#💫ch.kyouani

[iwaasfairy]

for the drabble thing, maybe kyoutani?? whatever you feel like writing for him, thank you!!

Thank you for requesting him bby ♡ฅ(ᐤˊ���ฅˋᐤ♪) I really wanna write a full Kyou fic soon

tw possession, noncon voyeurism, tiny bit yandere

Kyoutani isn’t an easy person to get to know. Not to stay and stand by, either. So it’s always a surprise when you show up by his side, dainty little fingers wrapped around his thumb like stretching too far from his side might rip you in half. You’re a feeble thing, always wear an expression like the wind could blow right through you. He doesn’t mind the questioning glances in practice. But there’s absolutely no doubt in his mind that you’re his, claimed fair and square. And you know it. It must’ve been a little sweet to look at at first. Kyoutani knows what he looks like, you clearly do not.

Or if you do, you’re determined not to let it show when he finds you blinking at him with eyes full of genuine curiosity. He wasn’t ever swayed by the school of screaming fangirls in his last year of high school. So what the hell was it about the mousy, stubborn assistant —not even a whole one— of his pro league that wormed through his tough shell. He doesn’t really recall anymore. You were always pretty, beautiful even, but if that had been all; he would’ve looked right past you. If it was just your optimistic, kind smile you were eager to send everyone. Instead he found you staying night after late night, in silence, each time he’d practice late. Even after the first few times of chewing you out with a colourful string of words, you didn’t stop. Just sat with a determined look on your face, to help him clean up balls after hours.

And when your damn persistence to see though what you started slowly changed into tearing up at getting a ball to the face, or dozing off with your head thrown back in an uncomfortable crunch, your grating insistence slowly started to wear on him. Your unapologetic honesty becoming more than a little entertaining. And once that ball starts rolling, Kyoutani has no way of stopping it. It’s only right.

Somewhere between the late nights chasing down your affection and demanding it with rough hands and harder kisses, there’s a love story there. Well— to him there is. You’ve become less articulate as of late. You’ve made him dependent on you. So even if you don’t agree, he’ll make you believe it.

There’s tears rolling down your temples as your legs are swung over his shoulders and you bounce with pitiful cries on his cock. He’s driving his throbbing, heavy cock so deep into you it’s making you go a little cross eyed to the world, barely able to mumble his name to plead for some reprieve. The locker room bench creaks loudly under the motion, and you squeak each time he bottoms out all the way deep enough to reach your cervix.

Bent double like a folder, you look so good with your puffy pussy on display and gushing sticky slick all over his lap, balls and thighs. Your face is hot and wet from the tears that he manages to get out of you with the slap to your cheek, the pulling of your nipples between rough fingertips, and the way his thighs meet your ass with a lewd sound. “G-gon-cum—Ken-ta, Ken’t ro, please,” you choke under your breath, whole body vibrating from the way he’s fucking into you like a man starved.

“Louder,” he grunts back though, pushing hard on your poor, abused clit. The effect is instant, your legs jerking as your back pulls from the bench.

“Kenta! Kentaro!” Your voice is hoarse from the tears, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he pinches your overused nub with an almost-scream. “Holy fghf-fuck! Taro!~” You’re cumming again. Crying and wrapping your trembling legs around his hips to slow his thrusts for at least a few seconds. Spilling more mixed wetness onto his lap and going boneless in his hold. He loves you like this, truly. Doesn’t matter that you’ll blush and fluster like a little doe when you find out that he’s fully aware that the others have yet to leave the showers for the night.