Locker room Shenanigans // Kagami Taiga x Fem!Reader
MDNI 18+ knb kinktober entry!!
A/N: someone said "anything with kagami" and I love them for that bc that dude is so fiiiine I couldn't do a kinktober without writing about him yk 😫 it's 3.2k words bc I'm horny.
Context: what can you, as a basketball team manager, do to cheer up your ace after a defeat?
Warnings: Semi-public sex (in the locker room, people can hear them), riding, nipple play, unprotected sex, pussy eater kagami!, slight size kink (I couldn't help myself 😔✋🏽)
Taiga’s harsh word is shortly followed by a loud clank! that echoes around the empty locker room. You sigh, still hesitating to get inside to look after your player.
He’s never really known loss since his high school days, ever growing to be one of the top players in Japan – if not the best player, which never fails to amaze people considering how extraordinary he already was as a teenager. Talent like that, and that you can say so with confidence from your years of career as team manager, is something incredible yet fragile. Of course, as a sportsman, he knows that you cannot always win. It doesn’t matter how insanely good you are, the game sometimes is nothing more than a product of luck. A mystery force driving the ball from one side to the other of the court, only to lead one team to the top, while the other falls from grace.
It does hurt to see the gut-wrenching look of defeat on the face of your players – you spend so much time with them that their feelings become yours, as if you are bonded by fate. But what really gets you, is seeing Taiga Kagami lose. The frustration written all over his face as he considers any mistake his; because after all, he’s the ace, the one that should carry the team to the top. But sometimes, it’s just not enough.
“Hey” your voice resonates in the empty lockers, forcing the tall man to throw a quick glance at you.
He’s silently slumped against the metallic doors, fingers fidgeting with the ring around his neck. It’s been at least fifteen minutes since the rest of the team has already left the gymnasium. Out of consideration for the red-haired player, you figured he might need some time alone. You’ve stayed behind, not willing to admit that you’re worried about him. Well, in all cases, what can you do? For all you know, he sees you as nothing more than his manager. Yet, you still sit next to him, your hand resting on the one that slumps on his knee. You give it a small squeeze, looking to be supportive.
“You know, I’m not even mad that we lost. I’m just... frustrated.”
You hum in agreement – it’s a fairly normal response to have after being through that kind of loss. The kind that feels like they could have been avoided, yet you can’t really pinpoint the moment things went to shit.
“While I agree that you should vent out that frustration, let’s not break the gym’s locker, yeah?” you chuckle softly.
“Sorry about that, I wasn’t thinkin – ”
“It’s fine, but if you’ll allow me, let me help you out here.”
He sighs, a slight scowl that you’d find cute overwise on his face. But this time, it is a clear expression of his thoughts, and you suddenly feel stupid for even thinking that there’s anything you can do to actually help him.
He’s got nothing to lose, he thinks. He doesn’t expect you to change his mind, but at the very least do something – anything, really – just to make him forget about that daunting feeling for defeat, even if it’s just for a second. You’re taken by surprise, not expecting him to be willing to take any help, let alone from you. He must be truly in a bad state for him to agree to this, you ponder. The hand you had on his leaves as you scratch your cheek, in search for something to say.
“Ah... maybe you should vent it out? Like, in a better way.”
God, you’re a fucking disaster at giving advice.
“So, no punching around? Got it” he lets out, words laced in sarcasm.
You can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your lips – that’s just how lame your advice sounds. Well, you’re not wrong either. Whatever way he feels, wrecking the locker room can’t be the right way to cope.
“You know” you speak without much restraint on your thoughts, “I shouldn’t say that because I’m your manager, but getting shitfaced might help.”
He scoffs – ah, first time that you hear him laugh so far! A small fire warms your inside at the sound. You may not have realised so far, but nothing breaks your heart quite like seeing your players in despair, especially Taiga. What truly gets you is seeing a guy who is always so fired up and loud suddenly... quiet. Just a limp body full of brooding. So that scoff, however small it is, is enough to remind you how much he counts.
“Don’t we have a special training tomorrow?” he rests his head back against the lockers, a hint of a pout on his face.
“Then what do we have left? Alcohol’s out of the way, intense physical activity too...” you click your tongue. “And I really don’t see you do some meditation to feel better.”
“Yeah that breathing your feelings out bullshit is... well, bullshit.”
You laugh softly – that is such a Taiga thing to say. And to be fair, you might share his point of view on the topic. It might help letting out the breath you’ve been holding for too long, but any sort of meditation may, in this current situation, be just as efficient as putting a band-aid on a broken bone. You sigh, eyes falling on the furrow between his eyebrows. You lead your thumb to the crease, pulling the skin up. It’s a fairly childish move, one that makes him let out a semi-annoyed “ah!”.
“What do you do when you get frustrated?” he asks, swatting your finger away.
“Hm... I don’t often get frustrated like that. And if I do, it’s not in the same context.”
“I get that, we do not exactly have the same job here.” He hums, supporting his head in the palm of his hand. “Then what gets you frustrated?”
You stay silent for a minute, thinking. You do have a few things that gets you annoyed, leaving you feeling powerless because it’s out of your control, or just not that easily to solve. The small little things like slow walkers on busy streets, or when you try to teach basic decency to the shittiest guys. But really, nothing that comes as close as how Taiga must be feeling right now. And of course, there is the one thing that frustrates you the most, but that you probably shouldn’t bring up: your months-long period of celibacy.
You’re not proud to say that you haven’t had sex in so long that it sometimes eats at you in ways you wish it wouldn’t. And the worst is that you can’t really do anything about it. It’s not like you to have one-night stands with strangers, and for as much as you try to convince yourself that your fingers are enough, they’re clearly not. It doesn’t help either that you work with basketball players – tall, fine, muscular men who gets you going when seeing them show off their athleticism on the court. Although, to be fair, basketball players aren’t generally your type; but they’ve come to become, in your state of depravity.
But, of course, that’s not something you could say to Taiga Kagami. Especially not when he’s your player that turns you on the most. And yet...
“I get damn frustrated from not getting any” you blurt out.
You can’t tell what motivated you to say it out loud. Maybe because you wish that the embarrassment that comes with it will overshadow Taiga’s feeling of defeat? Because it sure is some kind of entertainment to make fun of your touch-starved self.
You look at him briefly, surprised that he hasn’t laughed at you. You wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. Being a loser that cannot get fucked is not something that you are proud of, but if making fun of you is all it takes to put a smile on the ace’s face, you don’t mind (that much).
“What, like you don’t pull” you chuckle, incredulous, “don’t give me that.”
“It’s not that, it’s just that I don’t feel like having sex with just anybody” he shrugs, a ponderous filter in his eyes, “so I just kinda... wait for the right person to come. But damn, it’s atrocious.”
You laugh, and soon after, so does he. The sound travels straight to your heart, pulling on it with such might that you fear that he might tell already that you like him.
“Fuck, what am I talking about with my player?! Isn’t that a sexual harassment case in the making?”
The tall man chuckles, leg bumping with yours. You can’t say that you’ve cheered him up, but at the very least, he’s no longer sulking. You stop for a moment to observe the fatigue on his face, all this inner turmoil manifesting himself in his chapped lips, and the clench of his jaw, and the way you can tell that he’s been trying hard not to cry or look weak in any way.
“You might be onto something, though. Maybe a good fuck is what I need.”
“I cannot agree or deny.” You huff, a slight blush on your face. “Hope you find what you need for that.”
He hums, then lets out a long sigh. The gym is awfully silent, now that most players and most of the public is gone. You can hear the administrative staff outside the lockers, but there is some sense of peace right where you are, next to Taiga.
“Wanna go for a drink?” he suddenly ask, getting you to respond with a confused expression.
“What? Didn’t we agree that alcohol is out of the way? Not to mention that it’ll ruin your recup –”
“No, dummy” he punctuates his words with a small hit on your head, “I’m hitting on you.”
“Wh- where does that come from?!”
“You need to fuck, so do I. And I like you so I’m trying to be proactive... or something like that.”
You blink, not quite sure how to react to such an overflow of information. What should your brain start to analyse first, anyway? Should you focus on the reflection that led him to say something like that, figure out what kind of process is behind this conclusion? Or should you take in the new fact that he likes you? So much for you to take, and you don’t even realise when your finger went up to hook in the ring around his neck, or when you pulled him closer, and you can’t even tell what pushed you to kiss him.
Taiga is stunned, to say the least; but it seems that his reflexes aren’t only quick on the court, because his astonishment is only short-lived. By the time you register what’s going on, he’s got his hands on your cheek, holding you firmly, yet in a tender touch, as you taste his lips against him. The kiss is unusual, confusing. Wanted, yet not. His lips are soft, but his touch isn’t. You keep wanting more but you know you shouldn’t. It’s just too hard to stop, though, and the way your player grabs you makes you understand that you’ve started something that you can’t run away from. You pull away, panting, dazed by the feel of his touch on you. He looks like a dream, out of your reach despite his hands on your hips that hoist you up on his lap.
“Taiga...” you sigh, not sure of what you are pleading for.
“If you wanna stop, just tell me.”
You stay silent, watching his fingers pull on your top. It doesn’t even cross your mind to stop him. What is it, really? Is the frustration you’ve been feeling all this time from not getting fucked in so long? Or is it the attraction you’ve always felt for him, for once being expressed?
“Should we... they’re people outside. The door isn’t even locked!”
“I can keep quiet, can you?”
You stare at him, his challenging tone flipping a switching in your brain. You help him get you rid of your top, leaning in to give him a full-mouth, hearty, kiss.
“Bet. You gotta do a good job at keeping me quiet, too, though.”
He hums, soft lips trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbones, a certain urgency in the way it navigates on your skin on its way to your chest. You swallow your breath, feeling the warmth of his mouth on the sensitive skin of your breasts – your bra being a ridicule barrier between what you both want and the reality. He doesn’t bother removing your underwear, rather pushing the cups out of the way. You mumble a few swear words when he attaches his mouth to your nipples, his tongue and lips working languidly, almost as if he’s hiding malicious intents under his ministrations.
“Fuck, Taiga!” you grit your teeth, fingers intertwined in his hair as to pull him closer to your skin.
“Always wanted to do that,” he chuckles, letting go of your nipple in a wet pop! “every time I see you in your tight shirts, making me wonder if I’ll ever get to taste you.”
You laugh, flicking his forehead playfully. “Ah, so there’s some stuff other than basketball in that big head.”
He nods, lifting you up to sit on the bench. You let out a gasp, not expecting him to manoeuvrer your body with such ease. But at the same time, he is arguably one of the physically strongest players of the league – should you really be that surprised?
“Pants off, Manager. Gotta prep you nice if you’re gonna take me.”
He lifts an eyebrow, settling between your thighs.
“Huh? I’m not joking, that shit can tear you. It’s no use if I hurt you.”
You look at him, processing that piece of information. For the amount of time you spend in the lockers surrounded by half-naked men, you’ve learned not to look down there, out of decency. The last thing a team manager should be doing is staring at her players’ packages. But for some reason, you resign at not pushing your luck with Taiga. All things considered, he most likely has a massive cock.
You urgently let your pants and underwear slide down your thighs, pooling at your ankle as your dripping cunt presents itself to the player’s dark eyes. He swears, spreading your thighs enough for him to admire your needy hole – clenching desperately, and yet, he hasn’t done a thing.
“Well, might actually not need that much prepping” he ponders, letting his rough digits roam between your lips, spreading them open as your arousal coat his fingers. “You’re a bit greedy, aren’t you? Barely touched you.”
“Shut up, it’s been a while!”
His soft laughs reverb against the skin of your thighs, kisses and nips decorating them as he gets closer to your vulva. Oddly, the sight warms your heart – there is a certain beauty in seeing a man that was previously defeated now sporting an elated smile, and all that, thanks to your pussy.
An impatient, yet mind-boggling lick at your cunt, Taiga hums at the taste of your honey on his tongue. You let out a loud whimper, quickly covering your mouth when you consider the voices coming from the hall outside. It’s so hard to keep quiet when you have Taiga Kagami between your legs. His tongue is strong and agile, quite like him on the court, reaching the right places to make you squirm, almost sliding off the metal bench if it isn’t for his solid hold on your thighs. He’s a man starving, quenching his appetite in your oasis, taken by desperation, a greedy need to vent out all his troubles in your pussy.
“Fuck that, I wanna fuck you.” He groans, licking his lips.
“Not gonna make me come?”
He shakes his head, standing up to pull his sweats down, boxers stained by the bit of pre-cum he’s already leaking just from enjoying your body so far. You fuss, the loss of his tongue on your aching clit feels like a betrayal of the worst sort. The red-head lets out an amused huff – it’s somewhat cute, seeing his oh-so-serious manager losing her shit from how much she needs to get fucked. An amused smirk on his lips, he tugs your pouting ass on his lap; you gasp, the feeling of his bulge against your pussy making you realise that this is really happening.
“Wanna ride me instead?” he hums, manoeuvring with one hand to extirpate his cock from its confines. “See if I was really being cocky early, hm?”
You feel like a slut for being that eager, shamelessly grinding against him, not even hiding your impatience to feel him in. Hell, you don’t even care about how uncomfortable the metal feel under your knees as you straddle his lap – no, it’s all pointless compared to the god-sent feeling of his bulbous tip at your entrance, prying the doors open to make you curse like a sailor. You sink down on his dick, fingers gripping his shoulders with all your might. Have you been depraved for that long? Or does it feel heavenly to bounce on his cock because it might just be the best one you’ve ever had?
Your half-lidded eyes fall on his figure – he’s not even fully undressed, clothes dishevelled while his naked manager ride him like the most experienced whore. Curious ears catch winds of your moans, moans that Taiga tries as much as he can to swallow with his sloppy kisses, but he can’t even help himself. The grunts that leave his throat; feeling your walls clenching around his cock, forcing him to hold you by the waist to guide your movements to match his desperation.
“Holy fuck, you take me so well” he groans – no, it’s more of a raspy whine.
“Dick... so good!” you babble, in deep struggle to be coherent.
You may try as hard as you can to use your words to clarify the chaos in your mind, but you are no poet. Just the nicest manager on Earth, most certainly, letting her player deal with her frustration by pounding into her like a man depraved. Sex written all over your faces, you don’t bother to keep quiet anymore. The more he goes, the harder it gets. You roll your hips frantically, the knot in your stomach that you’ve missed for so long menacing to unravel.
“Ah! Shit sorry, I don’t think I can’t pull out of that pussy...” he pants, trying his best to delay his orgasm just so he doesn’t come too fast.
Your hurried answer makes him chuckle – he could never expect that from someone he thinks of as the personification of responsibility. But there’s no point in asking question or getting confused. He’s got one thing in mind, and that’s the fuck all of the frustration out of both your systems. Mind too busy with your body to think about his loss, about the daunting feeling of failure. Who fucking cares, when he has you?
You mewl, clenching tight around him as you’re hit by the waves of your orgasm, triggering Taiga’s. He spills heavily, thick thighs trembling under you as he sloppily thrust all his cum in your voracious hole. He pants, head falling on your shoulder in solace.
No but seriously, can Taiga Kagami truly know defeat, when he’s never once failed at making a pretty girl come?
