warnings: lowercase + slightly suggestive towards the end
note: unfortunately no this is not part two of my other kenma piece.. maybe you guys will get that one day lmao.
streaming with kenma is always fun. your boyfriend takes the liberty to turn his camera off while you sit pretty on his lap. it first started out when you both would immensely miss the other. being unable to meet due to conflicting schedules. the one day you were free, kenma unfortunately had an important stream he couldn't cancel. you insisted it was fine and that you'd see him after stream, telling him being in his presence was enough for you.
if just his presence was enough, why not join him? kenma figured, grabbing your wrist to walk through his house with him. leading a confused you to his streaming room before pulling his gaming chair out and taking a seat himself.
"then just sitting with me is okay with you, right? i'll keep my cam off, so you can be comfortable."
pulling your waist closer, kenma helps you climb onto him and the chair, letting you adjust to a comfortable position.
"i'll start soon, if you wanna talk just pull my shirt, i'll mute my mic."
he kisses your lips before scooting his chair in. giving you one final nod and readjusting his mic. it didn't take long for the comfortable ambience of his home and his body heat to lure you to a much needed sleep. not to mention the natural vibrations of him speaking to his viewers.
"..why is my camera off? ...it's broken today, sorry everyone."
🌟🌟🌟🌟
'broken camera' streams happen a lot more frequently after that. sometimes if his fans listen hard they can hear your whispers or soft giggles. even the occasional sneeze. which sounded way to feminine to come from their kodzuken.. eventually his fans start to piece together broken camera streams meant someone was in his room with him. cause there was no way kenma was going around breaking expensive cameras weekly for fun.
while most streams you end up falling asleep, there are few that you stay awake for, like today. kenma, forgetting to mute his mic, lifts one side of his headphones off his ear, while rubbing your waist up and down with his other hand. he brings your face up to look at him.
"how was your day baby? not feeling tired?" leaning in he kisses the corner of your mouth.
shaking your head to answer the second question. you take the quick moment to reflect on what you did today.
"i didn't do much today, other than run that errand for my mom." you reply gently.
"mm.. are you hungry? anything you wanna eat after the stream?" there's faint kisses on the top of your head while kenma picks up his gaming mouse again. before you can respond you catch slight panic flashing in his eyes.
"what's wrong?" you worried.
"forgot to mute..",
at the realization that thousands of people have been listening to your conversation. quietly he ignores the chats questions and changes the focus back to the game.
in his next stream featuring you, he starts by holding your thighs tightly to him. clearing his throat before speaking to his chat.
"oh.. today's stream the camera is broken again sorry guys. i'll make sure to buy a new one for next time." his tone is flat as he spits his usual white lie out.
you suppress your laugh into his collarbone.
"oh and my girlfriend's here today too.. say hi."
your greeting is quiet and sweet before you position yourself back against your boyfriend. ignoring his chats hysteria at the confirmation of his relationship status, kenma starts his gameplay. the only response he gives being a brief explanation.
"my girlfriend finally moved in recently, i've been asking her for months now. so you might hear her around more."
"uhh.. will we see her?" he reads.
"um probably not. unless she wants too, i don't care." his ramble of replies to his viewers fading into talk about today's game of choice.
getting up from his lap, you briefly head out the room. bringing back your baby, hiro. kenma grunts a little at the roughness of you climbing back on top of him.
"can we show them hiro?" you turn and ask your boyfriend.
kenma moves some stuff around before showing you his second monitor. there you see he's turned his camera on.
"hold him here like this. he'll cover your face enough." kenmas positions your arms as he brings his facecam into the stream.
"this is hiro! our baby!" your cheer. "he lived with me but now he lives here with us." you explained.
you push the cat further into the cameras frame earning a meow from him. kenma chuckles petting the cats ears. the most viewers can see of you are your hands and the top of your head. hiro doing a good job at covering everything else.
"ok i think the camera's breaking again.." kenma's says removing the tiny face cam off stream again. this earns a loud giggle from you as you let hiro settle into your arms. his chat are filled with praises for both hiro and you. some chatters expressing sadness in not seeing you.
"sorry everyone! maybe another day.." you smile.
"it's a little embarrassing to appear on stream. besides i'm still in moving mode so i look messy.. ha."
"you look hot." kenma states.
both of you burst out laughing at kenma's bluntness. after some time you leave kenma to finish streaming alone. opting to start an early dinner of katsu curry. back in the stream room, kenma answered a few more questions about you.
"what's your girlfriend's name? um we'll keep it private sorry." he answered
"how old is hiro? he's three. his birthday was a couple weeks ago."
🌟🌟🌟🌟
his streams continue like this over the course of a few weeks. with you popping in and out spontaneously. kenma's viewers would occasionally catch glimpses of your side profile. you've seen a few social media posts of people editing your small slips, eager to see you fully.
today, you joined kenma again. camera off, you relaxed in a seat next to him instead of his lap. simply wanting to sit with him. you brought your switch 2 with you, playing the new tomodachi life game. both bought for you by your boyfriend kenma. your giggles are heard throughout the stream, kenma nor the chat minding.
"what's your girlfriend laughing at?" kenma read.
"shes playing the new tomodachi life.. shes making her mii right now."
his chat exploded with excitement.
<kodzufan>we want to see!!
<sach1e>can we see??
<tomoezu>tomodachi life?
<16menma>ehhh the new one?
"chat.. wants to see me play?" you asked shyly.
kenma already knew your answer without you having to explain. telling the chat maybe another time. towards the end of the stream, kenma turns his camera on, making sure the angle captures only him.
"ok chat. thanks for watching stream today.."
<flowerkitty>stay longerr :(
<karouuu>nooo don't end
<kurootetsu>ending?
<sach1>stay on!!
his stream today was on the shorter side, so he could understand why they didn't want him to end just yet.
"uhh, i guess we can talk for a moment." he mumbled.
the chat agrees in excitement. it was rare that kenma sat and just chatted for a moment. kenma makes casual conversation with your occasional imput. eventually the chat starts aiming their questions at you again.
<kodzufan>how long have you known your girlfriend??
<m1nar1>is your girlfriend still here?
some of the questions catch your eye from the second monitor.
"um we've known each other for a couple of years now.. since high school."
kenma brings the mic closer to you but keeps the camera on him. not minding you taking over.
<pokkinan>how is living together
<xxuixx>does your girlfriend stream
<16menma>she sounds so cute
you giggle shyly at the last comment, "living together is really fun. we get to do everything together now."
your boyfriend tunes out the stream as he scrolls through his phone, you don't mind continuing to talk to his chat, enjoying the conversation.
<zuchile>is kodzuken a good boyfriend
"mmm.. he's the best boyfriend. he takes care of me well."
as you chat about your relationship.one comment in particular stood out. granted you could've chosen to ignore it.
<cli4me>what's your favorite position? /comment deleted
"..what's your favorite position?" you read aloud shocked yet slightly amused. the comment was quickly taken down by mods, but you still caught the chance to read it. kenma registering what you said snaps his head up from his phone to look at you.
"don't read comments like that.." he said annoyed. more at his chat then you, but still scolding you.
"why? it's—"
"stop."
the reddening of kenma's face tells you not to push any more but you just can't help yourself, finding the perfect opportunity.
"my favorite position..." you started slow looking at kenma.
"is obviously the setter." you finish laughing. a reference to when kenma played volleyball in high school.
"ok chat. i'm ending stream, you guys got your girlfriend privileges taken away."
as he wraps up his goodbyes your ongoing laugh can still be heard, the chat laughing with you as kenma finally ends.
he turned to you with a pout.
"i was only joking kenma... only you get to know my favorite position." you scooted your chair closer to him, basically climbing on his lap as you kiss his neck in a teasing manor.
"don't be jealous kennie.."
"i'm not jealous."
"you are."
"i'm not."
"you are.."
...
"i'm not."
🌟🌟🌟🌟
later that night, kenma had your pretty face buried in his pillow, with another pillow holding your hips up as he showed you just how much he knew your favorite position.
» You play a game of 'marco polo' with him for fifteen years. Call and response, you and him, always. «
----------------------------------------
TAGS: childhood best friends to lovers, streamer!kenma x mod!reader, CONSTANT flirting over stream, first meetings, falling in love with your online best friend? more likely than you think, youtube filming of 'boyfriend does my makeup' trend, it's all just one big excuse for them to finally meet they honestly dont care about anything else, insanely desperate 'obsessed with each other' type sex, mutual pining but millions of people are watching it happen live
a/n: this singlehandedly made me a kenma girl. ive fallen down a hole of "kenma is a confident introvert who knows how to run his mouth" feelings. thank you so very much to the person who commissioned this <33
[commission honee here!]
------------------------------------
Ba-bum!
"Testing, testing, mic check."
You scroll on your phone, curled up on your oversized gaming chair. "You don't need to mic check every time," you mumble into your headset.
"Discord's shit these days," is all he says. His voice is gentle as ever, even if his words cut. "I pay up the ass in internet and it still lags."
"Add me to your family plan," you say, just like you do every time. You don't know his exact expenses, but you do know that Kozume Kenma doesn't spare when it comes to his gaming setup.
"I'll add you if you promise not to use it for League."
You scoff, reaching for your coffee. You won't hear his usual admonishments about taking care of yourself — if he wants to do overnight stream challenges, he gets to deal with a malnourished moderator.
"My ping would thank you greatly, Koz."
"Your ping can suck my dick."
You grin, tossing your phone on the desk and glancing at the time. "On that note-"
"Yep. See ya."
You both end the call, only thirty-two seconds long. Your phone immediately buzzes.
[10:00 PM]
kozuken is live!
You're the first in the chat, your monitor split between his video feed and the chat box.
"Hello, hello," he says. "Mic check, testing, testing."
You roll your eyes.
"Marco's rolling her eyes. I can feel it."
You grin, leaning in to type a response.
[10:02 PM]
Marco: eat my ass
He grins, eyes dragging over the chat before looking away so he can set up his game. "Time and place, baby."
The chat goes crazy, the way it always does, when you two talk to each other like this. Purposely walking the line between platonic and flirtatious — once just a joke, made a regular dynamic. Once you'd noticed that his fans loved it, it was easy enough to continue, especially since Kenma's so fond of egging you on in his streams.
"Roll call, moderators," he mumbles into his mic, his eyes flitting back and forth between monitors while he loads in his screen recorder and audio buff.
[10:04 PM]
Marco: marco
"Polo," he responds, an afterthought. "Looks like everyone's here, so we can get started."
The comments filter in, your eyes trained to skim quickly. The brand new fans are easy to pick out, questions coming in about why he does roll call if you're his only mod. The old fans are busy spamming the word 'marco' over and over again in the chat, a joke long turned habit.
At one point, he'd considered having more than one moderator. It's just so much work for you. But you know — he'd told you — that he can't trust anyone else. That he wouldn't be able to keep track of anyone else in is DMs, not when you take up so much of his time.
"You're always yapping," he'd jokingly complained once, when the two of you were in college. "You're a full-time job."
You wouldn't let him have another moderator, anyway. This is yours. You made this place for yourself without meaning to, and both of you know — unacknowledged, unconscious — that no one else can have it.
Things had always been that way for you and Kozume Kenma. Unspoken, inexplicable.
—
He's ten when you meet him. You're ten, too. Way too young to be playing games online with strangers, but internet safety isn't really on your mind at that age.
And he doesn't try to chat you up, doesn't try to get any personal information out of you. You happen to play a single round of a game together, and you happen to add him as a friend afterward, because he's good. He happens to accept it.
He also sounds ten. He types in short, clipped phrases, simple DMs that say 'party?' when you're both online. After a few months, that single word turns into adding each other on Discord, which you're both still too young to have but do anyway. It turns into near-silent phone calls, where you both make simple requests of each other in-game and nothing else.
It isn't until months later — almost a year since meeting him — that you're brave enough to send a meme. He responds with a reaction. You think that'll be it, and then you're surprised the next morning to find he'd sent one, too.
He turns eleven, and you send a quick 'hap birth', which he responds to with a cake emoji. You turn eleven a few weeks later, and he just sends the emoji again.
And then, one night, he texts a quick 'party?' and you respond with 'tired :/', expecting that to be it. Expecting, at most, a thumbs up.
He calls. You answer, thinking maybe he hadn't gotten your text.
"Hello?"
"Hi."
He says nothing else. You just get the notification that he's streaming his screen. He's playing a cozy game, something low-stakes with gentle background music.
You fall asleep like that, watching his stream on your phone, no words shared between you.
It becomes a habit — first, only when one of you is too tired to play, and then scheduled. Every Wednesday night, when you're both most tired from school, and then Fridays, too.
Friday streams turn into Friday movie nights, and those turn into Friday 'play something in the background and talk over it' nights.
You turn twelve on one of those nights. He spends two hours building you a house-sized cake in Minecraft, telling you in that deadpan voice to shut up when you start making insane requests.
"I just think if we put a river through it-"
"No."
"But it could be like one of those molten lava cake things-"
"Stop it."
"I'm just imagining-"
"No imagining. Less imagination from you."
You fall asleep before he's done, your face sore from laughing. You wake up to a picture of the finished block-cake, a stupid little river running through it.
You grow up like that, middle school passing with your closest friend only accessible behind a screen. He tells you about his friend Kuroo, and you tell him about your school friends, too. He starts playing volleyball, and you spend some Friday nights watching pro-volleyball matches with him so he can learn.
And then one day, when you're both fourteen, Kuroo logs on while Kenma's in the shower and calls you. You answer, of course, but you're completely unprepared for the video feed to be turned on.
"Oh," you say. "That's not what I thought you'd look like."
The boy on the other end furrows his brow, a scoff leaving him. "You guys haven't video called before?"
It's not hard to figure out that this is not Kenma.
It's even easier when Kenma does come into view, a blur of dark hair and Kuroo tackled to the floor, out of sight.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
You listen as they wrestle, watch as the real Kozume Kenma appears in the video, wide-eyed and panicked.
"Holy shit," he says, frantically trying to turn his camera off. "I'm so sorry."
You just laugh, watching him mute-unmute-mute-unmute himself instead of pressing on the camera icon. He swears again, beet-red, so you just turn your camera on, too, your nerves fluttering.
He freezes, stares. Opens his mouth, closes it, blinks.
"Hi," he says, voice quiet.
You swallow, feeling your face burn and hoping it doesn't show in the camera. "Hi."
The moment is interrupted by Kuroo, who starts to laugh in the background. "This story is going in my best-man speech at your wedding."
Kenma turns an insane shade of red within milliseconds, and then he hangs up. You have to sit for a long time staring at the dark screen just to catch your breath.
One good thing comes out of Kuroo Tetsurou's intervention — video calling.
High school marks the era of sending exhausted morning selfies and late afternoon study calls, your cameras on and your mics muted. He calls after practice every day, only half his face showing as he walks home, and you bring him with you for post-midnight snack searches of the kitchen, all the lights off around you.
He's there when you move into your college dorm, his voice echoing from your back pocket as he complains about the view. You're there when he decides to start streaming professionally, your smile knowing and silly when you offer to be his moderator. Both your grins full of mischief when he actually considers it.
He starts out slow, quiet, but he's good at what he does — what you both do — and his fan base grows quickly. He hits 100,000 followers within a year, and he's at a million by the time you graduate. You run his chat with a firm hand, banning viewers after one warning and spending your free time accepting and denying requests to be unbanned. He spends his time editing VODs and posting them to Youtube, and he brings on a friend — Lev Haiba — to run his accounts. The guy's a model, apparently, and knows the ins and outs of social media better than anyone.
And then Kenma starts his own company — Bouncing Ball Corp. — and suddenly, his face and name are everywhere. You see him on bus ads and in storefronts, sports outlets marketing him and his sponsored players — Hinata Shouyou the most famous of all — until you can spot a cutout of him at least once a day on your way to work.
You always send him a picture. He always responds with a middle finger emoji.
Your days are spent working your boring office job, Discord open on one monitor as you speed through your work on the other. Your lunch breaks are spent on the phone with him, complaints sent in spam texts on the few days your coworkers actually invite you to join them.
It passes through your mind a few times — the fact that you haven't met him. You're 25 years old and have yet to meet your best friend of 15 years.
You wonder sometimes if he thinks about it, too.
—
[10:00 PM]
kozuken is live!
"Mic check, testing testing. Roll call, mods?"
Marco: marco
"Polo." Kenma scrolls through his Steam library for the viewers, humming contemplatively. "Not sure what I wanna play today. I want something lowkey. It was a rough day."
You grin evilly, typing out something quick without thinking.
Marco: i can make you feel better :')
His smile is immediate, his tongue poking out as he shakes his head. "Got enough space for you under my desk, Marco."
Marco: i pray for days like these <333
Marco: god is real <333
Marco: lemme get a hair tie real quick
He purses his lips, his laugh escaping anyway. "That'll take too long, just borrow one of mine."
The chat is responding at a rate that even you can't follow, but you do catch one comment.
'BE SO HONEST WITH US, HAVE YOU GUYS FUCKED???'
You know Kenma's seen it because he starts choking, fist beating down on his chest. You fire off a response, ignoring the flaming heat in your cheeks and that the swirl of nerves in your gut.
Marco: omw as we speak
He barks out a laugh, nodding. "Yeah, she's got a key to my place. That's how this whole mod thing happened in the first place."
Marco: aftercare is just stream ideas
"We talk about hiring VOD editors while I'm rearranging her guts."
You gasp, face searing hot as you switch to your DMs and message him.
You: YOU CANNOT SAY THAT ON STREAM!!!!!!!!!!
His eyes flick to the next screen, and then he beams, his grin a little too pleased. "Uh oh, I'm in the doghouse. Do you guys think she'll still let me hit?"
You text again.
You: NO I WILL NOT!!!!!!!!!!
His brow furrows for a moment, and you realize that you should have said that in the stream chat, not in his DMs. You groan aloud, burying your face in your hands in humilation. You only lift your eyes when you hear the ping of his text.
Koz: what if im not in the doghouse?
You freeze, staring. Eyes flicking to the video feed, watching him closely. Watching those little mannerisms that only you can see, the ones that make it clear he's nervous about that text. When you don't answer fast enough, he starts to chew on his bottom lip and his eyes take on a distracted glaze as he pretends to read the stream chat.
You watch him type again quickly.
Koz: joke
You exhale shakily, typing with trembling fingers in the stream chat.
Marco: chat, tell koz to stop begging for nudes in my dms
He finds it immediately in the sea of messages, eyes going wide and then flicking away. His laugh is full of relief, and he just shakes his head.
"One day," he says. "One day, Marco." You ignore the heat building in your gut and watch as he switches topics, scrolling through Steam again. "Alright," he eventually sighs. "Let's play Stardew."
You pin a chat that catches your eye, your fingers still shaking.
'co-op farm with marco???'
Kenma smiles, small and sweet this time, and shakes his head. "Marco's too busy running this shit like the Navy. She won't be able to focus."
You pin another chat.
'what if you guys play off stream and upload to yt???'
He nods, shrugging. "I don't see why not. We basically just play games in our free time, anyway."
One more pin, your nerves at an all-time high.
'film irl??? even if it's not games???'
His smile takes on a curious quality, brows furrowed as he hums and launches the game. It's obvious that you're interested in the idea, because you wouldn't be pinning the messages if you weren't. Everyone watching can see it, too, an influx of support crashing through the chat.
"What'do you wanna see us do, then?" he asks, attention turned to his Stardew file. A message flies by that says 'WE WANNA SEE YOU FUCK!!!', and he laughs, but his voice is tight. You understand why, your skin breaking out in a cold sweat. You type fast, trying to play it off.
Marco: lets do plushy tour
"What're you gonna do, haul your shit all the way to my place?" he jokes. "I've seen your plushy collection. It's semi-truck-requiring."
The chat continues to be spammed with ideas, and he pauses every few minutes to glance at them. You put out a few polls here and there, most having to do with his gameplay, but one of them is titled 'MarKoz Youtube Collab Ideas'. It stays up for a while, votes flooding in. He examines it for a moment, and then you watch him type.
Koz: you wanna meet up?
Your nerves peak and crash, your skin covered in goosebumps at the thought of meeting Kenma.
You: could be fun
He swallows, takes a sip of his drink. Types again.
Koz: could be
Koz: soon? or
It strikes you then that you have no idea where he lives. It can't be far, but…
You: depends
You: train tickets can get pricey
Koz: stfu
Koz: you know i'll pay
A few minutes go by with you distracted by the chat and him playing his game.
Koz: send me your address
You flush, realizing this is actually happening.
You: [location attached]
He chokes on his drink, in the middle of his livestream. You watch the chat react, a range of concern and 'Marco finally sent the nudes' jokes.
Koz: wtf
Koz: what the fuck yn
You: ????
Koz: thats ten fucking minutes from here
Your whole world comes crashing down.
—
You exhale in disbelief, staring up at the high-rise with a small grin tugging at your lips.
"Of course," you whisper, shaking your head and hauling your tote bag higher up on your shoulder. You push your way through the revolving door, glancing around as you approach the front desk. "Hi… I'm… I guess I'm here to see a resident?"
The girl behind the counter smiles up at you, humor lacing her voice. "Okay. Can I get a name?"
"She's with me."
His voice feels like a cord was wrapped tight around your spine when you weren't looking. Like he was baked into your DNA, his life intertwined with yours.
Your eyes fly to his. He's staring back at you like he feels the same way.
Disoriented. Shocked. Unsteady.
You clear your throat, smiling briefly at the girl as you drift away, your grip on the strap of the tote bag almost painful.
You meet him at the elevator bay, your legs shaking. "Hi."
He inhales, eyes flicking between yours rapidly. "Hey."
You're not sure how to greet him. If you should hug him — you've known him most of your life — or if it would be weird — this is your first time ever meeting him. He steps away to call the elevator, so you take it as a sign not to hug him and just wait beside him.
"Was the walk okay?" he tries, voice quiet and hesitant. You shift awkwardly, just shrugging.
"Yeah. It was alright."
God, this is uncomfortable. What is it? What's making this so weird?
You follow him into the elevator, taking stock of the situation. What you know about him and what's new.
His voice is familiar, but it's different in person. It affects you more. His stance — lazy with a slight slouch — is comfortable to you, but his height is new. His hair and face are the same, but now you can see his skin, his eyes. You can smell his shampoo. His cologne. You can feel his warmth, gentle and washing over you.
Your eyes dart over his form once, twice, and then they return to his face.
He's doing the same to you. His face is tinged pink with embarrassment, and you realize that your cheeks are warm, too.
His eyes catch yours, widening slightly. "Uh," he starts, gaze flying away. You see the spread of warmth across his ears and down his neck. "I was thinking we could eat first and then film… Maybe play a game or something?"
You nod quickly, following him out of the elevator. "That sounds good to me." You wince internally, imagining how awkward the video would be if you started filming right away. You can only hope that some buffer time before then would ease the tension.
When you enter his apartment, your jaw drops, eyes scanning the luxurious space. "Damn," you whisper. "You sure I can't join your internet family plan?"
He smiles, shooting a glance back at you as he leads you to the kitchen. There are bags of takeout already there, the smell of food wafting wonderfully over you. "You gonna use it for League?"
Your grin is comfortable, and there's a wave of relief crashing over you. You can feel the tension fading just a little bit, which means there's still hope.
"What're you gonna do if I do?" you joke, leaving your bag by his couch.
Golden eyes find you, and there's a flash of something there — something that warms the knot underneath your navel — before he looks away, his smile tighter than before.
"Guess you gotta find out."
You flush with warmth, all the way down to your toes. Had that transferred over as well? The jokes that lean a little too far away from platonic? The one-liners that hold more than they should?
You don't hate the idea. Not at all.
You help him unpack the food – he’d gotten your favorite, despite only ever seeing you eat over a discord call – and join him on the sofa, his massive TV and multiple game consoles collected on his TV stand. He untangles two controllers, passing one to you as he crouches by the stand and plugs one of the consoles in.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. You watch him tilt his head, watch his hair cascade down like a waterfall, feel the urge to tangle your fingers in it. “The only people who come over are Kuroo and Hinata. I can never get them to game with me.”
You cross your ankles, uncross them, look around his place some more. “I can come over more, if that’s what you’re asking.”
You hear him laugh through his nose, and then he nods. That urge to tangle your fingers in his hair grows stronger.
"Yeah, that's what I'm asking," he jokes. "Want you here every day."
"Get me a key, then."
He turns, eyes finding you. He doesn't say anything, just rises and hits the power button on the console. Then he joins you on the couch. You try not to notice that he sits close enough that his thigh touches yours.
The Mario Kart soundtrack fills his living room, so you force down the thought of his body heat. Of his cologne, washing over you. Of the hyper-sensitivity on the right side of your body, the side that's pressed to his.
You manage to fake your way through the nerves, the game relaxing you and the food delicious. Jokes fly easily, the bump of his elbow on yours easy and the shove of your shoulder into his when he's winning all too comfortable.
You don't even realize that several hours have passed, not until you glance out his floor-to-ceiling windows — he's way too rich, you think — and see that it's completely dark out.
"Oh," you breathe, looking around. The food is long-finished, and you've gotten completely comfortable in Kenma's home. Legs kicked up on the coffee table, hoodie removed from the warmth of pushing and shoving and yelling about the game for hours on end, your weight slumped heavily against his.
He shifts, moving you in the process, and stares out the window. "Damn," he says, slightly out of breath from screaming his head off at you hitting him with a blue shell. "We should film, huh?"
You laugh. "Yeah, probably." You set the controller down and rise, stretching your arms high above your head and groaning quietly. When you open your eyes, you find Kenma's gaze latched onto the slip of skin you're showing, just above your jeans. He looks away quickly, but you'd still caught it, the same way you're catching the pink tinge in his ears.
You swallow, warm, and clear your throat. "Shall we?"
"Yeah."
You follow him down the hall, your tote bag weighing you down. It's full of your makeup, the consensus on the last stream that everyone wants to see him do the "boyfriend does my makeup" trend.
You stop at the door he steps through, staring.
It's his bedroom.
"Oh-" you start, eyes wide. "I thought we would be in your office."
His eyes fly to yours, panic seeping into his expression. "Oh. I thought it would be more comfortable on the bed." He blinks, and you see his brain working overtime. "We can-"
"No!" you laugh, entering and setting your bag on the floor by the foot of his bed. "It's okay, you're probably right."
He's silent while you unpack all your makeup onto his bed, and then he sighs quietly. "Okay," he breathes. "I'll get the tripod." He scurries from the room with the pace of someone incredibly nervous, and you can't blame him. You feel the same.
He returns after a moment, tripod and camera in hand, and sets up next to the foot of his bed. When he's done, he looks to you expectantly. "Ready?"
You climb onto the mattress, nodding. "Let's do it."
He settles down next to you and presses record. "Okay," he says, examining the view in the little side panel. "We're good."
You grin, waving at the camera. "Howdy."
You see his brows furrow, watch the grin slide across his face as he looks at you. "'Howdy'? That's what we're doing?"
"Just start the damn video."
"It's started!" he laughs. "Be normal!"
"This is normal!"
"Oh, my god," he sighs, addressing the camera. "Hi. Kozuken here," he starts. He gestures to you. "Marco, as you probably guessed."
You wave again. "Howdy."
"I'm gonna kill you."
You shove him. He shoves back. When you try again, he catches you by the wrists with one hand, dragging them down into his lap. You gawk at him, flushing, and then remember that the camera is on.
You turn to it, one eyebrow raised and a smirk tugging at your lips.
"And that, ladies-" you say. "-is how you get a man to do what you want."
You can't help it — falling back into what's comfortable. It's unfortunate that this is what's comfortable.
Kenma leans into it, too. He can't help it, either, then.
"She thinks I don't know what she wants," he jokes, shaking his head. "I'm always ten steps ahead." And then he lets you go with a quiet exhale. "Let's get to the point of the video, please." His voice is light, but you can see the warmth in his cheeks.
You can feel the warmth in yours, too, but you push on. "Okay, so by popular demand, we're doing the 'boyfriend does my makeup' trend!"
He smiles, giving you a purposely pointed look. "You gonna clarify for the masses, or are you just gonna let them think I'm your boyfriend?"
You grin, shrug. "I'm gonna let the masses think what they want."
"Whatever you say," he gives in easily. He turns so that one leg is hanging off the bed, the other ankle crossed under his knee as he faces you. You mirror him, getting as close as you can and leaving your leg overlapped with his.
"Shall we?" you say, gesturing to your mountain of different products. "I brought everything I own, just because I want to make your life harder."
"You certainly do like to do that," he says, shaking his head at the pile. "Fuck, this is a whole store." He glances around and then up at you. "Alright," he sighs. "Let's see what I can fuck up in the next hour."
And then he pulls a hair tie off of his wrist and cups your face with both hands. You gasp quietly, eyes trained on his in confusion. He smothers a smile and slides his hands into your hair, looping his arms around your neck and gathering it all up in one hand. He ties your hair up like that, your breath mingling in the minimal space between you and his eyes locked tight on yours. His eyes flick down to your lips quickly and then come back, and you know he sees how you warm because his smile grows before he bites down on his bottom lip to cover it.
He leans away, examining your makeup. You turn to the camera while he does, staring hard. "You guys saw that, right?"
"I'm sure they're rewinding over and over again as we speak," he jokes, yanking a bottle from the depths. "'Foundation'," he reads. "Well, that seems promising. Buildings start with the foundation, don't they?"
You grin, staring up at him while he reads the back of the vial. "Good boy," you tease. "Using your wittle bwain."
He glares at you through his lashes. "Say it again. Go ahead."
You shrink away, just beaming at him while he uncaps the bottle and starts to smear foundation all over your face. He uses far too much, enough that you feel a whine build in your throat.
"You're wasting it. That was expensive-"
"Shh," he whispers, drawing on your forehead. "I'll buy you more later."
"You better."
"You know I'm good for it," he mumbles, focusing hard. You try not to flush, but you can feel his voice — deep, low, close — dripping down your spine like honey. "Now be quiet. I'm making art."
Now that you notice, you realize he actually is drawing. He's writing something on your face with the wand. You start to pull back, but he catches your chin with his other hand.
"Where you goin'?" he breathes, still focusing. "I'm not done."
You grimace. "You're writing weird shit on my face, Koz." You hear it, the bratty whine that trickles out with your words. But you can't help it, not when he's gripping your face like that and talking to you like that. Like you're his.
He just chews on his lip, that grin still threatening to spill out. "Just be patient."
"I'm not good at that."
His teeth flash briefly when he snickers. "I can teach you, if you'd like."
You push him away, huffing petulantly. He just laughs, the sound bright. You use the opportunity to lean into the camera, examining the side panel.
Property of Kozuken
Your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek, nostrils flaring. You know the camera catches it all, that it catches the look you shoot him over your shoulder.
He's still smiling, all too pleased and not nearly embarrassed enough.
You find your spot again, glaring up at him. "Fix it." When he just coos, cupping your face teasingly, you lean forward, pressing your hands into his thighs and filling his space with your presence. "Fix it, Koz," you breathe, your pout poking out for him.
You're close enough that you hear his breath stutter. You feel his body twitch in response to you. You watch his eyes flick between yours and down to your lips, lingering too long to be accidental.
"Okay, okay," he mumbles. His thumbs spread over your cheeks, wiping away the Kozu and ken in two gentle swipes. "Don't get mad. I was joking."
You don't know what to do with the fact that he'd said it quietly enough that there's no way the camera caught it. That he'd said it for you, just for you.
"Not mad," you whisper, still leaning on his thighs, still pressing your face up toward his. "Definitely not mad."
His eyes widen, and then his eyelashes flutter, his lips parted and his breath shaky as it leaves him. He glances at the camera, laughing nervously.
"Chat, she's whispering nasty shit in my ear."
You push off of him with a roll of your eyes, ignoring the fingers that snag on your wrist, the thumb that swipes over your pulse once, twice, before leaving your hand in his lap. He shuffles through the rest of your makeup, starting to organize the bottles by type.
You talk to the camera while he works. "I think next time, we should do something that doesn't involve wasting all my makeup. Like a plushy reveal!"
"I told you no," he says right away, still sorting. "You have a storage unit's worth of plushies in that bed."
"Okay, then you come to my place. We can rank them together." You lean over, off camera, and snag your fingers on the single plush he has on the armchair. It's a cat, orange and squishy and totally messed up from years of tugging and kneading at it. "But bring this with you."
He snatches it, smacking you on the head with the squishy butt of it before tossing it up to the head of his bed. "You're biased. You bought it."
You nod, contemplative as you tell the story. "He had a bit of an anger issue with games when we were kids. But he would just punch the air and scream, so I sent him a little stress toy." You reach for it again, showing the camera how disfigured it is. "Look what he did, guys! He's a monster."
"I have a lot of cute aggression to get out of my system."
You turn over your shoulder, meeting his eyes. "Oh, yeah? About what?"
His gaze is steady, even when a single eyebrow lifts.
You look back at the camera, your face noticeably warmer. You look away, the sight of yourself in that camera tugging at the fluttering nerves in your stomach.
Kenma moves on without comment. "These all say concealer," he says, turning a few over and reading them. He glances at you when you stay quiet. You know he can see the burn of your cheeks, that your gaze is distant. That you're clearly still embarrassed about how things are falling into place between you.
"Too much?" he finally says, eyes still reading labels and hands still separating vials into different sections. You get the sense that he plans to cut this part out of the video.
You shake your head. His knee is starting to bounce anxiously. You let your fingers dance over his jeans, pressing down on his knee to calm him. "Not too much," you say, chewing on your lip and staring down at the spot where your leg overlaps with his. "Just nervous."
He stalls, fingers hovering a tube of lipstick. You hear him swallow.
"Yeah," he eventually breathes. "Me, too."
You both move on.
He clears his throat and raises his voice for the camera again. "I'm gonna try one of these concealer things."
"Okay."
"Where do I put it?"
You just smile. He rolls his eyes.
He ends up slathering it in random spots. The only one he gets right is the spot under your eyes, where he ends up putting way too much.
"Wow, this is ass," he jokes, trying to rub it in with his thumbs. You make choked noises, leaning away in fear that he's going to stab you in the eyes. He ends up bent over in laughter, hands still cupping your face, and you end up straining to look at the camera, the panic in your eyes obvious.
He moves on, leaving you caked in foundation and concealer as he picks up a pile of pencils. All lip liner.
"These look like they go on your eyes." When you stare at him in horror, he smiles innocently. "Eyeliner, right?"
You just smile, full of fear, and turn to the camera again. "Yeah."
"Close your eyes, then."
You keep smiling at the camera. "Don't wanna."
"C'mon," he laughs, nudging you. He's wielding a red pencil. You just stare. "Close your eyes."
You whimper dramatically, letting your eyes fall shut.
He's gentle, but that was never a concern, really. The real concern — the one that sits at the back of your throat as your eyes are sliding shut — is how close he's going to choose to get.
It's close. Really close.
You feel his breath on your lips, feel his hair tickle your face, feel his fingers holding gently to your chin, keeping you steady.
"While he fucks this up," you start, voice light but slightly shaky. "Let me talk about the games I wanna play that we can record off stream and upload later."
"Mhm," he hums. You wonder if he's nervous about your breath on his lips, too.
"Well, I wanna play Stardew. I also think people would have fun watching me try games I suck at."
"Like League?" he jokes quietly. You gasp, ignoring the fact that you can feel when he speaks, feel the bass in his voice and the slide of honey that comes with it.
"Take that back right now."
"No."
"Koz," you whine. "Be nice to me. I'm letting you mess up my face."
There's a long pause, one where you feel him start to laugh, the bed shaking slightly. Your skin warms dramatically under his touch.
"Shut up," you bite. "You have such a dirty mind."
"I didn't even have to say anything for you to get there, too."
"You just wanna see me under your desk."
He chokes, leaning away from you quickly. "Shit," he coughs. "Warn a man."
Your eyes are still closed. "You never warn me!"
He comes back after a moment, drawing lightly on your eyelids for just a little longer. And then he sighs.
"Fuck," he jokes. "I don't think I should have picked a red one."
You smile, trying not to shiver when he cups your jaw with his free hand, fingertips pressing softly into your cheeks. "I think," you start, breathing deep when his fingers twitch in response. "That you should have picked an eyeliner."
He pauses, and you just know he's staring at the pencil in confusion. "What are you?" he whispers, loud enough for the camera.
You keep smiling, your whisper just as loud. "Lip liner."
"Ah, shit," he laughs. "Well — Since I'm here." His fingers push at your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker for him.
You stop breathing, and your eyes snap open in surprise. He meets your gaze evenly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and then he refocuses his attention on drawing the outline of your lips.
"You look ridiculous," he comments while he works.
You just roll your eyes. "I wonder why," you mutter, your voice muffled by his grip.
He leans away when he's done, humming pleasantly. "I think I'm done."
"What?" you laugh, turning to examine yourself in the camera. "Koz, I look so stupid."
"I'm too scared to try anything else."
"You didn't even do lipstick," you complain. "Or mascara. I look like a fool."
"I think it suits you." He just laughs when you smack him, his hand rubbing at the spot on his chest that you'd hit. "Say bye to the masses."
"Koz," you complain, lamenting your appearance in the camera. "You've got to be fucking with me-"
"Bye!" he calls, his hands coming down on the camera and shutting it off.
You just stare. "Do you see me?"
He laughs, squeezing your cheeks together with one hand. "You look like a dumbass."
"Yeah!" you laugh back. "My foundation's splotchy, there's concealer caked under my eyes, and you used lip liner all over the place!"
He just stands, tugging a box of tissues over and wiping his hands diligently. You swipe one, too, scrubbing at your skin. He gasps.
"My art!"
"I'm not going outside like this," you say, standing at the full-length mirror in the corner and working at your face until, though red and splotchy from scrubbing, it's clear of makeup. You don't say anything about the fact that Kenma's just been watching from the bed, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle while he leans back on his hands.
"You wanna stick around a little?" he asks quietly. You glance at him in the reflection, smiling shyly.
"Next time? It's late."
He looks reluctant to nod, but he does anyway. "Yeah. Next time." He turns, packing your makeup away while you wash your hands in his en suite bathroom.
He walks you to the door quietly, hauling your tote bag for you and waiting while you put your shoes on. "Want me to walk you?"
You smile at him, taking the bag. "I'll be okay."
"I don't like that you're walking in the dark. Let me call an uber at least."
"I'll be fine," you say. "Want me to call you while I walk?"
He flushes. "No."
"Would it make you feel better?"
"… Yes."
You laugh. "Okay. I'm gonna go."
He looks like he's searching for any reason to keep you here. You purse your lips, the nerves coming back. But you set the bag against the door for just a moment, anyway.
When you hug him, it surprises him. You feel his inhale, sharp and quiet, as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook. His hands find your waist easily, gentle and trembling slightly. He slips his arms around you after a moment, pulling you flush to his body.
You let your urge from earlier win, fingers finally tangling into his hair.
He shivers. It flies down his spine almost violently, shaking you in the process. The breath he lets out is mixed with a sound that you desperately want to call a moan.
"Fuck," he whispers, laughing nervously. "Sorry."
Warmth floods your skin, seeping low into the spot under your navel. You cling to him, feeling when his hold on you tightens.
"'s okay," you whisper back.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You feel him swallow, the sound dragging past your ear.
And then he presses his lips to your shoulder. Quietly. Gently.
You inhale harshly, your exhale just as hard.
He does it again, against your pulse. His fingers dig into your skin when a whine flies past your lips.
"Kenma," you breathe.
His chest is rising and falling unevenly. "You should go," is all he says.
It takes all your strength to pull away from him. He looks as unsteady on his feet as you feel. His pupils are blown wide and his face is burning red and he's carding his fingers through his hair and letting out a sigh that speaks of distress and feelings he doesn't want to voice.
"Bye, Koz," you say, wanting him to look at you again.
He does. You wonder if he can even help it anymore.
"Call me," he says, his voice rough, thick with emotion. "Soon as you leave."
"I will," you promise.
You do, the moment you step foot in the lobby.
He doesn't sound any less overwhelmed. You know you don't, either.
—
"Oh, my god," you laugh, scrolling through the comments. "This is nuts."
"It's only been up 12 hours," he says, equally amazed. He's watching your shared screen so that you can react to the same comments at the same time.
'you cannot physically convince me that these two arent secretly in a relationship and are just gaslighting us.'
You laugh. "Should I like it, just so people crash out?"
"You know my answer."
You leave a little heart on the comment and scroll.
'WHY DO THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER LIKE THAT. SOME OF US ARE SINGLE.'
Another like.
'property of kozuken??? are you joking??? are you kidding?? are you playing??? you think this is a damn joke, markoz??????'
Another like, and you add a heart in a comment, too, just because it's that funny.
'the way she whines his name whenever he does anything stupid?? you just KNOW he loves it.'
You stare at the comment, your mouse hovering over it. Kenma says nothing. You scroll without liking it.
"Go back."
You jump, a shock running through you. "What?"
"Go back," he says again, his voice soft as ever but his words tugging on that cord he has wrapped around your spine. "And like it."
You want to tease him. You want to make some stupid joke. You want this to be part of the running bit between the two of you.
But you can't do it.
So you just scroll back up and like the comment.
You rush to scroll down again, your face burning and your ears starting to ring.
'every time she sasses him he looks like he cant decide if he wants to kiss her or do so much worse'
You scroll quickly.
"Go back."
You go back and like it.
'if you look hard enough you can see the moment koz pops a boner'
"Oh, my god," you mutter, your face burning. You scroll, praying he doesn't say those two words again. Praying you can move past it, because you're not sure you can handle it if he doesn't.
"Y/n."
That's worse than telling you to go back.
You sigh, the sound stuttering. "Koz," you whisper. "C'mon."
"Go back. And like it."
"You have to be joking."
"I'm not," he says, his voice still soft, even though he's saying something truly terrible. "If you don't do it, I'm gonna go in there and write a response."
"What could you possibly say?" you joke, your laugh desperate.
"That they're right."
Your skin breaks out in goosebumps.
"And then I'm gonna leave the timestamp."
You bury your face in your hands. "Kenma," you whisper.
"4:52."
You're shaking. You can't deal with the fact that he has an answer. That he's telling you to go look.
"Y/n."
You shudder, hand clamped over your mouth and the warmth under your navel burning hot, dangerously so.
You find the timestamp.
'Fix it,' you're saying. You're leaning onto his thighs, your eyes big and your pout petulant as you push your face into his. 'Fix it, Koz.' The words property of kozuzen are half-visible on your face. He's looking down at you like he's losing his mind. You hadn't realized it at the time, but the pained expression is plastered on his face.
You swallow. "That was super early on."
"I know. It was torture."
You hang your head, breathing hard. "I regret meeting you in person, Koz."
He's silent, completely silent.
"What?" he finally says. His voice is thick. You can hear the fear in that single word. "Why?"
You laugh pitifully. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to handle it. That I wouldn't be able to be normal about you afterward."
His breath is heavy in the mic of his headset. "Normal about me?"
"I like you so much," you whisper, almost hoping he doesn't hear it. "It's so much worse now." You dig the heel of your hand into your eye. "I want you so bad, Kenma."
You hear when his breath stutters, when he whispers 'oh, fuck' to himself.
"You mean that?"
You haven't ever meant something this strongly in your whole life. It's been three days, and you haven't stopped thinking about him for even a second.
"Kenma," you whine, tears pricking behind your eyes. "Please."
You hope he gets what you're saying.
He hangs up.
Your heart jumps. He got it.
—
He makes it to your door in under ten minutes. You don't say anything about the messy hair or the way his chest is heaving or the wild look in his eye.
You don't say anything at all. You just grab him by the collar of his hoodie and drag him into your apartment.
He crowds you against the wall immediately, barely managing to kick his shoes off in the process. His eyes are flying across your face, checking your gaze and the flush in your cheeks and the way you're chewing on your lip.
"Please don't take it back," he breathes, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. "Please."
You just shove your fingers into his hair, tangling tight and pulling him to you. A moan rips out of his throat and his hands slam down on the wall on either side of you as you push your lips against his.
He kisses you like he's been thinking about it for years. You let yourself admit that you've been thinking about it, too.
His lips burn on yours, the push and pull full of desperation, urgency. He pushes his body against yours, and you feel so clearly that he's shaking. That he's leaning on you like he's worried you'll disappear. You cup his face, kissing him deep and then whispering into his mouth.
"I'm not goin' anywhere, Kenma."
He shudders, drops his hands to your waist and pulls you impossibly closer. "I know. It's just been so long." You don't have to ask what he means. You just wrap your arms around his neck, letting him haul you up, letting your legs wrap tight around his waist. Feeling when he presses you into the wall and pins you there with his hips. "I've known you my whole life," he breathes. "Had you my whole life."
"Wasn't enough," you mumble, a little distracted by the way his lips get rougher, the way his grip on you gets possessive.
"Yeah," he mutters, teeth tugging your bottom lip into your mouth. His tongue presses to it hard, tasting you. "Wasn't enough."
"Always kinda hoped you weren't joking," you admit, clinging tight when he starts to walk you through the room. He pauses every few feet, pushing you against the nearest surface so he can kiss you, like he can't help it. "When we started messing around on stream."
He laughs into your mouth. "The first few times, I was sure you could see how red I was." You couldn't, but you remember your own reactions so clearly, back in college when you and Kenma were just starting to realize you were both adults.
"Why did this take so long?" you breathe, shuddering when his lips trail down the line of your throat, his tongue searing into your skin. "We could've been doing this the whole time."
He nibbles on your pulse, passes his tongue over it. Starts to suck on that spot. "I dunno," he mumbles. "We were socially stunted kids on the internet?"
You giggle, carding your fingers through his hair and tugging. He grunts, marking you in another spot now. You tug again, and he pushes his hips against yours, a warning. You sigh, your eyes shut and a smile on your lips when you feel how hard he is.
"I think I like pulling your hair," you admit, tugging again. He uses his grip on your waist to pull you into him harder.
"I think you think you're in charge."
"Am I not?" you sigh. "You're so soft. You let me do whatever I want. You always have."
He lifts his head away, golden eyes locked tight on yours. His gaze glints with the edge of something sharp.
"You just said it," he breathes, smiling. "I let you do what you want." He tilts his head when you start to shrink under his gaze, his smile stretching wide. "You didn't notice?" he coos.
You purse your lips, staring up at him. "Shut up, Koz," you grumble, tugging on his locks again.
He sets you on your feet before you can blink, and you realize in that moment that playing volleyball regularly since high school wouldn't have left him without something to show for it.
Your hands are ripped from his hair and pinned above your head without a single word from him. He just holds you there, trapped against the living room wall, his smile entirely too smug.
"Wanna take it back?" he teases, eyes passing over your embarrassed flush with glee.
You pout at him. "C'mon, Koz."
"Say 'please'."
You sigh. "Please, Kenma."
He lifts his brows. "Now say 'pretty please'."
You glare. "Fuck you."
You can't decide if that look in his eye — pleased, smug, victorious — makes you want to kick or kiss him.
"Not 'til you say 'pretty please'," he says, starting to laugh.
You groan, laughing because he is, and put on your best pout.
"Pretty please, Kenma?"
You watch his brain stop working. It's a beautiful sight.
You use the chance to rip out of his grasp. He blinks, surprised, but it's smothered by you throwing your arms around him and dragging him into another searing kiss. He moans, relenting and just pulling you close.
You stumble down the hall like that, half-blind and knocking things over without care. He slams his hand down on the wall multiple times to keep you from falling over and dragging you down with him. You just keep doing it, too busy kissing him to care if you end up on the floor. It's a dance — a clumsy, stupid dance — but you eventually make it to your room, shoving your back against the door and pulling him in with you.
You collapse on the bed together, the desperation taking over again now that you're here. Now that this is real.
His hoodie hits the floor first. Your shorts go next.
Nothing else makes it off of you.
He starts to moan openly, and you start to whimper into his mouth, his hips rocking you into the mattress again and again. You fist his t-shirt in your hands, keeping him close. He slips his fingertips under the band of your panties, tugging while he rubs his tongue against yours.
"Can I…" he whispers, his breath warm against your lips and his mouth falling back on yours right away. You nod, expecting him to pull them down.
He doesn't. He doesn't have the patience for it. He just slides his fingers between your legs and presses them against your clit. Your back arches, and you whine loudly into his mouth. His breathing grows more ragged while he touches you, and his moans fall out in time with yours, like he gets as much pleasure from touching you as you do from being touched by him.
Your high approaches too soon. "Kenma," you breathe, high-pitched and full of warning.
He stops immediately, shaking his head. "Not yet," he mumbles, still kissing you. You don't understand how it's possible that you haven't gotten tired of kissing him yet. "Wanna feel you around me when it happens."
You whimper, nodding. "Please? Now?"
He smiles against you, nodding along. "Yeah. Now."
He shoves his pants down blindly, barely letting them hit his thighs before he's reaching between your thighs again. A wave of chills crashes down over the crown of your head, flooding your body when you feel him pull your panties to the side and slide the head of his cock through your folds.
"Oh, my-" You shiver, moans falling past your lips without your permission.
He's no better, his breath shaky and quiet groans building in his throat. He shoves his lips against yours again, moaning down your throat when he nudges against your entrance. You hear yourself begging, hear yourself mumbling his name over and over again while you beg him to do it.
When he pushes into you, it comes with a moan that gets caught in his throat, his voice cutting off and his breath going with it. Your vision goes white, and you just cling to him, knowing he's going to have nail marks in his skin and holes in his shirt later.
"Please," you breathe, almost inaudible. "Yes, please, fuck-"
He isn't patient enough to bottom out. He just starts to thrust, bullying his cock into you little by little with each push of his hips. "Oh, fuck," he moans. "Fuck, fuck, fuck-"
His pace isn't steady or even or anything remotely controlled. His hips stutter and twitch, and his moans get louder every time you clench around him. It's messy and desperate and neither of you cares nearly enough about making this perfect. You're too lost in each other, too lost in the fact that this moment was built over years of loving each other, of learning each other.
When he comes, it's with a trapped whine and your name, his forehead pressed to yours and the words 'I love you' slipping out as he pushes his lips against yours. When you come, it's much the same, his name on your lips like a mantra, your love washing over him in time with the flutter of your walls around him.
It takes several minutes — maybe even hours — for you to move, your body trapped under his and your mind completely content, warm.
You both fall asleep, sweaty and messy and completely at peace.
As you're drifting off, curled up in his arms, you mumble a question.
I was just thinking about Kenma, because, why not?
❗Warnings— Strapwarming (It's cockwarming but.. It's a Strap-on instead), Pegging, Overstimulation, Cowgirl Position, very short
👤 Character: Kenma Kozume [Haikyuu!]
Kenma's hips wiggle gently in you lap, while pouting and frowning as he looked at his Nintendo Switch in his hands, he also let out a low groan. He was so focused that he even forgot. The thick strap-on nestled deep inside him.
His slender thighs weakened slightly, his focus shifting away from the video game for a few seconds as that bulbous tip began pressing insistently against his prostate, making his breathing fails. You smile watching your boyfriend's internal struggle, unsure of what to do, whether to continue the game or not.
Kenma had been at it for almost an hour already, in that time, he must have already come a couple of times, even without moving incessantly, and that has already made his mind start turning to mus, his cute cock, threatening spilling another puddle of sperm.
Forgetting about the Switch, and leaning against your chest, while relaxing his shoulders, he feels another wave of a lazy orgasm staining his own thigh.
You hug his slender waist and bury your face in his black and slightly blonde hair, you felt himself trying to breathe normally again, his penis softening, but without disengaging from his strap-on.
streamer!kenma fucks his girlfriend on stream because his fans are insufferable.
the losing streak starts subtly enough that kenma almost convinces himself it isn’t real, though watching from behind your own screen makes it painfully obvious things are about to go downhill.
the first match slips away because of a cheater, the second because of a teammate disconnecting halfway through, and the third— well, the third is entirely his fault, though he refuses to acknowledge that out loud.
the quiet hum of his computer fills the pauses between rounds, broken only by the rapid clicking of his mouse and the occasional soft sigh he lets out when another objective falls apart on screen.
chat, naturally, notices before he does.
messages begin stacking faster with every defeat, laughing emotes multiplying as the scoreboard appears again and again with his name sitting stubbornly on the losing side. kenma leans forward in his chair, eyes narrowed slightly.
“it’s not a losing streak,” he murmurs, voice calm but edged with quiet defensiveness. “the matchmaking’s just weird tonight.”
chat disagrees immediately.
he queues again anyway.
the next game lasts longer, long enough that hope briefly returns, only to collapse during the final minutes when everything spirals at once— the unmistakable sound cue of defeat appearing before he can fix it. the screen fades, results loading slowly, and kenma stares at it without moving, fingers resting lightly on his keyboard as if continuing might somehow undo it.
on his other monitor, his chat is absolutely dragging him
apple.creampie: disrespectfully please retire
kodzukenkink: just unplug that mouse ☠️☠️
kenmasbbg: UR WASHED its time to get off unc
ilovegamerhands: blink once if u need coaching
one hand comes up to push his hair away from his eyes, headset shifting slightly as he tilts his head toward the scrolling messages.
a donation alert cuts through the noise, cheerful and traitorous— and to his surprise, it's yours.
kodzukenkink donated 1000$! “maybe try winning?”
“…wow, you guys are assholes. 'specially you, kodzukenkink.” he says after a moment, faint amusement slipping into his tone. “…you’re all very confident for people not playing,”
he’s not tilting, not really; he just exhales through his nose, leans back in the gaming chair until it creaks, and lets his voice drop into that lazy, velvet register the chat eats up.
“alright. i’m ass tonight. chat, save me. what do i do?”
the sidebar ignites. the usual mix— get good, switch to fortnite, take a nap— but one phrase starts spamming, gaining traction, bold and relentless.
he doesn’t even hesitate. a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth— the one only you ever really clock. he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“fine. you degenerates win.” he opens twitter on his phone, searches his @ with zero shame, and starts scrolling. “let’s see what you freaks are saying about me this week.”
hecanruinmykda: why'd bro fold under 0 pressure
hiswifiwife: he was waiting for this 😭☠️
first one he reads is tame, almost sweet. he tilts his head, reading it slow on purpose.
“‘kenma’s fingers are so long and pretty i want them in my mouth.’ huh.” he flexes said fingers against his phone, lets them hover over the keys for a second like he’s considering it. “that's bold. zero out of ten creativity, though.”
he keeps going, voice low and amused, like he’s reading the weather instead of porn disguised as compliments.
“‘imagine kenma whimpering your name while you ride him—’ nope.” he cuts himself off, but not before letting the sentence hang just long enough for the chat to explode. he snorts softly. “you guys are so embarrassing.”
kenmasbedhair: DEGRADE US MORE KENMA
verifiedkoduzukenobserver: ready set GOON
needsleepandkenma: all 10 fingers
“‘kenma’s voice is made for dirty talk bf ASMR i need him to call me a good girl while he takes it out on me after he loses in ranked.’”
he pauses, lips curving into the smallest, softest smile— the kind that’s just for the camera and maybe a little for you. “good girl, huh? that’s sweet.” he lets it linger for a beat, then adds, gentle, “i like the imagination. you guys are creative tonight.”
they’re eating it up. the teasing shifts, predictable as clockwork.
rankedwithkenmawhen: no gf to say that to??
spectatingmyhusband: lonely kenma canon
parasociallystable: dw dada i can be ur gf <3333
he reads the last few silently first, eyes scanning, then exhales a soft, fond sound— like he’s smiling at an inside joke.
“you keep saying i’m single like you’re trying to manifest it,” he says, voice light, teasing without bite. he tilts his head, golden eyes catching the ring light just right. “what makes you so sure?”
the chat stutters for half a second— then explodes.
respectfullyunwell: ?? WAIT HE DIDN’T DENY IT
apple.creampie: KENMA HAS A GF???
ilovegamerhands: PROOF PLS KING
verifiedkoduzukenobserver: PROOF OR BAN
he doesn’t laugh at them. doesn’t brush it off like a joke. he just lets his gaze settle on the camera like he’s talking to a friend who’s being adorably clueless.
“so… you really think i’m single?” he asks, soft, curious, almost gentle. no mockery, just that quiet invitation to keep going, to dig deeper if they want.
the chat goes nuclear— screaming, crying emojis, frantic “SHOW HER THEN” and "MUST BE PROPAGANDA," and donations flying in with hearts and question marks. he doesn’t give them anything concrete. just that same small, warm smile as he reaches for his drink, takes a slow sip, and lets the moment stretch.
“interesting,” he murmurs, voice dropping into something softer, more private. “guess we’ll see how long that theory lasts.”
he stretches then— lazy, hoodie riding up just a hint at the waist—and gives the camera his usual wave.
the stream cuts to black, and the room goes quiet except for the low hum of his pc fans winding down. you hear the familiar creak of his chair as he pushes back, the soft shuffle of his slippers on the floor, and then the door to your room easing open.
kenma slips in without knocking and immediately spots you on the bed, propped against the pillows with your phone still in hand, one eyebrow arched like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment.
he doesn’t say anything at first. and watches you with that half-lidded, golden-eyed stare that’s equal parts tired and amused.
you break first, because of course you do.
“so,” you say after a moment, voice carefully neutral, “i see you decided to soft launch me to several dozen thousand people tonight.”
“they were being annoying,” he says simply, dropping onto the bed beside you. his thigh presses warm against yours. “figured i’d give them something to chew on.”
you set your phone aside, shift so you’re facing him properly, knees bumping his hip. “oh, you gave them something alright. i think all your thirsty fangirls are screaming crying right now."
“they’ll survive.” he says, voice low, almost lazy. he reaches out, hooks two fingers in the waistband of your shorts, tugs you an inch closer like it’s nothing.
you lean in a little, voice dropping to that playful murmur you save just for him. “so… are you going to hard launch your beautiful, sexy girlfriend tomorrow, or are you gonna keep dangling the carrot and let them beg for crumbs?”
he hums, thoughtful, thumb brushing idle circles against the skin just above your shorts. “could be fun.” his gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up.
your pulse kicks up— not nerves, just heat, anticipation, the thrill of knowing exactly how chaotic he’s willing to let things get when he’s in this mood.
“that's bold,” you say, grinning. “you sure you’re ready for that level of degeneracy? they’re already feral tonight. tomorrow they’ll be even worse with visual confirmation.”
"i'm used to it by now. wanna show off my pretty girlfriend to everyone."
he kisses you then— slow, unhurried, like he’s got all night and tomorrow’s stream is just bonus content. when he pulls back, his voice is a murmur against your lips.
“better get some sleep. s'gonna be a nightmare tomorrow.”
you laugh against his lips, low and sure. “you’re the one who poked the hornet’s nest, babe. don’t act like you’re not excited.”
and tomorrow comes fast.
by the time he starts stream the next day, you’re already settled: pink gaming chair dragged right up next to his black one, close enough that your knees brush his when you shift.
he doesn’t announce you. doesn’t even look at the camera when he hits “go live.” just leans back, a can of coke in hand, and says in that deadpan drawl, “hey, chat. got company today. also known as yesterday's biggest dono 'kodzukenkink'” he raises his hands briefly, putting quotation marks around the username.
canonicallydownbad: HE WAS BEING FR ???????
kneesweakforkozume: KENMA SOFTLAUNCH TO HARDLAUNCH IN 24HRS???
certifiedkenmasimp: HOLY FUCK SHES GORGEOUS
you don’t flinch. just tilt your head toward him, smirking, and wave once. the donations start pouring in like someone opened a faucet. hearts, crying emojis, “MARRY ME BOTH OF YOU”, “KENMA-SENSEI SHOW US YOUR WAYS”.
kenma glances sideways at you, the tiniest curve to his mouth, then back to the screen. “chill,” he says, but there’s no heat in it. he’s enjoying this. “she’s not going anywhere. be normal for once.”
they’re not normal.
they never are.
the questions come fast, overlapping, shameless.
verifiedkoduzukenobserver: IS SHE THE ONE U CALL GOOD GIRL 💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭
kenmasbedhair: bet she’s the reason you end stream early sometimes 💔💔
hecanruinmykda: does she make you whimper kenma
hiswifiwife: Q&A SESSION STARTS NOW TELL US KING
you laugh— clear, bright, unbothered— and lean closer to his mic just enough for your voice to carry. “you guys are so nosy."
kenma’s ears go faintly pink, but he doesn’t pull away. instead he sets the drink down, and turns his chair toward you a fraction.
“they’re asking if you’re the one,” he says, voice low, almost conversational, but his eyes are locked on yours. “the good girl thing.”
you arch a brow, leaning into his touch. “am i?”
he doesn’t answer with words. just lets his gaze drop to your lips, then back up, slow and deliberate.
chat loses what little composure it had left.
apple.creampie: NOT THE EYE SEX????
spectatingmyhusband: HELLO? ARE WE INTERRUPTING SOMETHING
parasociallystable: ATP JS BEND HER OVER THE DESK ALREADY 💔😭
certifiedkenmasimp: I SECOND THAT
kneesweakforkozume: we need an onlyfans yesterday
kenma reads the last one aloud, voice dropping into that velvet register they all lose their minds over. “'we need an onlyfans'.” he pauses, lets the silence stretch, then looks straight at the camera. “keep talking like that and i’ll bend her over this table right now. you want that?”
the sidebar turns into a wall of yes yes YES YES caps-lock and barking drooling emojis.
you feel the heat crawl up your spine— not embarrassment, just raw want. you shift in the pink chair, thighs pressing together, and meet his eyes with a slow, challenging smile. “y'know, babe, you're threatening both them and me with a good time.”
he exhales a soft laugh, then— “alright,” he says to the camera, voice flat but laced with that quiet amusement only you ever get to hear fully. “enough foreplay. we’re playing two player obby on roblox. you degenerates can behave or i’m ending stream early.”
you watch your tiny blocky avatar spawn on top of his on a floating pastel platform suspended over an endless sky, cheerful music chiming through both your phone speakers and his headset at the same time. the title screen proudly announces two player obby. you're playing on your phone while he plays on his pc, streaming his screen for his viewers.
"ooh, get ready to lose, kenma."
"(y/n).. we're supposed to work together to get to the end."
then, your avatar jumps.
misses.
falls directly into the void.
the oof sound effect plays through your speakers.
kenma exhales a quiet laugh beside you, shoulders shaking faintly.
you glance sideways at him. “don’t laugh.”
“i didn’t say anything,” he replies, which is technically true, though the amusement lingering in his voice makes it worse.
his avatar waits patiently at the edge of the platform while yours respawns, blocky arms lifting stiffly as you try again. the controls on your phone feel slightly delayed, thumbs tapping carefully as you line up the next jump.
you make it this time.
barely.
“okay,” you mutter, leaning closer without realizing, concentration pulling your brows together. “this game is stressful.”
“you’re supposed to jump when it moves,” kenma says, tone calm, eyes flicking between his monitor and the corner of his screen where chat scrolls endlessly.
“i am jumping.”
your character slips again, teetering dangerously before regaining balance at the last second.
chat explodes in celebration like you’ve achieved something monumental.
you’re both leaning into your screens, trading quiet commentary. “wait, stand on that button,” you mutter. “got it,” he replies, voice soft, focused. your characters sync up effortlessly, and it’s nice. domestic. almost normal.
almost.
then the chats starts creeping back.
jokingly, of course.
certifiedkenmasimp: bend her over when she dies again
kneesweakforkozume: lmao co-op but make it 18+
canonicallydownbad: kenma if u die she has to ride u on cam
apple.creampie: we’re kidding… unless 👀
respectfullyunwell: SPICY CONTENT OR RIOT
your eyes glance up to the chat and you immediately smirk, a mischievous idea now planted in your head. "woah. your fans really want you to fuck me on live. y'sure you don't wanna give your sweet fans what they want?"
kenma reads a few silently, lips thinning. you catch the exact second his patience snaps— not dramatic, just a quiet click. he pauses the game mid-level, and looks up directly into the camera.
"you guys really don't know when to stop," he sighs.
apple.creampie donated 500$! "kenma if you hate us so much just fuck your gf on stream and end our suffering 😒"
he doesn’t speak right away.
just reaches, wraps those long fingers around your wrist, tugs once—sharp enough to make your breath hitch— and pulls you right between his spread thighs so your ass bumps the edge of the desk, facing him.
“sit.”
you start sideways like a coward. but he lifts you up, spins you until you’re sitting on him proper— facing the camera, thighs forced wide with his knees, with your back glued to his chest. you let out a small yelp from how rough he was.
chat loses its fucking mind instantly.
he doesn’t even glance at the spam. his left arm snakes around your and his right hand dragging slow up the inside of your thigh. his middle finger traces the soaked seam of your shorts, presses just hard enough to make your hips twitch like a needy little bitch.
“look at them.” kenma's chin jerks toward the monitor. “they've been begging to watch me ruin you nonstop. and you—” his fingertip circles your clit through the cotton, slow and mean, “—you've been egging them on.”
you try to hide your face but he catches your jaw and forces it right back to the lens.
“eyes on camera, slut.”
two fingers shove under the fabric, sinking in knuckle-deep and curling right into your g-spot. your whole body jolts.
“fuck—kenma—” you try to bite your lips to keep your sounds in,
“shut up.” his thumb presses your clit in tight, nasty little strokes. “already dripping down my hand like a desperate whore. don’t act shy now.”
his chat is actual chaos. half keysmash, half straight-up “please fuck her on stream” donos lighting the sidebar on fire.
he repeats one comment, deadpan.
“‘bend her over when she dies again’.” he lets out a tiny dry huff. “so fucking predictable.”
fingers scissor once, twice, then rip out. you whine like you’re dying.
he drags those slick fingers straight to your mouth, pushes them past your lips.
“clean your mess.”
you do as he says— tongue swirling, tasting yourself while thousands watch you choke on his fingers.
“good girl,” he breathes, almost sweet. then, “such a filthy attention whore.”
pulls them out with a wet pop, smears the spit and slick across your thigh like he’s marking territory, then grips your hips and stands— lifting you like you’re nothing.
he folds you over the edge, tits mashed to the wood, ass up, face inches from the camera. ring light catches every bead of sweat, every flutter of your lashes, every tremble.
he yanks your shorts and panties down— fabric tangled around your thighs like makeshift cuffs.
with his fists in your hair, he yanks your head back so the camera gets the perfect money shot: lips swollen, eyes glassy and nearly fucked-stupid already, drool at the corner of your mouth.
“look at them,” he orders, quieter, darker. “let them see the face they’ve been paying to wreck.”
he pulls his sweatpants and boxers down just enough— blunt head nudges your entrance, fat and hot, rocking there just to make you feel how thick he’s gonna split you open while the entire stream watches.
“say it.”
“haah, fuck me.”
“louder. make them hear how bad you need it.”
your eyes flick to chat— pure depravity, begging in every language.
“fuck me, kenma— please— fuck me on stream—”
he slams in, one long, brutal stroke that punches the air out of your lungs.
your mouth falls open in a silent scream. he doesn’t let you breathe, just sets a punishing rhythm— deep, mean snaps that make your palms slip on the desk every time his hips slap your ass.
“keep looking at the camera,” he orders when your head tries to drop. hair yanked back harder. “let them see your pretty face while i use this cunt.”
tears prick your eyes— not pain, just the overwhelming stretch, the exposure, the sick thrill of being their porn.
his free hand snakes around, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing fast and filthy until your thighs are shaking like you’re gonna collapse.
“clenching so fucking tight,” he mutters, almost to himself. “you love being their camslut?”
you can’t speak— just broken, pathetic moans every time he bottoms out.
he folds over you, chest to your back, lips brushing your ear.
“come for them,” he whispers, voice pure command. “show the chat what their money bought.”
you shatter.
your whole body seizing, mouth wide in a soundless wail as you gush around him, vision blurring white. he fucks you through every pulse, relentless, until you’re whimpering, oversensitive, legs trembling so bad he has to hook an arm under your hips to hold you up.
only then does he let go— few more thrusts before he buries balls-deep and fills you with a low, guttural groan the mic eats right up.
silence for a beat. just both of you panting.
then he pulls out slow, lets you slump boneless over the desk, and finally— finally— ends the stream.
god bless any loved ones who joined Just Chatting | Things Got Weird expecting wholesome gameplay.
bro i was trying so hard to build the plot so it could lead to smut LMAOOO
You love annoying your boyfriend, Keigo—better known as Pro Hero Hawks, number two in the rankings. One of your favorite ways to get on his nerves—or, as he likes to put it, “tease” him—is when he’s out on patrol. You always wait until his shift’s just about over, then you strike.
You throw on your best wide-eyed, flustered look and squeal like some fangirl with an obsessive crush, loud enough for the whole city block to hear, “Oh my god, is that Pro Hero Hawks?!”
Then you start gushing. Loud. Profanities fly out of your mouth like confetti. Everyone turns to look—eyes wide, jaws slack—and you can already feel the heat of his stare. Keigo’s there in a flash, hand over your mouth, feathers wrapping tight around your waist as he lifts you off the ground.
He mutters through gritted teeth, “You’re insane,” while trying to avoid the incoming swarm of fangirls—blushing, breathless, and bursting into declarations of love.
And just as he’s lifting you higher, you mumble into his glove in your sweetest, sultriest voice, “Won’t you sign my tits, Pro Hero Hawks?”
He scoffs. Classic Keigo. “Yeah, yeah.”
You figured that’d be the end of it, like always—a quick getaway, some grumbling, maybe a feather-flick to the forehead. But not this time.
He’s flying fast. Too fast.
Before you know it, he’s landing hard on some random rooftop, hidden away from the street, pushing you up against a stone wall next to a rusted door that probably leads to nowhere. The air between you turns heavy. His golden eyes are sharp. Hungry.
He peels his gloves off with his teeth, one by one, still staring at you like he’s got something to prove. His hands slide under your thighs, gripping the soft flesh and lifting you like it’s nothing. Then he’s biting at your shirt, bunching it up in his mouth before holding the fabric in his hand—exposing just enough to make your breath hitch.
Then, in that cocky, ego-dripping voice of his, he says:
“Yeah, anything for my fans. I’ll sign ’em alright. Wanna use my mouth or my cum—your choice, angel.”
master list link here.
tip jar! - my kofi for anyone who wants to help support me or my work during this tough time - my emergency commissions are open as well!
I am convinced that Kenma is actually pretty strong compared to the average person it just doesn't look like it since he's always around bigger guys. So the first time you guys ever play wrestle you're completely taken aback by how easily Kenma tips you over and pins you underneath him. He's breathless on top of you with one hand holding your wrists above your head. Immediate heart eyes.
"Sorry... I didn't mean to be so forceful..." Kenma muttered once he realized the position you two were in. No one has to know but your heart breaks when Kenma gets off and sat back down on the couch.
On the same note, I think that when Kenma realizes just how much stronger he is than you he starts to ease up a little when you guys play wrestle. He'll let you win and he'll let you flip and toss him around because you're way happier than way.
hi!!!! I LOVE YOUR BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS THEYRE ALL SO GOOD!! can i request a kenma one? thank you!!!
Kenma Kozume ✧ bf headcanons
⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆
fluff, crack, nsfw, dating headcanons, him being down bad for you
A/N: Sorry this took long…hope it hits you the same way 💌
Pre-Dating ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
• Tests the waters by sharing things he doesn’t share with anyone: unfinished thoughts, half-formed opinions, late-night rants about games…he will yap and yap around you.
• Notices EVERYTHING. Remembers what snacks you reach for, which hoodie you like on him, the exact way you like your coffee…you name it.
• Confession is quiet and blunt. No theatrics. Just: “I like you. I’ve liked you for a while.” Then he waits.
Dating - SFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
• You guys will be a peak parallel-play couple. You doing your thing, him doing his, bodies touching anyway. If you’re busy while he is free, he will try to snuggle you so he can be touching you at all times.
• Gaming dates where he pretends not to care but absolutely sweats if he loses to you. He will also try to act cocky, saying stuff like “You won because I didn’t want to crush you”. Will definitely plan the whole date.
• Physical affection is subtle but constant: knee pressed to yours, fingers hooked in your belt loop, hand on your lower back guiding you through crowds. Absolutely DESPISES it when his team makes “awww” sounds when they see him being affectionate in public. Not big on PDA, but he’ll pull you close without thinking.
• Learns your routines and builds himself into them. Shows up when you’re tired. Stays when you’re overwhelmed. Offers distractions.
• Dry humor and inside yokes only YOU get. The kind that makes you laugh in public while everyone else is confused, staring at you.
• If he says he’ll be there, he’s there. No excuses. No drama. Just reliability.
• Extremely domestic without trying. Groceries together, sitting on the kitchen counter while he cooks, you leaning against him while he waits for water to boil. All the cute couple stuff you see on tiktok? Yeah that is you guys.
• Comfort is his love language. He’ll quietly swap seats so you’re closer to an outlet, hand you his hoodie before you realize you’re cold, lower the volume because he knows it’s too loud for you. He shows his love with his actions.
• Texting style is minimal but intentional. No spam, no chaos, just perfectly timed messages that make you feel like you’re a part of him.
• Sleeps better with you there. Snores, twitches, feels so safe around you. Will never admit it though.
• Likes routines with you. Same café, same walking route, same couch spot. You become part of his internal map of safety. You’ll be his happy place.
• Rarely jealous, but when he is, it’s subtle. Hand on your waist. Fingers laced with yours. A look that says mine without saying anything at all.
• Makes time for you even when his social battery is dead. Cancels plans with others, never with you. He likes being “alone” with you.
• Laughs more around you. Softer voice, looser shoulders. You bring him out of his head.
Dating - NSFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
• Prefers slow, close positions. Likes wrapping you in his arms, breath warm at your neck while he murmurs low praise you barely catch. Favorite position is definitely cowgirl, or anything where you’re on his lap. He likes it when you’re grinding on him to make yourself feel good. He loves it more to see you enjoying yourself.
• Takes his time. Never rushes. Knows exactly how to drag things out until you’re restless and frustrated, and enjoys watching it happen.
• Not loud at first. His reactions are quiet but intense, sharp exhales, low curses under his breath, whispering your name. But once he is comfortable, he will make sure you know how good you make him feel. He will whimper, groan, moan…he will be loud as fuck.
• Dirty talk is minimal but devastating. Short phrases, said close, calm, like he already knows how you’ll react.
• Likes control without force. His hands on your hips, fingers tightening just enough. A soft “keep going” while he moves your hips faster.
• If you tease him, he doesn’t snap. He just slows everything down until you’re the one begging him to move faster.
• Loves being told what to do. Soft “yeah?” energy, checking your face for approval before moving again.
• Big on eye contact in close moments. Watches your face, tracks every reaction, adjusts instantly. He LOVES cumming inside you while maintaining eye contact. He also likes it since he doesn’t make a big mess when he cums inside.
• Big on following your lead. Mirrors your pace, your tone, your mood—like syncing to your rhythm on instinct.
• Responds fast to encouragement. A single word from you and he’s suddenly very focused, very eager.
• He will BEG you to eat your pussy, will BEG you to sit on his face. I know this guy doesn’t fuck you till you squirt from him just eating it. Will not stop till you’re physically pulling his hair and face away from your pussy lmfao. He is also a messy eater for sure.
• After, he’s gentle. Pulls you in, keeps you close, thumb tracing absent patterns like he’s grounding you again.
• Makes sure you’re okay without making it awkward. Water, blanket, arms around you like you’re not going anywhere.
BONUS ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
• Soft-spoken “yes” guy. Just immediate compliance when you tell him what you want. He finds it SO HOT.
• I know he LOVES it when you give him head or jerk him off when he is playing games. Will never admit it, but he will find subtle ways to ask for it.
OH MY GOD I JUST FOUND IT omg im so sorry i sent that long ass massage and I already found it this is unbelievable but thank you anyways i hope you see this massage first so you dont waste ur time w the other one (also the creators user was actually yunwangja i have no idea where did i get the S from AND the series was about akaashi and not sugawara wow)
(domestic fluff | streamer dad kenma | toddler chaos)
│ your son’s first word wasn’t supposed to be that — but kenma started it.
──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────
you’re sitting on the living room carpet with your toddler in your lap, stacking uneven blocks while kenma streams just a few feet away. he angled the camera so only his upper body is visible, headphones on, mic crisp, posture slouched in that familiar “i’m trying but also tired” way.
your son is babbling happily, playing with your fingers, occasionally glancing over to watch the bright flashes on kenma’s monitor.
it’s peaceful.
really peaceful.
the kind of domestic quiet you always imagined kenma would thrive in.
until the match gets intense.
kenma’s voice changes — focused, clipped, competitive.
you’re used to this version of him.
chat is spamming:
“KENMA SWEAT MODE???”
“CRACKED TODAY WTF”
“BABY IN THE BACKGROUND I CAN HEAR HIM 🥺”
“HI LITTLE KODZUKEN JR 🍼💛”
and then kenma wins.
barely.
dramatically.
which is how it happens.
in the heat of victory, he slams his hand on the desk and mutters—
loud enough for the mic to pick up,
clear enough for the universe to hear:
“holy shit.”
you freeze.
the baby freezes.
kenma freezes.
chat does not freeze.
“KENMA 😭😭😭😭😭”
“THE BABY HEARD THAT”
“OH NOOOOOO”
“CLIP IT CLIP IT CLIP IT”
“Y/N IS GONNA KILL YOU”
and then, like slow-motion death itself, your toddler turns his little head toward his father…
smiles…
and says proudly:
“shi’!”
kenma’s soul leaves his body.
you stare at your child, mouth hanging open.
he giggles like he just unlocked a new superpower.
kenma slowly, slowly swivels his chair to face you.
his eyes are wide.
his expression horrified.
his entire posture screams: i fucked up.
“...did he just…?” kenma whispers.
your toddler, delighted with his new vocabulary, repeats louder:
“SHI’! SHI’! SHI’!”
chat is losing their minds.
“YOUR KID’S FIRST WORD IS SHIT IM CRYING”
“KENMA YOU’RE DONE”
“Y/N TURN AROUND AND GET HIM”
“HE DESERVES WHATEVER IS COMING”
you take a deep breath, set your child gently on the floor, stand up…
and point at kenma.
slow.
menacing.
the “we talked about this four hundred times” mom-finger.
kenma flinches like you aimed a weapon at him.
“i—I can explain,” he tries, voice cracking embarrassingly.
you raise an eyebrow.
he swallows.
turns back to the camera in defeat.
“uh… chat,” he mutters, “i’m gonna log off.”
“NOOOO”
“FACE YOUR FATE KING”
“TAKE IT LIKE A MAN”
“Y/N PLEASE BE MERCIFUL”
“i’m not ending stream because i’m scared,” he adds quickly.
you take one step closer.
he immediately corrects:
“—i am scared.”
your son toddles after you, chanting happily in the background:
“shi’! shi’! shi’!”
kenma winces like every syllable hits him physically.
“okay,” he sighs, shoulders slumping in total resignation. “these will be my last words for today.”
chat spams:
“FINAL WORDS 😭💀”
“TELL YOUR SON YOU LOVE HIM”
“SAVE HIM FROM HIS MOTHER”
“RUN”
kenma gives the camera one last, pitiful look.
“chat… send help.”
you cross your arms.
kenma squeaks — actually squeaks — and slams the stream offline.
silence fills the room.
your toddler toddles up to him, grabs his pant leg, looks up with big bright eyes, and proudly announces:
“shi’!”
kenma covers his face with both hands. “i’m going to parenting jail.”
you kneel beside your son, ruffle his hair, and whisper gently:
“sweetheart… maybe we say ‘shoot’ instead?”
he beams. “shoo’!”
kenma peeks between his fingers. “oh thank god.”
you shoot him a look.
“you,” you say, poking his chest, “are banned from swearing for the next… forever.”
tags: fluff, one shot, you POV, house-neutral reader, jealousy, protective
word count: 5.3k
Warnings: MAJOR HEADCANNON, the books and the potions are all in my head just for the sake of this story, characters are in their 7th year, I finally caved and wrote the cliche protective and jealous seb and i fucking love it
Summary: When a potion meant to repel backfired, it became a mishap that turned your world upside down.
Notes: I was craving some fluff, so a fluff was created ❤️
Revulsaroma is a powerful potion that demands careful handling and discretion. Designed for specific situations where deterring unwanted advances or repelling individuals is necessary, its potency requires utmost caution.
Ingredients:
• 3 drops of essence of skunk cabbage
• 2 crushed doxy wings
• 1 teaspoon of powdered Boomslang skin
• 4 ounces of extract from a Devil's Snare vine
• 1 pinch of powdered Basilisk fang
• Hair from the person brewing the potion
You carefully traced your finger along the intricate words laid out in the book you had kept from your parents’ dusty collection on potion making and meticulously followed the instructions. Taking advantage of the quiet after hours, you used the station at potion class to get on with your mission.
You’re not a pro in potion making per se, but the way you precisely measure out ingredients, stirring the potion with such poise, you feel as skilled as Professor Sharp– if he was plagued with a horrible disease of a red-haired boy goes by the name of Leander Prewett.
For weeks, Leander had been following you around so relentlessly and constantly asking you out. It was cute at first but now it was starting to feel like pure harassment. Despite numerous rejection, it didn't seem like he’s the type of guy who understood the concept of boundaries and your patience was wearing extremely thin.
You remembered an old potion you once came across when you were younger– Revulsaroma, a repelling potion. You figured it was time to revisit those pages since you’re in a dire need for a solution.
You stirred the components inside of your cauldron with a pinch of determination, distress, and a lot of rage. The earthy and putrid notes filled the air and it was probably going to stick with you for a while but you surely hoped this was going to be worth it.
When the potion finally came to completion, you carefully transferred it to a pumpkin juice bottle to trick Leander into drinking it.
“Alright, that looks good.” You sighed in relief as you put the bottle down and stared at the securely stored dark liquid with pride, knowing that soon you’d be able to take a break from the unwanted attention. At least for a while just until you could figure out a permanent way to stop him,
You proceeded to clean up your station and returned some tools that you took from the inventory room, making sure that everything was back in its rightful spot. Because Merlin knew that you couldn’t take another chide from Professor Sharp about the importance of being responsible and organised.
Just when everything was about to be restored to its pristine state, you heard a loud retching coming from the other room. When you rushed outside, you saw your bestfriend, hands desperately grasping the edge of your station, body racked with violent gagging, and breath ragged in a grave attempt to gasp for air.
“Sebastian?” You exclaimed while rushing to his side, “Are you alright?”
“Came to—bleughh—look for you,” Sebastian managed to say in between his guttural heaves.
“What’s wrong?” Your voice trailed off when you saw your pumpkin juice bottle collapsed and empty. Right at that moment, your eyes widened at the realisation that Sebastian just drank your Revulsaroma. “No, no, no. You bloody, bloody idiot!”
Quickly, you summoned water from an empty jar that you found nearby and gave it to Sebastian who was still fighting the disgusting taste stuck in his throat.
Gulping down the entire water in a matter of milliseconds, Sebastian attempted to catch his breath, “Your pumpkin juice— is expired, by the way.”
“Oh my God, oh my God, Sebastian!” You ran your fingers through your hair in distress. What was already a pretty stressful situation just got a whole lot worse.
“What?” He was truly not getting your frustration. He gagged once more, recoiling whatever last bit of that disgusting liquid he's tasting.
“That’s not pumpkin juice!” You scowled and gestured abruptly.
“What is it, then? Poison?” Every muscle on his face seemed to tensed up, still.
“Why would you fucking drink that? It was meant for Leander.” You grunted.
His grimace was then taken over by disbelief for a moment, “Gods, killing Leander is a bit extreme, don’t you think? Even for me.”
“No—ugh,” You sighed heavily, feeling totally overwhelmed. Slumping on your station, you rested your head on it "This is bad. It's really bad."
“You're freaking me out. What is it?”
You lifted your head from the table, meeting his concerned gaze with a weary expression.
“It’s a potion called Revulsaroma. It is supposed to repel whoever drinks it.” You admitted.
Sebastian was still focused on getting the foul taste out of his tongue, but his eyes were quickly narrowed in the scrutiny of your last sentence, “And why exactly are you trying to repel Leander?”
Catching Sebastian's look, a twinge of guilt pricked at you. You winced inwardly, realising you'd never really spilled the beans to Sebastian about the whole Leander debacle. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the wrong idea and thinking that there was anything romantic going on between you and the Gryffindor boy.
The line on your relationship with Sebastian had always been blurry, if you could be honest. You’re obviously friends—best friends—but at the same time, the chemistry between the two of you would be such a waste to stay as friends.
You’d occasionally exchange innocent flirting, teasing each other and bantering in a way that felt more than platonic. You couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach that fluttered every time he smiled at you and the way you felt when he complimented you.
Things had been going very well lately, and you'd like to think you had a shot to turn it into something more.
But now, he’s consumed the one thing that was going to seal the chance you have with him. Because whatever feeling he was going to feel, the potion was supposed to make him feel it so strongly.
The thought of losing Sebastian terrified you.
“That’s not what we’re supposed to be focusing on.” You diverted the topic and reached out to your book, checking for things to look out for. Your eyes trailed the ink that explains the detail of the potion.
You noticed Sebastian had shifted his weight from the corner of your eye, moving somewhat uncomfortable in his feet.
"But what does that mean for me?" he asked.
You sighed, trying to collect your thoughts. "According to the potion's effects, you're supposed to start feeling aversions towards me," you explained, gesturing towards the brewing cauldron with a frustrated gesture. "and I have no idea how to reverse it.”
Your voice was heavy with disappointment. The same emotion was written all over Sebastian's face. There was silence as you both processed the fact that there was no quick fix to this mess.
“So, I’m supposed to hate you? Just like that?”
“That’s kind of the whole point of the potion.”
Sebastian's eyes scanned the cluttered laboratory, a look of resignation settling over his features. "Well, this is just great," he muttered under his breath. Sebastian's complexion turned paler, a nauseous expression crossing his features, "I think I'm gonna be sick."
Sebastian stood there, his hand pressed against his stomach, unsure if the wave of nausea washing over him was solely due to the potion's effects or the unsettling thought of hating you.
But then he felt his body teetering on the brink of collapse. You grappled his arm to provide support but his condition worsened in an instant and he started to fall backwards. Using every ounce of your strength, you were struggling to keep him upright because damn this boy was heavy. And when his weight eventually bore you down, you lowered him down gently.
There was no response even after you called out his name and shook his body. His breathing was laboured and you were panicking. You didn’t know the potion would be this strong.
Spotting a group of students who were passing by outside of the classroom, you called out to them for assistance. Sebastian was then taken to the infirmary and was given proper treatment by Nurse Blainey.
You had to awkwardly explain what caused the brunette to lose his consciousness. Given the fact that you were practising and using potions for non-study purposes, disciplinary action was necessary and you were required to attend detention tomorrow.
When you returned to your room that night, all you did was shift around in your bed. Spending the entire night thinking about Sebastian and how he will wake up in the morning hating you.
But for now, all you could do was wait.
-
When the sun rose, you were quick to get back on your feet and head towards the infirmary to check on Sebastian before breakfast started. But to your surprise, he was no longer there. Nurse Blainey said he woke up all energetic and there were no signs of any disturbance so she allowed him to get on with school.
You were slightly relieved to know that Sebastian was feeling better. Although the question of his feelings towards you remained unknown.
So you ventured on, heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. Moving along with a crowd of students who were also making their way to the venue you suddenly bumped into someone.
“Oh, sorry.” You glanced up to see it was no other than Sebastian, “Hey, I was looking for you.”
You’ve caused some traffic considering you abruptly stopped in the middle of a walkaway crowd. Some were bumping into you and muttered under their breaths in annoyance. It was a horrible time to be upsetting people—hungry and grumpy people.
So Sebastian dragged you away from the crowd. You were caught a little bit off guard at the sudden tug on your elbow. Your feet were almost stumbling around trying to catch up to Sebastian’s pace.
“Are you insane?” Was the first thing he said when you found a quiet little corner away from the bustling people.
Your stomach clenched.
This was it.
The memories you shared for the past two years dramatically flashed before your eyes— the adventures, the late night studies, the stupid unfunny jokes he made but you laughed at them anyway— fuck.
This was it.. he hated you.
“Why would you tell Nurse Blainey the truth about everything?” He sounded quite aggravated. Unexpectedly, it was not for the reason you thought it would be— albeit he should be angry towards you for no reason at all considering the potion.
Your mouth gaped open but you were struggling to find the words.
"You could've just said it was a bad batch for our assignment," He explained. "You didn't have to get detention for it."
“What?” You finally managed to sputter out.
“Blainey said she gave you detention.” He added, “I feel bad.”
You can’t feel bad for someone you hate unless they fall into lava and viciously die or something. Because to feel bad meant having empathy, and to feel empathy meant he cared, which meant he didn’t hate you and the potion never worked.
Right?
“So you don’t hate me?” You asked carefully.
His tensed brows gradually softened as realisation dawned on him. He was so focused on you that he never really thought of what the potion was supposed to make him feel.
“I don’t, actually.” He sounded relieved and as were you upon hearing his confirmation, “I guess the potion never worked after all.”
Relief washed over you like a cool breeze on a hot day. Though you started wondering if the potion didn’t work on Sebastian, it might’ve not worked on Leander either. Which meant you were back to square one, trying to figure out how to deal with his annoying arse.
But it was a problem you didn’t want to think about too much at the moment. You were just glad your friendship with Sebastian remained intact despite the unfortunate mishap.
“So what did Blainey assign you to do?”
“She said Scribner has been fussing over some organising issues.” You grumbled, “She told me to give her some assistance after classes.”
“Yikes.” Sebastian said, “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” You retorted, “Are you really feeling alright?”
“As normal as I can be.” He smiled reassuringly, “Though, you still haven’t told me why you were trying to repel Leander.”
“He just..” You hesitated for a moment, annoys me.”
Technically, you didn’t lie. Leander’s entire antics had been nothing but annoying to you. Sebastian only pursed his lips and nodded. Be that as it may, his eyes were looking at you rather dubiously. But he didn’t pry further.
–
After breakfast, you had some time to kill before class started. You found yourself seeking solace in the quiet lounge area near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. With a book on Revulsaroma in hand, you sought answers in its pages that you might have missed. It explained further about its history and the past research on this potion. As you delved deeper, a particular section caught your eye that described a crucial detail—
The Revulsaroma potion's effectiveness in repelling a drinker is contingent upon the absence of strong positive emotions towards the potion-maker. If the drinker harbours genuine affection for the potion-maker, the potion's repelling properties may be nullified or significantly weakened. This phenomenon is attributed to the potent influence of positive emotions, which can act as a counterforce against the potion's intended repulsion.
Before you could dwell on it further, Leander plopped beside you out of nowhere and casually draped his arm around your shoulder, interrupting your thoughts.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He greeted you with a smile so charming if he wasn’t so pushy about it you could see yourself giving in to his cheesy escapades. You subtly shifted away from the sudden proximity, hoping he would take the hint some time.
“Good morning, Leander.” You replied politely.
He seemed to be undeterred by your subtle attempt because he leaned in closer, “So, I was thinking, with the weather getting nicer and all, let’s take a trip around the highlands.” He sounded so enthusiastic for a suggestion that’s so inappropriate, “We could explore the beautiful scenery. My family has this cosy little cottage just outside of Keenbridge that we can use. What do you think?”
You scrunched up your nose because it sounded bloody ridiculous, “A bit intimate, don’t you think?”
“What’s wrong with a little bit of intimacy?”
“Nothing wrong with it, of course. If you’re a couple.”
“Oh, come on. You’ll love it.” Leander’s enthusiasm didn’t waver, if anything he sounded even more excited.
“It’s too much—”
He interrupted you with a tone so persuasive, “Okay fine, how about just a simple Hogsmeade date, then?”
You sighed at his persistence. It’s really getting too much.
“Leander, it’s really sweet but—”
Suddenly, your conversation was interrupted by a looming shadow casted over the both of you. Glancing up, you saw Sebastian standing there with an uncharacteristically serious expression.
“I’m going to count to three, Prewett, and you are going to stand up and get your arse the fuck out of here.” He demanded.
“What are you going to do about it if I don’t?” He was annoyed by Sebastian's sudden intervention.
The brunette’s gaze was focused on the way Leander had his arms wrapped around your shoulder and the way his hand was caressing your arm at the same time. Then he stared dead into Leander's eyes, “You don’t want to find out.”
Somehow you found yourself caught in the middle of the sudden hostility.
“Sebastian.” You warned him softly.
“Ignore him.” Leander didn't care for the threat. But Sebastian wasn’t having it and when Leander was ready to ignore him and continue his conversation with you, Sebastian grabbed him by his collar that it forced Leander to stand up, and he dragged the red haired boy away and slammed his back into a nearby pillar.
“I told you to fucking stand up and get out of here.” Sebastian scowled.
“Get your filthy hands off of me.” Leander attempted to shrug off Sebastian’s grip but it only grew tighter.
“Then you better get yours away from her.” His voice was so low and menacing. You had no idea what possessed him, because as aggressive as Sebastian could get he wouldn’t be so quick to resort to anything so recklessly physical unless it’s necessary— at least not anymore.
“Are you both out of your minds?” You stood beside the conflicting boys, “Stop being children or you will get into trouble.” The confrontation was drawing more attention from onlookers, and you could sense the tension rising.
A crowd started gathering around to see what the fuss was about. Students nearby paused and turned their heads, curious about the commotion. Whispers and side conversations began to buzz through the group as they watched the confrontation unfold.
You felt a bit awkward with the sudden attention. The whole thing was getting more dramatic than you'd anticipated, and you just wanted to find a way to sort it out before it got worse.
“What is your problem, Sallow?”
“You are the problem, Prewett. Can’t you take the hint?”
“It’s none of your business.” The Gryffindor boy was defensive— as anyone would be if someone just randomly shoved you into the wall and told you what to do.
“It becomes my business when you decide to harass her.”
“You are making a scene. Stop it.” You warned them, hoping they would steer away from the conflict. But they were still too busy with each other.
“Trying to be a big hero, aren’t you? Protecting her?” Leander was clearly taunting him. Sebastian wouldn’t usually allow himself to be bothered by whatever nonsense Leander would do. But this time was different, “She doesn’t need you. She can make her own decision.”
“And she did, when she said no.” Sebastian retorted sharply, “So back off.”
“If you are so worried about me taking her out then you should’ve asked her first. Don’t come here and act all heroic because you missed your chance.” Leander fired back, “If you weren’t such a coward—-”
There went the last cell of Sebastian’s brain that allowed him to think rationally when he decided to punch Leander in the face, sending the red-haired boy stumbling and his nose bleeding.
“Sebastian!” You stepped in between them, trying to push Sebastian back behind the line he just crossed. His eyes were glaring and breaths were rather ragged from the anger, “What the fuck are you doing?”
After being punched unexpectedly, Leander's pride and dignity were hurt. He wouldn't tolerate being attacked without retaliating. He mustered all of his anger and frustration to punch Sebastian with all of his force.
But before he could, Sebastian struck again, landing a second punch on his face. Leander stumbled backwards again, but this time he was quicker to get back on his feet and lunged forward, swinging his fists wildly.
Sebastian was able to dodge a few of his blows, but Leander managed to land a couple of powerful punches on Sebastian's cheek.
Sebastian stepped back, his face red from pain and anger. Now the two of them had no choice but to fight, and you had no choice but to look for some help. Luckily, it wasn’t long for you to reach Professor Hecat, because when you returned to the brawl, Leander was already pinned to the floor with Sebastian on top of him, landing more punches.
Professor Hecat swiftly casted a spell that immediately shoved both of them away from each other.
The two boys stood there with battered faces and were later sent to the same detention as you.
You had no desire in conversing with idiots, so when the three of you shared the space on one of the library aisle, organising books, you gave all your might to ignore them, especially Sebastian.
You thought he’d left his impetuous behaviour back in the catacombs two years ago, but clearly you were wrong. The way you aggressively shoved books into places allowed Sebastian to notice that you were furious.
“I know you’re angry at me.” He said, breaking the silence.
“Oh really? Didn’t think you’d notice. I was being subtle.” You replied sarcastically.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what had gotten into me.” His voice was soft but outright, “You know I don't fight muggle-style.”
You remained cold. There was nothing about his apology that made you feel better. So you continued to ignore him and he tried to speak up again.
“Can we talk?” He pleaded but you ignored him. You picked up a stack of books and moved to the next aisle to shelve them in their proper places.
Sebastian followed you behind, not backing down, “I’m really, really, sorry.”
He seemed genuinely apologetic, but you were reluctant to give in. After all, his actions had caused this entire mess and resulted in the two boys getting detention.
You didn’t want to argue with him, but you couldn’t resist making a point.
“Tell that to Leander and his broken nose.”
Sebastian let out a scoff, “I’m not sorry about that.”
“Seriously Sebastian? You hit him first. He just reacted.” You turned to face him this time.
"He was harassing you," Sebastian defended himself, "I had to do something."
"Did you have to punch him in the face? Repeatedly?”
“Why are you defending him?” His tone was rising, "What do you expect me to do? Just stand by and let him flirt with you?"
“What is so wrong with that?”
“Because—” Then he stopped himself. Eyes flustered and flicked between yours like he was trying to gather his own thoughts. Then he let out a frustrated sigh, “Leander is a self-oriented, self-indulgent, arrogant, selfish, insufferable jerk.”
You shook your head in disbelief and stared dead at him in the eye, “Well, right now it sounds like you were just describing yourself, Sebastian.”
Before you could say anything else, you left him alone in the aisle and this time he didn’t follow you.
—
It was Saturday morning, and while you had no classes to attend, you were still stuck with detention for a portion of the day. Not only did this eat into your weekend leisure time, but you also had to spend it without talking to Sebastian.
You sighed as you placed books somewhere in the corner of the library right where they belonged.
Couldn’t help but think that spending your weekend somewhere in the castle, perhaps the undercroft, reading books and being alone together with Sebastian was where you belonged.
Time sure felt lonely without his presence.
Then as if he could read your mind from miles away he showed up, “Do you like Leander?”
Shocked and confused by the sudden question you turned to find Sebastian standing at the end of the aisle.
His face was a patchwork of bruises and cuts, a visible reminder of the fight he had gotten into with Leander. A purplish bruise marred his cheek, and a small cut above his eyebrow was still fresh. Despite his battered appearance, his eyes were focused intently on you, filled with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.
“What?” You asked.
“I spent the entire night thinking about you. I thought maybe you like Leander, because why did you defend him so much yesterday?” He rambled.
You opened your mouth to say something but Sebastian wasn’t finished.
“But then I thought, if you liked him, why did you want to repel him with the potion?” He continued, “And why did you reject him when he asked you out? Five times, over the past month.”
You opened your mouth again, but this time every single word you have learned seemed to have fallen over your head because not a single thing came to your mind.
There were two things that surprised you.
One, Sebastian spent the entire night thinking about you.
Two, Sebastian knew that Leander had been asking you out.
And your brain did not know which one to stress about first.
“You knew about Leander?” You finally said.
“We share every class everyday. You don’t think I’d notice?” He replied with another question, “He wasn’t subtle about it either. Was I not supposed to know?”
You fell quiet, unsure of what to say next. The more you opened your mouth, the more you found yourself with nothing to say.
Sebastian waited for your response, but when it did not come, he continued, “Why did you keep rejecting him?”
You shrugged, slightly flustered, “Simply because I don’t want to go out with him.”
“Why did you not tell me about him, then?”
“It wasn’t worth mentioning,” you replied, avoiding his gaze.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Sebastian stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe your answer.
“It was pointless,” Your tone was rising slightly, “It’s not like I would ever date Leander. I wasn’t even giving him a second thought. So It doesn’t matter.”
Sebastian was silent for a beat before he spoke again. “It matters to me.”
Your pulse raced, and the air suddenly felt tighter.
Sebastian was staring at you, his eyes intent and penetrating. The silence stretched on, and you had to force yourself to look him in the eye
“Everything about you matters to me. You’re my best friend. We’re supposed to share everything, right?” He added, “Isn’t that what best friends do?”
As you stood there, guilt was eating you inside out. Your decision to leave him in the dark unexpectedly hurt him more than you thought. The look in his eyes was so unfamiliar you couldn’t pinpoint his emotion.
He took a step closer.
“Why do you care so much? It’s just Leander.”
“Don’t you get it?” He said softly, “It’s not about Leander. It’s about the fact that he’s been asking you out, flirting with you relentlessly, being so close with you.. in a way that is supposed to be only for me.”
You stood there, stunned. His words hit you like a bolt of lightning, and you felt a mix of shock and confusion wash over you.
Sebastian took another step towards you, his gaze steady and unbreaking, and it was piercing through your soul.
“It’s supposed to be just for me” He repeated the phrase as if he was talking to himself. The look in his eyes was intense, and you could feel how important this was to him.
A moment passed until you realised that you should respond. The longer you stayed silent, the worse it felt. So you spoke up, “Are you jealous?”
“Yes.” He simply replied.
His response set your body ablaze. You could feel your heart pounding in your throat.
“I was supposed to hate you, but instead I woke up that morning in the infirmary and I couldn’t be more sure that I am utterly and completely in love with you.” His voice dropped, “And when I saw you with Leander and hearing all the things that he said, I meant it when I told you I had no idea what had gotten into me but all I knew was every single cell in my body was on fire.”
You thought for sure your heart would explode as all of this sunk in. You had expected anything but a confession. Your heart was beating so fast and hard that you had to concentrate on breathing, or else it felt like you couldn't breathe.
“I spent the entire night thinking about all of the time we've spent.” He added, “I can't stop thinking about the sound of your laughter. The way you'd still genuinely laugh at the most unfunny joke I would tell. Or how your usual bright eyes would fall into a deep immersion when you read. And the way your delicate finger hovers over the edge of a page, turning it over.”
A smile tugged on the corner of Sebastian's lips as he recalled every little detail about you that only he would care about. The beat of your heart went faster with each syllable that came out of his mouth and every nerve in your body was shaking.
“I always wonder how the touch of those fingertips would feel on my skin,” There were so many things he wanted to say to you. Every detail of you that made him so desperately in love, “and how perfect your fingers would be intertwining with mine.”
For a moment, you were one-hundred percent sure this was all a dream. Because everything around you seemed so blurry and all of the sudden everything felt surreal. But when Sebastian took another step closer, and another until he was close enough to grab your hands and intertwine your fingers together, the haze dissipated. The way his touch alerted every single nerve in your body, you knew that this was real— he was real and he was in love with you.
The two of you stood there, inches apart, staring at each other with your emotions overflowing.
“We belong together.” You could see that his intensity and raw emotion was getting the better of him. His words were coming out quick and sudden, “I should’ve asked you out long before Leander did. Just another stupid mistake I made.”
He inched closer and closer until you felt Sebastian's breath on your lips, and your body trembled in anticipation. You took a deep breath and let yourself fall into the moment.
“You could’ve been too late, you know?” You whispered.
“Am I?”
You shook your head and smiled against his lips, “No, you’re not. I’ve been stupidly waiting for you.”
Sebastian's voice was soft and tender as he spoke again, “I’m glad we’re both stupid enough, then. And for many other things that make me glad you're finally mine."
“Even the potion?” You smirked.
“Especially the damn potion.” A smile spread across Sebastian's face.
Your breaths were laced with desire, and your thoughts went to the first kiss between the two of you were going to share. It felt surreal to have arrived at this moment that you had both anticipated for so long.
Your lips were close enough to touch. Your hearts were beating so loudly. And in this moment, it felt like a moment out of time.
When his lips met yours, the world seemed to melt away and everything else faded into the background. It was everything it had built up to be—hot and passionate and exciting.
You kissed him deeply and all was right with the world. Sebastian's hands wrapped around your back, and yours around his neck.
Your senses were all focused on Sebastian, on the kiss and the way he made you feel. This was what you had been waiting for, and it was everything you dreamed of and more.
When you pulled away, your eyes were locked and you found yourselves smiling uncontrollably. There was nothing left to feel awkward or unsure of, and it felt as if a weight had been lifted.
Sebastian brushed his fingers through your hair. You were finally getting your happiness.
"I love you," He whispered against your lips.
“I love you, too.” you replied softly, brushing your noses together.
You spent the rest of the day making out in the deepest corner of the library, neglecting your detention. And when Madam Scribner found the two of you some time later, all dishevelled, you were granted another detention time.
But neither of you cared. Because it was all worth it.
In an extremely rare case, the Revulsaroma potion could have an unprecedented effect, completely opposite to its intended repelling nature. Rather than nullifying or weakening, the potion might paradoxically amplify and reinforce any existing strong positive feelings that the drinker harboured towards the potion-maker.
Due to genuine and deep-seated love for the maker, the drinker might experience a surge of intense emotions that can be both overwhelming and consuming, such as, jealousy, protectiveness, and overwhelming affection.
can you write one where f!MC is being pursued by an annoying guy she doesn’t like who won’t take no for an answer. it annoys sebastian just as much as it annoys her, so next time it happens he pretends to be her boyfriend and suggests they start fake dating for good measure. eventually they make it for real.
thank you! i love the fake relationship trope sooo much and i’ve yet to see anyone write one with sebastian.
of course, lovely anon!! i haven't seen any fake relationship fic either so i'm happy to contribute a lil something! tbh i sincerely thought this would be a short ficlet but it ended up being just over 2.5k fluffy words of dummies in love 🤩
Title: rumor has it
Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC
Summary: Eric Northcott is relentlessly pursuing you, so Sebastian offers to act as your heroic boyfriend to get him off your back.
"Northcott," Sebastian greets him, leaning against your potions station and resting a hand possessively on the small of your back. "Is there something my girlfriend can help you with?"
"Your girlfriend?" Eric asks skeptically. "That's new."
"I suppose it is," Sebastian agrees, nonplussed. "Been a long time coming, though."
Across the room, Ominis laughs under his breath.
Sebastian Sallow is an excellent young wizard. Clever, well-read, focused – by all accounts, he should be a brilliant strategist.
But sometimes he comes up with the worst ideas you’ve ever heard.
“You musn’t be serious, Sebastian,” you laugh, closing your potions textbook to appreciate the actual madness of what he’d just suggested.
“Why not?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
You roll your eyes as you tell him, “You can’t just pretend to be my boyfriend.”
Earlier that afternoon, the two of you had met up with Ominis in the Undercroft to study after staging a quick exit from the library. While Sebastian was hunting down a book on ancient runes, Eric Northcott had cornered you in the stacks and tried for the second time to convince you to have a Butterbeer with him at the Three Broomsticks instead of “hiding that gorgeous face behind those dusty books like you always do.”
When Sebastian had returned, you were shoving the Gryffindor boy away from you with a tense look on your face, and if he hadn’t just finished a stint of evening detentions for slipping a Puffskein into Duncan Hobhouse’s schoolbag, he would have hexed the amorous git himself.
Since then, he’d been suggesting ways to make him pay, with each idea more fantastical than the last.
“Sure I can, and we can even make a real show of it,” he says with a charming grin. “If you want to get Northcott off your back for good, let’s allow him to think your handsome, roguish boyfriend is the type who would challenge him to a duel if he tries anything untoward.”
“That is a terrible plan,” you deadpan.
“It’s actually not a bad idea,” Ominis chimes in.
You glare at him, because Ominis never thinks that Sebastian’s ideas are any good – even the ones that aren’t completely bonkers.
“What are you playing at, Gaunt?” you accuse him.
“I’m merely suggesting that Northcott may actually accept your contempt for him if it’s for a reason that allows him to save face,” he explains with a secretive smile. “Simply telling him that you’re not interested hasn’t seemed to work thus far, so why not be creative?”
“Creative?” you snort. “Wouldn’t ‘creative’ be blasting him myself the next time he lays a hand on me?”
“As if you need any worse of a reputation,” Ominis drawls, and he has a point.
“Come on, let’s really mess with him,” Sebastian pleads. “You know he deserves to be taken down a peg or two.”
You’re not surprised that Sebastian is able to get you on board so quickly. Truthfully, you think you’d follow him on his harebrained schemes just about anywhere.
“Fine,” you cautiously agree. “But just to scare him off, alright?”
You swear you can see the gears in Sebastian’s head start to turn immediately.
He kicks off his brilliant plan the next day during your N.E.W.T.-level potions class. You’re supposed to be brewing an antidote to Veritaserum, and while the draught itself isn’t necessarily difficult, some of the ingredients are a little tricky to prepare.
You’re focused on trying to carefully slit open some Sopophorous beans when you felt a presence behind you, and then Eric Northcott is draping his arm across your shoulders.
“Need a hand with those?” he offers, trying to sound congenial.
“I’m fine, Eric,” you insist.
“I’m really quite good at potions, you know,” he reminds you, grabbing one of the paring knives off the table and haphazardly slicing one of the beans you’d laid out. “I’d be happy to give you some hands-on lessons if you’d like, one-on-one of course.”
“Sebastian,” Ominis hisses from across the room, having picked up on the conversation while the other boy poured over his notes on wormwood. “Now might be a good time to offer some gentlemanly assistance.”
His eyes narrow when he spots Northcott leaning over your cauldron, clearly trying to sneak a look down your top.
“Don’t let my antidote burn,” Sebastian mumbles as he storms across the room, as if Ominis would ever spare a thought for Sebastian’s cauldron when the show is about to begin.
You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch him notice your predicament, silently pleading him with your eyes to do something to get you out of it.
“Northcott,” Sebastian greets him, leaning against your potions station and resting a hand possessively on the small of your back. “Is there something my girlfriend can help you with?”
“Your girlfriend?” Eric asks skeptically. “That’s new.”
“I suppose it is,” Sebastian agrees, nonplussed. “Been a long time coming, though.”
Across the room, Ominous laughs under his breath.
“Really?” Eric asks dubiously, briefly glancing at your expression. “I was under the impression that the two of you were just ‘best friends.’”
“Well, shouldn’t a good relationship start out as a friendship?” you counter, though you don’t sound entirely convincing.
“Right,” he says slowly.
“Mate, you know how tough she is,” Sebastian says with a charming grin. “Took me ages to convince her to give me a chance, she strung me right along for months.”
You jump slightly when Sebastian slides his hand across your back to your waist, tugging you closer to his side – and out from under Eric’s arm.
“But she finally took pity on me,” he says with a lovelorn sigh, and you narrow your eyes at his dramatics.
“Oh, Sebastian,” you reply, laughing nervously. “You’re hopeless.”
“Hopelessly in love with you,” he says, quickly leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.
Before you can react, Professor Sharp wanders by and instructs you all to stop your dallying and focus on your draughts. Eric spares one more skeptical look at the two of you before returning to his cauldron.
Sebastian’s hand on your waist lingers for a moment even after he’s gone, but then he lets it fall.
“Sorry about that,” he says under his breath. “Had to sell it, you’re really a bad liar, you know.”
You think Sebastian doesn’t know the half of it.
(Sebastian’s just glad you avoided his gaze long enough to miss his deep red blush.)
—
As it turns out, the kiss wasn’t enough to convince Northcott that you were properly off the market.
The rumor mill quickly focuses on you and Sebastian – specifically whether or not it’s true that your platonic friendship has become something more.
“I don’t really believe it,” Nerida claims whenever the subject comes up. “Sebastian has always seemed like the bachelor type.”
“He could have had a girlfriend all this time and never has,” Violet agrees, trying to hide her bitterness. “I don’t think he really wants to be in a relationship.”
“Are you joking?” Imelda scoffs. “Sallow’s been a lovesick puppy over that girl for years, I’m just glad she finally came around.”
“She is very protective of him,” Grace speculates. “I remember when Samantha Dale asked him out last fall, I thought she was going to Depulso the poor girl clear across the courtyard!”
You do your best to ignore it, but Ominis stubbornly insists on telling you everything he’s heard.
“I would have thought that the two of you would be better at pulling off a ruse as simple as this,” he says, disappointment dripping from his words. “How hard can it be to pretend to like Sebastian? I don’t have to see him to know that the whole school thinks he’s handsome.”
“You don’t understand,” you sigh, walking alongside him on the way to arithmancy. “It’s… I don’t have to pretend, if you know what I mean.”
“Come now,” he says quietly. “I’m blind, not dim.”
“Then you do understand!” you whine. “How am I supposed to just let him pretend to be my boyfriend to ward off Eric and not go mad from knowing that it’s all a lie?”
“I suppose me telling you to be honest with him about how you feel would go in one ear and right out the other,” Ominis suggests, smirking to himself when you curse at him under your breath.
“Buck up, then,” he says simply. “I’m sure this whole thing will blow up in some spectacular way sooner than later – it is Sebastian, after all.”
—
As per usual, Ominis is correct.
Not even a full day goes by before Sebastian corners you outside the Hufflepuff common room and asks to walk you to dinner, taking your hand in his as soon as he notices some fifth-years studiously watching the two of you as you make your way to the Great Hall.
“I missed you this afternoon,” he tells you as he walks you upstairs, putting on a good show. “How come you didn’t want to study with Ominis and me after class?”
“I just needed to lie down for a little while,” you tell him, not wanting to admit to avoiding the way he’s been so unbearably charming lately.
“Feeling alright?” he asks concernedly.
“Yes,” you tell him. “Just… I don’t know. Out of sorts, I guess.”
“Anything I can do to help?” he asks.
You get distracted by the feeling of him stroking his thumb along your wristbone reassuringly.
“Um… n-no, I don’t think so,” you stutter.
“Surely there’s something I can do to help,” he says, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way his eyes look a little darker than usual, as if his pupils have entirely taken over.
“Like what?” you breathe.
Then he gets that look on his face that he always gets when he’s about to do something stupid.
“Come with me,” he says, tugging you over to a spot along the wall in the reception hall, next to one of those empty cabinets you’d looted for Nellie Oggspire back in your fifth year.
“Sebastian, w-what–” you stammer.
He presses you against the wall, one hand pressed to your waist and the other flat against the stone behind you, boxing you in. He glances around again and clearly spots whatever it was he was looking for, grinning mischievously before he leans in and traces his nose across your cheek.
“Don’t hex me for this,” he murmurs against your lips, and then he’s kissing you.
You melt against the cool stone wall, tipping your head back so Sebastian can tilt his head against yours and completely overtake your senses with his demanding kisses. Without consciously deciding to, you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close to you, desperate to ensure he stays right where he is.
He kisses you well, you think. You know he’s always been a huge flirt, and that he has taken some girls in your year on dates to Hogsmeade over the years, but you’ve desperately avoided any post-date conversations with him because you did not want to know what he and those girls had gotten up to afterward.
Now you know, you think bitterly, but just as quickly you realize you don’t actually care. He’s skilled at this – nipping at your bottom lip to get you to open up for him, sliding his hand between your robes and your dress shirt so he can feel the curve of your waist, nudging a knee between your thighs to pin you even further to the wall.
“Bastian,” you murmur, tangling your fingers in his hair.
He groans against your mouth like he can’t help himself, and you whine a touch too loudly when he grinds his hips against yours.
Then you hear Eric’s voice call out, “Sallow!”
Sebastian looks like sin when he pulls away from you, and not just because his hair is a little mussed from your helpless tugging and his lips are red and swollen.
It’s because he’s smirking, and you quickly realize he’d planned this entire thing.
He’d pulled you to a spot where the Gryffindors on their way to dinner could easily see you being ravished, and it’s not just Eric he’s caught up in it – it’s Leander and Cressida too, some of the worst gossips in the entire castle.
…You are absolutely going to hex him for this, you think.
“Northcott,” Sebastian drawls as he turns around. “Can I help you?”
Eric looks furious, but at least he doesn’t look skeptical anymore.
“You might want to consider someplace a bit more private,” he offers, seething. “I am a prefect, after all. Could send you to detention for being so lewd in public.”
“Fair point,” Sebastian says easily. “In fact, maybe you ought to send us both. Hardly anywhere’s as private as the dungeons.”
You quickly smack Sebastian in the chest with the back of your hand, wordlessly begging him to stop before you actually do have to report to detention.
Mercifully, Eric simply throws a few choice words at Sebastian and stomps off to the Great Hall, Leander and Cressida on his heels to undoubtedly tell the entire school what just happened.
“You’re evil,” you hiss, still catching your breath. “You arranged all that just to embarrass Eric? To embarrass me like that?”
He frowns, confused. “No I didn’t, and I would never embarrass you.”
“You did!” you whine, shoving at his shoulders so he’ll step back. “They’re going to tell everyone and it’s going to make me sound like – like some pathetic girl who’s so desperate to avoid Eric’s attention that she’ll let her best friend feel her up in a busy hallway.”
“That’s not what they’ll think,” Sebastian argues. “And if anyone’s pathetic, love, it’s me.”
You scoff and wrap your arms around yourself, ashamed at how badly you wish you were still wrapped up in his arms instead despite everything you’re saying.
“You think I’m lying?” he asks derisively. “I’m a fool for you, and I would never hurt you. I kissed you like that because I wanted to, and if it happened to embarrass Northcott in the process, that’s even better.”
“Y-you wanted to?” you ask softly.
“I’ve wanted to for so long,” he finally admits.
His hands twitch at his sides like he wants to reach out for you, but he forces himself to behave.
“It’s the reason I came up with this stupid plan in the first place,” he sighs. “So that if anyone at this damn school gets to have the pleasure of walking you to class, or taking you to the Three Broomsticks or – or even kissing you senseless somewhere everyone could see, it would be me.”
You don’t have any words. But even if you did, there’s nothing you’d want to say to him that you couldn’t communicate by tugging him in by his collar and kissing him like you can’t think straight without his touch, so you do just that.
When you both break away to breathe, Sebastian quickly asks, “Are you actually hungry?”
“Not anymore,” you admit, your gaze still on his lips.
Sebastian barely manages to utter the words “Undercroft” and “hurry” in between kisses, but while he determinedly works a claiming bruise into the side of your neck, you whine, “Your common room’s closer.”
—
Once Ominis overhears Cressida waxing poetic about Sebastian Sallow practically mounting his new girlfriend in the hallway by the Grand Staircase, he doesn’t wonder why the two of you never show up for dinner.
summary: Sebastian Sallow sneaks into your dormitory and finds a list hidden in your bed, one filled with names of girls who want him. All except yours.
When you find him reading the list, offended and curious, he decides to prove exactly why your name belongs at the top.
warnings: contains nudity, sexual themes and mature content that is not advised for younger viewers. descriptive smut. sebastian being competive and possesive. idiots in love. all characters are aged up!
a/n: you could also find this Ao3 too.
dedicated to @kelseyreads22 for the light peer pressure. and my discord peeps for never failing to support the stupid feral shit we all just agree with all the time lmao. you could join us for laughs and content here's the link too. enjoy xx
“What?”
Sebastian Sallow sat mortified on the edge of your neatly made bed. A crumpled parchment with scribbled writings clenched on his hand, still in a blend of a confused and deafening expression.
He hadn’t planned to be there, in your dormitory. Let alone, holding his find. He’d only planned to enter your common room and ask for something, but when he saw the dormitory door slightly ajar, curiosity took the best of him.
And he knew the parchment was yours. It was your bed. It smelled like you — the faint hints of your scent that had lured him in since your arrival the fifth year.
The stemming scent that kept him up late nights when the wind slept and his mind didn’t.
The thought alone ticked Sebastian, and he brought his senses up, his eyes flickering back on the bloody list.
Yes, a list.
Girls. Every name written like some twisted Quidditch scoreboard.
Some from every house, some he’d recognized, and some that he never expected to see there.
The most quietest ones held the most pride in signing this list.
The Sallow List
Sebastian didn’t need much context behind it. The doodles beside the signatures were enough.
— Cressida Blume, his hair looks really soft
— Gracie, his voice?? His moans are probably so deep.
— C. Greengrass, his lips are so pink. They have to be kissable!!!!
— Lenora, I seen how fast his fingers move when he has a quill…what else could they do?
“Ergh,”
It felt invasive to read, but it was a list about him. Curiosity ran thick in his blood, especially on something about him. Something that was in your property.
A slow, vexed frown began to form on his face after re-reading the scribbles. The thickset of his brows furrowed as he looked for one name in particular. Yours.
You weren’t on it.
It felt too ironic for him to know you held this list in your belongings, yet, no evidence of you was there.
He even flipped it over, then back again, convinced he might’ve possibly missed it, knowing you and your small writing he often made fun of — but you weren’t on the list.
And it bothered Sebastian’s ego.
All these girls wanting to snog him, but the one whose bed he was currently sitting on; the one he’s seeking wasn’t among the names.
How annoying — how pesty of you to orchestrate such a thing like this and not be on it.
“Typical,” Sebastian murmured to himself. You always knew how to wind him up without even fucking trying — always with him, but still out of reach after all these years.
The pulse trip you gave him of endless ventures he’d spend with you. The almost ‘what-if’s’ but too cowardly to admit, so instead, he’d spend his growth cycles just wanking himself with your scent and hoping for the best.
The consequence? Your name not being on the list.
You entered breathlessly into your dormitory without notice. Everyone had gone to Hogsmeade for the weekend, including yourself, but you’d forgotten your coin pouch, so you ran back.
When the door swung shut, your steps creaked toward your side before finally finding the person in your space.
“Oh, shit—Sebastian?”
You weren’t even phased by his arrival. The patterns you’d learned about the Slytherin man throughout the years stuck with you, so his presence wasn’t ghostly.
What was ghostly was looking at the crumbled parchment you had sworn was hidden well beneath your pillow, now sitting still over his long fingers, in his possession.
Oh shit.
The list.
The fucking list.
Sebastian didn’t flinch. Hell, he didn’t even bother to act like he’d been in trouble. He had mastermind too many times getting caught by Scribner — but with you finding out he found the list? He just threw a smirk.
“W-What are you doing? Where did you find—“ You didn’t mean to stutter, but the list was a limited item you hid from him for years. An inside joke he now knew about.
The titled smirk didn’t fade from his face. You saw how his eyes laid on the parchment, the wrinkly freckled skin over his lids squinting as he spoke. “Wasn’t aware this was part of the female’s newsletter.”
Your heart dropped, but you passed your saliva and wind a hand up, using a non-verbal Accio spell to get the parchment out of his hands.
Sebastian curved your spell and snatched the paper back to himself.
“Hey,” Your feet worked again, and inched closer to him on your bed, wanting to get the paper from him. “Give me that!”
With a smooth motion, Sebastian stood up from your bed rapidly, and of course, with his ridiculous height advantage, he lifted the parchment enough out of your reach.
“I don’t think so.”
He was tall. And even with the swift motion of holding the parchment upward, you could sniff the manly scent as you tippy-toed a jump to grab it, but it was a fail.
“What is this, eh?” Sebastian asked you.
A blow transmitted out of you mid-dormitory. Your cheeks had been tomato red by now and you’d hope Sebastian didn’t notice the trickle of sweat outlining your forehead as you ignored his question.
“Seriously, Sallow,” You jumped again, but he was ridiculously taller than you. “—give me—“
His gaze was gawking at you. You’d known he was directing his attention at you for an answer, but you’d been busy wanting to take away the list on his hand. “You’re dodging my question.”
“It’s just a stupid list. It’s a joke.” You lied.
It wasn’t really a lie. It started a little after the sixth. Snogging began to occur often in the secretive halls of Hogwarts, and rumored lists would often lure. Considering you were the closest to Sebastian Sallow, one drunk night with the girls led to the list. Thanks to you.
A strange scoff emitted from him. “Oh yeah?” He cooed. There been a roughness in his playful voice that made you feel challenged. He’d always been manipulative for answers, but you didn’t want to give it to him today.
You scratched your forehead with your fingers with a sigh, surrendering to grab the item, and then faced Sebastian.
Both of your eyes met.
It hadn’t been fair really. Besides the height — it was foul to see how stupidly attractive the Sallow man truly was.
A few strands of his brown hair flopped over his forehead, nearly covering the brown eyes that peered at you.
You’d seen him more than any of those girls on the list. None of them were this close to him though. They didn’t manage to see the freckles that kissed the top of his cheeks, or how the color of his brown eyes turned lighter like honey in the light.
You've seen him so much, you could debunk the notes in that list. ‘I want to touch his clear skin’ one would say — but it was flawed with scars that only one would see up close. ‘His lips are so pink, he would be a good kisser’ you couldn’t debunk that, yet.
You passed your saliva, “Why are you stirred up, Sallow? If you read the list, your ego should probably be the size of a quaffle by now.” You spat, crossing your arms and breaking the eye-contact. You only stared at the dent he left on your bed from sitting long.
Sebastian had been in another state though. Not enough names could boost his ego in that fucking list. Not any compliments, not any assumptions — anything, but the one name that wasn’t there.
Wanting to avoid any tension, you began to pace around the space, focusing on what you really came in here for, your coin bag, and pretending like you hadn’t done this cut-off every time there was tension with you and him.
The friendship had been strong. You two have seen the worst and the best out of each other. In battles, in class, in parties — one thing would lead to another, but when there was a hint of something more, usually one pulled away or one became a coward.
“Ugh, where is that damn bag—“
“Does the creator of the list exclude themselves from it?” Sebastian asked.
He stood in the same spot, asking questions, but also watching you waste time to find the coin pouch. He was desperate for an answer. An answer that he wanted to hear and his scheme of manipulation took over. Sebastian wasn’t going to stop until he got it.
You chuckled, “Who said I created it?” Your body bent, going through some drawers at the end of the dormitory.
You were a bit far, but you heard the chuckle from him. It resonated more when nobody else, but you two were the only ones in the dormitory.
“I don’t know, let’s see,” Sebastian said, but there was a tip of annoyance in his tone as he projected his truth to you. “ I found it in your bed. Your pillow. And I know your handwriting by now. The title of the list — it’s your writing.” He pointed his finger at the bolded letters.
You froze at how attentive he’d been. It shouldn’t come off as a surprise, but you had to pause your hand digging in your drawer and blink at his words. There, you stood in place, turning slowly over your shoulder and glinting. “What’s your point?”
Sebastian was pissed at how calmly you took this matter. It was only proving that you really did not care about him finding the list as much as he imagined you to. This ticked him off because he was good with girls. He understood why there was a list. He had his way of words to lure and hypnotize them, but you?
The parchment crackled under his grip and you heard it far and clear but didn’t comment. The list became useless at this point if the main ingredient of it found it.
“My point?”
The Adam's apple in his throat moved a little heavier in visual view, but you didn’t notice because your head turned back to the drawer.
But your heart was beating fast. You’d learn throughout the years to avoid conflict. To hide away your real feelings, so to battle such a topic with someone like Sebastian Sallow — it was tough.
“Sebastian, you have like half of Hogwarts tallied up on that list and you’re still complaining?” You snarled, closing the drawer and taking a breath, your coin pouch nowhere to be found.
“All I’m wondering is why your name didn’t make the list.” He said bluntly.
This caught you now. The need to look for your item died down and all you could do was turn to him.
Sebastian held his stand in the same spot you left him in. In the side of your dormitory bed, the list no longer in the air from his height, but on his side, crumbled up in madness.
You swallowed, your steps taking tardiness as you approached him again.
Only you knew the truth, but the least you could’ve done was sign your name. The risks of prioritizing your feelings first rather than wanting to keep a friendship with Sebastian Sallow were high. You were not going to risk it again.
“My name?” You laughed it off, looking to the side. “Why the hell would my name be there?”
Sebastian didn’t laugh. You didn’t even hear a wince of a scoff or chuckle. He wasn’t matching your energy, so you stopped looking to the side and looked up.
There was a grave expression on his face. Those honey-like eyes you were admiring minutes back became dawn darkness from your words and you raised your brows at him.
Sebastian tilted his head a little and blinked with a mocking questioning. “Am I not your type?”
A nervous laugh spilled out of you. It was not funny. It was more of a laugh of hiding away the truth. You could no longer tell if he was teasing as he always was with himself, or demanding truth.
“Are you being serious?”
“I am.” He narrowed.
The air thickened, but you pursed your lips and then pressed them with a hesitant nod. “I just—I—“ you didn’t mean to stutter, but it was getting to you. “We’re…we’re friends,…and…and…”
“You’d known me more than anyone else in this castle, more than Ominis. I’d guess to boost my ego you could’ve written down a few compliments or so in this list to help. Don’t you think?”
You gulped.
Sebastian stepped closer, barely a hand’s length now between the two of you. He’d now begged himself for you to self-confess. Perhaps, it’s become a mutual feeling now, but you were a hard rock to break. It was impossible.
“And then what, Sallow?” You weren’t afraid of his closeness. You have been close to him many times, but even with an empty room with so much space, this one killed you. “Be part of this list too?”
His jaw clenched at your words. It wasn’t even a tease. You were just asking a question as you stared, but it still bothered him. It wasn’t enough.
“Am I not fuckable enough for you?”
It hadn’t even been a joke anymore. There was no cracked smug over his mouth. No glint in his eyes. Just a cold sting of frustration, pride, and something lower — something he didn’t want to admit.
As he asked that, the same list he had crumbled in his fingers crackled under both of you.
Your breaths were higher now and even if you wanted to take your eyes off him, you couldn’t. There was this appalling appearance in you from his question and you knew by now that he’d taken notice of how your chest raised in and out from the nerves.
“I bet if this list said Weasley, your signature would’ve been the first on top, wouldn’t it?” Sebastian dug now. There was a possessive and impulsive timbre in his voice. He hated mentioning the redhead, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Your eyes widened, not expecting him to cross lines now, unplanned. “Are you out of your mind?”
Sebastian’s breath shifted, slower and heavier from your reaction. He looked like he wanted to respond, but it caught between his teeth.
Your eyes glazed on his, then on his flushed cheeks. The little tint of pink that lay on his sides wasn’t there and before you could question anything, you twirled, walking away. “Whatever, Sallow. Just go have fun with the list of names—“
The steps you took from your bed to the door didn’t make it far. Sebastian moved fast, but your Ancient Magic moved faster, sensing his follow and before he could make a stop on you, you turned around facing him.
On unfortunate luck, he’d been close enough for you to step backward and feel your back touch the wall from behind. You took a heavy breath, watching Sebastian lift an arm over your shoulder, flatly on the wall beside you, and bend to stare down.
He’d caged you, so you wouldn’t leave as both of your heights reached the same scale.
It’s like his stare burned into you. Only the sound of his breath blew on your nose from how close he had been. You watched how he lifted his right hand in slow motion, wanting you to watch him show you the crumbled list in his grasp.
The list was fucked at this point. From his anger.
“You think I give two fucks about the names on this list?” He asked you.
You were staring at the paper, but even with that, you sensed his stare stalling at you with every word he said.
The air on the empty setting tightened now. That little humor you were bringing on earlier set off and now things felt serious.
“It’s…it’s a lot of names in there, Sallow.” Your throat itched demanding a sentence to him, but his breath seemed to win over.
“And yours?” Sebastian asked, again. He didn’t back off. He stayed closed, watching you like the truth was buried behind your words.
Your eyes met the frame of his jawline. It’ll pinch with his questions and you weren’t brave enough to stare into his eyes anymore.
But Sebastian didn’t hold his limits anymore. He stepped closer, much closer than he’d ever dared, and lowered right in the inch of your earlobe, his lips brushing on the outline and you shivered.
“What do I have to do,” He murmured in a deliberate struggle. “—to make you write your name in this list?”
The whisper held you under your skin now. This tension coiled between the two of you and the restraint in his voice only made you clenched, not in your throat, but in your core. You’d been afraid if you pressed your legs together, it’d clench faster from his position.
“S-Sebastian…”
“Tell me,” He demanded. “I’d spent the last years doing enough to think you’ll write your signature in such a list about me, yet,” his breath blew inside your ears. “…it wasn’t enough.”
You’d always had your eyes prying on Sebastian Sallow, since the fifth year, but the blockage of friendship and comfortableness layered it.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t enough.
It was that you’d never dared to let yourself want him openly — because if you did…it would never be just 'wanting'.
“Do I have to prove it to you?” Sebastian’s voice cracked over the last word. It sounded like a prayer. To have this blessing of allowing him to take this to his advantage.
Sebastian struggled. He struggled enough in the past years. He couldn’t keep holding back on this very moment. It had been enough in the cycle, and this frustration of rejection — he couldn’t stand it. Not from you.
He couldn’t stand how you stood below him, innocently, pretending like not one inappropriate thought crossed your bloody head this entire time, but he liked a challenge.
There was this competitive thrill for Sebastian Sallow to prove himself right. To have this source of ability to prove something. Persuading something — persuading you.
Pleasuring you.
His nose kept tickling over your ear, and he took the benefit of that scent of yours. To smell the small strands of your hair behind the ear as he kept his eyes closed, waiting for an answer, but also holding in the strained hardness that flexed over his pants below.
His cock twitched with every breath of yours.
“Speak up, sweetheart.” He said roughly, not having the great ability to hold back, but your lack of answers were edging him. “We could answer all those assumptions about me in this,” with one hand he un-crumbled the list again and brought it to your eyes. “…list.”
He was silly, but the butterfly feeling between your legs at the moment said otherwise from his intense tease.
“You don’t wonder how my fingers,” Sebastian read off the list, rephrasing the jotted lines of girls handwriting. “…write so fast with a quill…imagine what else…” his hands journeyed to your hip, giving the first touch before tracking down your skirt. “…they can do?”
Your leg shifted in a twitch from the touch. He’d only rested the warmth of his finger a little below your skirt, into your skin, but you gasped at his words.
“‘His lips are so pink’” He read off. You could still feel his face near your ear, but he came back up and faced you. You’d been a flush of a mess, but Sebastian edged closer as he kept reading. “…how kissable are they?”
A menace. He was a fucking menace.
But he transferred the curiosity to you. You always found yourself wondering how soft his hairs really were. Or if his lips really were —
Sebastian gave up on the silence. His hands let go of the parchment and let it fall onto the floor. Before you could watch the fall of the list, you were blocked by a pair of lips on yours.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was all in frustration and force. Of wanting something that had been sitting for years. A breath-stealing kiss two parties yearned for enough to make a fair moan from just a kiss.
The one hand that held a list now cradled over the side of your face and a thumb brushed your cheek as you were grounded with a sloppy make-out session that both of you clearly ached for too long.
Sebastian kissed good. Dangerously good.
He held you captive over the wall, his tongue dancing over your own, guiding permission. His brows frowned, not from anger, but from how good kissing you felt. It was an ecstatic feel and it was just kissing.
You were in no help of a stop. Instead, your hands reached in an instinct, clutching at the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer. Your hands threading through those soft brown hairs everyone wondered about.
It was a hard study between heat and examination. You gripped the hairs, softer than ever — Sebastian groaned into your mouth from the pull and his fingers clutched the side of your hips from resisting.
They were, in fact, really soft.
Your back pressed the bed soon after. The make-out session on the wall quickly transferred back into your dormitory bed and with a soft thud, Sebastian threw you onto the pillow, making you reach for a breath.
“Oh, we’re not finished yet,” Sebastian warned huskily. “Everyone’s at Hogsmeade…and I’m here to prove my point.”
He dove back into your mouth with more need than before. The weight of his hand on the side of your hip found its way beneath your shirt, feeling the raw aspect of your stomach before scrunching it up.
Over grounded mouths, you’d often breathe heavier than usual when the air of the dormitory felt colder on your skin as Sebastian folded up your shirt above your chest and reached over a breast.
His finger traced the middle of your breast, purposely tickling you and triggering the hardness of your nipples. You both watched his actions and you flushed, wanting to return the invasion by bringing your hand downward over his pants and attempting to find his bulge.
He’d been hard and thick. You palmed him lightly, but it was a hard reach from his height to yours. You’d only been able to get a sense of what he hid behind the fabric and you could only now imagine how he would feel inside of you.
You weren’t always stuck in an inappropriate daze. There wasn’t shame in touching yourself in the quietest hours of the night in a bath or empty dormitory. It was easier than admitting how much you wanted him all those years when the sun was up and walls were closed.
But now it became difficult when Sebastian, the real Sebastian, pressed against you, kissing you like he’d been waiting for this too. To prove a point of a name.
The thought made your thighs want to press together again, to get the same heartbeat notion between your legs, but now, the body of Sebastian blocked it. You couldn’t press them and he noticed that.
“Open your legs,” Sebastian ordered, feeling your denial.
“I just—oh,”
He moved quickly, pressing the longness of his fingers under your skirt. His touch circled around the thin fabric of your underwear before pressing three fingers lightly over to feel the dampness outside of you.
“Sebastian,”
A breath hitched out of his mouth. He’d lost count of how many times his cock twitched, begging for an out as he found out how soaked you were for him. For him.
“Agh,” He said in satisfaction, almost amazed from the feel. “…they said they wondered what else these fingers,” you felt them nibble the bud of your clit, still with underwear on as he spoke over your whimpers. “…do besides writing fast.”
The touch was gentle, but so powerful. Sebastian had stopped kissing and now paid his full attention to his fingers beneath you, under your lifted wrinkled skirt he dragged up and watched his own fingers trigger your sensitive nerves even more.
And he felt how you clenched with each nub.
It felt humiliating. Humiliating to know that once his fingers moved your underwear to the side, he was going to feel how wet you’d been over the course of the hour. How with such an unnecessary proof of point, you exposed yourself too on your feelings.
“Merlin,” Sebastian fought over himself, not caring about his truth out loud. “I just want to bury myself inside of you like this, but…”
He didn’t say much after, and before you could question his denial need of fucking you, you gave a low whine when two fingers entered between your folds carefully, a slushy sound echoing over the ears from the arousal.
They’d been long. His fingers. Sebastian kept it slow and gentle, examining how far he could go with them. He lifted his head once wanting to see how you’ll react. You were already a beautiful mess, giving gentle moans and biting your lip constantly from his movements.
“…how can I when the sound of your pleasure brings lullabies to my ears,” Sebastian resisted, fingering you faster, “…my cock.”
A thumb reached the outside of your clit, rubbing slowly and you clenched much slowly, feeling the triggering effect of Sebastian learning what pace you moan louder from his fingers.
“Are they,” he would curl a finger inside of you for a ting of tease and you yelp as he spoke. “…really faster than a quill, hm?” He challenged.
What a provocative little shit.
You couldn’t even talk well to insult him. You’d been so lost in his pace that when he removed his fingers from you, a mushy sound electrified and you breathed.
Sebastian lifted over you, and with the small movement of that, you saw the outline of his cock fighting in his pants. His hands reached down his belt and he raised his eyes like a wild animal looking for prey as you watched him.
Embarrassed from catching you eyeing him, you felt colored again and looked away, giving the privacy of undoing himself, but only a bubble of a laugh threw you off.
“I recall someone scribbled,” Sebastian began to remind you of the list of assumptions as he pulled his pants down. “‘I wonder if his cock is as thick as his ego.’”
You kept looking at the opposite perspective, not wanting to see. Also, to hide the blush that crept over you from what he was saying. All you did was blink at the stupid window across the dormitory.
“Darling,” Sebastian threw a pet name on you for attention. He would sometimes throw them in over the years with a silly friendship thing, but now it sounded heavy and with direction.
You licked your lips, but then felt a hand weight down beside you. Your saliva lingered over your throat as you felt that Sebastian had finally hovered over you again, and once you turned around, he’d be right there.
“Don’t you,” You shivered feeling a few fingers trace your collarbone and down the buttons of your shirt, starting to undo them. “…want to know if is as thick as my ego?”
You let him undress you, but it took a good portion of seconds to gain the courage to turn your head at his nude body before yours.
Cock wasn’t the first thing you saw. It’d been his broad chest — the way his tanned skin vibrated perfectly on the freckles that stamped him. They weren’t only on his face, but they reached down his shoulders, onto his back. A few down his abdomen until you saw him.
He was big. You saw the outline, but now in a raw view, you swallowed from the veins that strained out of it. It stared at you, like a mind of its own and it clearly showed the wanting of Sebastian to you. His cock dripped with pre-cum and it twitched from its pink tip, prepared.
It became stupid when you felt the same familiar heartbeat between your legs again, despite him fingering you pleasurably, you wanted more. You wanted him.
“Hey—“
“Get inside me.” You begged.
By now, from the severe distraction of admiring Sebastian’s body, you’d been nude yourself from his help. The buttoned shirt you once wore had been hanging on the tip of another girl’s bed and you shivered.
You overthought your command, sounding needy and stupid. “I mean—“
Sebastian didn’t think twice about your needs. You felt his lips land on yours, but your once-sitting bodies now lay back down over the pillow. His hand sprawled over the side of your face as he went between your legs and played around himself.
You hummed, feeling his tip linger around the outside of your skin. It rubbed over your drenched cunt on its own as Sebastian kissed you passionately.
The temperature felt hotter as Sebastian brought a hand down under your bodies and eyed the moment before taking a glance at you. “Yes?”
“Please.” You closed your eyes.
Sebastian stared at you. In his head, it crossed that he watched you right now, waiting for you to start writing what none of those girls could ever, ever, write in that list.
He didn’t enter you gently.
His entrance was rough and within gasp, he shut his eyes, squeezing them — hoping for the best of his fucking ego to not cum in that very second as you clenched. “Fuck.”
Your nails dug into his back from the shift of his hips slamming into you and gasped loudly, having to break the kiss.
“F-Fuck…” Sebastian went out of you but kept his tip stuck in your entrance. “…I’m trying to be gentle, but—“
“You were proving a point, weren’t you?” You throw in.
It was a dangerous commitment. There wasn’t turning back on what you had said. To prove a point. Sebastian didn’t hesitate on your words and stood by his words.
He crawled his hand under your body, bucking it up a little before he plunged inside of you like a slap. You both gasped and then he began to fuck you endlessly as time depended on it.
His cock buried inside powerfully. Sebastian didn’t play. He would go deeper and deeper with every rapid thrust, wanting to angle himself perfectly to feel the depth of your cervix and mark himself enough for it to remember him forever.
He’d watched as the pretty little mouth of yours parted with each movement. How your breasts bounced perfectly beneath him and he’ll go back to watching himself thrust into you, in and out, deep and deeper, harder and rougher — oh, he loved it. He loved you.
Your moans and expression sent him over the edge. His goal was to satisfy you to bring your name into the list — but it was never really the stupid list. It was just you. His heart had always been on you. And to finally have you tied on him, finally, he wanted to prove all those lost times of just ‘being friends’.
“Oh,” You moaned.
“Y-You’re so…tight around me, you know?” He complimented, bending forward to caress your cheek with his thumb. “…I could feel you…pressing around — shit — my co-cock with each thrust.”
You did clench with each thrust. He’d been so thick and long, that you couldn’t help the feeling of hugging him inside your walls and keeping him there forever.
The bed made squeaking sounds over the dormitory. It was loud and if Sebastian kept the pace he was doing, the bed would most likely hit the wall across the room.
Neither of you could hear the bed as much as the squelching sounds of skin-to-skin in the air. The way Sebastian drilled into you as his balls slapped beneath your cunt over each motion making you whimper and moan.
But Sebastian became attentive to the noise of the small bed. Sure, he enjoyed your sounds, but his easily distracted mind didn’t allow him to enjoy it fully — so he cuffed you under his arms and carried you to the nearest wall again.
“Sebastian!” You gasped, feeling your back against the cold wall, but it was soon replaced by heated pleasure again as Sebastian pressed into you.
His chest rubbed over your breast as he held you tightly and made you bounce up and down over him on the wall. “Yes?”
One hand gripped your ass beneath you for a force and the other hand of his rested flatly beside you on the wall, using it as a control to keep himself in balance and submerge every inch inside of you.
You’d won over the list. That list that you’d convinced yourself that with all these girls wanting Sebastian Sallow, your chances would lower — but you’d been wrong. Super wrong.
“D-Do you know…” Sebastian breathed, bringing his forehead against yours. Your breaths were heavy and his sweaty hairs touched yours. “-how long I waited to do this with you?”
You gave a half-laugh half-gasp at his honesty over the sex. You were both sweaty, but as your head bobbed over each other, you couldn’t help, but kiss again, passionately.
“But,” Your body took a freeze when Sebastian let you down and turned you around to the nearest dresser, the same one you were indeed dying to look for your coin pouch. “I feel like I haven’t proven enough…”
He bent you gently, letting your hands grip the edges of the small dresser before he inserted himself from behind.
The sex became rougher.
You felt how Sebastian twirled his fingers over your hair like a ponytail and used it as a control to inject his cock back inside of you harder. He’d watch as your behind bounced with each pump and whimper from his actions.
his voice?? His moans are probably so deep. Someone had written on the list.
They were deep.
His moans were deep.
His cock was deep.
His words were deep.
“Oh, yes,” He’d moan over your ear. “Perfect.”
You’ll clench and he’ll let out rough groans, synchronizing with your moans.
“Oh yeah.” You murmured.
Sebastian didn’t think he’d get harder than he already was, but your sounds bricked him awfully. He’d often had to think about clown suits or Prewett dressed as a banana to keep himself going a little longer, but that just fucked his mind.
As he took you from the back, he leaned forward, moving strands of hairs from one side of your neck and becoming a sucking machine on you. He sucked your shoulder, up to your neck, and when you raised your head to see his actions, he found your mouth, clumsily kissing you.
The kisses became lazier and the movement became aggressive. You’d known that if Sebastian kept the pace he was going in right now, you’d reach an orgasm. More if his hand moved into your clit and rubbed it.
“P-Please…” You begged.
“Please, what?” He struggled. “Tell me…tell me what do you want, sweetheart?” He breathed, his voice blending with the slamming sounds.
There wasn’t an ability to talk. Instead, you responded to the hot breath vibrating near your ear before your head spun and met in a desperate kiss with Sebastian. Tongues tangled frantically and a hand of his snaked over your sweat-licked bodies.
His hand lowered and you tucked your stomach, feeling a steady rub of circles over your clit. Sebastian had read you well, determined to push you on edge with him.
“Was pinning you like this,” Sebastian hissed. “-w-worth it?”
The man had proved his point. From how ecstatic he made you feel right now, you were set to write your signature big and bolded over the fucking list. Hell, you’d even highlight it with your reasonings, but the idea of other women knowing how good Sebastian Sallow fucked didn’t allow you.
Perhaps, you had to make another secret list with him only knowing now.
“Yes, yes,” You pleaded.
With pleads and moans, Sebastian felt his cock draw up tightly, balls clenching as he signaled a finish.
It was chaotically messy. A disheveled moment of both of you reaching a coarse point with curses and final moans.
It was planted that you weren’t going to be able to walk for a while after Sallow’s moves. He made sure he gave his all to you in a short amount of time and you couldn’t envision how he would act in a normal setting of sex.
You found yourself like one of the girls on the list. Wondering with curiosity — if he fucks that good in sneaking minutes, how would he be with all the time in the world?
“Well,” Sebastian tilted minutes later, fully clothed, picking up the list that had fallen to the floor. A small tugging smile crept on him as he held it up to you, all sweaty and all. “—I’m sure you have a lot to say for this list, don’t you?”
His eyes peered on yours. He wanted a definite yes answer to it. The satisfaction of you admitting he pleasured you so well, you wanted to put yourself on this list.
Half-tiredly, your fingers conjured a pen over him, and the list was snatched from his hold before you brought it down to a flat surface on the wall and began to sign.
You made sure your name was big and bolded at the bottom, enough for anyone to see. Sebastian watched with you.
He’s HUGE and he’s mine.
He became flustered at the scribble but didn’t complain. He looked down, smiling to himself like he won the lottery of some sort.
“This list though,” You murmured, making it poof away with your magic. “Would only be visible to me and you now, Sallow.”
Sebastian gave a humming noise at your demanding tone. “Hm, yeah?”
kianamaiart
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis
annaxmalina
dededos
izzy806
gummygunk
