Wow, this is so goddamn dubious, I'm truly sorry about my entire existence, but HAPPY VALS MIYU, THANK YOU FOR BEING THE BEST MIYU EVER, <3!!
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oikage, taking liberties with a pokemon sun/moon au rated E?? for kinda weird dubious humiliation electro nsfw domestic fluff, I guesssss
It had been the way the Professor’s fingers had lightly wrapped around his wrist before he left, is what Kageyama would think much later on, in a furious, full-body drop to the floor as the embarrassment creeps red hot across the tip of his ears and down each knob of his spine. But right now, on the rickety little cot in the corner of the lab with sheets tangled around his legs and the sunrise a soft, brilliant spread of orange over the island, all Kageyama can think is, I’m not fifteen anymore, why me, why this, and Ugh, gross, and a little more desperately as he tries, and fails, to simultaneously wrap the sheets around himself without actually touching any of the sticky mess slowly cooling against the inside of his boxers, Thank god Oikawa-san isn’t in the lab right now.
“Young human males can be such dizzzgusting creatures,” Rotomkawa pipes up cheerfully by Kageyama’s ear, as if reading his mind, and it might as well had done just that, with it wired almost exactly to the Professor’s calculating, cutting specifications. Kageyama remembers well the honour of sitting through those first few tests. “You, specifically, but this is the first time that I have observed such an unusual amount of phyzzzical activity during your deep sleep cycle.” The soft whirr and click of its video function punctuates its words. “Would you like me to play back my observations, Tobio-chan? We can annotate them together for when the Professor returns, bzzzt!”
“No,” Kageyama barks roughly as he tries to cover himself up a little more, but one of the many stray extension cords in the lab slithers around his limbs and he suddenly finds himself on his back again, uncomfortably twisted and suddenly very aware of the wet, tight pull of his boxers across his hips. Rotomkawa is hovering close over his chest, eyes fully lit and open, and something about the clear too-human shine of them is distressingly familiar. Kageyama tries not to look at the video feed that has started playing across its central screen; he can’t help but look up when the sound is unmuted on a loop of his own sleepy moan muffled deep into a pillow, the obscene slick noise of skin and heat suddenly too loud in the room.
“Bzzzt, this is for science, Tobio-chan,” Rotomkawa buzzes happily over the broken sound of Kageyama rutting into the bedsheets, over and over again. “Try to recall what you were dreaming about at timestamps 4:31 to 5:12 so the Professor can know what has caused this intenzzz reaction.”
But all Kageyama can do is stare at the playback of himself, his arched back, his mouth going slack around the soft sounds of hands he knows would give him away, and he suddenly feels absurdly warm even under these lightweight summer sheets, the smooth cotton prickling hot across his too sensitive skin, and he wants nothings more than to throw them off while covering himself completely in shame, and the feeling of it plucks painfully and breathlessly inside his ribs, burning. The extension cord is draped only lightly across his ankles and wrists, but when he moves to shake them off, a little electrical spark zaps the soft skin of his inner thigh, and Kageyama yelps in surprise as the shock travels lightly across his hips, circles the small of his back as if trying to soothe him. He’s sweating now, sparks mingling in the salt of it, and his skin tingles, too tight and on edge; he feels lightheaded in the slow movement of the rising sun cresting the window that opens out onto the deep blue sea, and when he blinks, salt pools in the corner of his eyes.
“Interezzting,” Rotomkawa notes, and there’s a sing-song little beep as the video starts recording again, and another zap runs slowly across the width of Kageyama's chest, stopping his breath on the heartbeat. Kageyama chokes on it, thinks of hands doing the same, and he almost misses the lights flashing in Rotomkawa’s eyes as the Signal Now Transmitting comes onto the screen. “Not bad, Tobio-chan. The Professor will be happy with your data. He might even give you a gold star, bzzzt.”
Kageyama grits his teeth against a moan as another spark touches the inside of his wrist, the imprint of fingers cruel only in their lightness, and the overwhelming weight of being watched like this, in this way, open and raw, makes him want to close his eyes and just sink into the blackness of it. The Professor will know, Oikawa-san will know.
“The Professor always knows everything, Tobio-chan,” Rotomkawa thrills, zooming in on the desperate tightness of Kageyama’s brow as he tries to hold himself off. His hands are still clenched at his side; he’s completely untouched except for the knowledge that the Professor will be reviewing his work later, scrutinise it mercilessly as he always does. Kageyama thinks about the sharpness of the Professor’s mouth; he thinks about the way his beautiful hands slip inside and out of his lab coat's pristine white sleeves as he casually dismisses Kageyama’s hard work and data, Do it again, and not so sloppy this time, Tobio-chan.
“Review timestamp 5:12 again, recording new data.”
Sunrise is flooding the lab and Kageyama is almost delirious with the light of it, and the heat it spreads across his skin, and all he can see of the figure that walks into the room is the outline of brown hair against the doorway, the flutter of a lab coat in the breeze off the ocean. “My, my, Tobio. Always holding out on me. But if you're good and come for me right now, I’ll definitely give you a gold star.”
Long fingers circle around one of Kageyama’s wrists; the Professor leans over him, and the smell of summer warm skin and the salt off the beach and something growing and green and sharp floods all of Kageyama’s senses, and as two fingers touch his pulse point, pressing right down to the bone, Kageyama can hear his own loud heartbeat fast and hard in his ear as he comes into his boxers for the second time that day.
Rotomkawa continues recording with a satisfied little buzz.
no subject
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oikage, taking liberties with a pokemon sun/moon au
rated E?? for kinda weird dubious humiliation electro nsfw domestic fluff, I guesssss
It had been the way the Professor’s fingers had lightly wrapped around his wrist before he left, is what Kageyama would think much later on, in a furious, full-body drop to the floor as the embarrassment creeps red hot across the tip of his ears and down each knob of his spine. But right now, on the rickety little cot in the corner of the lab with sheets tangled around his legs and the sunrise a soft, brilliant spread of orange over the island, all Kageyama can think is, I’m not fifteen anymore, why me, why this, and Ugh, gross, and a little more desperately as he tries, and fails, to simultaneously wrap the sheets around himself without actually touching any of the sticky mess slowly cooling against the inside of his boxers, Thank god Oikawa-san isn’t in the lab right now.
“Young human males can be such dizzzgusting creatures,” Rotomkawa pipes up cheerfully by Kageyama’s ear, as if reading his mind, and it might as well had done just that, with it wired almost exactly to the Professor’s calculating, cutting specifications. Kageyama remembers well the honour of sitting through those first few tests. “You, specifically, but this is the first time that I have observed such an unusual amount of phyzzzical activity during your deep sleep cycle.” The soft whirr and click of its video function punctuates its words. “Would you like me to play back my observations, Tobio-chan? We can annotate them together for when the Professor returns, bzzzt!”
“No,” Kageyama barks roughly as he tries to cover himself up a little more, but one of the many stray extension cords in the lab slithers around his limbs and he suddenly finds himself on his back again, uncomfortably twisted and suddenly very aware of the wet, tight pull of his boxers across his hips. Rotomkawa is hovering close over his chest, eyes fully lit and open, and something about the clear too-human shine of them is distressingly familiar. Kageyama tries not to look at the video feed that has started playing across its central screen; he can’t help but look up when the sound is unmuted on a loop of his own sleepy moan muffled deep into a pillow, the obscene slick noise of skin and heat suddenly too loud in the room.
“Bzzzt, this is for science, Tobio-chan,” Rotomkawa buzzes happily over the broken sound of Kageyama rutting into the bedsheets, over and over again. “Try to recall what you were dreaming about at timestamps 4:31 to 5:12 so the Professor can know what has caused this intenzzz reaction.”
But all Kageyama can do is stare at the playback of himself, his arched back, his mouth going slack around the soft sounds of hands he knows would give him away, and he suddenly feels absurdly warm even under these lightweight summer sheets, the smooth cotton prickling hot across his too sensitive skin, and he wants nothings more than to throw them off while covering himself completely in shame, and the feeling of it plucks painfully and breathlessly inside his ribs, burning. The extension cord is draped only lightly across his ankles and wrists, but when he moves to shake them off, a little electrical spark zaps the soft skin of his inner thigh, and Kageyama yelps in surprise as the shock travels lightly across his hips, circles the small of his back as if trying to soothe him. He’s sweating now, sparks mingling in the salt of it, and his skin tingles, too tight and on edge; he feels lightheaded in the slow movement of the rising sun cresting the window that opens out onto the deep blue sea, and when he blinks, salt pools in the corner of his eyes.
“Interezzting,” Rotomkawa notes, and there’s a sing-song little beep as the video starts recording again, and another zap runs slowly across the width of Kageyama's chest, stopping his breath on the heartbeat. Kageyama chokes on it, thinks of hands doing the same, and he almost misses the lights flashing in Rotomkawa’s eyes as the Signal Now Transmitting comes onto the screen. “Not bad, Tobio-chan. The Professor will be happy with your data. He might even give you a gold star, bzzzt.”
Kageyama grits his teeth against a moan as another spark touches the inside of his wrist, the imprint of fingers cruel only in their lightness, and the overwhelming weight of being watched like this, in this way, open and raw, makes him want to close his eyes and just sink into the blackness of it. The Professor will know, Oikawa-san will know.
“The Professor always knows everything, Tobio-chan,” Rotomkawa thrills, zooming in on the desperate tightness of Kageyama’s brow as he tries to hold himself off. His hands are still clenched at his side; he’s completely untouched except for the knowledge that the Professor will be reviewing his work later, scrutinise it mercilessly as he always does. Kageyama thinks about the sharpness of the Professor’s mouth; he thinks about the way his beautiful hands slip inside and out of his lab coat's pristine white sleeves as he casually dismisses Kageyama’s hard work and data, Do it again, and not so sloppy this time, Tobio-chan.
“Review timestamp 5:12 again, recording new data.”
Sunrise is flooding the lab and Kageyama is almost delirious with the light of it, and the heat it spreads across his skin, and all he can see of the figure that walks into the room is the outline of brown hair against the doorway, the flutter of a lab coat in the breeze off the ocean. “My, my, Tobio. Always holding out on me. But if you're good and come for me right now, I’ll definitely give you a gold star.”
Long fingers circle around one of Kageyama’s wrists; the Professor leans over him, and the smell of summer warm skin and the salt off the beach and something growing and green and sharp floods all of Kageyama’s senses, and as two fingers touch his pulse point, pressing right down to the bone, Kageyama can hear his own loud heartbeat fast and hard in his ear as he comes into his boxers for the second time that day.
Rotomkawa continues recording with a satisfied little buzz.