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kyuuppi · 4 months

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help, my boyfriend has no sex drive! (5)

Pairing: Kenma x reader (f)

Contents: smut; established relationship; feminization, "femboy", heavy praise kink (Kenma); rough sex; creampie; Christmas themes

Words: 3.4k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

“But as long as you’d love me so—

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snoooow”

Kenma tries not to visibly cringe at the cheery music as he emerges from his office, finally finished with his obligatory three-hour “Christmas special” stream.

As you had been for the past month, you’re softly singing along to some Christmas carol playing from your shitty laptop speaker. You had busied yourself with reorganizing the presents under the full-sized tree—something you had insisted on buying for the apartment.

Kenma had little more interest in most holidays than the “free day from school” perks. But as he watches you scurry around your shared living room wearing candy cane-themed stockings, an oversized ugly Christmas sweater, and a hundred-yen-store Santa hat, Kenma is thankful you had expressed your desire to celebrate with him. He will gladly participate in anything that makes you this innocently cheerful.

Your background music is abruptly cut short and you frown when you realize your laptop has just died again. But the disappointment is cut short when you notice Kenma, standing awkwardly by the couch in the dark Christmas sweater you had insisted he wear for his stream.

“KenKen—your stream is over?”

Kenma smiles softly at how eager you look, eyes practically sparkling.

“Yeah, I’m free now. You wanted to open presents, right?”

You nod quickly, guiding him to the couch and leaving only to retrieve a cup of hot cocoa—extra whipped cream—and a slice of homemade apple pie, placing them both in front of him on the coffee table. He thanks you quietly, predictably digging into the apple pie first.

“So I think we should start with your family’s gifts first,” you begin, already passing him a small stack of presents, all wrapped in identical green and red paper.

After nearly half an hour you two had finally worked your way through nearly all of the presents. Most were the typical things–an abhorrent amount of socks and pajamas from your families, Kenma’s mother gifting both of you very cringey matching couple sets with any video game character she saw. You had to try very hard not to laugh at Kenma’s face when you opened a matching Kirby and Jigglypuff sweater set with a handwritten heart note.

“Aww, don’t pout KenKen, your mom was just being thoughtful.” “They’re not even in the same series.”

A few gifts had been surprising–namely Kuroo’s cat ear headphones—to which Kenma promptly sent a text telling Kuroo to never buy him Christmas gift ever again— and even a signed pro jersey from Hinata. Even if he didn’t voice it, you noticed how touched Kenma seemed by the gesture and you made a mental note to buy something to display it in the apartment. A few gifts were even from Kenma’s fans, sending various game merchandise, snacks from their country, and even fan art of the two of you.

Finally, the last remaining gifts were the ones you made for each other. You didn’t want to pressure Kenma to buy you anything fancy–and you also couldn’t afford to reciprocate with anything fancy, so you set a strict budget.

Kenma was unexpectedly good at keeping secrets so you weren’t sure what he had gotten you–probably a game he wanted you to play together but the box was unexpectedly big—

Regardless, you knew what you got him , and it was something you had been thinking about for months. Needless to say, you were eager for him to open it.

“Who should go firs—”

“I’ll go!”

Kenma raises a brow but complies as you all but shove your gift into his hands. The outside is unassuming—a flat package wrapped in red paper with a holographic silver stick-on bow in the center. Somehow, he feels vaguely uneasy.

Cautiously, Kenma begins unwrapping the gift. You practically vibrate with excitement in your seat, eagerly watching as his thin fingers peel away the final layers of colorful paper.

Finally, your present reveals itself, soft nylon fabric in a bright red shade. Kenma seems confused, unsure of what exactly he is looking at until he shifts and the fabric unravels into two long strips.

“Ta-daa,” you cheer, “your very own pair of thigh-high stockings!”

Kenma looks horrified.

“This is a joke,” Kenma states, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as you.

“What do you mean? Don’t you like them? Look, they’re even Christmas-themed!”

You guide his hands over to the top of the socks where a large red ribbon sits. Two short red strings dangle the ribbon with a small, fuzzy white ball at the end each. You make him squeeze the soft ball for good measure. His expression doesn’t change.

“Why would you buy me these? You wasted actual, real-life money for this,” Kenma bemoans.

“Didn’t your fans suggest something like this before? I think they called them programmer socks—”

“ Oh my god please stop talking.”

Kenma lets out a long, suffering groan as you eye him with an absolute shit-eating grin.

It’s fine, he thinks. You wanted to be a little shit like Kuroo but it was just a prank. He could probably Venmo back the money you wasted on this and never have to think of this situation ever again. He’ll toss them in the back of the closet next to those cat ear headphones Kuroo bought him.

He is proven wrong when you nudge his shin with your own stocking-clad toes and give him an expectant look.

“Well?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to try them on?”

Kenma’s brain very obviously fries and you have to resist the urge to laugh at his expression.

“C’mon, I spent actual, real-life money on these," you tease, throwing his words back at him, "I wanna see you wear them at least once!”

“You have to be joking,” he all but whines.

Your excited expression tells him you are very much not joking. Kenma considers refusing more firmly. He knows you genuinely care about him and would never push him to do something he was uncomfortable with—or at least so long as it wouldn’t actually kill him.

But your eyes are wide and practically sparkling as you look at him expectantly with that cute little grin–the crippling humiliation that will likely haunt him every night for the rest of his life is nothing compared to your happiness. Kenma sighs deeply and you know you’ve won.

He ignores your excited squeals as he stands up and shuffles towards the bathroom in something akin to a walk of shame.

As Kenma stares at his own lithe form in the mirror he’s positive that he has never felt so mortified in his whole life. Not when he accidentally set a ball into Lev’s face during a match in high school. Not when he missed his ult in a team fight and cost his team the ranked match in League. Not even when he came so hard he nearly passed out while getting his dick sucked during a live stream.

Kenma can barely even recognize himself in the mirror, eyes flitting from his familiar golden gaze down to his oversized black and white Nightmare Before Christmas sweater and, finally, to his thin legs wrapped in an inappropriately bright red pair of thigh-high socks.

Somehow, the stockings feel even more exposing than if he were just naked. He feels like some cheap, poorly drawn femboy character in a hentai. One of his first thoughts was they don’t look nearly as appealing on him as they do on you. His legs are too lanky–straight and lean from years of volleyball but missing the curve of healthy fat yours have. His face heats up as he visualizes your thighs currently clad in your own pair of red and white striped stockings.

“KenKen are you ready yet? You’re taking foreeeeever!”

His heart rate picks up and he tries to remind himself it's just you, the person who makes him feel safest. He’s going to go out there, you’re going to see how cringe he looks, then you'll both laugh and never talk about this again.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door, immediately meeting your gaze as you sit on the couch where he left you. Breath bated, he watches as your eyes dart down his body, darting around his lower half with your mouth agape. He tries his best not to squirm under your stare.

“Fuck, Ken,” you chuckle breathily, “you look amazing.”

Kenma’s breath hitches, certainly not expecting that type of response. As you continue to take him in he realizes your gaze looks almost hungry, like you’re ready to devour him–shit, are you seriously into this?

He finds his answer in the way you motion him over, helpless in how his body obeys before he can even process the silent request. You reach out hesitantly, fingertips so close to his thighs he can feel your body heat even through the thin fabric. You glance up at him, asking permission, and he’s nodding immediately, desperate for your touch.

Your fingers land near his left knee, trailing up slowly and making his whole body tremble lightly. When your fingertips catch on the hem of the stockings he nearly gasps and then you're brushing his soft skin directly, only stopping when you reach the edge of the sweater that’s just barely covering his rapidly hardening cock.

“You’re so pretty,” you praise, "my pretty boy."

Kenma makes a choked sound, surprised and mildly offended but also awfully turned on to hear any form of praise from your lips. No, he wants to argue, you’re the pretty one –but you look up at him, so pleased, that he can’t remember how to speak.

“And now we match,” you sing, tone innocent as you raise your leg between his own. His eyes follow, nearly hypnotized by the contrast between your red-and-white stockings against his red ones before your clothed shin brushes against his crotch in a way that is anything but innocent. He has to grab the back of the couch near your head to keep his knees from buckling as he groans.

You seem to take some form of pity on him because you let up on his crotch with a giggle, making room for him to sit down beside you and catch his breath. Even when you let him rest your attention never strays from the item of clothing, hand idly stroking his thigh while you continue to drink in the sight of his pale skin contrasting with the scarlet cloth.

“Do you really like it that much,” he asks, almost hesitant.

He’s surprised at how sheepish you become, moving your hand away as your face slightly flushes.

“Um–yeah. I know it’s kinda weird, sorry, you just look really pretty sometimes.”

Kenma frowns slightly and takes your hand back, returning it to his thigh with his own on top of yours. The action was meant to reassure you but it felt too bold and he avoids eye contact as he speaks.

“You don’t have to apologize, I don’t hate it…”

He sees the way you perk up, practically beaming, from the corner of his eye and is quick to clarify less you try to buy him a pair of panties or something next year.

“It’s not my thing—I prefer seeing you in cute clothes…but I can try things like this if it makes you this happy.”

“Aww, KenKen, that’s so sweet!”

Kenma huffs, breath nearly knocked out of him when you launch yourself into his chest, planting noisy kisses all over his face. He tries his best to scowl but he’s pretty sure he’s failing by the way you giggle at his expression. Your Santa hat gets knocked off in the commotion but neither of you care. Kenma even takes the opportunity to bury his fingers in your messy hair as your kisses finally focus on his lips.

Eventually, the kisses deepen, morphing from quick pecks to slow and open-mouthed. Your tongue invades his mouth, gravity giving you a clear advantage as you take charge of this kiss. But not one to easily accept defeat, Kenma takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass in a way that has you gasping in surprise. You start to grind on him, both of you letting out soft sounds between kisses.

It’s you who pulls away first, making Kenma softly whine in protest, gaze hazy as he blinks up at you in question.

“Wanna ride you,” you explain simply.

Kenma hisses out his approval and obediently waits as you pull down your lounge shorts. You yank them down your legs and fling them across the living room with a little too much force, accidentally hitting the Christmas tree. You laugh at the sight of your fuzzy white shorts hanging on the tree like some soft of kinky Christmas ornament but Kenma is quick to redirect your attention by pulling you back down for another kiss.

He grips your ass again, this time bare, and moves his fingers to prepare you for his dick but—

He abruptly stops and pulls away from the kiss in shock.

“You’re already this wet?” His expression looks genuinely surprised and you can’t help but giggle.

“I told you, you look really pretty.”

Kenma groans, not sure if he’s annoyed or turned on but his cock throbs all the same. You pull up the bottom half of his sweater to reach his black boxers. He’s so hard that it's almost difficult to get them off but he helps you pull them down just enough to free his leaking cock. It takes a moment to properly position yourself from this new angle, hindered by your bulky sweater and the headrest of the couch digging into your side but you manage to guide his leaky head to your drenched hole and ease down.

You both groan as he breaches your cunt, your wetness making the slide smooth even as you reach his thick base.

“F-fuck, Ken, you always feel so good,” you moan.

The praise feels like a punch to the gut and he’s thankful he’s already lying down so he can’t embarrass himself further by losing his balance. He’s coming to realize even if feminization isn’t his thing, praise might be. He thinks he'd do just about anything if it pleased you—if it made you look down at him with those shiny eyes and call him your good boy—fuck. Kenma has to force himself back to reality before he makes himself cum too quickly just by his own fantasies.

You readjust your weight, leaning back and using his bent knees as leverage. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his stockings as you begin to move, raising to his tip before dropping your whole weight down. It feels good—mind-numbingly so—but he finds it looks even better. The angle you put yourself into gives him an unobstructed view of your face–eyes pinched closed and reddened lips open in pleasure, your breasts–soft and bouncing with every movement–and, best of all, your tight hole sucking him in with every uptake.

He can’t tear his eyes away from where the two of you are connected. A creamy white ring is quickly forming at the base of his cock from how soaked you are, thin strings sticking to your pussy like webs. Framing it all are your thick thighs, muscles straining with your movements and squeezed by those god damned red-and-white striped thigh highs.

Fuck, he wishes he could record this.

He has apparently said that aloud on accident because now you’re grinning down at him conspiratorially.

“Y-yeah?” you stutter out, “you wanna make a movie with me?”

Kenma doesn’t verbally answer but he doesn’t need to. Instead, he’s gripping your hips and guiding your pace, making you bounce on his cock faster while his own hips start to meet your thrusts.

It has only been a few minutes but it's becoming clear your stamina is far from athletic. Your thighs burn and your pace stumbles but Kenma is quick to take advantage of the situation, using a strength you didn’t know he was capable of to roll you over and push you face down.

“Kenma, wh—oh!”

Any dissent you had intended to make is abruptly cut off when your boyfriend, one knee digging into the couch for leverage, feeds his length back into your greedy hole and sets a pace that has you nearly screaming. His hips snap into you, hard, and you scramble to find something to hold on to. One hand finds the armrest of the couch near your head, nails nearly tearing into the fabric, while the other ends up behind you, digging into his thigh as he rams his hips into you. You’re drooling as you manage to stutter out a barely coherent statement through your moans.

“K-Ken, so h-hard, fuck—”

“Yeah,” He replies, sounding breathless but not nearly as wrecked as you. You curse his retired high school athlete stamina.

“Am I still your pretty boy?”

The question momentarily shocks you. You aren’t sure what response he’s looking for but you answer honestly, too fucked out to ponder on it.

“Y-yesyesyes, the prettiest! ”

“You like getting fucked by your pretty boy?”

“Yeeeess, I l-love it—oh god—”

One hand reaches up to grip your hair, tugging your hair in a way you aren’t sure is punishment or a reward. You cry out all the same, cunt squeezing him for dear life as he hits something deep deep deep inside of you. You’re fairly certain you’ve never been fucked this hard in your life. The sweet, no-sex-drive-having boyfriend trope becomes little more than a pipe dream as his hips smack into your ass without reprieve.

“‘m g-gonna cum,” you warn.

Kenma’s grip on your hip tightens and he adjusts his angle to hit the spot he knows makes your toes curl and your pitch turns airy. The nail in the coffin comes when he releases your hair, but only to start rubbing your clit, remembering your favorite rhythm from the time he watched you masturbate.

Expectedly, you cum, toes curling and squeals reaching a pitch you think might cause your boyfriend hearing damage. Your whole body seizes with your orgasm, cunt spasming and thighs squeezing shit as you please for him to stop, go harder–you aren’t sure.

Kenma forces you to ride through it, fucking you even as your hips stutter violently and never letting up on your pulsating nub. It's only when you're nearing tears from the overstimulation that Kenma stops, moaning sweetly as his own orgasm overtakes him. He collapses against you in exhaustion as warmth fills you from deep inside, making a mess on your thighs as it gushes out between you.

“Mm, y’r heavyyy,” you complain sleepily.

Kenma grunts something in response but doesn’t bother moving. In fact, he seems to make himself more comfortable by moving his hands to find your own. He slips his long fingers in the spaces between your own, locking your hands together. Your heart swells at the action, constantly reminded how much this boy loves you even when he doesn't vocalize it very often.

You allow him a few more moments of peace, listening to his harsh pants die down into something more calm before you speak again.

“By the way, what was my present?”

Kenma stiffens against you, having completely forgotten about Christmas altogether. Quickly, he pulls away from you and the loss of warmth almost makes you regret saying anything. On shaky legs, Kenma shuffles over to the forgotten box, wrapped in royal blue paper and topped with a pretty gold ribbon. He comes back to the couch, gingerly helping you sit up before placing the box on your lap.

You’re immediately surprised by the hefty weight of the box and grow curious as you tear at the paper. Within seconds, the logo and picture on the box become clear, making you gasp in shock.

“Kenmaaaa,” you whine, trying not to tear up as you pout at him.

To his credit, Kenma looks honestly guilty as he avoids your eyes.

“We set a twenty-thousand-yen spending limit, ” you remind him.

“I know but—this is basically a necessity. Your old one was going to die any day now,” Kenma reasons, helping you pull out the shiny new laptop –in rose gold no less.

“And it's a gaming laptop–that means you can play with me more so it’s basically a gift for me more than you,” he continues.

You know he’s absolutely pulling excuses out of his ass but you can’t help the rush of affection at how much Kenma wants to spoil you. He always buys you the things you want, even when you insist on not wanting to take advantage of him as a wealthy streamer and businessman. He usually comes up with some excuse, I was going to buy one anyway so we can share or I have too much money this month, taxes will be a hassle if I don’t spend it.

But he is right–your old laptop was on its last leg and every time you opened a Word document for school you had to pray it wouldn’t crash before you could save your draft.

You softly smile as you trace the box with a finger, elated that he even remembered which color you wanted. He grins at how pleased you clearly are, even if you won’t say it.

“Besides,” his grin suddenly turns sly as he places a hand on the swell of your hip, “I heard the webcam is really great for recording movies.”

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kyuuppi · 4 months

Text

help, my boyfriend has no sex drive! (4)

Pairing: Kenma x reader (f)

Contents: smut; heavy exhibitionism (streaming); jealous sex; possessive Kenma; light praise kink; degradation; use of "slut"; soft dom Kenma; unprotected sex; established relationship; slight hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4.3k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Kenma has always tried his best to be supportive of you.

Even for your most outlandish ideas, when none of your other friends or family seemed to agree with you, Kenma made sure he was right behind you to cheer you on every step of the way.

This is why, when you expressed your desire to start your own streaming career, Kenma was completely on board.

He had diligently helped you rearrange your small shared bedroom into something aesthetically pleasing, giving you some of his own Overwatch Funko Pops and an extra strip of LED lights he didn’t need. He had purchased a high-quality microphone and webcam for you to use, claiming he was going to purchase those things anyway so you would be helping him out by testing them beforehand (he absolutely wasn’t—he just knew you’d refuse to allow him to pay for your things if he didn’t have an excuse).

He had even offered to advertise your account on his own social media and give you a shout-out on one of his streams. Naturally, you had refused. It just wouldn’t be fair and having thousands of people watching your first streams right off the bat would make you nervous anyway.

When the time for your first official stream finally came Kenma felt slightly disappointed that you had chosen a time he had already made plans with Kuroo as he had wanted to watch you but you were adamant that he shouldn’t stay.

He left you with a few words of as much advice as he could—it was difficult considering he didn’t have the typical streamer personality —he just quietly played games and answered the occasional question yet somehow thousands of people still watched his streams religiously (it’s totally just cause he’s hot).

Instead, the first time Kenma was able to actually watch one of your streams live was nearly two weeks later.

His own stream had ended early, the result of an unexpected server maintenance on the game he was scheduled to play. The fans were disappointed but understanding and Kenma promised he would be back as soon as the servers were back up.

You had purposefully chosen a streaming schedule similar to his own, claiming it would be more convenient for you both since there would be no risk of you accidentally interrupting each other.

Through the wall separating his office from the bedroom, Kenma could faintly hear the sound of your laughter. Recognizing the perfect opportunity to finally see you in action, Kenma wastes no time in clicking the Twitch search bar on his desktop.

You hadn’t explicitly told him your Twitch username but he had known you for long enough to know the handful of names and variations you used on every site so he was able to find you rather quickly.

Within seconds his screen was filled with the familiar scenery of your shared bedroom, tinted a warm pink hue from the LED lights he had helped you paste to the walls. You’re seated on your pastel D.Va gaming chair, a gift he had given you a while back for Christmas after you had mentioned liking her character design in passing. A large part of him had hoped the gift would incentivize you to play Overwatch with him more often but your busy school schedule along with his own classes, streaming, and business schedules had made the sentiment little more than wishful thinking.

As you sit in it now, giggling over something you read in the chat while wearing a familiar pair of striped thigh highs, Kenma can’t help but recall the female streamers that occasionally raid his Twitter feed: busty girls with bright pink hair and equally pretty pink backgrounds who spend more time flirting with fans that actually playing games.

You look nothing like them—neither in appearance nor personality—but he can’t help but think he understands how the fans who leave feral keyboard smashes and descriptive praises in the comments feel. It’s difficult to focus on your Genshin Impact gameplay when your lips look so soft and the crinkle of your eyes when you smile sends his heart into a stutter. Not to mention the visible swell of your bare thighs above the top of your stockings—

Kenma silently curses himself for his perversion, feeling his cheeks heat up in shame before he shifts his attention to the chatroom to distract himself.

It is then that he quickly realizes he is not alone in his admiration for you.

[xxsunarin] God, she’s so pretty… [tsumoo] if she slapped me i would thank her [hi_toka] Ahhh she mains chongyun!! [bokut04] y/n pls crush me w ur thighs

Kenma feels his chest clench as he recognizes where your chat is going, even as you complain about the enemies on screen, seemingly oblivious to their requests.

[xxsunarin] I’ll subscribe if you do ahegao for us [grandking] does she do cams??? [sa_tori] she kinda sux at playing but i guess it doesnt rlly matter when her tits are that nice.

Kenma quickly closes the chat box, suddenly feeling slightly queasy.

He should be prepared for this. The internet can be a cruel, careless place. Female gamers are consistently dehumanized just for turning on their microphones in the game, and female streamers who show their faces even more so.

Kenma knew comments like these were possible—he had even warned you about it—but faced with it in reality, seeing strangers sexualize and flirt with his own girlfriend makes his stomach roll with disgust and his chest burn in anger he’s not used to feeling.

For the rest of the stream, he pointedly avoids reading the chat, focused solely on your animated expressions and gameplay. He attempts to take mental notes of things to compliment you on later or suggestions for your builds but his mind continuously drifts back to those messages he had read earlier, especially when you occasionally pause to answer questions, laughing softly at some of the more risqué messages you happen to catch.

“Take off my top?” you read aloud. “Mm, I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate that, haha.”

Kenma assumed hearing you mention his existence would make him feel better and maybe deter some of the inappropriate comments, but it did little to quell his irritation, and by the time you were saying your goodbyes Kenma felt like his blood was simmering in his veins, threatening to burn him up completely until nothing is left.

Distractedly, he notes that he’s received an email notification. The server maintenance is finished, it claims. He can resume his own stream as he promised his viewers he would.

But he hesitates—he won’t be able to focus on anything until he talks with you first, just to reassure himself; you’ve always told him communication is important in a relationship.

When he approaches you you’re in the kitchen pouring a glass of juice, oblivious of his inner turmoil as you hum softly to yourself. The moment he’s close enough you startle at his sudden presence.

“Oh—Kenken, hey. I thought you were still streaming,” you greet, grabbing an apple from the counter. The energy required to maintain an engaging stream always seems to leave you hungry.

He doesn’t verbally respond, seeming distracted by his own thoughts and you pick up on it quickly.

“Hey—are you alright? I think one of my streamers mentioned something about that game you like being down today, were you able to—”

“I don’t think you should stream anymore.”

Both of you pause, equally shocked by his words. Kenma hadn’t meant to say that—he didn’t really want you to stop streaming...or did he? If you stopped it would certainly put an end to the lecherous comments, the dirty requests, his own insecurities—

“Why do you want me to quit? I thought you said it was a good idea...”

Kenma refuses to meet your eyes, suddenly unsure of what exactly he’s trying to say, what exactly he wants.

“I just...I watched your stream today and I saw the comments people were leaving. They were really gross,” he mumbles out, “they were objectifying you and...I didn’t like it.”

You huff lightly, seeming mildly amused and it forces Kenma to glance up at you, slightly perturbed by how unconcerned you look as you sink your teeth into the apple. It was like you weren’t taking his words seriously at all, weren’t taking him seriously. Maybe there was a reason you enjoyed streaming...

“Kenma, they’re just randoms. Your fangirls are exactly the same—I just ignore it.”

His response is immediate. Curt.

“It’s not the same.”

You pause, meeting his gaze. You two stare at each other for a moment, expressions unreadable before your demeanor shifts completely, brows scrunching and posture tensing as you set the fruit down on the counter.

“How is it not the same? I’ve watched your streams, Ken, every other comment is about how hot your hair looks or begging you to wear your glasses again. I’ve spent over a year watching strangers flirt with you and I’ve said nothing about it.”

Kenma ruffles at the accusation.

It’s not the same. It’s not even relatively similar. Those comments mean nothing, he hardly even reads most of them. He’s not nearly as attractive as you are, not nearly as experienced, not nearly as flirty—

“It’s not the same because I’m not intentionally seducing my fans.”

You look genuinely taken aback and he immediately regrets his words. You open your mouth to respond, seemingly like you’ll raise your voice at him but Kenma beats you to the punch when he steps back, retreating.

“My stream starts in a few minutes, I have to go.”

It is not a lie—he had promised to stream as soon as the servers were back up, but he can’t help but feel like he’s running away from the problem. Because he is.

He always does.

No further words are exchanged between you two as Kenma ducks back into his gaming room, softly closing the door behind him and settling into his chair.

As he boots up his streaming program he feels vaguely hollow.

[a.kaashi] Is it just me or does kodzuken seem off today ? [tsukki] Yea hes even more quiet than usual [hi_toka] he looks so angry i wonder if somthing happened…

Kenma tries his best to focus on the enemies on screen to not let his team down or cause his viewers to ask any questions. However, his mind strays and he frequently loses focus. He misses easy shots, bombing his K/D which only serves to frustrate him even more.

His most recent match has just ended when he hears a faint knock on the door behind him.

You enter the room without waiting for a response—not that he would have thought to offer one to be honest. He sits frozen in his chair, head turned in the direction of the door to watch you enter with wide eyes.

Your expression is the definition of sheepish, brows furrowed and smile hesitant as you walk towards his desk with full hands. Once close enough you set down a mug of black tea and a small plate of meticulously carved apple slices, the red skins cut to resemble bunnies.

It’s childish but charming—in many ways, it reminds him of you, and his heart squeezes in his chest.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” you whisper, mindful of the microphone on Kenma’s headset.

He manages to nod dumbly, feeling disoriented by the turn of events, and you’re already turning on your heels, attempting to leave just as quickly as you had entered.

Kenma has nearly forgotten about his stream when his golden eyes happen to flit over the energetic chat room text.

[levittome] Kodzu’s gf is so sweet… I wish I had someone like that :( [shoyoyo] o.o he like never talks about her i cant believe she finally made an appearance [hi_toka] She looks familiar… [bokut04] OMG isnt that y/ngames??? I watched her stream a few hrs ago..shes so hot

Kenma feels a lump form in his throat as he reads, already having a feeling where this is going but unable to look away from the increasingly inappropriate messages popping up on the screen.

[tsumoo] shes so cute when she starts losing. id give anything for her to say my name. [xxsunarin] Ikr her accent is so sexy [kuroooo] Guys stop, kudzu is gonna ban yall lmao [grandking] do u think she has an onlyfans? Her ass looks amazing—

He presses a series of keys and stands up before he even realizes what he’s doing, intercepting your path just before you can reach the door.

You look up at him, wide-eyed and understandably confused but Kenma doesn’t bother explaining himself—he can’t even explain his actions to himself.

He wordlessly corners you, trapping your warm body between his own and the sofa just behind his desk chair. You’re forced to reach out and grab the front of his soft black hoodie just to keep from falling onto the piece of furniture.

“K-Kenma, what are you doing?”

Instead of an answer, Kenma presses a bruising kiss to your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth until you’re forced to submit. He kisses you hard, using his tongue to dominate your own and render the both of you breathless within minutes.

When he pulls back your gaze is half-lidded and hazy, nearly making his knees give out. His hands rush to grab your hips, briefly groping blindly before he finds the hem of your shirt and can slip them under, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he reaches your supple breasts.

“You always tell me I need to be more selfish,” he pants out, faces close enough that his lips brush against your own, “so this is me being selfish. I don’t want to share you with strangers on the internet—you’re mine. Only mine.”

His uncharacteristic possessiveness makes your thighs squeeze and you can only follow obediently as he pulls you down towards the couch, lips reconnecting and clashing messily along the way.

It is only when he pulls away to properly lift your shirt over your head that you notice his computer still on, camera light blinking and screen reflecting your own stare back at you.

“W-wait, Kenma, your stream!”

He glances at his computer monitor only briefly, seeming completely unbothered before his heated gaze shifts back to you. Something in his golden eyes makes you squirm and a small smirk seems to tug at the edge of his lips.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Thousands of strangers watching you?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the implication.

“Or maybe you just wanted to get my account banned, hm? Is that why you came in here all dressed up like this?”

One finger slips under the elastic of your thigh highs to tug pointedly at the fabric.

“N-no,” you attempt to stutter out, feeling wholly lightheaded and overwhelmed.

One hand shifts to push your bra over your chest, leaving your top half indecently exposed to the camera just over Kenma’s shoulder. Your face flushes with shame as you see your own reflection on screen in the corner of your eye but your panties only dampen further.

Kenma dips down to envelope one of your hardened nipples in his hot mouth. Your hand shoots up to grab at his hair—whether to pull him closer or push him away you’re not sure. He makes sure to pay both breasts equal attention, switching sides to suckle at your other bud while one hand gently massages the unoccupied flesh.

Kenma pulls away all too soon and you consider complaining but then his hands are roughly tugging down your panties and you find yourself no longer willing to complain.

Your boyfriend’s gaze is sharp as he watches himself removing your garments, focused in a way that reminds you of when he gets competitive in a video game. When those catlike eyes flicker up to meet your own, you freeze.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You like being watched by thousands of strangers, knowing they’re using you to get themselves off.”

You shake your head, stuttering out a denial. That’s not true at all, you’re not a slut —but your weak protests fall on deaf ears as Kenma lifts you up, repositioning himself so he is seated on the couch with you in his lap, bare back pressed against his clothed chest.

In this new position, you become acutely aware of how the camera has an unobstructed view of your bare body, perched on Kenma’s lap. Through the monitor you watch as his eyes rove across your skin on the screen before landing on your eyes, causing your breath to hitch.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, voice soft but purposeful in the way you’re more familiar with him speaking.

The sentiment makes your chest flutter before his next words send a rush of heat to your nether regions.

“Gonna show everyone how wet this pretty pussy gets for me,” he promises, one hand drifting from its hold on your waist down to your crotch.

Kenma wastes no time in gently running two fingertips through your folds, the digits collecting traces of the slick you had—shamefully—already started leaking.

He hums as he pulls his hand away to examine it, seemingly satisfied with the mess before he goes back in, this time focusing on the bud nested at the top of your folds, rubbing on it with much more confidence than he had your first time together.

Your upper body falls back against him for support, softly mewling your satisfaction as he picks up to a pace that makes your legs twitch.

Within moments his other hand shifts down, making its way directly to your empty hole, already twitching with the stimulation on your clit. He uses one finger to gently prod at the entrance before it sinks in almost embarrassingly easily, your walls fluttering invitingly around the intrusion.

Kenma withdraws his finger completely only to add a second the next time he pushes in. Your hands grip the first thing you can—one hand on his shoulder and the other grasping the fabric of the couch as he pumps his fingers in and out.

Within minutes his fingers are soaked, a testament to how turned on you are by the situation. The green camera light glares back at you almost tauntingly as Kenma removes his fingers. He ignores your disappointed whine in favor of reaching for his own sweatpants, lowering them just enough to free his erection.

He positions himself, head brushing against your entrance to make you shiver before he pauses, looking up at you in silent permission.

Eagerly, you nod.

You tense in anticipation as he pushes in. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out completely, the delicious stretch leaving you breathless and teary-eyed as Kenma lets out a pitched moan of his own. He pauses for a moment, attempting to pull himself together before he unwittingly releases way too quickly in your suffocating heat.

“K-Kenma,” you mumble thoughtlessly, eyes locked on the screen to see the place where your bodies connect.

You feel lightheaded, rendered delirious by the notion of being watched by so many people—the thousands of fangirls and boys who undoubtedly wish they were in your place.

Some part of you can’t help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction as you recall the praises and thirsty comments they leave on his stream. How disappointed they must feel now, watching their beloved Kodzuken balls deep inside of you.

Your thoughts are cut short when Kenma abruptly moves, lifting you up as he pulls back before dropping you back down on his length. The position allows gravity to force him so much deeper than usual, his tip nudging something inside you that makes your toes curl and an embarrassing sound escapes your lips.

Your eyes fall shut and your head begins to roll back as you begin to lose yourself to the persistent drag of his length against your walls but Kenma demands otherwise.

“Eyes forward,” he chokes out, pace faltering when you unintentionally squeeze down.

“I want you to watch yourself.”

You can do nothing but comply. Even as one of Kenma’s hands slips down to circle at your swollen clit, you keep your blurry gaze locked on his monitor.

You watch the way your breasts bounce, the way the meat of your thighs—still clad in those blessed thigh highs—jiggle with each of his harsh thrusts. Most of all, you watch the way he fucks you—you watch how his thick, pretty cock stretches you open before pulling out almost completely and slamming back in. Cloudy strings of arousal paint your inner thighs and connect you to him, making shamefully loud squelches as he ruins your cunt.

Kenma momentarily fumbles, grip on you slipping with his exertion and causing him to hit a different angle, one that makes you keen and tighten around him.

“F- fuck! ”

You aren’t sure whether it's you or him who lets out the expletive but it hardly matters when the fingers on your clit rub faster, his thrusts increasing in speed as your gut clenches in anticipation.

Through the monitor, you can see how fucked out you look, mouth agape as you repeatedly mewl some variation of Kenma’s name. However, it is your boyfriend’s appearance that sends heat rushing through your core. His usually smooth hair is a wild mess, strands sticking to his forehead and flushed cheeks with sweat.

“I want you to cum,” Kenma suddenly announces, slightly breathless and sounding nearly desperate, “cum on my cock in front of everyone.”

The implication sends you over the edge, walls clamping down on him as your back arches, vision going hazy. Your physical reaction seems to affect him as well. Kenma stutters out your name as his pace fumbles, abandoning your clit in favor of holding you still as he thrusts deep.

You feel a sudden burst of warmth as he spills himself deep inside of you, your spasming walls milking his cock as he thrusts just a few more times before the sensitivity becomes overwhelming and he’s forced to pull out.

For a few minutes, everything is silent save for your harsh pants as you catch your breaths. You can feel his cum beginning to leak from between your thighs and you squirm with discomfort, catching his attention.

“Are you okay?”

You look over to see Kenma already sitting up, eyes wide and glancing over your body in concern. You can’t help but smile, touched by his concern even after acting so boldly and saying such obscene things in front of thousands of—

You gasp, sitting up in a panic that has Kenma even more worried.

“Kenma—the stream—you’re going to get banned! Oh my god, your career is ruined, we should have never—!”

The male interrupts your panicked shrieking easily by pulling you back into him, forcing you to lie against his chest while he presses a chaste kiss against your temple.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs simply.

You frown, unconvinced.

“Kenma...you are being way too calm about this. We just fucked in front of thousands of your fans and—”

“I turned it off.”

“...huh?”

You push away from your boyfriend—much to his unspoken disappointment—to read his expression but he avoids your gaze, ears slightly red in embarrassment.

“Before we started...I turned the live off,” Kenma explains, “I just thought it would be... fun to pretend.”

A few breaths go by in silence with you blinking at Kenma dumbly as you try to process his words and him continuing to avoid eye contact at all costs, face steadily getting warmer.

Suddenly, you’re filled with mirth. It takes everything in you not to completely guffaw and embarrass your boyfriend even further.

“Wow, I didn’t expect little KenKen to be into something as scandalous as an exhibition kink.”

“Ugh, stop, you sound like Kuroo.”

This time you do laugh. Kenma pouts silently.

The two of you fall back into a peaceful, sleepy silence after your chuckles die out. One of his hands subconsciously traces the skin of your back, nonsensical shapes, and occasionally something that resembles a heart. However, you can sense something tense in him. His golden gaze is distant in a way he only gets when deep in thought about something. Before you even have the chance to ask he speaks up, voice hesitant.

“I’m sorry for what I said before. You were right; I was being a hypocrite. And...if you want to keep streaming, I will support you.”

Your smile, heart warmed by his sincerity and maturity. It was one of the many things that had first attracted you to Kenma—he was leagues ahead of your exes in terms of maturity.

Despite his aversion to people—or maybe because of it—Kenma has always been honest and fair. While most people would stick to their guns out of stubbornness or spite, Kenma was quick to admit when someone else was right.

“I appreciate it, Ken, but I think I’ll leave the streaming to you. It was fun but...it’s a lot more work than I expected.”

Kenma’s lips twitch in a poorly suppressed smirk at your words, clearly prideful at how you admit his work is difficult. You were well aware of the bias most people held against streamers, assuming they were just paid to have fun and that it wasn’t a “real job.”

As much as you love seeing your boyfriend feeling proud of himself, you can’t resist the urge to tease him.

“Hey, maybe if you get tired of being a Twitch streamer we can become a cam couple,” you joke.

A pause.

“Ah. Yeah, I think we could make a lot of money.”

You freeze before shooting up to send him an incredulous look, gaping like a fish at his serious response.

“K-Kenma, I was joking!”

To your disdain, Kenma offers you a devious smirk before pulling you back into his chest and holding you close.

“I’m joking too,” he assures, “you know I don’t like sharing.”

#kyuuppi.reblog

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