Oikawa Tooru doesn't want praise
˙⋆✮ NSFW, timeskip, f!reader, degradation, oral f!receiving, slightly mean reader, no use of y/n ˙⋆✮
Oikawa Tooru is used to the adoration, the cheering crowds and bedazzled posters proclaiming, "I love you!", "¡Te amo!", "大好きです !" He revels in it, soaking up every compliment like he needs it to survive. Oikawa Tooru is used to idolatry, which is precisely what makes it so boring. He knows he's perfect, down to his artfully messy hair and lopsided smirk.
Behind closed doors, his eyes get softer. His words are desperate as he pushes you down onto his bed; he wants you to push back. You grab him by the wrists, squeezing tightly as you leer up at him. "Aw, you wanna touch me, babe?"
You can feel your boyfriend's breath on your face, heavy and quick. "Please," he gasps. "I nee-I-please." He lowers himself onto you, hard-on pressing against the fabric of your pants. Beneath, you can feel yourself pulsing and wet with want, but you're not going to let him know just yet.
You grind up into him instead, relishing the little whimper that escapes his lips. "You're so hard for me, Tooru."
He loves when you use his first name, when you spit it like honeyed venom. "I haven't even done any yet," you coo. "Pathetic." Your lips brush against his ear ever so softly, moving down to his neck. You bite down hard.
"That's going to leave a mark," he mumbled. "If someone sees it during a game-"
"Then they'll know what a pretty little slut you are," you finish smoothly. Letting go of his wrists, you pinch his flushed cheeks. He's so much more beautiful here, unraveling at your touch, than he is on the court. "Now, why don't you make yourself useful, hm?" You flick your gaze down, roaming over the curves of your own body. "You wanna cum in me? Then earn it, guarra."
Oikawa obeys immediately, leaning to press a kiss to your collarbone. "Okay, baby. Does this feel good?"
He repeats the question as his hands trail along your sides, kissing his way down your body. The hem of your shirt hikes up, a perfect spot for his pleading caress. "You like it?"
Every time, your response is the same. A tsk, a shrug, anything that keeps him fervent and eager.
He slips his tongue beneath the waistband of your pants. His hot palms burn imprints into your hips, and the look in his eyes is searing as he slowly, slowly catches the hem of the pants in his teeth.
"I told you to be useful," you sing-song. "Let's not stop now, 'kay?" You thread your fingers through his hair and tug, tug, tug. Get on with it.
Your pants come off smoothly, and your underwear next. A single pause sits between the two moments, a sigh of appreciation and wonder.
Then his lips are on you, whispering sweet nothings into your pussy. He licks at your folds, messy and wet, before slipping his tongue into you.
Nothing can hide the guttural moan that seeps out of you—it's music to Tooru's ears. "God. I don't deserve all your little sounds, but I want to hear all of them." He slips his tongue back in and flicks it all around, brushing the walls of your entrance with experienced movements. You've done this before with him, so many times, but the heat always feels different. Today it's disorienting and fierce. He needs to prove himself, and lord it is working.
You thrust into his touch, melding your bodies together into an indistinguishable mess of pleasure and lust. It's so much and it's not enough.
You need his mouth on your clit, need him to suck you dry and feel you cum with sharp gyrations. You won't let him get you to climax with just his silver tongue. He needs to work for it.
A quick pull raises his head enough to meet your eyes, hazy and full of want.
"I can do more," Oikawa rasps. "I'll eat you out so good, I promise. Trust me."
He's good at keeping his promises, spreading you out like a feast and kissing his way to your clit. He gives no warning before sucking deeply, taking you in and letting his tongue slide against your bud.
"Mmph," you gasp, hands seeking purchase on Tooru's head, his shoulders, his arms. For a split second, his teeth meet your clit, cold and sharp and more of an accident than anything.
It's too good, he's too good, he can't know he's this good.
It's no use. You can feel yourself come undone, hips bucking fiercely as you climax. Tooru's lips never once leave your pussy. He rides it out, tasting you in all your ruined glory. Only when you lie still does he get up, climbing on all fours until your noses touch.
"Mi corazón," he whispers. "Did I do a good job?"
You sneer teasingly. "Could've been a little defter with your tongue."
It's a joke, but Oikawa's eyes are cold and serious as he nods, "I'll do better next time."
Then his face relaxes, and he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. "...Now can I fuck you teary-eyed? You're always so pretty with my cock in you."
You think on it for a moment, not letting your emotions show on your face. "Fine. But you have to beg for it.
Tooru flashes a blindingly bright smile, matching the wicked one spreading across your face. "Of course, baby."
a/n: saw a post on here saying oikawa would have a degradation kink and was very inspired, fantastic taste honestly (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)