a complex math equation. You’re not mistaken. Things change, hearts waver, and now that Washijo is dead, the future is murky. But the future is also long, and full of your own choices—something you haven’t had in a long time.
“You know…” The words come out awkwardly squeaky and he has to clear his throat. “I spent a lot of money buying your time.”
His admission makes you snort. “I know that.”
“What I mean is—I just—ugh.” Kageyama ruffles the back of his hair, a scowl on his face. “But now I don’t have to because you have that.”
“Have what?”
“Time.” He looks back at you, hand massaging the back of his neck to ward off the flush and awkwardness spreading through his entire body. “I… well, we. We bought you all the time in the world.”
You look like the cheshire cat, your lips splitting into a grin, a light laugh on your lips that Kageyama is sure is at his expense. He mutters at you to knock it off, but you shake your head, linking your hands together in front of your chest.
“What should I do with my new found time then, Tobio? Travel? Become an influencer? Maybe learn knife throwing?”
“Study. Get your degree since you’re almost done.” He waits for you to nod your confirmation before mumbling, “You can do whatever you want, as long as it’s with me.”
“I’m sorry?”
Your shit-eating grin means you heard him loud and clear, and Kageyama has to contain a groan. He isn’t good at this, not good at vocalizing his feelings or emotions when actions will do just fine. But you look expectant, a happy flush in your cheeks and a smile in your eyes, so he blurts it out anyway.
“Be with me.”
It’s quiet again, and there’s a moment where Kageyama thinks you’ll reject him. His heart is beating out of his chest, his palms sweaty as you take a second to answer, then another, then another. The wait is killing him, silence stretching from seconds to goddamn yearsuntil you finally open your mouth.
“You mean it? You really want me, even though I’m…”
There are a million ways to answer that sentence, and Kageyama can pick a few from the way your brows scrunch and your face crumbles. Broken, hurt, a mess. He’s sure he looked the same on the night Ushijima found him, a boy scared of the future and the pain of living. All he needed was someone to reach out their hand and offer him solace. Kageyama had found it in Ushijima and the Adlers clan.
With a stretched out hand to your direction, Kageyama hopes you find it in him, too.
“If anything, you’re mine.” The confession is clumsy and wooden, sounding foreign to his own ears. “Yes, I do.”
The air conditioner whines in the background; his phone vibrates one more time; you place your hand into his, interlocking your fingers so tightly that he can’t feel them for a second, not that he cares. Because he tugs you close by those same hands, cradling your head as he kisses you breathless, promising to keep his word over and over with slips of tongue and whispers of each other’s names.
Washijo Tanji is forgotten as easily as the garbage, his name sinking to the bottom of the ocean, joining his body in the dark and watery grave.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
His knock on the door is quiet, but Ushijima’s answer is loud.
“Come in.”
The door creaks as he opens it, and Kageyama lets you step into the bosses’ office before following and shutting the door behind him. Ushijima glances up from a few photos on his desk, gesturing at you to take a seat in the leather chair across from his desk. Kageyama stands in front of the door, hands crossed behind his back, the stoic expression of an underboss plastered on his face.
You thank him quietly, fixing your skirt so you can take the offered seat. The ink had barely dried on your license before you called him, begging to meet with the head of the Adlers clan to discuss business. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to Ushijima that you wanted to speak with him, though Kageyama had expected the nonchalant acceptance after breaking the news of Washijo’s death and subsequent contract cancellation months earlier.
Ushijima had barely lifted a brow then, humming before sending Kageyama off with a flick of his fingers. He looks the same now, face plain and unreadable as he leans back in his chair to regard you.
“May I ask why you’ve come?”
“I was hoping to interview for a job opportunity.”
“An opportunity?”
Your voice oozes confidence when you answer, “Yes. I would like to protege under your current lawyer, if you would have me.”
Ushijima hums, glancing down at the pictures before him before asking, “Why?”
“I believe my experiences and expertise would fit in well with your type of clientele.”
“My clientele?”
“At the jazz clubs. Kageyama-san told me you own many around Tokyo and I’m sure you could use another professional who has expertise in dealing with powerful men.”
The Adlers’ boss glances at Kageyama for barely a second before he nods, rifling through a few of the photos. Out of a stack of papers, Ushijima pulls out a clipped newspaper article and slides it your way, tapping a line near the top of the first page. Kageyama doesn’t need to see the contents to know it concerns Washijo’s death. The man’s boat can clearly be seen in the black and white photo, even from his vantage point.
You look down at the article for a moment before looking back up, barely regarding the contents of the news report. “Yes, he was my old boss.”
“And my old client.”
“His accidental drowning must have been hard for some.”
Ushijima’s eyebrows lift in humored surprise before his expression drops back to its neutral mask. The article is gone, placed back in the folder to be forgotten, just like Washijo Tanji has been. It’s replaced with another paper that has your picture on it—a simple background check that Kageyama already told you would happen. You don’t seem fazed at all, your demeanor relaxed but professional.
“You’re a recent graduate.”
“Yes.”
“With plenty of recent volunteer experience.”
“I had more… time in recent months. I’ve been using it well.”
The admission makes Kageyama’s lips twitch in a grin.
Ushijima hums again, reading over your file before tapping the page twice. “I’ll offer you a choice. You can work under my current lawyer for a year to gain experience, or you can leave Tokyo and I will help you find work in another city.”
Kageyama knows it’s because you know too much. You’re too keen on the details of the Adlers, being his woman and working with him in the past. Sending you away will keep the Tokyo police out of their business should you choose to work against them, but allow the Adlers to keep an eye on you anyway. But on the other hand, if you choose to stay, you’ll be tying yourself to the mob, breaking your oaths as a lawyer to serve and protect the people of Japan. If you choose the Adlers, those are the only people you’ll end up protecting, perhaps at the cost of innocent lives.
There’s a beat where you don’t say anything, mulling over the two offers you’ve been given.
Then you turn around to face him, a bright smile on your face, and a twinkle in your eye that makes Kageyama’s heart skip a few too many beats. Your voice is strong, firm, resolved to the path you’ve chosen with the time you’ve been given.
“Kageyama-san, do you have a pen I could borrow? I believe there’s a contract I have to sign.”
kageyama tobio was only supposed to deliver the weapons to ushijima’s best customer once every two weeks. he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you—law student by day, top dancer and escort at washijo tanji’s club by night. when you ask the impossible of him, kageyama has to choose: his life or yours.
pairing: adlers underboss kageyama tobio x escort fem!reader (with hair), part two of three ; 6.6k, nsfw (18+, mdni)
warnings:depictions of sex work, plans of violence and murder, implied sexual abuse, physical abuse (a slap), big asshole character; oral (f!receiving), creampie, kageyama’s a simp
thanks to:@anime-nymphand@vanille–kiss for coming up with the ideas for me and helping me look into ways to murder and dick kageyama down like friends should LOL <3 also for betaing, and vani for the amazing banner as always!
Two weeks is a long time when you’re riddled with anxiety, and Kageyama finds that out by the third day without seeing you. The days drag by, slower than the dead bodies he has to haul out to the ocean and tie down so they won’t be found. The Adlers are all about rules: follow them and Ushijima will reward you; break them and try to steal merchandise, and Ushijima won’t bat an eye over your “disappearance.”
Kageyama learned that as soon as he came into the clan at age nineteen, fresh off of failure to get into university again. Failure. The one thing his mother used to call him before she left him in the care of his grandfather and never returned. The one thing he dreaded becoming because his father was exactly the same. A failure of a man who couldn’t keep his family together, his debts in control, and his dick in his pants. Kageyama swore not to become like him, not to ruin his remaining family. Promised to get into a good university and make something of himself. Only he failed miserably, and his grandfather’s forlorn sigh plunged a knife into his heart and carved until there was nothing left.
He got blazingly drunk that night, stumbling all the way home as he yelled at no one. He stopped at a red light, nearly tipping over as he waited, steadying himself on the glass window of a 7/11. When Kageyama turned to look, all he saw was his face: the spitting image of his father, another failure in the Kageyama family line. Failure, failure, failure.
The first punch to the window did nothing but make his hand ache. The second was the same, but the third, fourth, and fifth slowly splintered his reflection, the cracks growing deeper and deeper as he wailed on the window. He didn’t hear the gasps from passersby; he didn’t hear the worker shout that she was going to call the police. All he heard were his own shouts of anguish and the dull thud of his bloody fist meeting the window over and over and over.
“Hey.”
Kageyama stopped punching to turn the voice, ready to throw a hook to whatever officer came to take him away. He had already fucked up his future, so what was another mistake?
“Fight me,” he slurred, wiping a bloody hand over his eyes to clear them from his tears. “I’m not gonna go to the station without a fight.”
“I’m not here to arrest you.”
Standing in front of him wasn’t a police officer at all. It was a tall man, face serious, crisp suit on his toned body. His olive-colored hair was pushed to the side, and his gloved hand held out an off-white business card.
That was the first time he met Ushijima Wakatoshi.
He had started out small, working as a server at one of the clubs. But after he beat up some rowdy customers three-to-one, Ushijima gave him more responsibility. Errand runs, contraband dropoffs, the extermination of some people who refused to follow the agreements and rules. Kageyama did them all without complaint because Ushijima gave him something special: the chance to be the opposite of everything his father was.
Eventually an eagle tattoo sat between his shoulder blades, and he was the first person Ushijima called after Hoshiumi had been disposed of.
“I’m counting on you,” Ushijima said simply before turning back around in his chair. Kageyama bowed and didn’t move for two minutes, too embarrassed to show his boss the hot tears that streamed down his face at the acknowledgement and opportunity.
But all that loyalty means shit to him as soon as he walks into Il Giardino and sees Washijo yelling at you from outside the boss’s window.
When he tries to enter, Saitou Akira puts a hand on his chest and shakes his head. “No one’s allowed inside.”
“It’s our appointment time,” Kageyama tries to argue, but the guard isn’t amused.
“You can wait.”
He’s forced to stand outside, listening to you yell back over money. Even through the thick, closed door and lowered blinds, Kageyama can hear your argument clearly.
“You can’t just raise my prices without raising my cut, too,” you argue, exasperation clear in your tone. “I know you’re my boss, but—”
“I’m not your boss,” Washijo snaps, every thread of patience gone. “You think this is a charity case? No, I ownyou. Just because you’re the best whore in this place doesn’t mean shit. One wrong move and you’ll be turned over to the police for prostitution.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” you counter. “Because then they’ll be looking into you, too—”
Your words are cut off with a sharp slap, and Akira has to restrain him from going inside again. Kageyama tries to fight into the room when he hears the slap again and a light whimper from you, but it’s no use. He has to listen to you cry out as Washijo strikes you over and over, red hot fury burning in his veins. He clenches his fists so tightly that his nails break skin, his teeth clenched so hard he thinks they might crack.
“Remember your fucking place,” Washijo spits. “Or do I have to remind you where you started, Daisy?”
The room is dead silent, and Kageyama can hear his heart pounding in his ears so loudly it sounds like drums. Even the DJ’s soundcheck is drowned out as he waits for your answer, body trembling with the anger he hasn’t felt since the night he meant Ushijima.
Your reply is quiet and broken. “Yes, sir.”
“You look like shit. Get the fuck out of here, and come back tomorrow ready to work. Your earnings for the rest of the week are mine.”
You don’t answer.
The door flings open and you nearly stumble out, eyes locking with his once you push past the guard. Your cheeks are swollen and red, blood dripping from your nose from where Washijo struck you. Your eyes immediately move to the floor, and you scurry past him without saying anything, holding your thin and sheer robe closer to your body. Kageyama wants to chase after you, wants to yell your real name and tell you none of what Washijo said is true, but the owner steps out into his doorway with an annoyed expression.
“These girls always give me trouble. They should be happy with what they’re getting. Isn’t that right, Kageyama?”
The underboss doesn’t look at Washijo as he nods once and only once. Kageyama knows that if he opens his mouth now, he’ll ruin the business relationship Ushijima built and meet the same fate as Hoshiumi, so he keeps quiet. Throughout the whole meeting, he only speaks when necessary, which is not very often. Washijo likes to hear himself talk, likes to ramble on about his mighty guns teaching his “girls” a lesson they’ll never forget.
“Training,” Washijo laughs, polishing the barrel of his latest purchase with an embroidered handkerchief. “It’s what all women need anyway.”
Kageyama can hear Washijo’s disgusting laugh ringing in his mind the entire car ride back to the hideout. You were long gone by the time Kageyama finished, running from the building before he got the chance to see you. It feels strange to be heading back so early, and something seizes Kageyama’s lungs and won’t let go. It feels like they’re in a vice grip, making it hard for him to breathe as he leans forward toward his driver.
“The Cygnus,” he manages to rasp out. He needs to talk to Ushijima immediately.
He doesn’t remember the rest of the car ride there, or stumbling into the jazz bar. He doesn’t hear the singer warmup either, or Semi playing the piano, his ears drowned out by the crashing of waves in his brain. Ushijima sits in his usual booth, nursing his usual whiskey sour, and the twitch in his eyebrow means he wasn’t expecting Kageyama so early.
“Boss,” he greets with a bow.
“Did you meet with Washijo?”
“Yes.” Kageyama’s mouth is dry no matter how many times he swallows, his arms awkwardly tight down by his sides. “But I would like you to reconsider his contract.”
“Hm?” Ushijima looks up from his glass, his face still as stoic as ever. “He still has about three months left. Does he want to end early?”
“No.”
“Then what is the issue?”
How can Kageyama explain? Washijo’s an abuser, an asshole, a damn stain on the Earth, but Kageyama’s come across worse people in his line of work. People who kill for fun, who laugh at the needy, who think life is a game and take what they want without asking. It’s par the course of mafia business, but—
But.
“I don’t think the arrangement is beneficial anymore.”
Ushijima considers Kageyama’s answer for a split second before questioning, “For whom?”
For her, Kageyama almost answers but bites it back at the last second. Ushijima stares at him like he can read him like a book, and maybe he can. The Adlers’ boss read him that first night after all, taking a chance on a boy punching a window until he bled, when no one else understood what he was going through.
When the silence stretches too long, Ushijima nods and lowers his drink. “There’s three months left in his contract and it will not be broken. You know about the rules.” Then he taps the rim of the glass a few times before adding, “However, afterwards, I will reconsider once more.”
Kageyama bows low and stays there, just like he did when he accepted the position of underboss. Only this time it’s not because he’s crying—it’s because he knows he’ll be dead if he spits out what’s really on his mind.
“Go to my club in Harajuku for tonight,” Ushijima orders. “Keep an eye out on the bouncer. I’ve heard he’s letting in rival members.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Kageyama turns from The Cygnus, repeating the order from Ushijima over and over, glad for a small ember of distraction he can fan to release the fire burning in his veins.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
The next time he goes to see Washijo, the meeting ends early. The owner is in a fairly good mood, buying his firearm without barely any inspection. Kageyama doesn’t question it, because Washijo tells him anyway, not even pausing to let the underboss have a word.
“The best boat my money could buy,” he hums as he sorts through paperwork on his desk, fishing out a picture and sliding it Kageyama’s way. “What I deserve for all my hard work.”
You mean theirhard work, he wants to retort but keeps silent. Instead he studies the picture of the boat on the desk before him. It’s not the biggest he’s seen, especially not after helping Aone and Futakuchi load cruise ships and cargo containers, but it’s a decent size for a yacht. It’s big enough for a few people, a deck on the back leading to a domed inside, the entire thing painted black on the bottom and white on top.
“Name’sHighwind. It’s in Kanagawa Prefecture, perfect for weekend trips out of this hellhole. Ready to set sail on the ocean right now, in top condition.”
“Wonderful, sir,” Kageyama answers politely.
“Tell Ushijima he can join me for a trip one day. I got all the women and booze he could want right here.”
“I will alert him,” he says, but doesn’t mean it. He’s pretty sure Ushijima’s jazz club girlfriend would tear the motor out of the boat before Ushijima could even step foot on it.
“Alright, get out of here.” Washijo flicks his hand toward the door, and Kageyama ignores the old man’s mutter of, I hope that doesn’t mean you’d come, too as he slips from the room.
As he walks toward the doorway leading to the stairs, Kageyama pauses. He hasn’t seen you since the night you were slapped, glaring at him with watery eyes that told him not to come, so he hasn’t booked you tonight. Do you still not want him to come? Or are you hoping he’ll book you one more time anyway? He waits for a bit to see the first performer, and when it’s not you, he slips up the stairs and back to the car waiting for him to finish.
“Go back,” Kageyama tells the driver, shaking his head when the man tries to argue. “I’ll walk. Go back.”
The driver knows better than to question him, so Kageyama is left standing in the parking lot of Il Giardino, staring up at the nearly full moon in the spring sky. The clouds look like they’re threatening rain, thick and grey as they slowly roll in and block out the moonlight. The night is warm enough to loiter outside in his jacket, and he’s been waiting nearly an hour when the door to the restaurant opens.
He doesn’t expect you to be the one to walk out, but you do, clutching onto your bag in regular clothes. You pause mid-step when you see him standing there, eyes silently boring into his, before you turn and keep walking. Kageyama hesitates. He isn’t sure if he’s meant to follow you or if that was your way of dismissing him completely, but just before you’re out of sight, he trails you.
You walk down the main street for a while, crossing two different overpasses before disappearing into a side alley. Kageyama is quick to follow, walking a safe distance behind you as you pull up to an old apartment building that’s surely seen better days. The paint is chipped and fading, and there are newspapers and tape on the windows that are cracked in a few apartments. A thick and charged wind blows and signals the looming rainstorm, and you dig into your bag for your keys as you step into the crumbling archway leading into the complex.
Then you finally turn and stare at him, voice tired as you ask, “Are you coming?”
In the ugly yellow light of the entrance way, he can see the bags under your eyes, the fatigue clear on your face. Kageyama nods once, and you disappear into the stairwell, leading so he can follow. As he steps into the light, a flash of color catches his eye. Amongst all the decay and neglect sits a small bed of purple hyacinth, swaying in the hard breeze but standing tall and firm.
Your apartment is on the fourth floor, and Kageyama mumbles a greeting as he slips inside. There isn’t much to your place—a small TV on a stand against the wall, an older couch covered up by a newer cover, a clean kitchen with a partition attached to the wall that’s stocked with junk food. Books are everywhere, along with notes, notebooks, and pens and pencils. You set your bag on top of one of the open law books, turning to him with a hand on your hip.
“Why are you following me?”
You’re mad at him. Kageyama tries to think about whyyou might be upset with him, what he could have done to receive such a snappy tone, but he can’t come up with anything.
“You left work early,” is his lame response.
“You didn’t come for me.”
At the crestfallen look on your face, he finally understands. You wanted him to come back for you. You wanted him to book you again, to show you that he cared, to show you it was more than a simple transaction: his money for your body.
But he didn’t.
“I… didn’t think you wanted to see me,” he mutters, rocking on his feet as he thinks of what else he can say. “Because… you know.”
“You’re the only thing keeping me going,” you admit with a sad smile, dropping your hand from your hip. “If it weren’t for you, I think I would…”
The silence stretches far too long. Your gaze tears from his to look around the room, bouncing to your open law books and school mess. There are no picture frames on your walls, no proof of friends or family, no awards or trophies or accolades proving your worth. Kageyama realizes with a jolt to his heart that you’re just like he was—stuck in a constant loop of bullshit that’s nearly impossible to escape from.
“Would?”
“I want to kill him.” The impassioned way you say it makes Kageyama regard you again. “He took—takes everything from me, Tobio-kun. Everything. You heard him, didn’t you? I belongto him and he takes what’s his.” The truth weighs heavy on his chest, squeezing his lungs until all he can do is exhale sharply. You’re not just talking about money; you’re talking about you. There’s a catch in your voice when you finish, “He won’t let me leave. No matter what I do… He’ll neverlet me leave.”
The silence is deafening as he stares at you. You try to catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling a few times to calm yourself down. There are no tears lining your eyes, no flush in your cheeks. You’re completely serious, ready to make good on your plea to end the man causing your suffering. Kageyama knows the feeling of being trapped with no way out—well enough, in fact, that he takes a step forward and brings a hand to your upper arm.
“I don’t think that,” he says quietly.
“Think what?” You answer back just as softly, arms still crossed even though the tension in your shoulders has dissipated slightly. “That I’m just Washijo’s prized whore?” Your laugh is mirthless. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you did, the other girls—”
“That you’re property.”
His hushed response stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes are wet for the first time all night—and Kageyama expects the first time in a long while—and you say his name as barely a whisper.
“You’re your own person. You’re always free to make your own choices.” He sounds like Ushijima, down to the gritty tone he repeats the words in. The boss had said those same words to him when he called and asked for a chance, and now he’s offering them to you just the same.
“Am I?” You question, grabbing onto his jacket and tugging hard on the sleeve. “You say I have a choice, but do I, really?”
Kageyama nods stiffly, trying to keep his eyes off the way you lick your lips and part them. He shouldn’t be thinking about how good you’d feel against him, about how he wants to feel you beneath him, those same lips parted in a moan of his name. Shouldn’t be thinking about those lips on his cock, milking him to completion like you did weeks ago. Shouldn’t think about your hand on his body, only it’s impossible with how you trail up his sleeve, fingers running over his sharp chin.
“That means you have a choice, too,” you say as your fingers spread lightning through his nerves as they stroke the side of his neck. “Either you can take me to the bedroom and fuck me like we both want, or you can walk out of this apartment and never see me again.”
Your bluntness causes his throat to go dry, made doubly worse when you run your fingers through his hair and tug at the locks. He can’t stop staring at your mouth, parted and glistening, like you’re ready for him to swoop in and claim you.
So he does.
It’s a much-too-excited knock of your lips that makes you squeak, but it gels into a forceful kiss when you step closer and throw your arms around his neck. He barely manages to grab you when you jump up, and he lumbers over to the table to set you down on the side. His lips haven’t left yours, moving incessantly until you part your lips for him to slip his tongue inside. You wrap your legs around his waist, slotting him between your thighs as you push your tongue against his, twirling and licking until he’s the one grunting instead of you.
He breaks to breathe, then kisses you again and again, until you’re whimpering and tugging at his jacket to get it off. He peels it off of his body without breaking the kiss, throwing it off to the side to be forgotten. Your shirt is next, followed by his sweater and undershirt, until all that’s left between your chests is a flimsy bra that he could probably rip with his fingers if he really wanted to.
The crackle of thunder outside the window makes you jump, and heavy rain begins to pound against the glass. But your breathing is even louder, sharp inhales and exhales as he squeezes at your tits, thumbs circling your nipples as he makes a sloppy and wet trail down your neck. You moan when he sucks a spot on your neck, but your thighs squeeze his waist as a warning.
“No visible marks,” you pant as you run your nails down his back. “Or he’ll kill me first.”
Kageyama grunts his answer, fingers fumbling with the clasp on your bra. When he can’t get it after a few tries, he considers actuallyripping it so he can finally get his mouth on your tits. You snort, quick hands getting it off in one go, and the scrappy piece of fabric joins the rest of the growing pile.
You moan when he licks around your nipple, sucking around it as a tease before taking one in his mouth. He pulls on the other, twisting and rubbing until they’re both hard and you’re arching into him. Your foot travels down his side, shifting to his inner thigh, and when you press against his cock, he groans.
“Missed your cock,” you say as he continues to suck on your breasts, fingers pushing at your pants until you’re lifting to help him pull them down. “I kept—ah, kept imagining what it would feel like inside me.”
Kageyama groans, kneeling down in between your legs to get a good look at your barely covered pussy. He can see how damp the front of your panties have become, and when his fingers press against your folds, you whine. He pushes your thighs open to get closer, pulling the fabric down to your knees so he can get a look at you fully naked for the first time. You’re beautiful, chest heaving and wet with his saliva, thighs trembling as his heavy breaths hit your wet folds.
“Fuck,” he whispers before he parts you, diving in to get his first taste.
You moan when he worms his tongue inside, flicking up and down to get closer. He holds onto your ass, bringing you to the edge of the partition so he can taste all of you. He flicks over your clit and you keen, hands in his hair pushing him so deep that he almost forgets how to breathe. He doesn’t really care, not when you taste so good and whine his name every time his quick tongue flicks over your clit.
It’s easy to slip a finger inside of you, even easier to press in to the hilt. His pace is rough and needy, tongue rolling your clit before he sucks on it. You swear, curling into him as your legs start to tremble. Another finger and you’re practically begging for him, heels striking the wall when he sucks hard again. The squelching of your pussy is nearly drowned out by the thunder, but there’s no masking your heavy breaths and your constant whimpers.
“I’m gonna—oh fuck, like that, like that.”
Your begging spurs him on, and his cock throbs, hot and heavy against his thigh as you moan his name. Your walls squeeze his scissoring fingers as your orgasm crests, and your fingers tug on his hair so harshly his scalp burns. He doesn’t dare stop, milking your pussy for everything you can give him as you shake and whine underneath his mouth. Kageyama keeps going until you’re trying to squirm away from him, sweaty thighs trying to push him out.
“My bag,” you gasp as you try to catch your breath. “Front zipper pocket, and hurry.”
He doesn’t dare say no. His cock pulses so hard it nearly hurts, ready to burst when he checks behind him and sees you starting to bend over the partition. Shit. Kageyama digs in your purse as fast as he can, practically tearing out the condom you have stashed inside. It’s on in a second, the wrapper thrown off to the side so he can grip your hips and maneuver you further down. Your elbows are on the table and you scratch at the surface as he rubs the head of his cock on your slick folds before pushing inside.
It’s even better than he imagined. You’re so tight, sucking him in easily with how wet you are, all the way to the hilt. You whimper and grab at him, reaching a hand back to cover his and tightening his grip on your waist. If you want it hard, he’ll give it to you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his long length before he pulls out and slams back in, nearly knocking you forward. You keen, digging into the countertop as he slaps his hips into yours.
You moan with every drag of his cock as he fucks you, fingers digging into your hips to make you match his thrusts. It’s weeks of pent up aggression, wanting nothing more than to be buried into your throbbing heat like he is now. Kageyama supposes he should savor it—memorize every whine, every wet sound, every gasping plea for more—but he’s too lost in the feeling of finally having you. He stares at his cock disappearing into your cunt over and over, your walls molded around him like he belongs there.
“Please,” you whimper, your moans echoing thanks to your buried face in your arm.
“Yeah?” He breathlessly asks back, a hand on your back forcing you to arch even more so he can hit deeper.
Your answer is a garbled moan, your walls squeezing him tight enough to pull a grunt from his lips. His nails run all down your back, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough where he can see the remnants of his presence, to remind himself that he’s finally got you where he wants you. The thought is enough to spike heat in his veins and threaten him to cum already.
“No, no,” you whine when he slows down, craning your head to look at him. Your eyelashes flutter with his deep but slow strokes, a small smirk coming to your face when you see how flushed and breathless he is. “Tobio.”
You’re doing this on purpose. Whimpering his name without an honorific so he’ll fall apart and give you the upper hand. And the worst part is, it’s working. Even his slow strokes can’t stop his rising orgasm so he throws caution to the wind, slamming into you again while he gropes at your tits. Your surprised yelp turns into a long moan when he hits just right, your body trembling as he pulls and twists your nipples.
“Shit,” he whispers hoarsely before letting go. His thrusts are choppy as he chases his orgasm, his fingers clinging so tightly to your breasts that you gasp. There are goosebumps on his arms as he shudders closer to you, sweat dripping from his brow to your back when he leans forward and pulls out.
You’re panting too, turning on shaky legs to regard him with lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. His flaccid cock twitches at the look, so he quickly ties off the condom before he makes a mess. When he turns to throw it out, you gasp, eyes widening at the eagle tattoo that spans his shoulder blades. Its black wings curve toward his shoulders, its mouth forever open in an angry caw. Kageyama eyes you warily as he throws away the condom, waiting for you to ask him what it is or say something about it.
But you don’t.
Instead you beckon him forward with a sly smirk and two fingers.
“I said take me to the bedroom, didn’t I?”
He wastes no time in listening. Kageyama is back on you again, lips dragging across yours over and over to savor your taste. You grab onto his shoulders to drag him toward your bedroom, tongue pressed up against his, so sloppy that his lips are covered in saliva by the time you pull back.
With a heavy push, he falls back to the bed, bouncing a few times as you climb over him. You look so pretty straddling his waist, the light around your head making you look like an angel as you lean over him. Your hips grind into his hardening cock, hands leveraging themselves on his shoulders so you can work him back to hardness. There’s a smirk on your face as you do, fingers digging into his skin as you rock back and forth.
“Tobio,” you whisper.
There’s a twinkle in your eye that tells him you know how much it’s affecting him. Especially when you shift and the head of his cock bumps your folds, disappearing inside for a second. You’re so wet, and it takes everything in him not to beg for you to take his full length.
“Oh, shit,” you whine, rocking back and forth so only the head of his cock disappears into your heat. “Fuck, like this. Can we?”
This is dangerous and Kageyama knows it. Between your job and the possibility of an accident, he should get another condom and fuck you that way. But you press a little further, teasing him with the head of his cock pressing in and out, in and out, over and over. He’s about to go insane, wanting nothing more than to be buried inside you again, but even with his hands on your hips, you evade him.
“Tobio.”
“Please.”
The word is quiet, needy, caught in the back of his throat as a mix between a groan and a request. It takes you both by surprise, your eyes widening as you stare down at him. He’s completely hard again, and just a little lower… His face grows even more flushed than it already is when you spread your folds and sink down all the way, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your hips stilling as you breathe.
There’s a moment where you savor the feeling, then you’re lifting your hips and slamming down, holding onto him as you ride him. Kageyama is sure he’s never seen something so beautiful, your tits bouncing, your hands flexing, your cunt warm and perfect for him. Every moan, whimper, and squeeze of your walls drills into his brain, ringing until he can’t think anymore. All he knows is the heat and wetness of your cunt, and the way you bounce on him like his cock is all you need.
His hands grip your waist to help you move, legs lifting to hit even deeper. You ride him so well, head tilted back with a moan as your fingers trail down to your clit. You keen and work quickly, matching his thrusts with your bounces and your gasps for breath.
When Kageyama grips your ass, you groan, fingers rubbing and circling your swollen nub until you’re leaning forward with a hoarse call of his name. Your pussy squeezes him so tightly that he grunts, working you through your orgasm as his own rises.
You open your eyes, cheeks sweaty and flushed, and when you whisper his name, he’s lost. He grabs onto you, fucking up into you as hard as he can. When his orgasm hits, he forces your hips down so he can fill your cunt with his seed, so he can make his mark on you in the only way he knows how. You gasp at the feeling, but he barely hears it, lost in the feeling of you taking him so well.
He opens his eyes and your satisfied smile is the first thing he sees.
“Again,” you beg. “Please.”
Kageyama can think of nothing else he wants more.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
The first thing he hears is the pounding of rain against the bedroom window. The second is water running in the room across the hall from your bedroom. Kageyama is groggy when he wakes up, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he sits and tries to re-orient himself. It’s still dark outside, which means he only dozed off for a few hours. You had collapsed on his chest, the warmth lulling him into a restful sleep he hadn’t had for a while.
When he pads out to the living room with his underwear in his hands, you’re still in the bathroom. Kageyama nudges the door open with his foot, watching you scrub your face clean of the product you’re using. You’re still naked, water dripping down your body as you finish up, towel off, then turn to him.
“Do you want to shower, too?” You ask calmly, wrapping the towel around your neck before batting your clean eyelashes at him. “Before you go back to see Ushijima-san.”
Kageyama goes rigid as a board, gaze drilling into your light smile. How do you know that?
“I’ve heard that name before. From Washijo,” you muse, walking forward to move past him toward your bedroom. Kageyama follows you like a lost puppy, unsure of what else to do. You dig into your dresser, pulling out a t-shirt and cotton shorts before you turn and speak again. “The leader of the Adlers, right? He sent you a message.”
The ease in which you discuss the Adlers is disorienting. It’s like you’re talking about what you need from the store instead of mafia business, oh-so-casual as you slip on your pajamas. He hurries to put on his underwear, refusing to have this conversation while standing naked in your bedroom.
You look at him so expectantly now that you’re dressed, but all Kageyama can do is give a stiff nod and a croaked, “Yeah.”
“Then… you work for him?”
“Yeah.”
“Tobio,” you breathe, so dainty, so soft, so beautiful. You take a step forward, grabbing onto his hand and bringing it between both of your own, fingers clutching his like a lifeline. It’s a stark contrast to your next request. “Kill him for me.”
“What?” It falls from Kageyama’s mouth as quickly as a bullet. “Ushijima?”
“No,Washijo.” You cling harder to his hand even though Kageyama tries to pull it away. “Isn’t that what the mafia does? Kill people who go against them? Make them disappear?”
Sure, he’s done that plenty of times under Ushijima’s orders, but…
“If anyone can do it, you can.”
“I can’t.” Kageyama answers, firm and immovable. “I can’t go against the Boss. Besides you…” He sighs, looking out toward the living room, even if he can’t see it. “Aren’t you going to become a lawyer? You can’t have that stain on your record, idiot, you—”
“I’m not an idiot,” you hiss, dropping his hand and pointing a finger in his chest. “You don’t know how much I’ve thought about this. How many times I’ve seen women hit and assaulted, only for the lawto turn their backs on them for trying to make ends meet. No one will do anything about Washijo because he has too much power and money. Trust me, I’ve tried. All he has to do is wave his money around and the evidence is destroyed.”
Kageyama stares at you in confusion, eyebrows creasing together as you force your finger into his chest again to push him away from you. “Then… what’s the point of becoming a lawyer if you hate it so much?”
“The point is to help people like me who are stuck with no way out.” You sigh, dragging a hand down your face before taking a deep breath. “I’ll endure all the bullshit if it means another woman doesn’t have to go through what I have.”
You turn away from him, crossing your arms over your chest. Kageyama wants nothing more than to wrap you up from behind and bring you into his embrace, whispering that it’ll be okay. He, of all people, knows what a lie those words are. He murmurs your name but you don’t turn around; you’re too focused on the rain pelting the window from the storm outside.
“Sometimes the law isn’t enough. For people like me, it’ll neverbe enough.” Your voice is quiet and defeated, something he’s never once heard for you. You finally turn to him, expression grim as you plead, “That’s why I need your help.”
As much as it pains him to say it, Kageyama repeats, “I can’t.”
“So you’ll choose to let me suffer?”
“I’m choosing my life. Ushijima will kill me if I go against his word. Don’t ask me to choose between Ushijima and you, because…” He pauses, swallowing down his reservations so he can bluntly say, “Because it won’t be you.”
“…I know,” you admit quietly, so quiet and resigned that it breaks his heart. “I know. That’s not what I want.”
You exhale, turning away from him again, and it feels as though you’ve closed yourself off from him for good. He won’t let it end like this. Ushijima be damned, there has to be something he can do for you to get you out of this hell. Even though Kageyama couldn’t achieve his own goals, he doesn’t want that to happen to you, too.
“Three months.”
His words make you silently look back.
“Three months,” Kageyama repeats. “That’s how long Washijo has left in his contract. After three months, Ushijima says he’ll reconsider.”
There’s a pinched look on your face that looks like you’re considering something, calculating the best way to use the remaining time. Carefully, like you’re weighing every word that comes out of your mouth, you ask, “That means after three months, I can…?”
“If you’re sure.”
You swallow, taking a deep breath before slowly exhaling. “You know,” you murmur, quieter than the thunder that shakes the window in front of you. “I want him dead, but… more than that, I want him ruined. I want him to suffer. I want to watch the light fade from his eyes, like he did to me. Do you understand?”
Kageyama takes his time to consider what you’re asking. It’s more than asking about his comprehension—you’re quietly asking for his help, for his expertise, for a way to make sure Washijo gets everything that’s coming to him, even if it means going against everything you’re studying for. Can he do this for you? Bring you into the dark and dirty work of the mafia, even as you study to become someone who may take him down?
“Tobio, answer me,” you insist when he takes too long to answer.
“If you want him to suffer,” Kageyama answers slowly, “Then we’ll need a plan.”
You both stare at each other for a long, dragging moment. Lightning outside the window flashes and illuminates the torn look on your face, your tired eyes, your heaving chest. You hug closer to yourself as if you can feel the chill from the rain from outside, even though your apartment is overly warm. The breath you let out is loud, and you blink a few times before you turn around to him fully, arms crossed over your chest.
“We have to make it perfect.”
Kageyama nods once to seal the deal.
If this is all he can promise you, then he’s more than willing to do it.
kageyama tobio was only supposed to deliver the weapons to ushijima’s best customer once every two weeks. he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you—law student by day, top dancer and escort at washijo tanji’s club by night. when you ask the impossible of him, kageyama has to choose: his life or yours.
pairing: adlers underboss kageyama tobio x escort fem!reader (with hair), part one of three ; 4.8k, nsfw (18+, mdni)
warnings:depictions of sex work, mentions of violence and murder, mention of racism/slavery by an asshole character; oral (m!receiving), fingering, snowballing
thanks to:@anime-nymphand@vanille–kiss for coming up with the ideas for me and helping me look into ways to murder and dick kageyama down like friends should LOL <3 also for betaing, and vani for the amazing banner as always!
From the outside, Il Giardino looks like a regular establishment. The brick building is multi-leveled, but the place is on the first floor, filled with tables that look like they belong in an upscale Italian restaurant. The servers wear black vests and white aprons tied around their waists, serving couples on first dates that won’t go anywhere, or couples celebrating anniversaries that will probably break up later anyway.
It’s only when you ask for “the best seat in the house” that you’re taken behind the curtain leading to the kitchens. A server will take you to some stairs in the cellar, lead you down the cold and slightly dungy stairwell, and open the door to the real reason people come here: to book the escorts who dance around the poles on stage, shooting flirty smiles to old politicians and rich assholes who pay handsomely for an hour or two.
Kageyama Tobio doesn’t even have to ask anymore.
The servers at Il Giardino know who he is and why he’s there. The briefcase he brings twice a month under the guise of being a “businessman” is filled with weapons from new shipments they received the day prior. As soon as he makes it into the basement showroom, he’s ushered into Washijo Tanji’s office, and the briefcase is exchanged for cold hard cash that goes straight into his inner pockets.
kageyama tobio was only supposed to deliver the weapons to ushijima’s best customer once every two weeks. he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you—law student by day, top dancer and escort at washijo tanji’s club by night. when you ask the impossible of him, kageyama has to choose: his life or yours.
pairing: adlers underboss kageyama tobio x escort fem!reader (with hair), part one of three ; 4.8k, nsfw (18+, mdni)
warnings:depictions of sex work, mentions of violence and murder, mention of racism/slavery by an asshole character; oral (m!receiving), fingering, snowballing
thanks to:@anime-nymphand@vanille–kiss for coming up with the ideas for me and helping me look into ways to murder and dick kageyama down like friends should LOL <3 also for betaing, and vani for the amazing banner as always!
From the outside, Il Giardino looks like a regular establishment. The brick building is multi-leveled, but the place is on the first floor, filled with tables that look like they belong in an upscale Italian restaurant. The servers wear black vests and white aprons tied around their waists, serving couples on first dates that won’t go anywhere, or couples celebrating anniversaries that will probably break up later anyway.
It’s only when you ask for “the best seat in the house” that you’re taken behind the curtain leading to the kitchens. A server will take you to some stairs in the cellar, lead you down the cold and slightly dungy stairwell, and open the door to the real reason people come here: to book the escorts who dance around the poles on stage, shooting flirty smiles to old politicians and rich assholes who pay handsomely for an hour or two.
Kageyama Tobio doesn’t even have to ask anymore.
The servers at Il Giardino know who he is and why he’s there. The briefcase he brings twice a month under the guise of being a “businessman” is filled with weapons from new shipments they received the day prior. As soon as he makes it into the basement showroom, he’s ushered into Washijo Tanji’s office, and the briefcase is exchanged for cold hard cash that goes straight into his inner pockets.
“This week’s even more special,” Washijo hums as he inspects the antique pistol he purchased from the stash. “Flintlock Muff. Do you know what year it’s from, Kageyama?”
“1804 according to the records, sir,” Kageyama answers robotically. He learned very early in his tenure as Adlers’ underboss that uninformed answers wouldn’t cut it for Washijo. The John demands an audience, a conversation for his musings, unlike so many of the other big shots around Tokyo. Hoshiumi had played that part well.
At least until he was buried six feet under by the Black Jackals’ boss, with Ushijima’s blessing, of course.
“Right you are, boy,” Washijo agrees as he shines a spot of dirty iron. “The kind of weaponry that meant power back then, meant to put the slaves in their place.” He hums in gleeful thought before looking Kageyama straight in the eye. “A perfect addition to my collection.”
Kageyama’s worked with a lot of assholes in his time as Adlers’ underboss, but Washijo Tanji might just take the cake.
He gives a stiff nod and sees himself out of the old man’s office, promising to come back in two weeks like he always does. Some weeks he’ll leave right away, glad to be out of the basement establishment and back in the real world where everything isn’t covered in a neon red glow. Other weeks, he’ll linger in a back booth, staying for exactly an hour before sliding out to go back to the base. Kageyama tells Ushijima it’s because Washijo sometimes goes on tangents about the guns and won’t shut up, but that’s not the real reason.
The real reason strides out on stage not even a minute after he sits down.
You always look so pretty, no matter the hairstyle you start with. Today it’s a high ponytail that’s tied with a shiny silver band and matches the short sequin dress you have on. Kageyama knows by the end of the night, you’ll only be in panties, the rest of your clothing discarded behind you as you twirl around on the pole. Then, after your set is over, you’ll walk off stage with your head held high and one last flirtatious smile and wink to the crowd.
It’s crazy to think you’d notice someone sitting far away who only comes in once and a while, but Kageyama lets himself imagine you do. Lets himself imagine that it’s him who books you, that it’s him you walk in to see, to touch, to moan for. It’s not like he doesn’t have the money—no, he has plenty of that ever since becoming underboss of the Adlers—but he doesn’t have the time. And if he’s honest, he doesn’t have the guts to go through with it and ruin the facade of admiring from afar.
Only you do that forhim.
Tonight your eyes land right on him, and he sucks in a breath when you smile at him, as beautiful as ever. Your gaze is heavy as you keep it on him, even as you peel piece by piece off of your flimsy little outfit until you’re only left in a skimpy little thong. Your breasts jiggle as you move, hands tracing over your body as you dance to the music. It makes his breathing more labored, making him shift in his seat and forcing any fantasies about you away.
There are bills on the stage in front of you, men catcalling you from the booths near the front, but you don’t pay them any mind. Whenever your focus isn’t on climbing and twirling around the pole, it’s on him, that flirty little smile directed right at him without any reservations. When your set is over, you send a flirtatious little wink to the crowd—to him—and disappear backstage.
He knows you won’t come back out tonight, not with the way one of the middle-aged men in the front booth waves over a server, but Kageyama wishes you would. Wishes you would do more than send him smiles or winks because then it would mean you want him as a person and not a potential client. He knows how these things operate—you’re working. Playing the game to save up for something, whether it’s family, or a kid, or just trying to survive in a world that makes it nearly impossible.
He waits another ten minutes staring at the back door, silently wondering if you’ll emerge and prove him wrong, but you don’t.
So he leaves, already counting down the days until he’s back in that basement club so he can see you again.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
The next meeting with Washijo is easy. He’s pleased with the product, placing the gun on an empty holster on the wall before shooing Kageyama out for “other business.” He’s about to leave the place for the night when there’s a soft call of, “Wait!”
Kageyama turns and sees you coming right for him.
He’s not ready for this. A kill? Easy. Sneak up behind them and wrap an arm around their neck, and the victim is none the wiser. A deal? Even easier. Read the room, read the vibe, and you’ll have them wrapped under your finger in a moment. A girl? Terrifying. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to act as you come up to him with your sparkling smile and stop right in front of him.
“I was hoping I would see you today,” you tell him as you tuck your hair behind your ear.
It’s down today, flowing behind you in pretty waves, your gold-painted eyes shining in the lights. The name tag on your chest reads “Daisy”—your stage name, he already knows—and the blouse is tight around your tits, skirt even tighter around your thighs. You’re a hostess today, not a dancer, a deviation from the norm.
It takes everything in Kageyama not to stare.
“I’m… not sure why,” he answers awkwardly.
“A mysterious handsome stranger I only ever see once every two weeks? I love a good mystery.” You grin, and Kageyama wishes you wouldn’t because he feels like he’s drowning in the ocean without a life jacket. “I’ve asked around but no one knows who you are.”
“Er… you’re asking about me?”
“I’m interested,” you giggle. “Is that wrong?”
Not wrong, but dangerous. The way his cheeks are coloring, the way his heart thumps in his chest, the way he’s itching to reach into his jacket and book you right then and there. It’s all so dangerous.
“I don’t know why you would be when you have plenty of suitors.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call them suitors,” you grumble as you cross your arms over your chest. “Clients would be more apt, wouldn’t it?”
Kageyama takes a look around the area. There’s no dancer on stage yet, but a woman comes out of the backroom and he knows it won’t be long now. No one is looking this way; Washijo sits at the bar talking with another older man in a crisp suit, but his eyes flick over for just a moment before returning. It’s just you two in your own little fucked up world of unspoken truths and discreet business.
“Then you probably don’t need another.”
“I don’t need another, but I wantanother.” Your smile is genuine even with your proposition. “What’s your name?”
“Kageyama Tobio,” he answers immediately, voice barely audible over the music that now pounds out of the speakers. “Your name?”
“Daisy.”
It isn’t your voice but Washijo’s. The owner stands next to you, a pressed smile on his face, arms tight behind his back. Kageyama notices the light in your eyes go out almost immediately, your smile slipping just a little bit as the old man lifts a hand to your chin and grabs tightly.
“You should be serving drinks now. That’s your job tonight.”
“Yes, Washijo-sama,” you respond robotically, like you’ve done this song and dance thousands of times before and know exactly what he wants to hear. “I was only welcoming your esteemed guest.”
“Daisy’s my best girl,” Washijo says as he slaps your cheek a few times none-too-gently. “Always makes me a pretty penny, doesn’t she?” He laughs like he’s not talking about you selling your body to make him money. It makes Kageyama’s eyes narrow as he flicks between Washijo’s smile and your souring and tightening expression. “If you want to book her, you’ll have to—”
“I’ll do it now.” Kageyama’s response is immediate, and he knows he pissed Washijo off by the way the man glares, but he doesn’t care. He’s got more pull in this city as the Adlers’ underboss than some old John with a hard-on for weapons anyway. He stares at you and your raised eyebrows when he says, “One hour, two weeks from today. Right after our meeting is finished.”
“Okay,” you whisper, trying to suppress your grin so Washijo doesn’t see it. “Two weeks from now, Kageyama-sama.”
“Then if you’ll excuse me.”
He bows his head before he can change his mind, before he can see how pissed he made Washijo, before he can get pulled into your cute little smile even more.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
No matter how many times he’s been here, Kageyama has never been in the back before. Washijo’s office sits next to the bar—chosen on purpose to keep an eye on his “merchandise”, he’s sure—so it feels strange to follow an attendant past the stage and through the steel door. The hallway looks like it could belong to a casino, a carpeted hallway housing large wooden doors that lead to private rooms labeled after flowers. Lotus, Bluebell, Tulip. Finally the attendant stops in front of a door labeled “Hyacinth”, knocks once, and bows on his way out.
“Come in,” comes your dainty voice from inside.
His heart races faster than a rabbit as he turns the handle and opens the door.
You’re dressed in a beautiful black babydoll onesie that sits tight around your breasts and hips. Overtop is a translucent pink robe, fuzzy on the ends and cascading down to the floor. It’s tied around the waist, making you look like a present made for him to unwrap. You look at him through the mirror of the vanity, turning to him with an alluring smile that makes him swallow.
“Kageyama-sama,” you murmur as you stand and show him all of you. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
He isn’t sure what to say or do. He’s never done this before; agreeing to come see you was a spur of the moment decision that’s been on the forefront of his mind the last two weeks. As enticing as you look, Kageyama isn’t here for what the other men are. While the thought has crossed his mind—more times than could be considered healthy, if he’s honest—he doesn’t want to be just another client you see once every two weeks then say goodbye to.
So when you start to walk over to him, he puts his hand up and makes you falter.
“I…” He clears his throat. “I’m not here to sleep with you.”
“Hm?” The hum sounds more confused than anything. “Then—”
“I only want to talk.”
“…Talk.” You’re looking at him like he’s grown another head. “You paid for an hour to… talk to me?”
Kageyama nods stiffly, cheeks warming when you laugh. You cover your mouth to quiet yourself, apologizing for your outburst before tilting your head.
“Okay, Kageyama-sama. What would you like to talk about?”
You both sit on the bed, and Kageyama lets you do most of the talking. You’re guarded, he can tell, but he’s the exact same. It’s like the conversation is stilted, both of you dancing around anything of substance.
How’s work? Fine. The usual. What’s your favorite food? Pork cutlet. How do you spend your time? Relaxing.
Only when he asks, “What do you do during the day?” do you slip up.
“Study.”
You look immediately regretful, even more so when he asks, “What do you study?”
You take a deep breath, looking contemplative for a moment before sighing, “Law. I’m in law school.”
Well, that certainly isn’t good for him.
“How do you balance your studies and working here?”
“You have so many questions,” you murmur, leaning into him so your fingers can trail up his left thigh. It makes him swallow, chest tight when you finish: “If you want to get to know me, why don’t we do it on a more personallevel?”
You’re so close to his cock that he has to shift his thigh away to keep his composure. You follow, manicured fingers running over his inner thigh, and you’re about to trail up when he grabs onto your wrist.
“I don’t want—” He swallows. “Okay well, I do. I want you, very badly, but I don’t want—” Fuck, this is frustrating. “I’ll come back in two weeks,” he blurts out instead. “Bring your study materials.”
“What?”
“Bring your books,” he repeats slowly. “I’ll buy your time so you can study.”
“Are you insane?” is the first question you ask, eyes wide as you drink in his stoic expression. “My fee is the highest in this establishment and you’re willing to pay that so I can study?”
“Money isn’t an issue for me,” he insists, sharp eyes on your slowly changing expression—morphing from confusion into something more annoyed, something more bitter. He’s seen it plenty of times at Suna’s clubs with the overly flirtatious women here, and something clicks in his brain immediately. “But it is for you, isn’t it?”
You ignore his question, eyes flitting over to the front door as if you’re expecting a knock any time now.
“Isn’t it?” He presses, hand on your wrist tightening and forcing your attention back on him.
“Who doesn’t have money problems?” You laugh, but it’s hollow and slightly forced. “I’m not the only one, Kageyama-san.”
That sounds so much better than that fake -sama bullshit from earlier.
The knock you were waiting for comes not a moment later, and you answer daintily, practiced composure as you stand up, eyes still locked on his. He follows you, fixing his coat as you set a hand on the door knob. You pause before turning it, taking a few breaths before you question,
“Two weeks?”
He nods twice and you open the door, smile on your face forced as you hand him over to the attendant waiting outside.
“Until then, Kageyama-sama.”
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
As soon as the gun is out of his hands and in Washijo’s collection, there’s a clap on his shoulder. Washijo’s bodyguard Saitou Akira stands next to him, his usually soft face firm as he stares down at him. Kageyama doesn’t even grace the two men with a response or an acknowledgement on his face. His expression is stoic as ever as he sits back and waits for Washijo to speak.
“You’ve taken a liking to our Daisy, I’ve noticed,” the old man drawls as he runs a hand over his clean-shaven jaw.
Kageyama can’t refute that. Every two weeks, he’s booked you and your time for an hour, letting you catch up on school work. But you always leave at least fifteen minutes (though lately it’s been nearly a half an hour) to talk to him about this and that. Kageyama has never mentioned the Adlers name, has never mentioned that his day job includes tracking down men who owe Ushijima money and beating them into submission, but he’s given you a rare glimpse into his life that he isn’t sure is a good idea.
You aptly listened to his old stories of high school sports, of being the model for his sister’s cosmetology license, of his “hat” phase when Miwa really fucked up his locks (that he’s never really forgiven her for.) In exchange, you’ve told him stories about yourself: about your hobbies, your past, your drive to create a better Japan, one that treats its people—all of its people—equally. Kageyama thinks that sounds like a pipe dream but he lets you speak anyway, because you don’t look any prettier than when you’re gushing.
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s one of the best in the business,” Washijo hums, and Kageyama pretends that business doesn’t include what you’re normally booked for. “So you’ll understand if her prices have to be increased, don’t you?”
He doesn’t, and he’s about to say he doesn’t when he hears Ushijima’s voice in his mind loud and clear: Keep our contractors happy.
Four more months. That’s how long is left in the contract, how long he has to think of a way to make Ushijima cut ties with this asshole.
“Of course,” Kageyama stoically responds, keeping his face neutral even when Washijo’s smirk could rival a sharp knife.
“Good, good, I’m glad we could do business. Tell Ushijima hello for me.”
It’s a jab, he knows. He’s only the underboss—the man sent to do his boss’s bidding. If he ever steps out of line, he’ll be gone and forgotten as easily as Hoshiumi. Kageyama doesn’t give Washijo the satisfaction of an answer. He brushes Akira’s hand off his shoulder, stands, and pays the additional fee directly to the John himself.
Then he lets the attendant take him back to the Hyacinth room without even glancing back.
You’re already there, dressed in your pretty lingerie, hair high up in a styled and curled ponytail. Your bookbag is hidden underneath the black robe you’ve started to wear under the guise of “being his favorite thing to see you in.” As soon as the door is locked, you take your normal positions: you hunched over the vanity as you pour through cases, him flicking through his phone until you say you’re finished.
“Kageyama-san,” you whisper not even 25 minutes later, and when he looks up, you’re already putting your notes and books away.
“Done?”
“Mhm.”
Usually you pull your chair over and he’ll sit on the bed so you can chat, but today you stand, untie your robe, and begin to walk over. He looks at you funny, narrowed eyes on the way you saunter over, your breasts pressed up against the lacy black bra, the matching panties highcut and showing off your legs.
“Wha—”
Your giggle cuts him off as you swing your leg, settling yourself in his lap.
“I don’t want to talk today,” you murmur as you play with the ends of his hair, and Kageyama feels like he can’t breathe, lungs as tight as his pants. “You’re paying a pretty penny for me, so why don’t you have me?”
“Even more now,” he replies, forcing himself not to touch you. Not just a client, he wants to say, want me as a man. But all he can do is stare as your confused expression twists.
“What are you talking about?”
“I had to pay an extra fee,” Kageyama says, face scrunching up to match yours. “Since you’re his favorite.”
There’s a long pause where he can see the anger in your expression, in the way your lips twist like you ate a lemon, in the way your eyebrows crease like you’re studying your law books. Then it’s gone, replaced with a light smile as you drag your fingers from his temple to his jaw, tilting his head up.
“Right,” you whisper as you lean closer, a hair’s width away from his lips. Hovering, not touching, your breath warm on his lips. His chest is tight with the need for breath when you add, “So why don’t we put your money to good use, Tobio-kun?”
Fuck.
The second you press your lips to his, he eagerly responds, a firm hand on your back pushing you against his chest. Your lips move against each other’s quickly, months of pent up want flowing in drags and tugs of lips. The little sound you let out when he pries your mouth open with his tongue rings in his mind, and he clings to you even tighter, keeping you pressed against his lap and chest. You match rolls of your tongue with rolls of your hips, your fingers quickly undoing the buttons of his dress shirt so you can push your hands inside and cling to his shoulders.
Manicured nails dig into his flesh when he bucks his hips up and you feel his hardening cock against you. You break the kiss to heave for breath, sloppy kisses trailing down the side of his neck to lick and suck at his skin, hastily tugging at his undershirt to get it out of his slacks.
“You—” He tries to say, but it’s cut off with a grunt when you grind down on him, your little whimper vibrating against his neck. “You can… slow down.”
“I can’t, actually.” He can feel you grin against his flesh, a light giggle on your lips. “You don’t know how badly I’ve been wanting you.”
Is this for real or for work? He should stop and ask, but then your fingers find his belt and he forgets all about it. Your fingers brush over the bulge in his pants as you unbutton his pants and drag the zipper down. Kageyama groans when you cup his cock through his underwear, teeth sharp on his exposed shoulder a juxtaposition to the soft way you squeeze and run your fingers over his bulge until he’s hard.
He immediately misses your warmth when you pull away from him. You settle between his legs, and he helps you drag down his pants and underwear to his ankles, hard cock springing free and bobbing against his stomach.
“It’s as pretty as you,” you compliment slyly, a grin on your lips. Kageyama nearly jerks into your touch when you grasp his cock in your hands, your thumb dragging over the tip and smearing his precum into his flesh. “I want you to say my name, Tobio-kun.”
“Daisy.”
“No,” you whisper as you lean up, your tongue following the circular pattern your thumb was just drawing. He exhales, shifting his legs even wider so you have more room. “My real name.”
You murmur it like a song, and he repeats it, the syllables sounding perfect in his rich baritone.
“Good boy,” you compliment before taking him into your mouth.
Your mouth is so warm, sucking him in as you twirl your tongue around his tip. Kageyama doesn’t know what to do with his hands; he keeps them curled up in the bedsheets and tugs when you suck hard, eyes staring up at him hard enough to make him shiver. It’s not that he’s inexperienced, but you make him feel like putty under your touch, his thighs jerking when you dig your nails into his flesh and take all of him.
The room is filled with his harsh breaths and your sucking sounds as you work him, head bobbing up and down quickly. When you hollow your cheeks, it makes him grunt and lean back on one hand, the other coming to grip your ponytail. You moan when he tugs, rewarding him with another harsh suck that makes him jerk into your mouth. Your fingers ghost over his balls, squeezing and fondling while you suck, and Kageyama feels like a teenager again—ready to blow any second if you keep sucking like that.
Kageyama gets lost in the pleasure, lost in the way you pump his cock when you need to breathe then immediately go back down on him like you can’t get enough. He can’t either, your mouth intoxicating and making him wonder if your pussy is just as good, if it’s just as tight and warm. The thought of being inside you spikes heat in his stomach, his balls tightening and spine tingling as his orgasm looms. He warns you with a low moan of your name, but you only suck harder, tongue running over the slit of his head until cum spurts out and fills your mouth completely.
He doesn’t realize he’s holding your head down until you tap his thigh a few times, then he immediately untangles his fingers from your ponytail with a quiet sorry.
“You can spit it out.”
But you don’t.
You climb into his lap again, slotting your mouth against his and feeding him his own cum. It’s strange and Kageyama is pretty sure he hates the way he tastes, but it mixes with your scent and your taste, and he kisses you back anyway, tangling your tongues together with urgency. You both swallow, shallow breaths panting against each other’s mouths, your nails raking down his undershirt-covered stomach with a whine.
“Touch me, Tobio-kun,” you whisper as you grind against his limp cock, flush high on your cheekbones signaling how much you want him.
He complies immediately, fixing your hips so you’re straddling him, high enough where he can lift your bra and start flicking over your nipples. You moan, fingers curling in his hair and tugging when he starts to suck, when his fingers start to wander over the wet crotch of your panties. Holy shit, you’re soaked, all from just sucking his dick. He’s able to push one finger into you no problem, and after a few strokes, he adds another. It makes you groan, grinding down onto his hand as he keeps sucking on your nipples, tongue dancing all over your skin as he switches between both.
You cry out lightly when his thumb finds your clit, and your pussy spasms around his fingers. His cock jumps at the tightness, already ready to be buried deep inside of you to drag along your walls, but he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers. You look too good on top of him, sound so good whimpering his name, that he wants to make you cum over and over and remind you who is giving you the pleasure. Not some broke loser, not some nasty John. Him.
Your cunt is so loud, pussy squelching as he scissors his fingers, lips and tongue dragging all over your chest. He can’t mark you—not with your job and the clients he’s sure will be seen when he’s gone—but he can pretend he’s the only one you have, leaving a trail of his saliva all over you as if saying that no one else can touch you. When you shudder and tug at his hair, he knows you’re close and he speeds up, curling just right. His breaths are hot against your chest, cock half-hard and twitching, begging to be in your cunt and—
There’s a sharp knock on the door, and a loud swear on your lips.
“No, don’t, don’t stop, please,” you whine above him, clinging to his hair as you hump against his hand. “So close, so close—”
“Come on,” he urges against your neck, fingers working even faster. You’re right there, squeezing him so tightly that he feels like he’sthe one about to cum, but—
Another knock on the door, an annoyed huff of your stage name, and you’re climbing off his lap with frustrated tears in your eyes and a scratch in your throat.
“Coming.”
You take a moment to catch your breath, watching him fumble to get dressed again and hide the bulge in his pants, before you swallow.
“Two weeks,” you whisper. Kageyama hates it. It’s broken, needy, and he’s about to pay for another three hours of your time so he can satisfy you and never have to hear it again.
But the third knock on the door seals his doom.
“Two weeks,” he repeats before exiting the room, fire burning in his veins long after he leaves Il Giardinobehind.
