Haikyuu!! Oneshots

Nothing Sweeter Than Sugar (Kenma Kozume)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to mafuyukii]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,265

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:
- Name Calling: Sugar, Daddy, Good Girl, Baby, Sweetheart
- Sugar Daddy - Ness Mentioned
- Anxiety (Specifically, Visiobibliophobia)
- Self-harm (scratching)
- Sexual Tension

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"I don't know what I'm doing," I mutter, pressing random buttons on Kenma's keyboard, doing 'my best not to die' as he asked. I don't know how he does it. The few minutes I've sat here for him have all been distracting and overwhelming. The constant rolling comments on his live stream, the awareness of being on camera, and everything happening in the game is a lot to keep up with.
     The soft 'hmph' Kenma has a habit of letting out wisps against my ear, tipping me off to his presence before his hands on my shoulders can. "It looks like you're not messing up my game," he whispers, making sure the microphone of his headset doesn't pick up on it. "Good girl."
     A mix of giddiness and embarrassment mixes on my cheeks. I didn't do anything in the game while he was gone so I don't believe I deserved the praise. But, praise from Kenma is rare so I revel in it when I can.
     My praise doesn't stop there. My boyfriend reaches his hand in front of me, briefly covering his camera. The mandator to our left goes grainy and dark, mirroring what his viewers are seeing, or well, what they're not seeing. The chat starts dinging faster than before, snips of people questioning why their video is darkened and trying to catch Kenma's attention speed across the mentor to the right.
"Good job, Sugar," he repeats, his free hand ghosting over my neck, pushing my hair out of his way. His fingertips are slowly replaced by his lips, a gentle, almost phantom kiss being pressed to the back of my neck. "I appreciate it," he continues to praise, beginning to trail his ghostly kisses up my neck, his path ending behind my ear.
I can't help the squeak that spills out. It's not usual that Kenma is affectionate and even less common for him to initiate said affection. The realization that there's an audience that just heard the pathetic mouse impression that squeezed out of me settles on my chest. The mix of giddiness and embarrassment grows on my skin, specifically heating the dying path his kisses took.
     Kenma softly chuckles, carefully pulling his headset off me to put it back in its rightful place on his head. I catch a glimpse of my flustered expression on the monitor.
     "Hey, sorry guys, I had to take a call," Kenma shortly explains to his fans, fixing his mic. His golden eyes glow as they stare down at me, his body focused on adjusting his headset but his eyes stay focused on me. The sharp shape and attention of them make me squirm, my blush and flustering feelings quickly becoming too much. "Everyone say thank you to my girlfriend for stepping in for me."
     'You little shit, stop,' I mouth, making sure to turn so the camera can't bear into my very being any longer. It makes Kenma silently laugh, his eyes shining even more with amusement. I swear, he picked up streaming just to embarrass me every chance he gets.
Kenma's chest vibrates with the sound of his next round of joy. It's real laughter this time, echoing in the chilled game room instead of the mute or almost mute sound he usually makes when he's joyful. "You know," he starts, his body still after his laughing fit stops. A sharp grin rests on his face, fighting against the sharpness of his eyes for the award of deadliest. "Most babies know better than to call their Sugar Daddy a little shit."
"You're not my Sugar Daddy and you are a little shit."
"Sure, Sugar," he coos, his voice warm despite the belittling undertone of it. "Why don't you be a good girl and go take a bath for Daddy? I'm sure your nerves could use it. You're pretty much dripping in anxiety."
     "Little shit," I hiss, even though he's right. I like sitting with Kenma in his game room. I even like being in here with him while he's streaming. I don't like being part of the streaming; at least not on camera. That tacked with him openly teasing me on his stream, and it doesn't take long until I'm overwhelmed, which is quickly knotting a ball of anxiety in my stomach.
His eyes swim over me for a long moment before flicking toward the door, another command to leave and take care of myself. Surprisingly, Kenma's anxieties haven't ever fed into mine. If anything, it helps him notice my coping mechanisms - like my middle finger tapping an unheard beat against my thumb - and helps him redirect my energy - taking a warm bath until my mind is soothed.
"Go."
The single word hangs in the air as we stare at each other, tempting each other to give in. As always, the feeling of eyes on the back of my neck wears me down a lot quicker than Kenma. "Fine," I mutter, climbing out of his plump, stereotypical gamer chair. I wish I was as comfortable on camera as I am talking through his mic. I know his fans are always hounding him about having me in more videos and streams.
"Good," he grumbles, sliding past me to take up the seat I was just in. "Hello again," Kenma greets his viewers, getting situated to focus on his game and his fans again. "Sorry for the long wait. Shit comes up, you know?" The continuous click of comments flowing through elevates again with his full arrival, a mix of understanding and pissy fans voicing their thoughts.
I stay still next to his chair for a few more moments, watching him get back into his groove, my eyes snapping back to the monitor every few seconds to make sure I'm not in the frame. "You know," I start, leaning closer to his headset so the viewers can hear my voice. "Don't let Kenma fool you. Despite how he acts, he's quite the bottom in bed. An hour ago, the guy was on his knees offering two thousand just to touch me - eh!"
     My personal life spilling is cut short by Kenma jerking toward me, pinching my side to get me to shut up. A glare, with a tiny hint of amusement whipping through his irises, is shot my way. "That's private information. Incorrect private information, might I add," he grumbles, aiming the lie toward his viewers.
"That's bullshit and you know it," I whisper, keeping my voice soft so it's not picked up.
Slowly, lazy gold drips down my body, melting over my curves as Kenma stretches out a hum. His humming pauses for a moment, starting up again when his eyes backtrack their trail. My stomach does somersaults, heat blooming over my skin again as he etches every detail of me into his mind. No matter how many times he does it, I always feel squirmy with embarrassment and staticy with need. Need he can't fulfill right now.
"I know," Kenma finally exhales, the expensive metal color of his eyes glued to my shirt collar. The small red and purple nicks left behind by his teeth earlier in the day burn under his stare. "I also know you need to go calm down before you scratch your skin off. Itching isn't going to make the feeling go away."
My body freezes, trying to make sense of what my boyfriend just said. With the pause, a burning sensation quickly loops around my forearm, tugging my eyes down to investigate. My nails are dug into my skin, long red trails left in their wake, overlapping and crisscrossing all over my arm. It's another coping mechanism, a super unhealthy one that I've been struggling to ditch for years. It usually surfaces when I feel like I'm being watched, like now.
"Sorry, I didn't realize I was doing it," I mutter, loosening my hold on my arm. I carefully run my thumb over the scratching, checking the state of them. They're not deep and none of them are bleeding. I'm sure they'll all fade away within an hour or so.
"No need to apologize, Sugar," Kenma coos, his voice soothing this time instead of teasing. "Go take a bath and relax. You know where I'll be when you're done." He sends me a wink before turning back to his screens, apologizing to his fan base again.
Despite his main focus being back into his game, I can still feel the flicker of his eyes, trailing after me as I leave the room. The heat of it stays occasionally licking at my heels even as I head down the hallway, the doorframe separating us threatening to burst into flames simply from Kenma's repeating glances.
As I head toward the bathroom I make a mental note to set a timer. The last thing I need is for him to be distracted from his fans again because he's worried I'm not doing okay or that I fell asleep in the bath again.