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[fvckmeupyoonz]

can u do y/n who sleeps w no pants pt2 with oikawa and ushijima pls?

a/n: why of course! i love these two so much omg <3 i'm in writers block so bear w me here tw: suggestive, semi-depressing in oikawa's for a lil' bit

sleeping with no pants pt.2 [pt.1] - haikyuu!! x reader

oikawa tooru after a long day at work, the last thing you wanted to do was go to another social event, so you made the critical choice to cancel on your friends plans to go to the weekend party - oikawa included. it was time for you to relax, instead. getting into your comfy, long shirt (that you're pretty sure you stole from your good friend oiks), you slid under your covers and turned on the tv to watch a Disney classic. half way through, you must've fallen asleep because the next thing you knew, you were being shaken awake. you groaned groggily and shifted in your covers, at last looking up to see oikawa standing there with puffed cheeks and a toddler-age pout. "tohru, what are you doing here?" you asked with a sleepy voice. "the party was boring without you," he huffed, pushing you to the left side of your bed so he had room to lie down next to you. you let out a little laugh, "but you still went, huh?" "how else am i supposed to relax?" you looked at him as if he were insane. "relax? more like get more anxious and stressed out." he bonked your head lightly with his knuckles muttering, "sass.." you sighed, "this is much more what i prefer." you breathed a heavy, contented sigh, nuzzling into your covers. oikawa gazed down at you lovingly, shifting to readjust his position futher under your blankets as well. you smiled, "if i could, i'd sleep all day. forever." you turned to you, "why's that? i don't think i could stand being in bed longer than a few hours." you turned to gaze into his eyes, "when i'm asleep all my worries are completely gone. i don't have to think about not looking stupid or being seen as someone worthy of the space i take up... it's the only place i feel true peace." oikawa nodded, though his expression was still puzzled. you burrowed closer to him, taking his arm in your own. his eyes widened in surprise, before turning to a crescent shape - a smile. you proceeded to wrap your arms around his torso, breathing in his scent: a little bit of sweat and pine. suddenly shifting, oikawa's head shot down to the covers below your embrace. you raised an eyebrow in confusion, "something wrong?" his eyes snapped back to your face, wide and uncertain. "i-it's nothing." he avoided your gaze now. at this point you were positive he was hiding something. you moved your head to try to get a further look at his expression but he held fast to staring at a thread on your blanket, seemingly completely enamored with it. unbeknownst to you, you'd unconsciously been rubbing your thighs against his own, a bad habit you'd picked up whenever you cuddled. you didn't mean anything by it, it was simply that you loved being close to people you care about and what better time to do it then when you're about to sleep? you sighed, feeling drowsiness take over your emotions. oikawa swallowed thickly, his voice coming out strained, "you... nevermind." you shrugged, your face was up against his chest now. you didn't know whose heart was beating so fast or whether it was the combined rhythm of the both of your hearts. whatever it was, it lulled you into a soft, quiet slumber. oikawa's pants strained as he again made the mistake of looking down, below the covers to see your big shirt had ridden up, exposing your luscious thighs and panties. he hadn't had the heart to tell you, he told himself, he didn't want to embarrass you. it wasn't like he was enjoying this - it was torture. he almost did tell you, but, well, then you might never cuddle with him again. and if he wasn't lying... he was enjoying this. god, he sucked at being your "friend".

ushijima wakatoshi if there was one thing ushijima wakatoshi learned from his father, it was that it was very important to be a gentleman. he was just like every high school boy in that he had "urges", but he wasn't one to act on them. which is why you made his life very difficult. you, on the other hand, were a "free spirit" of sorts. you did what you wanted and gave zero fucks. that included going against societal norms you deemed to be "pointless" or "stupid". including not wearing pants while in your own home and even sometimes at other's houses. you reasoned that if bikinis showed the same amount (if not more) skin as panties, what was the shame in wearing them freely? to some, you were a "spritely thing", to others "your average weirdo" and to still some "a bright visionary". to ushijima, you were a friend. you'd met simply by being neighbors when ushijima moved in order to be closer to his school, shiatorizawa. while also being a free spirit, you were also incredibly forgetful. after discovering that your neighbor was your age and didn't seem like a complete creep, you frequented trips to his apartment right next to yours in order to ask for a spatula or sugar or even some shampoo after you'd forgotten them and it was much too late to go out and buy anything. and ushijima, being the gentleman that he was, always lended you whatever you'd asked for. even when you'd come to his door barely clothed in a t-shirt. he couldn't see below it's long length, fitting you more like a dress, but based off the limited conversations he'd had with you, he was certain there were no pants hidden below the seam line. wakatoshi kept his cool in front of you but it was getting harder to pretend to be unaffected when every time you'd show up to his door and ask to come inside only for you to slip off your loose-fitting shirt in favor of your bra. he reasoned that you must trust him very much, and he took a lot of pride in that. you often asked him all sorts of questions or told him stories of your own during your visits, sometimes staying for hours while ushijima worked on his college-level prep work or a protein-filled dinner. he enjoyed your company and found solace in your conversations. when he'd finally managed to broach the topic of your lack of pants and sometimes top, you explained your reasoning, to which ushijima couldn't find a real argument against. he supposed it made sense in a strange sort of way, so her didn't push the topic any further, even though at times he found himself staring at you a little too long when you weren't looking. one night, ushijima awoke to the sound of his doorbell ringing repeatedly. glancing at his nightstand, it was somewhat past midnight. he opened the door to find you standing there, long-shirt and presumably no pants, beaming at him. "can i sleep with you tonight?" you asked without a hint of shame. ushijima's brow furrowed, "i wasn't aware that you considered me romantically." you blinked before laughing, "i meant like cuddling, like, actual sleeping." ushijima's eyes raked over you before turning his body, allowing you inside. ushijima was already mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen, but in reality nothing could've made him ready. as you both slipped under his covers, it only took you getting situated for maybe a minute before you were out like a light. ushijima had to just sit there, staring at you while you snored softly. there was no way he was going to get much sleep, especially when you kept unintentionally rubbing your ass against his dick. he narrowed his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything other than the steady rhythm of your motioning against him. spoiler, he failed. being the gentleman that he is, though, he won't say anything. he probably won't look at you for a while, either. give him a little time, he's working up the energy to say what he needs to say to you. he's liked you for a long time, but now you just made confessing so much more difficult. wish him luck, he's gonna need it.

[fvckmeupyoonz]

Y/n who sleeps w no pants on!!! Can you write it for haikyuu like with kuroo and atsumu? Pretty please? ❤️

a/n: *inhales* NO PANTS = PANTS!! i actually relate like pants are so confining >.< i'm assuming you mean no shorts either? lol ..btw i decided to make it pre-relationship so it's especially spicy ehe tw: language, suggestive

sleeping with no pants on - haikyuu!! x reader

atsumu miya you sighed contentedly, slipping off your pants and sliding comfortably under your plush covers. there was something so freeing about being pant-less, the cool sheets brushing across your bare legs, yet not uncomfortable with your panties still on. you swore you slept better without your pants getting rummaged around while you were under the covers and constantly switching which position was most comfortable for you. unbeknownst to you, he had come into your apartment, having been given the key because "what if a spider is in my bathroom". sighing into your sheets, you readjusted your position, completely forgetting that you'd planned a movie night with him.

turning the latch to open your door, he was surprised to be welcomed with complete darkness. he felt around for the light switch, calling your name to see if you were waiting some where to scare him. he was NOT going to be fooled like that again - once you'd jumped out of a corner and he still remembered the high-pitched scream he let out. not his proudest moment. he continued to stomp around your house warily, steeling himself for jump-scare. when he opened the door to your room, he found you nestled comfortably in your covers, sleeping softly. did you seriously forget about the movie? seriously? as payment for your forgetfulness, atsumu thought you deserved a special "awakening". without warning, he grabbed your sheets and ripped them off of you yelling, "what are you doing!?" you smirked as you let out a little shriek of surprise. then his smile fell. you rubbed your eyes, "'sumu...? what are you doing here?" your voice was still groggy from sleep. you were met with silence as a reply. you ran through all your appointments and scheduling in your mind before smacking your head. "right, the movie. sorry." you paused. typically, by now you'd be met with your pouty, bratty best friend, acting like he was two instead of twenty. normally he'd never shut up... so why...? atsumu gulped. he backed away slowly as if dealing with an unrestrained animal, letting out a strained cough. he couldn't keep his eyes from falling back to your plush, soft legs... his eyes trailing up to the space where your thigh met your hip and-- fuck. he was not supposed to be thinking about his best friend like this. he never intended to.. but he'd be lying if he said he didn't shake awake some nights because he was dreaming of you. he felt his face grow hotter. why'd ya have to be so damn hot? this wasn't how it was supposed to be. you were supposed to be friends and you'd definitely be disgusted with him if you found out where his mind wandered when you weren't looking. or when you were. but you didn't know. bless you're oblivious, cute ass. he realized he'd been staring. "i'll," his voice cracked so he cleared his throat, "i'll be in ya kitchen." he quickly turned away, stalking out of the room with a bewildered expression, fist clenched at his side. you raised an eyebrow. then you looked down. shit.

kuroo tetsuro there was something you and kuroo had in common - you both loved to cuddle. typically, you'd find yourselves huddled together under and blanket with a movie playing, sometimes talking during the whole thing and other times lying together in silence. today, you'd ended up talking until well past midnight, so you offered kuroo a place to stay the night. he obliged after much convincing, and again after much convincing, allowed the two of you to share your bed. for cuddles, of course. however, kuroo couldn't stop the rapid pace his heart was beating as you burrowed into the covers, softly groaning as you shifted your weight to come closer to him, rubbing your nose on his arm. he sighed as he looked down at you, finding a half-smile creeping up his face. at last, he willed his heart to slow it's beating, and closed his eyes. not ten minutes later, you were once again shifting your position, even kicking your legs a little. he chuckled at your sleeping habits because it was so you. he couldn't help kissing the top of your head softly. then he felt it. something that he was pretty sure was not there before. your soft, supple thigh rubbing against his own. kuroo's eyes widened slowly. he told himself he wouldn't look but he had to know he wasn't going crazy. he slowly lifted the sheets, and sure enough, even in his semi-nocturnal vision, he could see plainly that you weren't wearing your pants anymore. you must've kicked them off if your sleep, he supposed. he honestly wouldn't have minded so much at your cuddling, he told himself, if it wasn't your bare leg wrapping around his own, only the small cloth of your panties covering you. dammit, this is not what he should be thinking about. he was already feeling himself getting hard, his breath growing ragged. his heart was beating at a staggering pace, and it certainly didn't help that you seemed to nestle impossibly closer to him at every given chance, latching onto his arm and threading your legs around his own. he could feel you rubbing against the side of his hip. his expression must've been comical. he just had to sit there and do nothing. he wasn't going to tell you to stop.. he didn't want to wake you up. and maybe a part of him wanted this. ok, a big part of him. not while you're asleep though. he thought maybe you were a restless sleeper, so he tried to rub your arm softly in attempt to calm you down. didn't work. so, he decided to suffer - he wasn't losing a friend over a stupid boner. so yeah, it was a long night. it's safe to say he didn't get much sleep. you awoke to an empty space beside you. when you called his name, he popped back in the room, as if he was shocked you woke up. "g'morning," you mumbled. kuroo swallowed thickly, deciding he might as well confront it now, "hey, uh... do you always sleep without pants on?" you looked down, you face flushing.

[fvckmeupyoonz]

pt.2!! (i know that cliffhanger was menacing) 800 followers hello?!

part 1 | part 2

It was weird. It felt weird.

You sat with your chest bare, Kenma contemplating his own conscientiousness and conscious before you. Should he have any integrity, he would turn you around and fulfill what you came to do.

But he doesn’t. Intrusive thoughts win, so he dives straight into you to suck on your tits like a fucking baby.

Just watching in amusement as he tugged and nipped, it looked like Kenma was genuinely enjoying himself when he licked the bud in a single stripe, cat eyes gazing into yours devilishly by the way he could feel your back has a slight arch to it. His pale hands roamed from the small of it to your shoulder blades.

Your manicured fingers tread through the black locks that cover his tinted cheeks and reveal his long, black eyelashes. You mentally curse him for having them. Your upper back begins to stray away; Kenma just follows.

You connect strands of hair behind his ear (which he greatly appreciates you for) because he needs to see you, your curves, and body in all the bright rainbow light from the edges of his setup.

He removes the slim shirt entirely and discards it randomly in the room. He couldn’t care less where it landed. He grasps—literally grasps— both tits in each hand before looking up at you ordinarily, but in an anticipating manner.

“Take the rest of it off.”

“Say please,” you announced. Yes, you asked first, but you could still have a little fun (and refresh his manners).

“You do realize you’re literally in my hands right?“

“…So?”

He just blinks up at you and rolls his eyes in obduracy.

“Please, take the rest of it off.”

You tap a fingernail to your chin, “Hmm… say it like you mean it.”

If you could describe the ravenette’s face right now, it would be the most unamused you’ve ever seen him.

Kenma grabs you and roughs you off him, twists you ‘round, and adroitly unbuttons your jeans from behind you. Done with your shit, he peels them down and brings your panties along. He then pulls you back down to him backwards.

“See? Easy peasy,” he comments.

Slightly embarrassed from being absolutely manhandled, you shuffled against his front and dug your head into his sweatshirt on his left shoulder.

“Are you shy now? Not too long ago you were asking me to—”

“Shut up- Shut up.”

A giggle sounds behind you and lengthy, soft fingers trail up to your plush thighs anyway, then leads more inward. He pats twice to ask you to open up for him. You comply in spite.

With two delicate fingers he spreads you open, a third experimenting by dipping into your wetness. You were already getting throbbing having thought about it all day. Your friends constantly conversed about what their partners did and how good it felt, so you want as close to that as possible, but the problem is that you’re doing it while being unaware of how skilled Kenma actually is. You’re starting to question whether he was the right person or not. Or whether it holds up to its name. Or if you can do it at all.

He caresses you, rubbing the pad of his finger in circular motions against your clit.

“Okay,” his chest rises and falls, “just relax and think about whatever boy toy you want.”

You ignore his taunting. Your eyes trail downwards. He was going so slow, but if you thought you’d have Kenma pawing at you by the end of the night you had to be on something. So, you do what he asks of you and shut down any tense nerve in your body.

“There you go,” as you soften against his front, now two of his fingers locate your nub and continue the circling. Your thighs are spread apart on each chair arm, facing the dark idle screensaver Kenma had, the plush actively being kneaded between his free hand. Your center was tingly but not the trademark “oh my god!” tingly. It felt good but you weren’t screaming just yet.

Almost in time, he curls his hand farther forward and dips a finger into you. It was very slowly done for reactive purposes, and with your sight deactivated, the reaction he expected from your chest was granted. He sinks deeper and deeper until his palm is flat against you. Thanks to his patience, you were definitely wet enough.

He stills inside.

“I can’t do anything if you won’t breathe.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, and let out a breath you had no idea you were holding. His thumb reddens your clit even more while the other hand releases your thigh and slides up your body to tighten on your breast. You feel used with his hands all over your body, but in a good way.

Your regular breaths graduated to heavy ones, and those graduated to groans. Your voice wasn’t very high pitched anyway. When does the good part come?

The inactive hand rotated to your clit, while the other focused mainly on gyrating through your walls. His long finger reached places yours couldn’t, and adding a second would only increase the chance of him finding that single pile of nerves that could make you go haywire. He was close but he didn’t think to resort to that just yet.

Two of his hands meet around your front like a hug. His articulated digits roll inside you, each roll a tug on your resistance. A little to the left or a little to the right. His hand curled somehow even deeper on the hunt for your g-spot, so he takes a mental note: up and to the right.

“Oh shit,” your hips slightly stutter.

He smiles, “Right there?” and pesters the previous patch. Your hips lift off him the tiniest bit and your hand reaches up mindlessly. Really you just needed something to occupy yourself. He goes at it again and again, your tummy folded yet moving with him as he’s still going too slow when your body is screaming for more.

You rub his nape in an attempt to focus on anything else. Your arm is geniusly wrapped between the two of you by journeying under his neck. Your reflection in the screen is unbeatable, Kenma working you like it was his millionth time doing it. Everything had a job and you just had to sit and take it.

“That’s definitely you,” he mused. He kissed under your ear on the right side. You could say you weren’t feeling much all you wanted, attempting to lower his ego, but your contorted expression spoke differently with inaudible words. At some point his speed increased.

You unintentionally grind on him as your hips falter halfway. He tries his best to ignore it and keep your high ecstasy going because it was: A, the meaning of this entire operation; B, you’d be sore anyway, better to make the best out if it; and C, had he acted on it you would’ve squirted all over his dick. Which option C isn’t necessarily a problem, it’s just he’s almost certain you’d like to see yourself do it.

“Feels good Ken,” you mumble. The squelch sound could now be heard, and you both listened as he slotted himself in the crook of your neck and your head was thrown back on his shoulder. It was dead silent in the apartment, so silent you could hear your own thoughts and maybe even each other’s.

It sure seemed that way, because Kenma persisted with a finger and stimulated you simultaneously. Your head rolled back and forth, your calves flexed, and your pretty pink toes hung off the chair arms. The clip in your hair hadn’t bothered him one bit.

“Kenmaaa,” you insisted.

“I’m here, tell me,” he indulged. Your breaths were practically weights, yet shallow at the same time.

“Gonna come soon.”

“I got you. Just let it happen.”

Kenma knew you were close before you did. Hell, he was a part of your body now. Obvious signs were shown like when you tighten around him and your muscles contract, informing him everything was already in motion. The orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, taking you and your brain out to sea, but not your body. In fact, it left your disappointment behind too.

Nothing happened.

It took you a second to realize this though— considering it was still one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had—but also because Kenma hadn’t stopped.

“Please,” unaware of what you were calling for, you turned to his face, but he was already so close like he was waiting for you there. He’d slowed only a bit, but this makes little difference already being hypersensitive. Once again, you’re grinding on him, it’s just rougher now and more effective at getting him any harder than he already was.

You talked face to face and couldn’t decide what eye to look in. His lips were so close, and so very inviting. You kiss him.

Soft lips unite with yours meaningfully. You hadn’t known it would progress to this, however, Kenma now occupies your entire body, being, and mind. If you could dismiss how hard he was overstimulating you, just maybe you could kiss him with the passion you desired—but that was reaching because you couldn’t find the strength to kiss him back at all. Your lips were open yet hushed in all attempts to return the gesture, but your body fails you under the hands of lust.

You felt another coming. Your eyes had this faded look to them as if you weren’t here, so Kenma brought it upon himself to whisper to you.

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” His voice was soft in the air.

You respond with a light headed moan. Fuck all that shit about your voice not being high and you couldn’t pornstar moan, because to some extent it was and you really could.

“K-Ken I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupts, “anything you want baby.”

Your hand quits fidgeting with the loomed bracelets adorning his wrists to move down to holding the both of his that were working you. The attempt is futile, because even if you did manage to get one hand away, the other would still be toying with your pussy. The veins that stretched from his muscles all the way to his forearm could be seen clear as day. Kenma adds another finger, and doubles into you as it sinks up and to the right.

“Oh fuck, Kenma, Kenma-” you repeated. You tried pushing him off, except you wanted him to continue, except that you were in no state of mind to make decisions. Your back arched impressively and you were on the verge of crying. This quick?

He constantly acknowledges you, “Uh-huh.”

Kenma almost triples in speed. He continues to whisper to you. “Do it. I know you can. Show me how you come for me.”

You don’t feel it, but Kenma plants his feet and swivels the chair around as your mouth drops. You were pushing outward more than downward, and as Kenma pistons into you, there was no way you weren’t about to squirt. Just preferably, not on his monitor. He kisses at your face now turned away from him. “Just like that, you’re almost there. Open your eyes.”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god-!” you breathe.

Kenma quickly runs back and forth over your clit encouragingly and doesn’t let up. This wasn’t a wave that rolled over you this time, but one that came up to shore first, dragged you along into sea, and sucked you under. It felt normal until it didn’t and you were releasing all over his carpet.

“You look so fucking good like this. Knew my girl could do it.”

Your hair was fucked from rolling on it. You had came so hard your body tensed and slightly cramped, rendering you idle as he continued until you were done. The clear liquid rolled down your own leg. You felt as if you were underwater. Your head bashed like there was no oxygen. Kenma was a man of few words but after you got what you deserved, he didn’t have shit to say.

He gripped your thighs, lifted them, and slowly lowered them to his. A darker color stained his sweats. Was it from you, or him? Neither of you know. His hand pets your forehead gingerly.

“Your girl?” You ask lazily.

“I think we both know you wouldn’t have let anybody else do this,” he establishes. He was right.

sorry if it’s not as good as first!! it was supposed to come out earlier but my dumbass queued it for the wrong day 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ also did you catch the easter egg😏😏 (I made this a little shorter to match up with the time it takes to…yk… that’s why all of my fics that aren’t penetration are shorter)

@iwouldbangchan @hislaevv @butterflyk04 @lilmisskreideprinz @ahahadumbo @bontensbabygirl @ninefuckingoneone @hwangsyunho @privthemis @anonymoussimper @frenchinator2sickk

[fvckmeupyoonz]

“YOU’VE NEVER SQUIRTED?” KENMA

part 1 | part 2

It was actually a really awkward conversation in the kitchen of his apartment. The fresh toast sizzled against your fingers as you removed it from the toaster, the sun shined bright through his black curtains without quit, and because it was in his disposition to be up ungodly hours, you incorrectly assumed he’d hibernate in his room so you planned to head to your friend’s house for breakfast in a full face and clothes you never wore. Or technically, a full face and clothes you only wore out to places you cared about. Otherwise, you didn’t really dress to impress.

500 FOLLOWERS?!

Footsteps sounded from afar and you retrieved the jelly from the fridge mindlessly.

“Where we going?”

Kenma taunted from his seat found on the island stool. You assumed he’d just woken up, accompanied with doing his daily hygiene because his soft voice still had the slightest rasp to it.

“We?” You jokingly snapped back. Kenma scoffed lightheartedly at you. The refrigerator door closed with a slight push, and Kenma sighed to where he could ask again. Some almost fully black stands came to fall in front of his face as he leaned forward on the cold, stone counter and his hair was pulled into a small ponytail, nothing left of the noticeable blonde but disproportional ends that fall into his large hoodie.

“Where are you going?”

You grab the plate but forget the juice for the morning. Back you go to the fridge almost in a rush.

“I’m going to a friend’s for breakfast, it’s this party thing she hosts every year,” you explain. “Almost like a friendsgiving. She takes it suuuuper serious.”

The juice is in one hand, a random cup in another. You twist around to pour the liquid on the island instead of the main countertop so you could engage in quick conversation with Kenma. As he got older he’s become more expressive and outgoing, just willingly reserved. He has, however, become a handful; and having lived with him, you’ve seen him take shots like a champ. You see his aloofness dissolve, his eyebrow coming up the slightest bit.

“And you’re eating breakfast before going to eat breakfast?” He slowed the pace of his words around the end of the sentence like he was judging you.

“I have to eat in the morning still, or I’ll pass out before I even get there Kenma! I’m kinda a little late though so you can heckle me when I get back.”

“Uhuh…”

Kenma hummed in response with an inconspicuous smirk on his face. You wouldn’t have even seen it if it weren’t for you waiting to see his reaction of your flawless vocabulary. He was however, changing his position to leaning back in the chair, already staring you incredulously. It was somewhat close to a manspread, his hands were tucked into the hoodie pockets, and the sight was way too much for you to handle this early in the morning.

So, you turned around to tend to your idle plate with jelly-less toast on it. You didn’t like Kenma specifically, persay, you would’ve liked it if any boy looked at you like that. Yeah. Don’t think too much about it.

Anyway, with the slide of a drawer you withdrew the knife and got to work. Unbeknownst to you, Kenma had not taken his eyes off your body. Your hair was still slightly wet but it made it easier for you to style. It was up. The backless halter top you wore was connected only by a string at your nape, and it left skin between that and your skinny jeans that fell down to your open toe, clear strap heels. You were dressed perfect for the summer occasion of a girls day out. And he was absolutely sulking in it.

“You look good.”

You hate the slight pause in your actions. You hate the way you had to question if he was talking to you or not, even if you were the only one in the house. You hate that you refuse to turn around to him. You hate the giddy smile that decorated your face. You hate that you had to cover up how everything you hated affected you, so you say “Thank you; flatter me more.”

He just outwardly chuckled, and ended with a “Maybe.” He starts again, “Hey is this who you were on the phone with last night? Who’s at the party I mean.”

“Hm?” Your chin did lead over your shoulder at this. “Yes actually, I’m surprised I’m up as early as I am considering she kept me up all night.” You resume.

“Tell her I said she should break up with him.”

You agree, “I will; she definitely needs to hear it.”

…

Suddenly, you snap your head back around quick enough to give you whiplash. You don’t get embarrassed easily, but you had to be blushing like a bitch.

This time Kenma’s smirk was very noticeable. You blink warily at him.

“Ken… how much did you hear?” Your voice was soft with curiosity mixed and thrown into fear. He just shrugged casually and quickly switched to an innocent façade. One thing you learned about him over the years: he has a badass poker face. And he’s a dick.

Such a dick, in fact, that after reassuring “I wasn’t eavesdropping so I didn’t hear much,” he let you take deep breaths of relief and turn back around to lather your second piece of toast. You felt the golden, low, cat-like eyes burning through the back of your head—so with indecision and obscurity—you looked over your shoulder again. He wore a shit eating grin.

You pointed the butterknife at him accusingly.

“You fucking liar! You heard all of it!!”

Kenma just smiled menacingly.

“I did hear all of it actually; but pushing that aside, why do I feel like I’ve never heard you say some of the words you said?” He tilts his head to the side, completely dismissing you.

“Kenma!?”

“Say pussy.”

This made you stop. You found him unbelievable, and you’d never admit what hearing him say pussy does to your mind, but his head was sideways in pure amusement like he was waiting on you to do it.

“Kenma. What.”

“Say it.”

You just stared at each other.

“Pussy,” you finally repeated. After lingering in the air a bit Kenma’s eyes went wide and he threw his head back to diminish into laughter.

“Kenmaaa.” You groaned loudly. He only laughed harder. “What all did you hear? Seriously!”

He calmed down to just a grin and ushered you to be as well with the palm of his hand.

“Okay okay—mainly the part where she explains how she hates the guy because she feels like he ignores her and has never made her cum—plus some other stuff, blah blah, that’s basically it,” He rambles.

It was your turn for your eyes to run wide, so in astonishment that your body couldn’t even address the other words that rolled out his mouth so easy. “I don’t want basically, I want all of it,” you declare.

“There’s not much more unless you’re including all the other dumb shit he did? Like how he told his friends she did something even if she didn’t, and she felt invalidated about it. I have amazing input on these types of situations by the way.”

Kenma was saying all this without any negative emotion, relaying it to you with normalcy. “The only thing after that was about yourself.”

You roll your eyes, but bingo. So he did hear it. He heard what you didn’t want him to. Your face may have dropped a tiny bit.

“…What was it? About how…I have—“

“—never squirted?” He finishes. Your chest tightened a little, and your face was red with what was anger transforming into something else. His ordinary apathetic gaze was locked on yours for a tiny moment, so you made it your responsibility to look away and grab your food.

“Gotta go now, I’m already late.” You swiftly unhooked the keys from the wall and opened the door. It wasn’t his fault he heard (because to be honest you two weren’t the quietest last night during your girl talk), but just now the fact that he knew upset you. Your best friend made it seem so easy, like she does it all the time, and it just made you seem like you were missing out how she explained it.

However, on your way out, Kenma did call for you from the kitchen. “Not everyone can do it,” He said. It was reassurance, you assume, but it didn’t really come off as such. He then says (more to himself you also assume), “Not everyone can make you do it either.”

This sat with you the whole breakfast/brunch party, champagne being passed around like candy but nothing could stop you from thinking about it. Of course it being a whole room of the closest friends, she re-explained last night’s gossip, the effects hitting you again as your friends chimed in on the situation. Was it really as good as they say?

——•——

You unlocked the house door, the apartment dim and quiet. It was around four now, you weren’t completely sober, and your heels clacked along the tile.

Dropping your arm to sit your purse on the counter and hang the keys, you undo a single strap and slip the shoes off. You carry them in your hand for the journey to your room.

Of course before you can reach your door, there’s Kenma’s slightly cracked open one to remind you of what he said. Not everyone can make you do it either.

What does that even mean; can’t you do it alone? Do you need someone else for it?

You weren’t dumb and at least knew what he was implying. It was an offer. Or maybe it wasn’t, and you’re just horny. Either way you find yourself stopped in front of the entrance to his room. You don’t bother to knock, it falls open with a slight push of your free hand.

Kenma resides at his setup, on his phone, the mic wrapped around his neck. The few moving lights in his room softly radiated from his pc, making him appear to be different strong shades of red and orange depending on when you looked. He didn’t seem to be streaming. Or he could be—he isn’t the nicest to his viewers.

He casts you a glance past his hair but dismisses your presence. You don’t really ever come into his room except to just grab something and go, usually a hair product.

You take a few steps inside. Then, you leisurely drop the heels at his bedside so he finally acknowledges your company.

“Ken?” Your delicate voice breaks the silence of the outside, completely unsure if there was music running through his headphones.

He clicks his phone off so you have his full attention.

“What’s up? How was it?”

You continued taking slow steps forward, with only one thing on your mind. And it wasn’t the party. “It was okay.”

Kenma surveys how you have yet to halt, inching closer and closer to him. It only took a slight examination of your face to see the solemnity. Blankness. He stands up from his seat and removes the headset from himself in concern before you can get any closer.

“You sure? You don’t look—“

“—Kenma. What did you say earlier?” You whisper. He was now directly in front of you.

He pauses for a second and his face converts to disbelief. “Are we still talking about the squirt thing?” He smiles mischievously, “I was just letting you know not to worry about it so much.”

You hate that word. It’s so gross sounding, so vulgar. But you can’t bring yourself to get him to stop saying it.

“Well I have been, so what happens now?” You peer strangely at each other, both acutely aware of where this was going.

“And you’re coming to me for this, why?” The ravenette taunts. He knew exactly why you were in his room right now, the curiosity having ate away at you all day. Like an itch that won’t go. You’ve gotta give in if this’ll go anywhere.

“Well you seem to know a lot about it…” you fumble with your bracelet nervously. You’ve gotten this far. “Could you…maybe help me?”

Kenma makes no sudden movements. He scans you suspiciously. A slight flush of red may have spread across your cheeks, but the darkness around you was protective. Hearing it actually come out of your mouth was a whole different story than imagining it.

“You want me to make you squirt?” He confirmed.

You may have physically cringed at that sentence because his hands find his sweat pockets in a ‘you said it not me’ manner.

“Yes.”

He scanned you again for good measure.

“Alright.”

With this he turned on his heel, stepped away, and sat in his gaming chair again. You stood there blankly, unaware of what to do. “Come here.”

You follow him to his setup. He sighs because he could see how uncomfortable you were.

“What usually do you do to get off?” He questions. He twists you around by your hips, your back facing him.

“Uh…It’s just kinda alone in my room I guess. I use my fingers usually.” You tried to keep your voice low enough to cure your embarrassment. Kenma, however, seemed to be doing this with ease. In fact, as he was asking you questions, he massaged your hips and waist soothingly.

“Is that it? You don’t watch or think about anything?”

You turn your head, “No. Am I supposed to?”

“I mean it’s not mandatory but you gotta think about something.”

“Whatever. Jeez, Kenma just say you think about me already.” You quip. Whatever he was doing was working, you were loosening up.

“Only when I’m about to cum. How do you like to be talked to?”

What?

You weren’t even going to ask about it. It was probably a joke anyway.

A moment of processing silence passed. “I don’t really know how I like to be talked to. Guys have tried to praise or degrade me but it never worked, so I just assumed I didn’t like the talk at all.”

He tugs on the shirt string at your neck. He watches you tense up at the action, so he rubs your trap in slow, circular motions instead. “If I say I like to be praised, all they do is say ‘good girl’ over and over. Gets kinda boring you know?” Is this you venting to Kenma about your boring sex life? Of course. You mess with your nails as you face away from him. Not for long though, because he turns you around.

“This is what I meant by not everyone can make you do it. Only you can guarantee yourself the highest pleasure 100% of the time,” Kenma drags you by your belt loops so you fall into the chair against him, “and me.”

He was so close now, your knees sliding under the chair arm. His breath could be felt on your skin and his hands were still pawing at your waist to glide up your back. You couldn’t bring yourself to put your full weight on him. However, he pulls you down anyway, and manually places your hands along his clothed chest so you could calm down. That was all he wanted from you right now. To relax and to take deep breaths.

“Warnings would be great Ken.”

“Yeah, but you said you don’t like to talk.”

“I don’t.”

“So should I warn you about how hard you make me dressed up like that?”

You moderately gasped at the comment placed right into your collarbone. You pressed down a tiny bit farther to see if you could feel it. You could. His breath fanned against your body and airy kisses lead.

You wonder where all of Kenma’s shyness over the years went because now you would never have guessed him to be like this. The friction fuels him to push you more.

Kenma could go on and on about these random intrusive thoughts he only gets at night—the only time where you seem to engulf his brain. Living with you over the years has been fine with zero temptation, but recently, it’s been like a hormone specifically for you snapped in his body. He feels the way you roll your hips the smallest bit for yourself. You liked the talk, just not the guys.

Soft fingers pull on a single string near your hair, releasing your breasts from the top as the fabric folded downwards between the two of you.

©️ hxltic

[fvckmeupyoonz]

heat // kozume kenma

tw ⇢ mutual pining, strong sexual tension, making out, fingering, nipple play, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, teasing, squirting, unprotected sex

wc ⇢ 6.7k

a/n: not proofread

The arrivals terminal buzzed with a cacophony of greetings and farewells as travelers rushed about - wheeled suitcases clacking against the polished floors. You scanned the teeming crowds, pulse flickering with both excitement and trepidation.

After all these years, you were finally back in Tokyo. The city where you had grown up living across the street from Kenma - the two of you inseparable friends until high school graduation scattered you along diverging paths.

Though you tried keeping in touch through the occasional text and social media, the miles between you seemed to widen into an ever-growing chasm. Which made it all the more surprising when Kenma himself had reached out weeks ago extending an open invitation to stay over at his place during your upcoming visit.

"I have a pretty spacious setup now with my gaming and streaming work," he had typed nonchalantly. "You can crash at mine instead of some soulless hotel room."

Coming from anyone else, the offer could've been easily misconstrued as flirtatious or inappropriate. But this was Kenma - your childhood friend who hardly spoke more than was absolutely necessary, much less indulged in coy overtures. With him, you knew the pragmatic suggestion was precisely as straightforward as he had phrased it.

Still...spending who knew how many nights in close quarters threatened to stir up residual longings you thought had been neatly extricated years ago. You had seen the photographs and gaming celebrity articles documenting how Kenma seemed to fully bloom after high school, shedding his reticence in favor of a quiet magnetism entirely befitting his feline moniker.

Would being confronted with the all-too-appealing reality of Kenma's newly confident presence make you regress into a dumbstruck, overly flustered mess like you were as kids?

Lost in your whirling contemplations, you nearly missed the ping of an incoming text from Kenma:

"Made it through arrivals. Meet you outside?"

You startled slightly, clutching your carry-on bag as you pivoted towards the exit. Sure enough, there stood Kenma - posture slouched in that trademark listless slouch of his with hands stuffed into the pockets of a mustard yellow hoodie emblazoned with his gaming company's logo.

But beyond that superficially laidback veneer, his penetrating cat-like gaze missed nothing. Those keen amber eyes flickered over every detail of you in one sweeping glance - from your wind-tousled hair down to your ankle boots. A slight furrow creased Kenma's brow, mouth tugging into a barely perceptible frown as if dissatisfied by his visual assessment.

Before you could finish approaching him, he seemed to shake himself minutely from whatever critique had taken place. The corners of his lips quirking up into a lopsided shadow of his former boyish grin.

"Yo," Kenma greeted you with that same trademark laconic inflection even after all these years. "Long flight?"

You simply nodded, still struggling to find your footing and access the right combination of words to respond properly. Up close now, you found yourself momentarily stupefied by just how much Kenma had changed over the separation, yet somehow still manifestly embodied his innately intriguing core essence.

There was an indescribable charged electricity snapping between you two - bristling with poignant nostalgia and thrilling new tension. The corners of Kenma's slanted eyes crinkled fractionally, reflexively interpreting each one of your minute micro expressions with that eerie perceptiveness he always possessed.

"Well let's get you home and settled in, yeah?" he prompted at last when you failed to break the silence.

Nimble fingers feathered across your knuckles, sliding into your grasp before tugging you towards the exit with that same featherlight yet insistent guidance you had grown so accustomed to as kids. Knitting your brows in bemused consternation, you could only nod and allow his silent lead - the first of many unspoken exchanges that threatened to strip away all remaining defenses.

The ride back to Kenma's place was mostly quiet, each of you slipping into familiar contemplative lulls between stretches of idle chitchat and getting reacquainted. You stole sideways glances while stopped at traffic lights - drinking in all the intricate details of his profile in crystalline crisp focus.

The angular, almost severe slash of his jawline and slightly fuller pout to his lower lip. The high sweep of aristocratic cheekbones seamlessly blending into sculpted yet soft edges of his face. Even the prickling roost of silken blond roots already peeking through his two-toned tresses drew your lingering eye.

By the time Kenma smoothly navigated into the underground parking complex of his residential high-rise, you felt dazed and off-kilter as if emerging from the thick miasma of a dream. When had your oldest friend transformed into someone so inexplicably alluring yet unyielding to casual appreciation?

Kenma retrieved your solitary suitcase from the rear hatch, sweeping his hooded gaze over you consideringly through those longish fringe strands. There was a fleeting spark of mischievousness that reminded you so acutely of the Kenma from your childhood days - making your pulse kick up double-time.

"You ready to head in?" He cocked one eyebrow inscrutably. "I've got a feeling you could use a nap from all your...spacing out on the drive."

You flushed slightly at Kenma's acknowledgment of you essentially devouring him with your eyes during the entire commute. Clearing your throat, you mustered a nonchalant shrug.

"A power nap does sound amazingly good right about now," you admitted, falling into step beside him as you navigated the corridors towards the building's elevator bank.

Kenma hummed noncommittally, deft fingers already tapping out a lightning cadence against the side of your suitcase in a gesture unmistakably gaming-adjacent. The old compulsive tic brought a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

You stole a sidelong glance at your oldest friend, wondering what sorts of virtual adventures currently captivated the nimble-minded focus you recalled so vividly from long-winded gaming sessions in his bedroom as kids. So much had changed, yet that inherent core of what made Kenma so uniquely himself clearly persisted.

Once inside his impressively spacious flat, you immediately understood why he had offered to host you instead of booking a generic hotel. The entire open-concept living area seemed expressly appointed to revolve around an imposing, multi-monitor gaming rig complete with a professional-grade broadcasting setup.

Various cat-themed peripherals and an impressive library of neatly displayed physical and digital game collections cluttered nearly every flat surface. You caught your reflection in the smoked glass case enshrining a particularly eye-catching piece of merchandise - anaberrant juxtaposition of the cosmopolitan living space tailored around Kenma's unapologetic video game devotion.

A wry chuckle from behind you made you twist back to face him. The diminutive smile playing across his lips suggested he accurately interpreted your bemused expression.

"I see that look on most people whenever they visit for the first time," Kenma murmured in that rich, honeyed voice of his that you weren't remotely prepared for. "They expect my 'career' to be some sort of immature pipe dream rather than global brand."

You shook your head quickly at the veiled hint of reproach beneath that mild observation. "No, I just...it's exactly the kind of space I always envisioned you creating for yourself, to be honest," you replied sincerely. "I think it's incredible how you've genuinely established this whole lifestyle and identity for yourself completely on your own passions and terms."

Kenma regarded you with a glimmer of pleasant surprise flickering across his striking features before smoothing them back into that familiar half-lidded aloofness. Still, you caught the way his gaze sharpened infinitesimally.

"Well, since you're the only other person who truly grasps my 'lifestyle,' I'm sure I can count on you to make yourself at home." His tongue darted out to wet his lips - a minute gesture you found your focus utterly arrested by for some reason. "The guest suite is just through here."

Amber-gold eyes met yours unflinchingly, sparking with an unspoken invitation to comment. You swallowed thickly but forced yourself to nod, shuffling after Kenma as he turned and began leading you down a dimly lit hallway.

After stowing your luggage, he ushered you into a decadently appointed en suite - complete with a massive walk-in rainfall shower that sent your exhaustion-hazed thoughts careening into rather unbecoming territory. You swiftly refocused as Kenma leaned against the marble vanity, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

"Go ahead and get settled however you need," he prompted with a vague gesture around the posh accommodations. "I'll probably be streaming for the next few hours, but you're welcome to hang out once you've recharged."

Inclining his head towards the threshold, Kenma paused just briefly - long enough for you to catch the indescribably weighted undercurrent flickering across his expression before he schooled his features. Then he pivoted, padding out in that signature laidback shuffle while you were left to stare dumbly at the patterns in the granite tile.

As the hot cascade of a shower finally began unwinding the knots of tension from travel, you couldn't ignore the steadily gathering storm of uncertainty swirling within. Part of you instinctively raised guards, preparing for the intense nostalgia and rekindled intimacy of reminiscing with Kenma to open up old wounds you thought had been neatly sutured years ago.

The other part, however - the shamelessly indulgent facet you struggled to repress - eagerly anticipated whatever unspoken electricity seemed to be steadily exerting its gravitational pull.

After luxuriating under the pulsing streams of the walk-in shower until the water ran tepid, you reluctantly toweled off and padded back into the guest suite. You were enveloped in one of the plushest terry cloth robes imaginable as you cinched it securely and paused to survey your temporary accommodations.

Sunlight slanted across the polished hardwood in warm bands, filtering through the gauzy curtains to cast everything in a gilded afternoon glow. Your gaze snagged on the embossed geometric patterns woven through the textured area rug - such an unexpected departure from the stark minimalist aesthetic you'd have imagined Kenma cultivating in his home.

Sinking down on the edge of the bed, you ran fingertips over the intricately carved patterns detailed in the wooden bedframe's footboard. So many thoughtful design touches married throughout the space that exuded a bespoke richness and warmth wholly juxtaposed against the more austere tech-centric common areas.

You couldn't resist trailing further across the plush duvet, indulging in the heavenly glide of high thread-count cotton against your calf. Seriously, how had Kenma assembled such an indulgent oasis within his gaming lair? The simple boyhood recollections you harbored cast everything in a new intriguing light.

Just as you had begun contemplating what else in Kenma's carefully curated world might challenge your established perception of him, a series of rhythmic knocks rapped against the guest suite's door.

"You decent?" His instantly recognizable dulcet tone preceded him by a beat before the door eased open a sliver.

"Of course, come in," you replied automatically, reflexively tugging the plush lapels together.

Kenma slipped through the narrow opening, clad in a long-sleeved shirt emblazoned with stylized cat motifs and a pair of formfitting joggers that embraced lean muscle definition you actively avoided ogling. Shoving his hands into the front pockets, he bobbed his head in an idle suite.

"Figured I'd come check and see if you managed to get some rest."

"More or less," you hedged with a lopsided smile. "Your shower was heavenly for working out some lingering flight stiffness at least."

A faint tinge of color brushed across Kenma's arched cheekbones at the innocuous mention of the shower. Had your imagination gone so utterly to seed that something as simple as—

"Cool, good. I'm all wrapped up with my gaming sessions for the day, if you want to..." he trailed off, adam's apple bobbing minutely before venturing a sidelong look through those burnished lashes. "Or we could just order something for dinner and...I don't know, hang?"

The weight of unspoken implication behind that seemingly casual invitation hit you like a visceral punch, momentarily robbing you of your voice. Instinct shouted to claim the offering, while deeply ingrained reservations around compromising a cherished lifelong friendship threatened to override any forward impulses.

After a protracted pause, you cleared your throat quietly. "Yeah, sounds great." Steadying yourself with a measured inhale, you lifted your chin as a slow smile unfurled across your lips. "I'm famished, so...what are you feeling?"

A muscle in Kenma's jaw ticked fleetingly, eyes glittering for just a moment before blinking back to their trademark heavy-lidded warmth. "I could go for some hot pot...lots of protein. Think you can handle the spice?"

The edges of his mouth curled into an undeniably flirtatious grin that sent your pulse skittering immediately into double-time. You felt the heat flooding your cheeks, but leaned into the pull of his focused magnetism rather than shrinking away.

"Oh, I can handle anything you wanna dish out," You tossed back, surprising yourself with the faint purr underlying your words.

Without looking away, you slowly rose to your feet - allowing the plush robe to slough off one shoulder with deliberately choreographed casualness. Kenma's breath audibly hitched, eyes darkening momentarily in appreciation before his lips parted on a low exhale.

"Is that right? I'll have to remember you said that." His voice dropped into a sin-tinged register that went straight to your core. "We have...all sorts of games to play later."

The unmistakable undercurrent behind his double entendre sent another rush of molten heat cascading through you. This time you responded with nothing but a subtle arch of one brow, staring him down in electrified silence as the air itself seemed to thicken and throb with heated tension.

Until finally Kenma ceded the moment with an almost pained hiss through his teeth before pivoting on his heel. "I'll get that order placed. You might want to slip into something...sturdier."

You suppressed the urge to openly gape at his rapidly retreating form, frozen in the wake of whatever had just viscerally transpired. Of one thing you were abruptly certain - these coming days would be more of a test of endurance than either of you seemed prepared for.

The spice Kenma alluded to was poised to burn you down to ash before you even had a chance to compute the inferno.

The pungent aroma of simmering broth and assorted proteins wafted through the apartment as you settled across from Kenma at the kitchen island. A dizzying array of small plates and dipping sauces had been meticulously arranged, as if this were some elaborate streaming event rather than a casual dinner.

"I may have gone a bit overboard," Kenma admitted, sweeping a hand over the impressive spread with an uncharacteristically sheepish tilt to his mouth. "Old habits and all that."

You couldn't resist letting out a low appreciative whistle. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're flexing for your captive audience here."

Grabbing your chopsticks, you deftly plucked a perfectly seared slice of marbled wagyu from the central hot pot, purposefully locking eyes with Kenma as you brought the morsel to your lips. His gaze followed, rapt and laser-focused, as you slipped the tender beef past your parted lips with an involuntary moan of satisfaction.

"You have no idea..." he murmured, low and rough like gravel.

You paused mid-chew, certain your ears had to be playing tricks. But the heated intensity burning behind Kenma's stare left no ambiguity about the undercurrent thrumming between you. Recovering with a coquettish arch of one brow, you reached for one of the small dipping dishes - fingers brushing against the back of his wrist accidentally-on-purpose.

"No, I really don't," you murmured before deliberately dragging your tongue along the plump swell of your bottom lip to collect a stray smear of savory-sweet sauce. "Why don't you elaborate for me?"

A muscle ticked faintly along Kenma's chiseled jawline as his gaze followed the unconscious path of your tongue with rapt fixation. You watched his pupils slowly dilate, then narrow into frozen precision as his lips parted on a harsh exhalation.

For an endless stretch, the thickening silence seemed to yawn between you, weighted with the echo of your suggestive challenge. Unsure whether to double down or backpedal, you felt suspended in a crystalline stasis awaiting Kenma's response like it held the power to upend your world.

"Well, well...look who's developed a bold side in their old age," he finally rumbled in that sinfully textured timbre you weren't remotely prepared to withstand. His smirk sharpened fractionally as one elegant fingertip traced the rim of a small ceramic dish filled with delicately pink pickled ginger. "Trust me, I have plenty to...elaborate on, if you think you can keep up."

Your breath hitched faintly as he raised the dish to his mouth, sweeping his tongue with excruciating indolence across the glistening ginger to collect the tangy juices. He held your widening stare hostage as he hollowed his cheeks around the soft flesh suggestively before withdrawing with a quietly filthy sound.

"How's the heat treating you so far?" Kenma practically purred after a considering pause. "Because it's about to get much...much more intense."

You could only swallow thickly, wishing you could play the consummate picture of unruffled nonchalance like he did. Instead, you shifted unconsciously in your seat - tormented by an uncomfortable tightness in your jeans from the undeniable pull of Kenma's molten confidence.

For his part, the setter-turned-streamer simply watched you steadily over the rim of his beer glass as he sipped. Seemingly amused by your flustered state and secure in the knowledge he'd already seized the upper hand in whatever game stood to unfurl between you over the coming days.

Before either of you could press the heated boundaries further, a strident chirp echoed from the hallway - effectively shattering the thick tension with its jarring intrusion.

Kenma quirked one brow in irritation before rising smoothly to his feet, shooting you one last unreadable look from beneath his lashes as he stalked off to retrieve whatever device was clamoring for his attention.

Left alone, you huffed out a sharp exhale, remnants of desire still prickling across your heated skin like a brand. Muttering a soft curse under your breath, you steadied your racing pulse and turned your focus back towards the array of food with something adjacent to grim determination.

One way or another, you were going to wrestle back control of this game before it devolved into utter capitulation to the hypnotically smoldering aura Kenma had somehow mastered in your absence.

Little did you realize you had already resigned yourself to becoming the moth irresistibly fixated upon his flame...

The following week passed in a heated haze of building frustration and rapidly fraying restraint.

No matter how innocuous the interaction - lounging together on the sofa while Kenma orchestrated one of his streaming sessions, accompanying him on idyllic forays across Tokyo to revisit childhood haunts, even the mundane domesticity of sharing meals - an inescapable undercurrent of restless tension thrummed like a livewire between you.

Countless moments where your gazes would lock in a protracted stare; fingertips "accidentally" brushing along exposed skin and triggering full-body shockwaves resonating bone-deep. The perpetual push-and-pull of flirtation somehow elevating errant touches and otherwise innocuous exchanges into something hungering and profane.

Kenma no longer bothered to disguise the appreciative trail of his penetrating stare roving across your form whenever you bent or stretched. You quickly acclimated to the hot skim of his focus mapping every curve and dip overtly, pupils dilating with shamelessly burning desire he didn't seem inclined to sate.

For your part, you began unconsciously rising to match that unhurried confidence - boldly regarding Kenma's lithe, powerful physique with the same sensuous appreciation. Emboldened by how his throat would noticeably tighten every time your eyes dropped to linger across the vee of his collarbones, hips subtly canting forward whenever he sprawled in those fitted joggers that clung like a second skin.

Beyond the escalating physicality, you found yourself captivated by Kenma's rare loquaciousness about himself more than anything. Unburdened from your weighty history, he began opening up in quiet retrospective anecdotes about his passage into adulthood, steadily dismantling your preconceptions about his insular nature.

Like how he had secretly sponsored a children's e-sports program to guide underprivileged kids into careers in the burgeoning gaming industry. Or the surprising revelation that he regularly worked pro-bono with speech pathologists to design specialized voice controls for disability accessibility.

This was a side of Kenma's generosity and altruism towards the community fostering his career that you never could have envisioned. And with each newy facet, you found yourself plunging deeper under his unrelenting pull - utterly infatuated with who this remarkable man had become.

He simply chuckled, low and throaty, each time you gushed over some fresh depth unveiled. Absorbing your unrestrained awe and esteem with the same private relish as whenever you "inadvertently" provoked him into undisguised want. The heady combination only fanned the flames of simmering tension blazing between you.

It was on the eighth night sequestered together when Kenma decided to press the boundaries once more.

You were sprawled on the plush area rug before the oversized sectional, cycling through television menus in a vain attempt to pick something suitable to watch. A frustrated huff punched from your chest as you reached the end of yet another recommendations category that failed to inspire.

"Everything looks so mindless and forgettable nowadays," you mused, half to yourself. "What happened to real stories being told?"

A low chuckle resonated from behind you, vaguely Kenma-scented air puffing across the nape of your neck. You hadn't even registered his approach until his muscular form settled on the rug beside you with only a whisper of displaced fabric. The gold-green kaleidoscope of his eyes practically glowed with wicked mischief at your obvious failure.

"Well if you crave imaginative narratives so badly, maybe you'd fare better diving into a real fantasy scenario instead."

The rich velvet of Kenma's timbre immediately snapped every iota of your focus towards him. Your eyebrows lifted quizzically as he leaned in incrementally closer, fringe of silky hair feathering along your temple.

"What did you have in mind?"

Another low rumble ghosted your hairline as Kenma hummed almost inaudibly. "Let's just say...I have a distinctly illicit form of entertainment that may require your unbiased opinion."

Intrigue sparked low in your abdomen at the deliciously unspoken implications behind his words. Before you could fully decide whether or not to indulge his transparent flirtation, Kenma was already rising to his feet once more - extending one elegant hand down towards you in silent invitation.

Scarcely daring to breathe, you allowed him to pull you upright before following his lead towards the hallway. You pretended not to notice how his palm scorched the naked small of your back through the thin cotton tanktop as he ushered you across the darkened threshold into his inner sanctum.

A hushed, ambient glow bathed Kenma's bedroom in shades of moody twilight as you stepped over the threshold. Various pieces of gaming memorabilia and framed promotional artwork adorned the walls, creating an insulated atmosphere that existed in a world entirely unto itself.

Without preamble, Kenma crossed to the sleek desktop monitor setup, fingers already flying in a flurry of keystrokes and clicks as he booted up whatever "illicit entertainment" he had teased. You hovered uncertainly in the center of the space, casting furtive glances around the dimly lit sanctuary that emanated pure Kenma energy.

"Have a seat," he prompted without turning around - as if acutely aware of your momentary hesitation. "Get comfortable."

You cleared your throat but obeyed, carefully perching on the edge of Kenma's massivebed. The plush duvet conformed luxuriously to your weight, upholstered in some sort of sleek microfiber that reminded you of a cat's velveteen coat. Inexplicably, you found yourself burrowing your fingers through the decadent bedding's nap while studying Kenma's form in sidelong profile.

The muted blue-white glow from his monitors caressed the elegant contours of his face, shadowing the regal sweep of cheekbones and strong jawline in stark chiaroscuro. You marveled at just how much he had evolved from the reserved, rail-thin youth of your memories into the tantalizingly statuesque man before you now. One defined by an aura of languid intensity and assured command over whatever scenario unfolded around him.

As if he could sense the weight of your rapt scrutiny, Kenma angled towards you incrementally - chin dipping just enough to pin you momentarily with the full smolder of that heavy-lidded golden stare. His lush mouth curved into the barest ghost of a smirk, clearly relishing whatever discovery had your undivided attention so thoroughly enraptured.

"Second thoughts about seeing how the other half indulges their fantasies?" he murmured, pitching his already simmering timbre at a register that seemed scientifically engineered to inflame your senses.

An involuntary shiver rippled through you despite the heated flush creeping up your neck. Swallowing hard, you mirrored the slow, molten sweep of Kenma's eyes with one of your own - unabashed in drinking in each lean, corded muscle shifting beneath his fitted tee.

"Not a chance," you rasped, proud of how steady you managed to keep your voice despite the electrifying lash of his focus. "I'm the one who thrives on having my boundaries thoroughly...obliterated."

Kenma held your weighted stare for one suspended heartbeat longer before his tongue slipped out to wet his lower lip with unconscious sensuality. You mirrored the visceral action, entirely mesmerized by the naked want flickering across his strikingly beautiful features in that crystalline moment.

Then he seemed to resettle his composure like an unshakeable monolith, turning back towards the computer monitors as he clicked open some file directory. You subtly repositioned yourself more comfortably on the bed, back canting against the sturdy headboard while determinedly ignoring each tantalizing glimpse of scarlet duvet bunched around you in disheveled invitation.

A few more staccato keystrokes and suddenly one of the monitors flared to luminescent life - the unmistakable refrains of an overly saccharine J-pop opening sequence blaring through Kenma's speakers.

The game loaded on Kenma's monitor, intro music at odds with the charged atmosphere. You watched raptly as a buxom anime avatar appeared - her features and proportions eerily…familiar.

"Kenma..." You began, then trailed off, unsure if you wanted confirmation of what seemed obvious.

He didn't respond right away, deftly navigating the opening scenarios with deft keystrokes and clicks. Only when the digital woman began making coy, suggestive comments did you see him tense imperceptibly.

You studied the sharp lines of his profile, the slight parting of his lips as he deliberately avoided your questioning gaze. Finally, he exhaled - the sound low and fraught.

"I've had this commissioned mod for a while now," Kenma murmured, finally glancing your way with molten eyes. "From certain...unflattering angles, she captures some essence of you that's proven...distracting."

Your mouth went dry as you processed his oblique admission. Kenma had essentially crafted a digital embodiment of you to indulge his fantasies privately. The thought was overwhelmingly, incendiary.

"Show me," you heard yourself reply, proud of how steady your tone remained.

Kenma exhaled slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard as the digital avatar paused mid-scenario. His eyes cut towards you, burning intensity simmering behind those heavy lids.

"This next interaction gets...decidedly more intimate," he murmured, a muscle ticking along his chiseled jaw. "Are you sure you want me to continue?"

You held his searing gaze, giving a small nod. Kenma's lips parted on a ragged exhale before he continued guiding the game. The simulated woman began uttering breathless endearments, describing in graphic detail the acts she longed for her partner to indulge. You felt heat prickling across your skin as Kenma's jaw went taut, his own arousal visibly kindling.

"Look at her, begging for it so shamelessly," he rasped, not looking at the screen. His smoldering eyes bored into you. "But she doesn't even begin to fully capture the reality of how intoxicating you are."

Your breath hitched at the undisguised yearning that threaded his deep velvet tone. Kenma's chest rose and fell rapidly, desire and restraint wrestling across his striking features.

"To have you panting my name..." He continued roughly. "Writhing against me as I finally make good on every heated fantasy..."

A low, guttural sound tumbled from his parted lips as he abruptly shoved back from the desk. In two strides, he towered over you - an inscrutable, blazing force looming above where you sat rooted to the bed. You could only gaze up, up at him, dizzy with spiraling need.

Then Kenma simply...moved.

One moment, you were shakily inhaling his earthy, spice-tinged scent. The next, the universe distilled to the scalding slide of his mouth possessively claiming yours. A guttural rumble reverberated from deep within his chest as you eagerly opened for the fervent sweep of his tongue.

Any last vestiges of restraint shattered irreparably.

You clung to the sinewy lines of Kenma's back as he walked you further up the bed without relinquishing his devouring kiss. Finally breaking just long enough to gaze upon you with eyes guttering like banked embers, before swooping down to map every exposed inch of feverish skin with a desperate, open-mouthed reverence.

Every scorching path of his tongue and teeth left you arching helplessly against him, hands clutching greedily at the powerful lines of his frame. The sensation of him, warm and solid and overwhelming, left your pulse careening into double-time.

Then one leanly muscled thigh slid between yours, applying the barest hint of pressure that threatened to shatter you. You moaned his name, hips instinctively canting against him in search of sweet relief.

Kenma merely growled - a predatory, primal sound - before seizing your wrists and pinning them above your head. His smoldering stare met yours, pupils dilated until his eyes resembled two obsidian pools ringed in liquid fire.

"I can feel just how badly you need this," he rasped, a note of disbelief threading through his tone. "How you're fucking dripping for me."

You gasped, shuddering as the blunt force of his thigh pressed harder against your aching core. Then his free hand dipped below the waistband of your jeans, sliding sinuously through the slick arousal pooling there.

Kenma hissed out a curse as his fingertips stroked feather-light patterns across your throbbing clit. Each touch sent white-hot sparks spiraling through you, a deliciously building pressure that left you whimpering incoherently.

"Fuck, I could play with your gorgeous cunt all night."

Kenma punctuated his darkly erotic admission with the sinuous slide of one long finger inside you. Your walls immediately clenched around him, back bowing with the delicious intrusion.

He released a low groan, adding a second finger to the first as your hips rocked against his hand. He held your gaze, molten and hungry as he pumped his fingers mercilessly in and out of your soaking heat.

"You're taking me so fucking beautifully," he purred, his free hand skimming the hem of your shirt up just enough toexpose the supple curve of your breasts. "So eager for every bit of pleasure I can give you."

Your nipples pebbled immediately, aching for his touch. Kenma leaned down, tongue flicking the straining peak of one sensitive nub before drawing it between his lips. You keened as the sensation arrowed directly to the molten pool of need building within.

Kenma hummed low in approval, the vibration rippling across your nipple and sending fresh shudders coursing through you. Then he was curling his fingers, stroking a spot so deliciously deep you saw stars.

Your entire world collapsed into the single point of Kenma's relentless thrusts, the maddening flick of his tongue and the torturous suction of his mouth against your breasts. Every nerve ending crackled and burned with the electric friction he stoked higher, higher, until—

A sob tore from your throat as you felt Kenma slide his fingers out of you. You were left trembling, utterly wrecked and bereft - a string of pleas and curses tumbling incoherently from your lips.

"Please, I-I was so close."

Kenma gazed down, lips swollen and reddened from his relentless kisses. "Don't worry, I'm nowhere near finished with you."

With that, he began unbuttoning your jeans, slowly easing the denim and dampened fabric of your panties down your trembling legs. Your entire body sang at the feeling of being utterly bare before him.

Then his eyes widened, a low sound like a snarl vibrating from his chest as he took in the sight of your slick, glistening cunt. You flushed at the unbridled hunger reflected there, the knowledge that it was because of him - his touch, his words, his body - that had you absolutely soaked.

Without preamble, Kenma was on his knees between your legs, his hands gripping the back of your thighs as his mouth descended. You cried out at the first hot swipe of his tongue, hands instinctively burying themselves in the silky softness of his hair.

Kenma groaned at the sensation, the sound resonating directly against your clit. His lips sealed around the swollen bundle of nerves, the faintest graze of his teeth sending fresh spasms of pleasure wracking through you.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't think - every fiber of your being a raw, exposed livewire crackling under Kenma's unhurried attention. The languid drag of his tongue as it plunged into your aching depths, the obscene sounds as he sucked your clit. Every sensation was a blissful torment that had you bucking against his face, desperate for more.

Kenma seemed to relish in your uninhibited abandon. He tightened his hold, pulling you even closer against his ravenous mouth. A keening cry tore from your lips as his tongue fucked you mercilessly, lapping up every bit of your honeyed arousal.

You felt your walls begin to flutter, the molten pressure building with every swipe of Kenma's wicked tongue. Just as you were about to come undone, his mouth pulled away.

A broken whimper tumbled from your lips as he began kissing a slow, scorching path up the quivering plane of your stomach, across the dip between your breasts. All the while, his hands caressed the heated flesh of your inner thighs, teasing so close to the slick heat throbbing for him.

"Not yet," he rumbled, lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. "I need to feel your pretty cunt squeezing around my cock before you come."

He leaned back just enough to pull his shirt off, revealing a chiseled torso rippling with lean, powerful muscles. The sight sent a fresh surge of need pulsing through you.

Kenma reached for the waistband of his joggers, shoving the fabric down with agonizing indolence. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy and dripping. Your breath caught at the sight.

With a low groan, he palmed the rigid length, his thumb spreading the bead of precum at his swollen tip. He held your gaze as he stroked himself, lips parting on a ragged exhale.

"See what you do to me," he gritted, the corded muscles of his forearm flexing. "My beautiful, perfect girl."

The unadulterated reverence in his voice sent a surge of heat racing through you. Kenma's nostrils flared, a growl resonating deep in his chest.

"You're practically begging to have my cock stretching that tight cunt," he continued roughly, leaning down until the molten tip of his length grazed the seam of your soaking entrance. "I could take you right now."

A shudder coursed through you as his head nudged against your throbbing clit. Your hips arched instinctively, seeking the delicious friction. Kenma let out a low, pained sound.

"That's it, fuck yourself on me," he growled, eyes blazing with a possessive, predatory lust.

Your eyes rolled back, a moan spilling from your lips as his shaft dragged through your soaked folds. Every inch of your skin felt scorched, hypersensitive - the air itself charged with electricity.

Then Kenma was reaching down, lining the swollen tip of his length against your aching entrance. His hand gripped the back of your thighs, holding you open as he pressed forward.

You bit back a cry, back arching as his cock stretched you inch by delicious inch. Your walls fluttered and clenched, struggling to accommodate his girth. But Kenma kept going, a low stream of praise falling from his lips as his hands skimmed soothing patterns across your trembling thighs.

"That's it, I've got you. Such a good girl, taking every fucking inch."

A moan slipped from your lips as he bottomed out, the sensation of his thick cock filling you utterly overwhelming. His hips rocked slowly, allowing you to adjust.

You gripped the sheets, struggling to stay tethered to reality. The feeling of Kenma's length buried to the hilt, his hands gripping your thighs, his smoldering gaze pinning you. It was all too much, but still not enough.

"Please," you begged, your voice a hoarse whisper.

Kenma's nostrils flared, the tendons of his throat flexing as he swallowed hard. Then he began thrusting, each stroke a searing slide of friction. The heels of his palms dug into your waist as he pinned you with his weight, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest.

Your moans filled the air, interspersed with the slick, filthy sounds of his cock pumping in and out of your aching cunt. You writhed, helpless beneath the delicious onslaught, his length stroking places that left you breathless.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Kenma rasped, his grip on your hips tightening. "And look how beautifully you take my cock."

A flush bloomed across your heated skin, a delicious ache building with every thrust. You whimpered as Kenma's thumb began circling your swollen clit, the added sensation driving you to the brink.

"I can feel how close you are," he rumbled, the molten intensity in his gaze unwavering. "Give me everything, sweet girl."

A shudder wracked through you, your walls fluttering as you teetered on the edge. Kenma's thumb moved faster, his thrusts picking up a punishing rhythm.

"Come for me."

Your vision blurred, ecstasy crashing over you in wave after wave of rapture. A cry tore from your lips, back arching as your pussy clenched and squirted around his thick length. Kenma let out a guttural groan, his strokes growing erratic as his own release approached.

You moaned, overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock throbbing and swelling inside you. Kenma's head fell back, eyes closed as his thrusts became frenzied. His jaw clenched, a ragged groan escaping his parted lips as he finally came.

His length pulsed inside you, painting your walls with hot spurts of his cum. You shuddered, the sensation pushing you into a second, unexpected climax. Kenma growled, thrusting through both of your releases until you were utterly spent.

You lay there panting, struggling to catch your breath as Kenma's weight settled beside you. He reached out, trailing a fingertip down the slope of your cheek, the hollow of your throat. You shivered, still hypersensitive.

"Beautiful," he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips.

A soft hum slipped from your mouth as he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. You sighed, content to melt into the deliciously sated haze that permeated the aftermath.

Then, Kenma's voice sounded again, low and rumbling from deep within his chest:

"You should move in."

Your eyes flew open, breath hitching as the full import of his words hit you. Kenma's arms tightened, a subtle tension radiating across his powerful frame.

"I know it’s selfish, but I wasn’t planning on letting you leave if I’d worked up the courage to confess to you," he continued quietly, his breath warm against your neck. "You don't have to, but—"

"Yes."

The word slipped from your lips before you even had time to fully process the decision. But the moment it hung suspended in the charged silence, you knew the answer was inevitable.

"Yes?" Kenma echoed, something like wonder threading through his voice.

You twisted to meet his gaze, the faintest flicker of hope reflected there. A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, a giddy warmth blossoming across your chest.

"Yes," you repeated, punctuating the word with a gentle kiss to his parted lips. "There's no way in hell I'm leaving you now."

Kenma hummed, a slow smile of his own curving his mouth as he pulled you even closer. You felt his lips brush the shell of your ear, his words a warm murmur of contentment:

"Good. Because you're not going anywhere."

[fvckmeupyoonz]

Happy Birthday kenma x fem!reader

note: this is my first time writing real smut, i think. tell me what u guys think. i need feedback so i can get better. also had my friends proofread this for me, that's how anxious i am lol

Word count: 1.2k

CW: smut 18+, unprotected sex, P -> V sex, quickie, kissing, kenma is a whore and a lazy mf, reader has fem parts and is referred to as a girl, creampie, you pull his hair once, pet names.

divider cred: kithsune

"Ken! They're waiting for you what in the-" Your boyfriend, the birthday boy, is hurling you down the stairs... Into the little closet under the stairs to hide from his friends.

"I don't wanna hear Kuroo and Bokuto's shitty happy birthday singing." He mumbles quietly to you. Kuroo somehow has impeccable hearing. It's easy for him to pick your boyfriend out of a crowd with no problem.

"Oh come on Kenma, you listen to them sing every year. This one won't be any different." The closet provides no light and is stuffy. Even though you can't see your boyfriend you know there's a big pout on his face.

"Please.. it's so embarrassing. They always record it because they know I hate it." He grabs your hand, squeezing softly. His face is so close to yours you can feel his warm breath tickle your skin.

"Okay, then what do you suggest we do? They're gonna start looking for us soon. I'm sure the closet is kind of an obvious spot." One thing you'd never take into account when first dating Kenma was his sneakiness. So of course when you feel his hand slip up your shirt you gasp in shock.

"In the closet?" The disbelief in your voice caused a soft chuckle to escape the gamer's throat. You've watched him become more of a man every day, little by little. His deep voice reminds you of how in high school Kenma's voice was high pitched. He was the definition of puberty.

"Yeah, I haven't had you today because you've spent all day planning this dumb party. I think I'm ready for my birthday present."

He can't see you but he knows your body well enough to find those plush lips and plant a sloppy kiss on them. You meet his lips trying to match his slow pace. If you were being honest you wanted him too.. all day long.

His hands move from your tummy down to your ass, giving it a little squeeze. "I love your ass." He says opening his mouth while you continue to give him open-mouthed kisses along his pretty face.

"I think I can tell." You wrap your arms around his neck, placing little kisses on his neck. You know he likes it.

You're still unsure of doing this, mainly because all of Kenma's friends are not too far from the closet that has no lock on it. Things could easily go south. Kuroo would love to get in on the action if he were to find you guys, he has before.

A slim finger hooks onto your waistband and slowly pulls at it. "Quit being a tease. If we're doing this, then hurry up." Kenma only smirks at your sudden urgency.

Kenma closes the distance, his voice soft in your ear, "Calm down momma." He's playing dirty now.

He knows that nickname makes you fold. Every. Damn. Time. With your brain being slightly clouded he's able to take control.

You were suddenly grateful for the lack of light in the closet because you weren't planning to wear any cute panties until all the guests left.

He caresses your thigh, dragging out the growing arousal in your gut. There's most likely a wet spot on your panties right now.

"Is it bad I'm already hard?" His voice is hoarse even though you guys haven't done anything yet.

"Stop playing, touch me, Ken." You whine getting fed up with his incessant teasing.

"Okay, princess, whatever you want." Without wasting any time your panties are pulled down and two of Kenma's fingers find your dripping cunt.

He's quick to push his fingers in. It hurts just a little bit but the pain goes away as his fingers work you open. "Hah, so good cuz of my skillful gam-"

"Fuck- if you say your 'skillful gamer hands' I'm going to leave this closet." Kenma knows you won't leave the closet, not when he's fucking you so good with his fingers.

Your boyfriend continues at a quick pace. To stay upright you have one hand gripping his shoulder, while your other reaches to rub sloppy circles into your clit.

"So pretty when you touch yourself." He moans rather loudly. It takes him by surprise when you stop touching yourself to cover his mouth. Your juices get on his face.

"Shhhh. Your loud ass is gonna get us caught." Instead of listening to your warning, he tries to push you over the edge. His other hand finds your clit that you abandoned. You would think that his movement would be sloppy, but yet here he is being precise with the way he fucks you with his fingers.

This time around you let out a moan, not as loud as Kenma's. You've concluded that your boyfriend is kind of a slut for you.

Kenma knows that you're getting close. The way your breathing changes, the way you desperately clutch to him, the way you stumble on your words, he loves all of it.

"Getting close?" He teased.

You don't say anything- or more like you can't say anything. Pleasure clouds your mind. All you want is to cum.

"Hah- can't cum yet baby. 's my birthday." With that statement, he pulls his fingers out of your cunt to admire the slick on them.

The blonde pulls his cock free from those restraining pants of his. A small groan escapes those plush lips of his when he thumbs at his slit. And he doesn't warn you before entering your pussy.

You gasp rather loudly, his cock filling you up to the brim just the way you like it.

Kenma lets out the loudest moan ever when he feels your tight pussy squeeze him. You count about a minute before he starts to move.

His thrusts aren't calculated as usual. Kenma is a very smart person and weighs out his options before doing something, but when it comes to you, he always loses himself. He calls you the most dangerous weapon.

The grip you have on his shoulders is deadly. You decide to kiss him, only to shut up his loud moans.

Kenma continues at this uneven pace, fucking up into your dripping cunt. You move one hand into his hair to pull at it.

"Shit, Mommy- feels so good," Kenma whines into your ear and you melt on the spot.

Kenma feels you squeeze his cock more than you did before. Your eyes screw shut and you see white.

"I'm gonna-"

Kenma beats you to it by a few seconds. That pretty cock of his paints your insides white, not slowing down for a second. The sounds your bodies make slapping against each other are loud and obnoxious.

You're quick to cum after him, pleasure taking over your body, which almost gave out and it wasn't even crazy sex.

"Ken, we... we gotta hurry up. I'll go change and-"

Kenma finds your panties, and pulls them back up, a sinister smile growing. "Be good mama, don't let them know what we were doing."

"You don't expect me to go out there full of-"

"Hell yeah, I do." He pulls his boxers and pants up.

In the closet, he grabs your hand while leading you out.

end note: idk how to feel abt this.. ik its my first time. but i still dont like it lol. tell me what u think

[fvckmeupyoonz]

im not gonna stop talking about kozume kenma

im not gonna stop talking about kozume kenma

im not gonna stop talking about kozume kenma

im not gonna stop talking about kozume kenma

im not gonna stop talking about kozume kenma

im not gonna stop talking about kozume kenma

im not gonna stop talking about kozume kenma

im not gonna stop talking about kozume kenma

im not gonna stop talking about kozume kenma

[fvckmeupyoonz]

🏐💥

[fvckmeupyoonz]

they're so silly

[fvckmeupyoonz]

STAY SAFE!! [ID: the Gilbert Baker pride flag with the words “Happy pride to all those who are unable to celebrate openly and safely. You are loved and seen!” in all-caps black text over it. /end ID]

[fvckmeupyoonz]

The restraint on Oda's part to wait nearly 500 chapters to drop this line is incredible.

[fvckmeupyoonz]

HAIKYUU MOVIE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME!!!!!!!

[fvckmeupyoonz]

Every now and again, i get a commission that reminds me how much i love my job. Thank you @kelsen8er for your order of cunty flam with a handbag

[fvckmeupyoonz]

240605 - BTS 2013-2023 PHOTO COLLECTION #2024BTSFESTA

[fvckmeupyoonz]

JIN WILL COME BACK IN 7 DAYS

[fvckmeupyoonz]

Please Reblog is Your Blog is Safe for Non-Binary People.

If my mutuals can’t rb this then we can’t be mutuals

[fvckmeupyoonz]

Mirror, Mirror: Shanks x F!Reader

Tags: nsfw, modern!AU (therefore Shanks has both arms and no scar on his face because he's not doing pirate stuff lol), AGE GAPS (this one is huge, don't ignore this tag please), sugar daddy Shanks, creampie, exhibitionism, dirty talk, and daddy kink

You sighed as you walked a heavy box up a flight of stairs. This place was nice, nicer than any apartment you had lived in before, but damn these stairs. You huffed as you finally reached your doorstep, fiddling around in your purse as you tried to find the keys to the place. 

You had moved in here because your parents said they knew the guy who owns it. He'd be able to cut you a good deal on the place, they said, and make sure you'd live comfortably. Though, that's about as much help as you had from your parents. You were nervous about that; you had never been too far from home, spending the first half of your college life in your childhood home with your family. But you had to grow up someday, and what better time than now to start?

Though, you did wish you had some help with these boxes. The door beside your own opens as you're fiddling with your keys. Out steps a tall man with bright red hair. He's probably your parents' age, maybe a little younger, if you had to guess, and you flush when he looks at you.

C'mon, where were these damn keys? You were looking like an idiot in front of his gorgeous stranger.

"Oh, hey there!" He smiles, "Are you the person who's moving in next door?"

You give a gentle laugh, forgetting your keys for a moment so as to not be rude, "Yeah, that's me!" 

When he smiles, you feel your heart race, and you look away from him for a moment before flicking your gaze back to him. He was handsome; sculpted jawline, mid-length hair, and god, did he always wear his button-down shirts so… unbuttoned? You try not to lick your lips at the appearance of his light chest hair.

"Nice to meet you. The name's Shanks." He reaches out his hand to give you a handshake, and you grasp it. You bite your lip at the feeling of his calloused hands caressing your own.

You give your name, and he hums back, "A pretty name for a pretty young lady."

Your face goes red.

"Ah," He notices the large boxes stacked in front of your door, "You need some help settling in? I've got some time to spare."

"Oh!" You jump up, "Really, I'm alright."

He cracks a smile and leans against the doorway to your home, "I insist."

And well, who were you to say no to such a handsome older man?

Shanks helps you carry some of the heavy boxes from the moving van to your apartment. He whistles when he drops off the last box, "You got a lot of stuff here, little lady."

You laugh, "Well, it's all old stuff from home. There were so many things I couldn't get rid of."

He hums, "Is it your first time on your own?"

"Can you tell?"

He smiles, placing his hands on his hips as he looks over the boxes, "Well, you don't have any furniture. That was my first clue."

You laugh again and plop down on the ground, looking up at him, "Observant."

He groans as he takes a seat across from you on the wooden floors, "I try to be."

From there, you two talk about lots of different things. Shanks talked about how he travels for work, how his daughter, Uta, just started college this year, and how there's this kid he mentors who comes around every now and again to visit.

"I can tell my daughter won't visit me much, though," He says offhandedly, "So I think I'll get pretty lonely now that she's out of the house."

"Well," You start, "I'll always be right next door if you need anything!"

And with that, Shanks smiles.

_____

As days turn to weeks, you feel yourself grow closer to Shanks. You two seemed to always leave for work at the same time, walking together as you headed for your respective cars. Whenever you cooked something and had too much to spare, you would go next door and offer him a taste. Those nights were his favorites, he said, because he missed good home cooking (apparently, he wasn't much of a chef). 

Though, one morning you complain about your car.

"The stupid thing seems to break down at least once a month," You groan, "And it needs gas, but I don't have much money in my account right now…"

Shanks is quiet for a bit before speaking up, "Hey, how about I fill up your tank?"

"Wh-" you laugh, "N-No, I couldn't ask you for that-"

He fishes out his wallet, and your eyes bulge; he's got hundreds stacked up in his wallet like it's nothing.

He hands you three hundred dollars easy, "There. Fill up your tank and buy yourself something nice, okay? On me."

"Shanks, I don't know what to say-"

"Then don't say anything." He winks before unlocking his car, stepping inside, and waving bye.

You don't know what to do. You look down at the money and immediately start rationing out how to spend it. After gas, you should still have quite a bit left over. You could stretch this for food until your next paycheck, no problem. You chewed at your bottom lip; how could you pay him back for something like this?

Suddenly an idea popped into your mind.

_____

After work and your class for the day, you come home and begin working on your surprise for Shanks. You weren't sure how well it would turn out. You weren't a master baker or decorator by any means but what mattered was that it came from the heart.

You knock on his door, frosted cake in hand, and wait for an answer. It comes soon enough as he opens the door, looking down at you with a warm smile.

"Well, hello there, little lady."

Your heart fluttered; you always loved that nickname he gave you.

"Whatcha got there, huh?" He leans forward, eyeing the cake.

You present the confectionary treat to him, "I-I just wanted to say thanks for the money you gave me the other day and-"

"Aw, no, little girl, you don't have to thank me for that!" He laughs, "Come on, why don't you come in? I've got a couple of friends over, and they'd love to meet you!"

You stammer, not used to him calling you 'little girl.' It was always 'little lady,' and that change made you flustered.

"Plus, sure the fellas would love some of this wonderful cake you made."

"W-Well, if you insist-"you say before stepping over the threshold, 

When you enter the apartment, you audibly gasp. You had never been in his apartment before; all the food you'd left before was usually at his front door. But wow, his place was something. Luxurious carpets, large couches, and the size of the TV that was in his living room was astonishing.

Shanks easily reads your mind.

"Haha, you like it?" Shanks smiles, "You should come over sometime,"

You nod before your eyes catch on some gentlemen who have gathered in the kitchen, drinking beers from bottles. 

You timidly wave and make yourself smaller, slowly shrinking in on yourself as you are surrounded by these older men.

"Aw, come on, Shanks," one of the men speaks up, his light dreadlocks framing his face, "You know this girl doesn't wanna hang out with old guys like us."

"Yeah," another pipes up; he's a larger man with a striped bandana wrapped around his head. "She don't look much older than your daughter."

Another man approaches you, "Come on, girl, you don't gotta pity the old man, you know?"

Your face flushes, and you lower your head a bit, embarrassed by the attention that was brought towards you. Shanks only lets out a hearty laugh.

"Alright, boys, you're making her blush," Shanks pats your head, "Lay off her, will ya?"

He introduces you as his neighbor, and the men all nod in understanding, as though they've heard of you before. You all talk, namely, it's just Shanks' friends trying to embarrass him in front of you. You laugh, and Shanks laughs along with you, unbothered by his friends' teasing.

Some time passes, and eventually, everyone leaves, leaving you and Shanks alone.

"How did you enjoy the get-together?" He asks, sweeping up the kitchen.

"It was nice," you smile, picking up beer bottles and tossing them in a recycling bin, "Hope they all get home okay."

"Don't worry, I got them all rides home."

Your brows raise; that wasn't cheap. In fact, the more you look around Shanks' place, the more valuable items you see. He's got wristwatches lying around, expensive booze in his cabinets, and not to mention the clothes he wore seemed perfectly tailored.

Looks like he was doing really well for himself.

"Why do you live here?" You ask bluntly, looking in awe at his place.

"What do you mean?"

"Not to be rude, it's just…" you gesture vaguely, "You seem to be pretty well off, yet you're living in this apartment complex. Not to say it isn't nice, but I'm sure you can afford much better."

Shanks stops sweeping for a moment and puts the broom aside, placing his hands on his hips as he cracks a smile, "Those uppity neighborhoods are too stuck-up for a guy like me."

You hum, placing the last beer bottle in the recycling. 

"Besides, I wouldn't have met you if I lived somewhere else."

You blush wildly at that statement.

"W-Well, that's true."

He smiles softly before approaching you, placing a hand on your head, and ruffling your hair, "And you're pretty cute, you know?"

"T-Thank you, Shanks…" 

"So cute that you've got some gears turning in my mind…"

You bite your lip and look up at him through your lashes, "What do you mean?"

"Well," he stops ruffling your hair, "I don't usually do this, but you're just my type…"

Your heart beats radically in your chest, threatening to burst right out of your ribcage. You were his type? 

"You're a young girl working hard all while in school, yeah? I bet it's real exhausting, huh?" You nod, clinging to his every word, "Well, what if I were to make that load a little easier on you?"

"How do you mean?"

He takes your hand, "If you accompany me for dates, be a pretty girl on my arm at these parties; I could pay twice whatever your job is giving you."

He squeezes your hand, "I'll take you on shopping sprees, let you go to the spa so you can get the massages you deserve…" 

You chew at your lip as you glance from his hand to his face.

"And," he chuckles, "Not to brag, but I'm much more experienced than boys your age, could make you experience much more pleasure…"

"Shanks!" You gasp, turning beet red at his bluntness.

Shanks' eyes flicker towards your lips for a moment before leaning in, and you meet him halfway, pressing your lips against his. His lips taste like booze, but you don't care; you are absorbed in his lips, his touch, everything.

When you pull away, he's quick to kiss your forehead. 

"I'm taking that as a yes?"

"Only if… you like me the way I like you."

His eyes widen for a moment before he relaxes once again, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "Oh, you're so cute, baby. Of course I like you, can't stop thinking about you…"

"Then," you swallow, "Then I want to be yours."

He hums happily at that and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, "My girlfriend and my sugar baby, huh? Couldn't ask for anything better."

And with that, he kisses you again.

___

Time passes, and Shanks keeps his word. You go out everywhere, take trips to different cities, go on shopping sprees, and try all sorts of foods. 

And the sex. God, the sex. It was fantastic. You had fooled around with other people before Shanks, but it was nothing compared to what he provided for you. Everything was absolutely perfect.

In fact, today, you are out shopping with your beloved boyfriend (or your Daddy, as you also affectionately call him), and you drag him into this store that you absolutely love. He patiently waits while you search through the racks, holding onto any clothes you pick up. When you're done with the searching portion of this store's trip, you make your way to the dressing room, Shanks following behind. 

The attendant gives you a little number denoting how many items you have before allowing you to usher into the changing room. Your boyfriend waits with the attendant, and you step out into the waiting room so he can have a look at your outfits.

"What about this dress?" You ask, turning around so your backside is facing him.

"Makes your ass look huge," he smirks before smacking it, making you blush wildly. You look over to the attendant, who isn't far away, and you can tell that she's pretending she didn't hear or see what just happened.

"Shanks-!" You hiss out, and he simply leans back into the plush waiting room couch that was available.

"Sorry, baby, couldn't help myself."

You notice the attendant speaking into a microphone on her person before walking off, leaving the changing rooms unattended. You don't see it, but Shanks is grinning wildly.

"Hey, let me help you take that off."

"R-Right now?"

He doesn't speak another word, just stands and holds your hips in his hands, nipping at your neck.

Your eyes flutter shut, and your core lights up. You can't resist him.

"Mm, okay," you whisper, "But let's make it quick."

"No promises," he winks before guiding you to the changing stall. You close the curtains behind you both, and Shanks is quick to attack your neck again, his rough hands groping your breasts from behind.

"Nn, Shanks-"

"Be quiet, little girl," he purrs, "Don't want them to find out, right?"

You whimper as he slides the dress down your body, the fabric hitting the floor. Shanks hums appreciatively when he sees the panties you're wearing.

"Oh, you liked this gift, huh?" He chuckles in reference to the lacy panties he bought you last week.

"I love all the gifts you buy me, Daddy," you purr, and he lets out a rumbling laugh against your back.

"You're so sweet, baby," he chuckles, pressing kisses to your ear.

With deft hands, Shanks unclips your bra, allowing it to fall to the floor. He molds your breast in his warm, calloused hands, and you tilt your head back, whimpering for him. His thumbs rub at your hard nipples, stimulating you in the best way.

"So sensitive…" He hums, kissing your neck, sucking hickeys into the skin.

His hands move to your waist, sliding the panties off your body. They rest at your ankles, and you step out of them, kicking them aside.

"Daddy?" 

"Yes, baby?"

"Can I… make you feel good?"

A smile tugged at his lips, "What did you have in mind?"

"D-Don't make me say it, Daddy…"

"C'mon, use your words…"

You bite your lip and turn your head, craning your neck to look at him, "Can I suck your cock? Please?"

"Of course, you can, princess."

You turn around, facing Shanks before you descend to your knees, looking up at him with wide doe eyes. He undoes the rest of the buttons on his shirt before shrugging off the fabric, and his fingers make quick work of his pants shortly after. You drool as his cock is exposed to you. He's nice and thick, lengthy, too, with veins popping out of his cock. You lick your lips before lapping at the tip eagerly. 

"There you go, little girl," he sighs, pushing your hair back, "Such a good girl for Daddy."

You flush slightly at his praise before glancing up at his face, your gaze soon returning to his cock before stroking it with your soft hands (you need to use both because, god, was he massive.)

Shanks throws his head back, gripping your hair tighter as you stroke him. Then, building up your determination, you sink your mouth down upon him, taking him into your wet cavern. Shanks lets out a soft grunt, pushing your head down further along his cock.

"You look so dirty like this, princess…" he chuckles, "You look so innocent to everyone else, but I know how you really are…"

With no warning, Shanks begins to shallowly thrust his hips, fucking your face as gently as he can to start. You look up at him, bracing your hands on his thighs as he speeds up.

"That's it, baby, take it…" he groans, making your face bright red. He always liked dirty talking with you, especially when he saw how flustered it made you.

His hips snap forward, and suddenly he's more than halfway down your throat. Your eyes flutter and roll back as he uses you for his pleasure. Secretly, you had hoped this would be the outcome all along. You loved when Shanks treated you like a toy, like something he owned. 

When he withdraws from your mouth, you pant openly, allowing your tongue to stay out of your mouth to greet Shanks with a lewd sight. He groans.

"Stand up, princess," he strokes himself as you rise, "Put your hands on that little table over there; stick that cute little ass out for me."

You obey but instantly notice your body is facing the mirror. You see Shanks behind you, lining himself up at your hole. You bite your lip and avoid your mirror self's gaze, too embarrassed to watch.

When Shanks presses his blunt head inside your hole, you throb in excitement. He laughs, noticing your cunt's response.

"Aw," he says, "You feel that, baby? Your body misses me."

With that, he slams in with a single stroke, his cock head hitting your cervix. You slap your hand over your mouth, trying not to scream at the sudden pleasure.

Shanks takes his time, fucking you with long, deep strokes. He pulls out almost entirely each time, leaving only his head in, before slamming his cock in to the base. 

At one point, he does abandon your hole, leaving you to twitch around nothing.

You whine and reach behind you, guiding him back inside. 

"Mm, so needy…" he chuckles, "does my little girl want Daddy to fuck her hard?"

"Yes, Daddy…"

Like a flipped switch, he goes from loose, languid, and slow thrusts to tight, powerful ones. Your hands turn to fists as he holds your hips close, plowing you as you lean against the small dressing room table intended for clothing. 

You mewl behind your hand as he fucks you hard, your insides molding to his shape. 

"Look in the mirror, princess," he grunts, "Look at your cute little fucked-out face."

Your eyes travel to the mirror's surface, taking in how your face flushed, how your breasts bounced with each thrust- it was mesmerizing until your eyes rolled back, Shanks hitting that spot within you. 

"Oh my god-"you moan, and Shanks reaches around, shoving his fingers in your mouth.

"Shhhh…" you look in the mirror to see him smiling again, "'Know it feels good baby, but you gotta hold it in or else we'll get in lots of trouble."

You want to argue back, that the sound of his hips smacking against yours was already giving you away, but you just suck on his fingers. As he repeatedly rams your g-spot, you feel your orgasm build up. And when he reaches with his other hand to rub your clit, it approaches even faster.

Muffled cries of "Daddy" and "please" escape your lips and around Shanks' fingers. 

"Watch Daddy as he makes you cum." Shanks growls, and you look up at the mirror again, admiring his face as it scrunches up in pleasure. 

It only takes a few more thrusts before you're cumming all over his cock, your pussy's squeezing inviting him to join you over that edge.

Shanks' cum fills you up, and your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the feeling of being full.

Shanks stops rubbing your clit and slowly slides his fingers out of your mouth, pressing kisses to your neck.

"Baby," he starts, "Be a good girl and pull your panties up for Daddy. Don't want any of that cum leaking out of you…"

"Y-Yes, Daddy…"

You retrieve your panties and slide them back on, causing Shanks to grin wildly. 

I'm a few moments, you're both dressed and walking out of the dressing room. You notice the lady who was working the desk to the dressing rooms is still gone, and you let out a sigh of relief.

When you leave the store, you pass by an attendant who wishes you a good day. You wave as you flush, feeling like everybody, including this store worker, knows your secret.

Especially when you feel the cum pooling between your legs.

When you return to Shanks' car, he's laughing, crying almost, and you hit him in the shoulder.

"You're so lucky that lady didn't come back!"

"Hahah! Ah, you worry too much!" He's smiling from ear to ear, "Everything went fine."

You roll your eyes, but when he takes your chin in hand, you mentally shortcircuit. 

"You make me feel so young, you know?" His face radiates this genuine warmth as he speaks, "Love being with you, baby."

When he leans in to kiss your lips, your head swims. 

You absolutely loved this man.