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clingy!kentarou x reader (taming maddog)
heyyyy :) finally getting to this hope it's aight
warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI
details. fem!reader / riding maddog / 69 / obsessive!maddog / clingy!needy!maddog / possessive!maddog / loneliness theme / 'i can fix him' trope / libero!reader / johsai girls' team reader / maddog being canonically mean / implied virginity / experienced!reader / emotionally intelligent reader / emotionally stunted maddog / 3.6k words
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"(Y/n), like, I know you've got a type and all..."
"Mhmm," You follow absentmindedly, tracking your latest obsession like a hawk.
Number 16 was different- not just attractive, but he had a threatening, intense, sharp presence about him. He was just about the only member of the guys' team who didn't subscribe to a cheerful, cooperative environment. His little outburst earlier caught your attention, and he was currently benched for pushing Oikawa.
He sure was aggressive. You bit your lip and watched him stretch from the bleachers.
"But I heard he's actually crazy."
The other girls on your team would never understand what possessed you to put yourself in danger, going after the most deviant of guys you could find. It was an endearing joke amongst the team, at this point, but they did worry for your safety.
"What's his name?" You looked to them for the first time, mind already made up.
Whispers of Kentarou, Kyoutani, Maddog, were shared as you settled back to watching him. Lots of horror stories of him getting in trouble, getting into fights, yelling at teachers, other students, getting suspended for a time all encouraged you. The nickname he earned made you significantly more fascinated.
You could fix him. It would at least be fun to try.
You couldn't help but ponder where his true fault lied, how it twisted into so much unwarranted aggression.
Was he not held as a baby? Did he have a bad home life? Had it manifested into some kind of sexual dysfunction? You wondered if he was this big of a presence in the bedroom. You smiled at the strong possibility that he wasn't.
Maybe that was a bit Freudian of you to assume, but your previous diagnoses hadn't steered you wrong yet. The guys you slept with were all weirdos- losers- psychos- and yet, they were all a step closer to normal after a little love.
They couldn't stop you from approaching, especially when nobody had the guts to go anywhere near him.
"Hi," You tapped his shoulder after a bout of hesitation.
He looked to the side, then behind, and realized you were referring to him.
His brow fell from its subtle version of surprise, making all his features look heavier, meaner-- you shuddered.
"Yo." Was all he said.
Though dismissive and already uncomfortable, it was enough to work with.
You smoothed out your uniform with a nervous sigh, "Um- I'm sorry if this is forward, but,"
"I think you're really cute. I'd like to go on a date, sometime."
Kentarou looked angry even when he was shocked. The dark around his eyes made it impossible to look soft, and it seemed he didn't have the capacity to smile yet.
The only way you could deduce that he was embarrassed was the way his hands balled into fists at his sides, how he looked around your face over, over, and over again for an ounce of insincerity.
It was adorable. You giggled at his long silence.
Laughing shut him down. His mouth curled in a sneer, positive you were laughing at him.
The gaggle of girls, filling the entrance to the gym, all clad in your uniform, wasn't great for optics. It looked like you were playing a prank on him.
"Are you kiddin' me?" He rolled his eyes before you could even try to explain, "Go fuck yourself."
It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Though you loved your team, visible swarms of women never put the guys you went after at ease.
That rejection was still tame for what you had seen before from him.
He put his back to you and crossed his arms, watching the game, instead. Getting benched and made fun of couldn't have been a great feeling.
Determined now, you shook out your nerves and tapped his shoulder again.
"Tch-! I said fuck off!" He scowled down at you, but you knew it was misguided. So it didn't hurt as bad.
You purposefully didn't mirror his body language- you didn't want him to cut him off even more. You stood facing him at an angle, trying to catch his eye and take his attention again.
Voice quiet, sweeter, genuine, "I'm serious."
Even if this was a joke, you were the most persistent he had ever seen. Nobody usually got this far. If he told somebody to leave, they did. Especially after the second time, and a girl, at that.
"I mean- I get it if you're not into short girls, that's totally fine," You fixed your hair, glancing away from his overwhelmed, slow expression, "But, please, just... think about it. Here's my number."
For a moment, you were unsure if he would take the paper in your hand. He gave you zero indication that he believed your story, but after just enough time to make you doubt, he took it.
Kentarou held it tight, confused, as you joined your team to leave the gym. He watched them look over and preen you like birds to make sure you weren't hurt.
It could've been a real confession. The gravity of it didn't truly land until he was back home, looking up the girls' team Instagram to find your personal handle. You were following the page and even had a few features in their posts.
Doubts began to grow that it was your real number. He decided he didn't want to use it.
Instead, he lay on his bed, palming himself to the poses of your greatest receives- you were such a pretty girl, with a nice body, cute face--reminded of those things now, it only made him more skeptical at your choice to speak to him.
Luck was on his side once again, because your own profile was public. You even had a few beach posts. Lots of likes, lots of followers. You wouldn't notice if he liked a few of them, unless you were being honest about your interest.
You were all over his signals in a flash.
A follow, a bit of page-stalking that got you nowhere (because he had 0 online presence, other than a couple blank accounts), and a long string of messages that went deep into the night, all earned you a date.
Now that the game had officially begun, you needed to curate each move carefully. If you waited too long to take advantage of any clear signs of interest, he wouldn't find you worth the trouble. You needed some dick.
Kentarou was lonely, too.
It was as you suspected, monitoring him during that practice match. People who had a good support system didn't act that way he did.
He wasn't wistful, or desperate, and didn't invite friendship. Shit, he barely let you court him, and the only way you could convince him to meet you for coffee was if you sent a few pictures 'to prove it was just you.' And yet, after the one misunderstanding, he didn't deny you any opportunity to get close.
His experiences shaped him to be incredibly firm, mistrusting, and overly cautious, yes; It all fell short though, when it came to the very simple, universal longing for companionship.
The cafe wasn't too quiet, thankfully.
You were most worried about the possibility of him causing some sort of commotion and being asked to leave, but other patrons were lively enough to drown him out, if he did raise his voice.
To your surprise, that also wasn't much of an issue.
He ordered for the two of you, even -begrudgingly- accepting that you wanted a more intricate drink, too. He didn't let you do much for yourself. When he told you to go find a seat while he waited at the counter, you stayed with him so you could be close. He still didn't argue.
Though he wasn't polite, he wasn't a monster. He was just brimming with attitude, and that rubbed people the wrong way. When unprovoked, he was mean-looking, sure, but docile.
A predatory gaze watched the skirt of your casual dress flutter up- just a little, not quite enough- as you sat down next to him with your elaborate drink in hand. He set his cup down and you felt his leg flex as you closed the distance to snuggle up to him.
"You're taking this joke pretty far."
Insecurity filled the quiet between his words, and it took a sensitive ear to detect under all the venom. Was he testing you? Probably. Was he still trying to protect himself? Absolutely.
"Mm," You considered how to respond while sipping on your coffee, staring forward, not really minding his intensity, "I don't have the kind of time to go on fake dates, you know."
It was an argument less emotional in nature, but due to its legitimacy, it left him stumped enough to drop the subject.
In its wake remained discomfort. Mostly at your thigh, busy rubbing against him as you pretended to be more invested in the ambience of the cafe, or the flavor of the drink in your hands.
"What're you doing it for?" He pressed, different, but still carried with a grumbly, shitty attitude he always spoke in.
That took some getting used to, but once you understood he just talked that way, you were able to take his words at face value and waste less time miscommunicating.
A warm hand, palming the squish of your bare thigh encouraged your desire to be honest.
You waited for him to stop scanning the cafe, for the right moment to tell him.
His eyes dipped first to your pretty thighs, all soft and warm and new in his hand. Then he was taken by the all the sweetness in the way you looked at him.
"I wanna sleep with you."
You expected him to not believe you, like the first time, but his surprise was now pretty conventional.
His mouth hung open, just a little, and you noticed a tongue piercing. How did you miss it before? Did he not wear it at school? Your thighs tightened and he met it with a firm squeeze as he took a sobering drink of his coffee.
It was obvious he wanted to know why. But he was looking for something better to say, instead.
"The fuck are we doing here?"
That was a good question. Such a good question, in fact, that after a bit of conversation about where to go to fuck, you landed on going back to your place.
He made himself comfortable on your bed as you shut the door and locked it, just in case. Your room didn't have a whole lot of conversation starters, so he took a while to really examine it.
He wasn't witty, or spontaneous, or chatty.
There was no value in sitting around, acting like you wanted to delve into a discussion about each other's families, or grades, or volleyball.
His brow softened as you dropped the straps of your dress down.
There was a small attempt to look you in the eye, which you appreciated in a very limited context, but once you kept going, he might as well have been wearing a collar.
A half-sigh, half-laugh pushed out of his open mouth, brow furrowed again, as he tried to speak a few times while you posed for him, drunk on such a cute, endearing reaction.
There were a lot of things for him to think about. You could almost smell the smoke of grinding gears when you stood in front him and rubbed your hands against his shoulders.
He kept getting his fill, eyes unable to stay in one place too long, practically trying to back up so he could keep looking at all of you.
You giggled, "Kentarou?"
His breath stopped. You couldn't feel it, tingling across your skin, anymore.
You took some fingers to his curly hair, playing with it, "Aren't you gonna touch me?"
"I-," He didn't know what to do with himself for a moment, "Where?"
Your charmed, bitten back smile made his ears bright, bright red. Instead of telling him, you settled onto his lap and felt for his hands, gently guiding them towards your hips.
It was slow, natural, and gentle how you decided to kiss him.
You could feel how heated he was, with one hand on the back of his neck, the other cooling off the side of his face. One second to part for some breath, which he needed, badly- you waited for him to say something.
But he was forcing his mouth back onto yours quicker than you thought he would- his fingers dug into your flesh, and he brought you down onto his hard-on with a sudden loss of reservation.
It didn't take long to start catching that little tongue piercing against your lip- you groaned against his mouth, "Fuck, I really like that."
He was a fast, eager, and very rough learner. Kentarou was also laughably easy to please, because it was obvious he had no preferences built up yet. Everything you did left him stunned and hungry.
You reveled in your private victory and helped him undress. He wasn't shy about his own body, but you made it clear that he had a nice figure by taking the time to kiss along his muscular arm, then shoulder, and up to his neck.
His quickness to mirror you, kissing the same places on your body, was cute. He never once smiled, but he showed his investment in other ways.
When you offered to 69, he immediately fell onto his back from his upright position, rubbing his warm face.
A weak, "Yes," from under his palms was all you got, but it was so sweet from a guy like him. He sounded broken in, in a way.
You pressed a deserving kiss to his jaw and turned around.
His cock looked just as angry as he was, normally. Twitchy, leaking a bit of precum on his toned tummy, tinged dark with the all the time it had been waiting.
"You're- so fuckin' wet," He sounded stunned to say that aloud, understand what it actually meant, and that he was obsessed with it.
You smiled and pressed a kiss to the base of his cock as you settled into a good position.
How long had it been since you got laid? Apparently too long, because you were dripping with anticipation at the salty taste of his tip sliding past your teeth.
That was the downside of having such a specific type. Not many options.
He was still figuring out how to use his own mouth when you took the breath out of him- a strangled gasp at the sound, the sensation of your lips and tongue sucking off the slickness there. You held him by the base, briefly.
"You should let me know if you like it," You teased, just before bobbing your head back down.
"Mm-mmnh-! Fuck! Do I-ahh, have to?"
With that whiny tone?
You slowly came back up, careful to leave no spit behind. He was flexing in your jaw, his stomach twitching against your chest. Poor thing wouldn't last very long, he was so sensitive.
"Uhh, yes," You grinned, tongue darting out to lick him all the way down his shaft.
"Fuuuck- whatever- augh, just keep doin' that," His groan broke into a murmur of sorts, against your pussy.
From there, he was starting to find what worked with you. It was curious, and not great, but you didn't need it to be; something about the clingy way he held you, the shift in his attitude, was making you feel like you could take him already.
It made your nails dig, deep into his thighs, your already sparse breath grow a bit shorter.
Though his desperate tone and slow, gentle tongue made some parts of you tighten, it helped your throat relax and take more of him.
He started to come apart long before you wanted to be done.
Breathy, incomplete "Stopstop-sta-aah," every twenty seconds flattered you, letting you take more frequent breaks to ride his face and break in that little metal ball.
You thought about his nickname during one of these breaks. It was one of those instances where it seemed fitting, but for more than just surface-level aggression.
Nothing about him scared you. Not after you showed him that you had no ill-intention. He was like a dog. He wasn't vicious because it was in his nature; he just had a thorn in his paw.
He 'bit' people because they didn't give him a chance.
All of these chances you were giving him proved that he was worth all the effort to get close. It wasn't even much work, in hindsight.
You showed him the mechanics of the condom you brought for the occasion, and managed to talk him through some important sex-centered courtesies.
"So, y'know, you'll want to yield to whatever she's ready for--,"
Kentarou kept you from sitting on his cock, for just a second-- his eyes grew narrow, darting around your face.
"You mean: 'you.'" He corrected.
He looked like he was about to bite through your face.
"Right!" You smiled, growing a bit warm at your inconsiderate slip in language, "Yeah, of course."
Your apologetic kisses, smattered all along his sensitive face and neck, calmed him. His grip softened, slowly, as he became convinced that this was sacred again.
As you started to take him, he forgot all about it.
"Aughh- my go-d," He couldn't stop watching where you came together with a knotted brow, at how slick, and tight, and hot you were.
Your confidence read in the form of slow, rolling motions of your hips, the cloudy look in your eyes as you were finally getting filled up again after such a dry spell of no dick. You put your hands over his, already on your hips, and encouraged him to squeeze harder.
"Mmn-ah-h," You placed your hands on his chest, to keep yourself upright.
It hurt, how much he reciprocated that squeeze, but you quickly learned to like the sting.
Like most everything else, he replicated what you showed him. He started fucking you back, his hips able to take you faster, harder--
The pretty little pout on your lips was enough to make him screw his eyes shut, just to try to settle down.
He was getting so worked up at your tight little cunt that he was forced to let you keep your slower pace, contribute a little less, for fear he'd finish too soon.
His breath was like a stutter- so shallow and huffy that you rubbed your hand across his cheek, to check if he was okay. As you did this, the look in his eyes burned into the back of your skull.
You had seen that somewhere before. Not in someone you knew personally.
"Mm-mnh-!"
You were careful not to look away from it, and you only closed your eyes when it was too intense, too good to see straight.
The way he gripped you was like a lifeline, clawing, leaving rough and raised lines across you-- It wasn't intended to hurt, but more or less to make sure he left you with some lasting impression. He didn't understand that he didn't need to do it.
He couldn't take the concern on your face. Not as you fucked him so close, not with that perfect body taking his cock so well. Nobody ever looked at him with so much warmth.
"Ah! Just- just like that," You gasped, shaky all of a sudden.
"Fuck-," He sighed, suddenly having to remember what exactly he was doing.
He grimaced, face twisted in the pain of trying not to cum, head thrown back so he didn't have to look at you.
But your hand left his chest to grasp him by the jaw- it wasn't hard, but it was enough to move him. You begged him to look at you. You wanted him to watch you, and it looked like he was just short of a confessing something sinful.
Worship.
That's what you saw. In those narrowed eyes were praise, an exaltation of the love you had spared for him.
It filled you with a dizzying, raw confidence- you took in a breath through your nose, getting railed so hard, so close that your eyes started watering.
"Fuck- I'm-Ah--!" You couldn't quite finish your sentence before you crashed over, your body seized up, firm, grabbing and gripping him like you needed, wanted him so bad.
It left him a groveling, panting mess underneath you. He was watching in awe just like you told him to, only allowed to cum after you were done.
He fucked it all out of you, thanks to the timing. Your slow wave-riding kept you pleasant and buzzed as he fucked you hard for his own orgasm.
You even egged him on, breathless, a little smirk only interrupted by a pleasurable wince a couple of times.
"You wanna cum for me?"
"Yeah? Yeah?"
After finishing so loud and performative, nothing could have prepared you for how cuddly and silent he got.
You shouldn't have given into the desire to hug him, because he wouldn't let you move to pull him out.
"Mm-mm," Was pressed in a sloppy kiss against your neck.
Those muscular arms were shaking a little, just barely, around your waist.
"I'm- not going anywhere," You laughed, returning a few light kisses against his temple, "But we need to clean up."
He made it difficult, almost impossible, to separate and throw the condom away. You opted to just tie in a knot and throw it closer to the trash can so you didn't have to get up.
The way he watched you was careful, intense, looking for any opening to get closer to you again.
You finally sighed, smiling, "Okay."
Kentarou pulled you back down to lay next to him at the soonest opportunity. He kept an arm heavy over your chest, his leg kicked between yours, his eyes never leaving the side of your face.
His intensity was what you signed up for, but now, warm under his persistent and acute attention, you realized: maybe you hadn't thought this through the whole way.
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