music!🎵: pierce the veil, xaviersobased, hixvvr, awesomecat2011 (lance ur my goat!), jaydes, yuke, *67, sleeping with sirens, falling in reverse, panic! at the disco, the young veins, vonni5, ss3bby, kuru, dominic fike, malcolm todd, never shout never, eatmewhileimhot!, the list goes onnnnn
my spotify!
User · ☆ruesfav☆
cinema!🎥: 10 things i hate about you, to all the boys, yellowjackets, henry danger, me before you, euphoria, final destination, invader zim, chucky: the series, harry potter, the black phone, jennifer’s body, spider-man, the breakfast club, arcane, i am not okay with this, the list also goes on!
youtubers!🧪: kubzscouts, markiplier, tuv, coryxkenshin, berleezy, dashie, balarke, traves, living4swag, drama kween, danny gonzalez, drew gooden, kurtis conner, danielle, danky jabo, this list ALSO goes on ;P
Where he just finds a girl that he never really paid attention to attractive for some reason, and he realizes, his powers don't work on her so now he's fixated on knowing more. Eventually this leads to him slowly falling in love once they slowly get to know each other.
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺Her Sweetest Side༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •Yearner!Saiki x Fem!Reader•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ
Being the a ordinary girl has no benefits or disadvantages. At times, or all the time, you're just there in the chaos that happens in your classroom. Not minding having no attention, you thrived mentally.
It's no wonder why Kusuo Saiki had never noticed you before.
You were basically a NPC, in the back of the class doing who knows what. Turns out, he was never able to hear your thoughts. Which terrified him, 'oh great.' He thought, 'another Nendo.' Mildly annoyed.
That's how all of the following you around started. Saiki had to make sure you weren't a threat to his peace, even if you were extremely normal.
That was the problem. Everyone else arrived in his mind before they even opened their mouths. Loud thoughts. Repetitive thoughts. Embarrassing thoughts. Nendou’s brain was empty static. Kaidou’s was a constant low-budget action movie. Teruhashi’s admirers practically screamed every time she breathed.
But you—nothing. Not silence exactly. Just… absence.
Prehaps, for one, he has to learn about someone normally.
As he comes to learn, you arent flashy, scandalous, wild-spirited or delusional. (Looking at you Kaido) By all means no less interesting by no means at all, it was the kind of different that didn't require attention. However, nothing about you explains why his mind reading isn't picking up your thoughts.
You became something that had invaded Saiki's mind now.
A new feeling had come over Saiki, one that is oh so unfamiliar to him. A feeling even he himself, does not want to admit he has. Not love, but infatuation. He himself, does not admit to his own mind nor does he consider it as a possible probability.
Simply following you wasn't enough for him, he wanted to know more.
As if God was on his side, for once, you started appearing more throughout his life. Without him trying to follow you.
Nendo brought you along for some ramen with them. He was the extrovert adopting another introvert, as if he were collecting Pokemon. That is how Saiki felt it would be normal if he were seen sitting next to you or simply spending time together. Acting he didn't know everything about you anyway.
He'd seen your kindness, maturity, genuineness, creativity, clever humor and sarcasm during this time, up close that is. All of your self-less actions and humbleness. You were so amazing, yet you weren't flashy.
He'd had spent more time with you, finally interacting with him. Well, his version of interacting anyway. It started off with you asking Saiki to hang out alone, you'd figured he'd be the perfect person to accompany you while studying at your father's small cafe. Doesn't help that since he was your friend, he gets free desserts. Which what also peaked his interest.
"You know, you're pleasant to be around." You say half asleep, eyes half-lidded. Before fading into slumber.
Saiki blinks. Because nobody has ever said that before. 'What.' Is the only thought he can form in his mind.
You were that quiet in the storm of his disastrous life. Just so happening to sit a desk in front of saiki, you slid a coffee jelly onto his desk. "You looked disappointed when the cafeteria ran out yesterday."
You simply remembered. The coffee jelly sits on his desk for the entire class because his brain momentarily stops functioning. A planet a great distance away had exploded.
"Morning, Saiki." There it was, the daily greeting. Simple, consistent. You never expected a response. Which was probably why you usually got one.
"Morning." You smiled at his return of greeting.
Then immediately went back to whatever you were doing. No lingering. No forcing conversation. No trying to squeeze more interaction out of him.
Just... content.
Kusuo sat down, opened his textbook. Tried very hard not to notice the small sense of satisfaction settling in his chest. Failed.
You were sitting in your usual corner, reading, one earbud in. Completely unaware of his presence. For a second, Kusuo simply stood there.
Watching. Not because he was being weird, just observing.
Then your eyes lifted, filled with comfort, spotting him. Immediately moved your bag, making room beside you.
No hesitation. No surprise.
Just an automatic assumption that he was welcome. "..." Without a word, Kusuo sat down.
You returned to your book. He opened his own. Silence settled between you. Comfortable. Easy. The kind of silence that felt less like emptiness and more like company.
Half an hour passed. Neither of you spoke. When the lunch bell rang, you stretched. "See you in class."Then left.
Like always. Like it was normal. Kusuo remained seated.Staring at the page he'd forgotten to read.
That is when Saiki felt another emotion. Not a crush, lust or annoyance.
He felt, need.
Longing for you.
'Oh dear.' Saiki thinks to himself.
Saiki hates waiting, hes not one for patience, if class ends, he's gone. If lunch ends, he's gone. If a conversation is over, he's gone.
But when you say, "Give me a second." And somehow he's still standing there five minutes later while she packs her bag.
When she finally finishes "You know you could've left, right?"
"...I know." He doesn't elaborate.
Yes, when he sees you all he sees is muscle, bones and eyeballs. He can't help but crave your time and touch. Your comforting words while you help drain out all the thoughts constantly in his head.
It all started with some occurrences.
There was another festival that had been set up in town. Nendo and Kaido invited the two of you to go.
It's crowded. Someone bumps into you, a quick sorry leaving their lips. Without thinking, you catch the sleeve of his uniform so you dont get separated. Only for a second.
Then you let go. "Sorry."
"Mm." Outwardly, nothing happens. Internally? The sensation replays for the next three hours. Not because it was romantic. Because it was unexpected. And because he didn't hate it. Which is concerning.
The class is on a bus. You fell asleep. Halfway through the trip, your head slowly ends up resting against his shoulder. Kusuo freezes, completely.
Because moving would wake you. And because he doesn't actually want to move. So he spends the entire ride sitting unnaturally still. When you wake up "Oh my gosh, sorry."
"Its fine."
It is not fine.
He'll be thinking about it for weeks.
Over all of the continuous thoughts and voices in his mind, they were all drained out. He felt, at peace with you. Which makes him realize one thing, He'd do anything to keep that peace.
He becomes weirdly possessive of her time. Oh, not in the yandere kind of possessive, more like-he gets disappointed. When you spend lunch with other friends, you leave before he can talk to you, you're busy.
'That's normal, she has her own life.' He dismisses.
Okay, perhaps he uses his abilities to manipulate some things. It's an exception! Oh no your usual bus and friends are late! Oh, Saiki is there to walk you to school. Your friends aren't here today and it's raining? Saiki is there with an umbrella.
You were about to die at the hands of a drunk driver? Suddenly the driver has turned the opposite way. You did notice how good things have been going for you, but you didn't question it.
All the thinks about is you. Honestly, even if he doesn't admit it to himself, you are his peace. And sadly, as of now, you dont know that.
౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Author's Note!
Dear reader,
Sorry for not being very active! Since I'm out of school for the summer, I will be posting more content and taking more requests! Thank you for reading and i love every one of you! And to the requester, I hope this reached your expectations 🙏 I was watching the show again and not trusting fanfiction because I did not want to mischaraterize him, even though I didn't do the best job :( but I did my best and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING, this was such a amazing and peak ask 🥹✌️
-Ruby
꘎♡RUBY'S NEWS♡꘎
ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+My pervious work! Our day One, Luffy x Reader x Zoro
ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+My Next Work! Dating BlackLeg Sanji Headcannons
↳ You and Keegan meet at a party and get to know each other through a shared cigarette
contains: smut, dom!kuru, sub!reader, kissing, smoking, sex while intoxicated, oral (reader receives)
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Keegan was not much of a party person but there he stood, in the middle of a house party surrounded by the strong smell of liquor, weed, and sweaty bodies. He needed a breath of fresh air so he decided to head up to some random balcony outside, which was where he found you. You needed a breath of fresh air as well and a quick smoke break due to the overwhelming atmosphere that awaited you inside the house. You decided to finish one last cigarette until you heard a voice behind you.
“Shit, I'm sorry I can leave if you want,” someone said nervously. You looked behind you to see a boy, blue hair, glasses, tall, and wearing all black. You shot him a welcoming smile. “No it’s fine I was just about to finish this cig and head back in”, you chuckled, lending him the half done cigarette. The blue haired boy smiled and closed the sliding door behind him walking up to you shortly after.
“Thanks I was lowkey in need of one” he chuckled to himself whilst taking the cigarette from you and taking a hit. Surprisingly you’ve never seen him around ever, not around campus or in any party you’ve attended which was different given the fact that you see the same faces a lot of the time especially in parties like these.
He takes another hit then handing it back to you whilst blowing the smoke into the air leaving behind a sigh of relief after. “So what’s your name, blue haired boy?” you said smiling while discarding the cigarette into the ash tray next to you after taking the last hit. Keegan looked flustered and laughed a bit after the silly nickname you had given him.
“I’m Keegan, and you?” he said, handing you a smile “Well it’s nice to meet you Keegan, I’m __” you answered.
“Well it’s nice to meet you as well __” after that it got a little awkward but you were determined to keep the conversation going with him, I mean after all you found him really cute and you didn’t want this to end off as just an acquaintance kind of situation.
“So Keegan, are you from here? I’ve never seen you around.” You looked up at him. “I am, this is just my first house party, not too big on parties but a couple of my friends were begging me to go so here I am.” He gave out a nervous chuckle while looking down. “Do you usually come to these parties?” He quickly added on.
“I don’t usually go to parties but I go from time to time just to let loose a little and have fun” You said looking off at the view. Shortly after saying that a group of people barged into the balcony clearly drunk and wasted. You rolled your eyes and looked at Keegan while laughing, earning a laugh from him as well. “Wanna get out of here?” You said looking over at him. “Obviously” he answered.
-------
The both of you entered the house just to be met with loud music and the same strong smell of weed and liquor like before. “It’s really loud. Do you wanna go to one of the rooms upstairs or something?” He said pretty loudly to make sure you heard him over the blaring music and loud bass. You looked at him laughing like you both knew what happens inside those rooms, and all the crazy shit people do in there. “No not like that, I mean just to chill and talk or some shit” He said immediately after while looking away embarrassed . “Yeah sure I'm down.” you answered.
You took his hand and led him upstairs into an empty room that wasn’t occupied by horny people fucking. The both of you got inside, closing the door behind you. You took a seat on the edge of the bed while Keegan made his way over to you, sitting right next to you. “It’s way quieter here.” You sighed looking at Keegan. “I know it was so overwhelming downstairs,” he said.
“Hey I got a preroll in my bag I forgot, wanna smoke?” You looked in your bag suprised. “Fuck yeah I do” Keegan said. You took your lighter out and lit the joint, you took a hit handing it over to him. He took it, placing it between his thumb and index finger taking a hit.
You both passed the joint over and over till it was finished and left the both of you high. “I feel amazing right now, I needed this” Keegan said smiling resting his head on your shoulder. “Yeah me too” you said.
The both of you looked at each other faded, eyes glossy and smiling. You pressed your lips against Keegan’s and melted into it. It wasn’t rough or fast, it was slow and passionate. You both took things slow and didn’t wanna rush. He deepened the kiss even more, it felt like you were melting into his lips with how the weed was hitting and how bad you needed him at that very moment. You were loving every second of this and you could tell he was as well.
You got on his lap which made him start kissing your neck and eventually finding your sweet spot and sucking on it, earning a slight moan to escape your mouth. “Is it okay if I leave a mark?” He asked not wanting to step over any boundaries. “Yeah of course” You said, hungry for more. He continued to suck on your neck leaving a slight reddish purple mark on your skin.
“Shit I really need you right now” He said, carrying you off his lap and laying you down on the bed. He got on top of you crashing his lips onto yours once more while tugging on your shirt giving you a sign to take it off. You did and once it was off he continued to collide his lips onto yours. Shortly after, he started kissing down your body from your chest to your stomach. He looked up at you asking if it was okay to remove the mini skirt you had on with only his eyes talking. You nodded and he immediately got to work pulling down your skirt and kissing your inner thighs.
“You’re so beautiful” He said, looking up at you with those big glossy eyes while he continued to kiss your thighs. “Thank you keeg” you felt it was a bit silly to give a person you just met a nickname but you thought it was right at that moment. He chuckled at the name you gave him which made you look away. “Stop, I thought the nickname was cute” You rolled your eyes.
“No no I like it, no one ever called me that, it’s cute” he chuckled once more sliding your lace panties to the side. His fingers skimmed down your cunt and before you knew it he pushed two fingers in with ease. “Fuck you’re wet” he looked up to you while you rolled your head back in pleasure letting a slight moan come out of your mouth. It was like music to his ears and he was enjoying every second of it. He thrusted his fingers into you once more and more earning more and more moans from you. You moaned out his name not caring how loud you were and if people could hear you. Who even cared anyways?
Quickly he replaced his fingers with his mouth and kissed you clit. You felt his breath against your bare pussy which made you shiver a little. He worked up your cunt leaving you a whining mess. At this point you didn’t care how much you were moaning or how he was perceiving you, all you knew was that Keegan was really fucking hungry, like really fucking hungry.
“Shit i’m close Keegan” You breathed looking down at him. “Come on baby, cum on my tongue” he pleaded, and with that you came undone on his tongue releasing a sigh of relief and pleasure. “Need to feel you” Keegan mumbled, taking your panties off completely. “Yeah? How bad?” You replied. “So so bad” Keegan said in a begging tone
He wasted no time to push himself into you leaving you breathless and rolling your head back. “Keegan…” You moaned out not knowing the right words to say, making you speechless under him. He went back to kissing your neck while he was buried deep inside you. “You okay?” He asked while still kissing and sucking on your neck. “Mhm” still speechless with how much pleasure you were feeling and how fucking high you were.
“Keeg… i’m so close” you moaned out. “Me too baby, cum for me” Keegan said, and with that both of you came undone. He shortly after fell right next to you while you both caught your breath still taken aback with everything that just happened. “You okay?” He looked at you, smiling and adoring every inch of you. “Yeah i’m still just really fucking high” you said laughing.
Note: While editing this, it made me think of 'Art of War' by Avenoir. There is a part two to this that is currently in the works.
Content Warning: I'm not gonna lie, I'm a bit faded, but even with that being said, the things that come to mind are weed usage, smut, and a small age gap (Reader is two years older than him). If there is anything I might have missed, please let me know.
Synopsis: Gunner has been coming to see you for about a year now. During the times you have shared, the relationship has grown far beyond a stripper-customer relationship. This is confirmed on the night of his birthday, when emotions are running high.
You sit at the vanity in the locker room with a hum. Your hair is slightly frizzy, but it is to be expected considering you had been dancing for hours. The locker room is bustling with women freshening up, getting ready, or the lucky souls who are getting ready to leave. Don’t get her wrong—you enjoyed what you did. You loved the power you held over men when you stepped out. It was polarizing. Whether you were on stage or entertaining regulars, you always had many eyes on you. You check your phone for the first time all night and see multiple messages from the contact Gunner.
You knew it was his birthday today, but he didn’t need to know that. Ever since he turned 18, he had been like a moth to your flame. He hit you up on Instagram, and immediately you paid him no mind until he showed up to the club days later, asking for a dance from you. You remember letting him know that wouldn’t be possible, considering you had regulars to tend to, but that didn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. He got a section and showered multiple dancers in his wealth, yet he didn’t care to leave until you graced him with your presence. Stepping into the section, his eyes snapped to you, and immediately, everyone else became irrelevant. It’s been history since.
When he wasn’t busy with tour or in the studio, if he was in your city, he always made sure to find his way to you, whether that be by himself or his crew; he made it a mission to see you. Over the months you’ve spent together, you learned a lot about each other. There had been countless times when he didn’t want you to dance but listen and talk for hours on end. While you would never admit it, you grew a soft spot for him. He had been vulnerable with you on several occasions. In those moments, he wasn’t Nettspend, the rapper selling out shows; he was just Gunner. A young man who had been placed in the limelight at a young age, and was navigating the ins and outs of who he is.
"My precious stargirl!" Your gaze snaps from your phone before you even have the chance to read the messages.
You huff at the sight of the house mom, Betsey. You know what it means when she is here, especially when she is using that sickeningly sweet tone. She has a favor to ask. "Betsey, no. You know, I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight. " You keep your eyes on her as she approaches with a timid smile.
"I know, I know, but hear me out before you give me a straight no." You beckon her to continue as you take a hot comb to your obnoxious flyaways. "Okay, so your boy may be here and asking for you." You scoff at the ‘your boy’. That explains the plethora of messages. "Tell him I’m not here. He already knows I don’t work Wednesdays." You can see her shifting nervously in your peripheral vision. You know, based on her silence and the way she is fidgeting, she told him you were here.
You slowly place the hot comb down and turn to her. "Doesn’t he already have some of the other girls?" You ask with no hope, knowing that none of the other women can possibly quench his need for his one and only. Before she can possibly answer, you release a breath. "Give me a few, and I’ll be there." The older woman immediately perks up and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. So much for going home early and smoking the blunt you rolled up before you left.
During those minutes to yourself, you take the time to fix your appearance and recite a few affirmations to your reflection. You look at yourself in the mirror and are beyond pleased with the woman reflected. You are in a cheetah print micro bikini with a matching garter belt and your signature Pleasers. You spit your gum out, swapping it for a cherry lollipop.
Stepping out from the locker room into the club, you are greeted by the bass and the bright lights. As you make your way to his section, many eyes trace over your form and shove bills into your garter belt while all you give is a smile in return. Entering the section, you are met by his crew and clouds of smoke. The other dancers dance and give lap dances. You feel his eyes, yet that does not make you rush. You finally make your way over to him, standing between his legs, and slowly slip the lollipop out of your mouth.
"Took you long enough." Diamonds glitter in his mouth when he speaks, matching the ones around his neck.
"You should be lucky I’m even here; you know I don’t usually work today." He hums noncommittally as his eyes flicker to the money poking out of your garter belt. "Right."
"You just call me to stare at me all night?" You ask as you sit on his lap. His arm immediately snakes around your waist.
"Nah, wanted to ask you something. You weren’t answerin’ your messages."
"Because I was busy." He releases a breath as he fiddles with the string of your thong. "I bet."
"Ask your question." You keep your eyes trained on him despite his wandering over your body. "Wanted to know if you coming to my party tonight."
"Can’t. I’m busy." Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Your plans for the night were to smoke, eat, watch a movie, and get some much-needed beauty sleep.
"Yeah? You busy with what?"
"None of your concern." He laughs a bit as his hand travels down to grasp your thigh, tugging you closer. "Come on, ma. It’s my birthday, you ain’t even got me a gift."
Your eyes roll playfully, and you cast your gaze around the section. Everyone is preoccupied with their own little worlds. "Why do you want me there? You know any of my friends would go no questions asked."
"I want you. I don’t care for them. I came here for you, not knowing if you’d be here or not." You look at him once more and find him already staring at you. Beneath the diamonds, you can see him practically vibrating in anticipation.
"I’ll be there." You feel his body relax and his grasp slightly tighten as he smiles, revealing his grillz. "Bet, I already sent you the address. Supposed to be something chill, just come as you."
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻
Clearly, they hold a different definition of ‘something chill’. Before you can even let yourself into the lavish home, you can hear both loud music and lots of people. You smooth your hands along your black backless mini dress and release a breath, grounding yourself. You brace yourself as you open the door to smoke and bodies. It doesn’t take you long to find him. "You made it." His voice sounds relieved as he takes you in, a joint between his lips.
"Told you I would." He smiles a bit as he exhales away from you, now offering it. Without any question, you inhale while taking in your surroundings. "Make sure you stay close." He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. You exhale and hand it back to him. "You got it, smoked two before you came."
You take the blunt between your plush lips once more. He keeps his relaxed eyes on you while his thumb mindlessly rubs along your hip. "Always wanna touch me." You murmur, not expecting him to catch your words. "That a problem?" He asks as his thumb stills. "Didn’t say it was, just an observation." You turn to him as you exhale. The smoke curls around you both, yet neither of you seems to mind.
As the night progresses, you find yourself relaxed despite the setting. You are dancing while he is pressed up behind you. Your body moves erotically as your hips move to the beats. You can feel his staggering breath against your neck while his hands remain on your hips, guiding you against him. You look over your shoulder at him, your faces now inches apart. His eyes flicker to your lips before meeting your gaze. "Having fun, birthday boy?" He nods, licking his lips as he presses against you further, wanting to eliminate any gaps of space. "Wanna smoke again." He murmurs against your ear, which manages to send shivers down your spine. "Then let’s go smoke." He takes your hand and quickly maneuvers past crowds, leading the way up the many stairs. He pushes open his bedroom door and locks it behind you.
"Are you trying to trap me or something?" You ask with a smile as you walk further into the room.
"Ma, it ain’t like that. Just don’t want anyone coming up in here." You hum in acknowledgment as you move to sit on the edge of the bed. He slips his shoes off and crawls up the bed, leaning against the headboard. He takes his rolling tray off the nightstand and begins grinding up some weed. "I ain’t gonna bite." He speaks with a playful tone. "You should be more worried about me biting." You kick off your heels and crawl up the bed. His blue orbs on you as you get closer. You kneel between his legs, watching him roll. "This better for you, birthday boy?"
"I’m not just some boy anymore. I’m a man."
"Oh yeah? You think you're a man now?" You watch him run his tongue along the paper, sealing the blunt. His eyes stay on you. "I don’t think it, I know it." You can’t help but laugh. "Baby, you don’t gotta rush to grow up." He sparks up and inhales as he places the rolling tray back on the nightstand. A large cloud of smoke curls past his pink lips. He takes another hit before handing it to you. "You act like you ancient or some shit." He mumbles under his breath.
You inhale deeply before pulling it to your lips. "What do you mean?" You slowly exhale and place the blunt back between your lips. He tilts his head to the side a bit. "I see the way you treat your other regulars. You get all flirty and shit with them. With me it’s something different…makes me feel like because of my age you view me as some dumbass kid or somethin’." Smoke curls past your lips as you hand it back to him.
"What you get from me is real. What they get is fantasy. You think I’d ever meet up with any of those men outside the club?" You slowly inch closer, invading his space. "You think I care for those men?" You lean in close to his ear. "You think I actually want those men?" You pull back to look into his eyes and see that his pupils are blown out. You pluck the blunt from between his lips and place it on the rolling tray.
"So, what’s it gonna be, the fantasy or the real?"
The air in the room practically crackles with emotions you are both terrified to confront.
"The real." He gently tugs you onto his lap, and you straddle him, thus causing your dress to bunch up ever so slightly. You keep your hazy gaze on him while he grasps at your hips, tugging you closer.
"Then have me." You purr out as you lean in closer, giving him the consent he has been desiring since the day he laid his eyes on you.
He releases a faint sound as your lips meet his. Your lips move languidly while he moves his hands down to your ass, needing you closer. Your lip’s part, taking it as an invitation, he slips his tongue in your mouth. His tongue tastes of weed, Hennessy, and faint mint. You begin grinding against his lap as his hands trail up your naked back. He bucks his hips up, matching your pace. You release a faint moan as he briefly tugs from you. He eagerly kisses along your jaw, moving down your neck. You tilt your head back with a breathy laugh, which quickly turns into a staggering moan. He nips and sucks along the skin behind your ear.
"Ain’t funny now, is it, princess?" He murmurs against your flesh before abruptly switching the position, so you are forced beneath him.
He tugs his shirt off, revealing his littered tattoos. You watch as he pushes your dress up your hips, exposing your lace pink panties. Once his eyes flicker over the flimsy material, his pupils dilate. He tugs off your dress, causing your breasts to bounce and him to groan.
As if in a trance, he presses them together and inhales deeply before running his tongue along your pebbled nipples. You huff, tugging him closer. He hums with satisfaction and quickly takes one into his mouth while he frees one of his hands to slide down the expanse of your body, leaving chills in his wake. He slides his hand beneath the thin material, releasing a curse when greeted by how wet you are. He pulls from your nipple and is now panting in excitement.
In all your life, you have never seen a man look borderline possessed. He yanks off your panties and shoves off his jeans as he breathes erratically. "Papa, no need to rush." You coo softly as you drag your foot along his clothed, hard length. You smile as he leans into your touch, desperate for anything he can get from you. He relaxes his breathing and grasps your ankle, tugging you closer. With some sense of patience, he presses his lips against your ankle and slowly begins navigating to what he wants the most.
Usually, he doesn’t care to take his time, but this is different. You are different. He wants to prove to you he can be a man. Your man. He drapes your legs over his shoulders as he nuzzles along your inner thighs before turning his attention to your wet core.
"You-" A startled moan cuts off any questions you could’ve possibly had. His tongue laps up your arousal as he grinds into the mattress, trying to hold onto some semblance.
You are overwhelming all his senses, which makes control even harder. From his gaze alone, you can tell he’s holding back. "Baby, it’s your birthday. You don’t have anything to prove. Just be-" His tongue moves without any rhythm; he isn’t driven by getting you off anymore. He is chasing the taste of you. He longs for anything and everything he can get from you.
Despite his lack of restraint, you are moaning in pure bliss and trying to close your legs with knit brows. Your hips buck as your thighs begin to tense up. "A-Alright! Baby, you can stop!" You cry out as you try to sit up. He quickly shuts that down, pressing down against your lower abdomen as he sucks your clit with a grunt.
"Fuck!" You moan to the heavens as your muscles tense, and you release all over his tongue. He hums in approval as he sops up his sweet reward. Hazily, he sits back on his haunches, staring down at the devastatingly beautiful woman. Your breasts rise and fall as you attempt to gain back some sort of control. He moves to stand at the edge of the bed, wanting to take in the full view of you.
"Look at you. Shaking all because of me."
Your eyes lock as he languidly palms himself through his boxers as if he has all the time in the world. Your eyes flicker down to his boxers, licking your lips for what is to come. He smirks once he meets your gaze again.
You crawl over to him, not daring to avert your eyes. "Come get it, baby. It’s all for you." He pulls his hand away, beckoning you closer.
Closing the distance, you rub your face along his crotch with a pleased sigh before looking up at him through your lashes. His cheeks flush pink at the erotic sight. "Oh, Gun." You tug his boxers down; his dick lightly smacks against your cheek, smearing precum against your warm skin. "So messy." You kiss his tip lightly, flicking your tongue out. "Don’t tease me right now, princess." He breathes out while his hands ball into fists.
Keeping your entrancing eyes on him, you begin to take him into your mouth.
He feels like this was some sort of trap, yet in that moment he couldn’t care less. He gently places his hand on your head, not guiding or urging you to take more like he usually would; it’s just comfort. You moan in response, and that damn near tests his restraint. Abruptly, you force yourself to take him all in; he lets out a strangled moan, accidentally grabbing your hair, but that’s far from a deterrent. You begin bobbing your head back and forth with faint moans of delight. Each time your nose grazes against his pelvis, he finds himself groaning loudly.
Suddenly, he pulls you away by your hair while his hands tremble slightly. A string of spit connects from your lips to his dick. "Come on, baby. Let me finish. Don’t you want me to make you feel good?" You lick your lips, trying to close the distance he has created. "Nah, nah, nah. That’s enough." He rushes out, trying to gain back some restraint. His hand slides off your head to cup your cheek. You tilt your head to the side, capturing his thumb between your lips. He can’t look at you, not like this.
An act so debauched shouldn’t be this attractive; it shouldn’t leave him feeling so exposed and slightly embarrassed.
He stares down at you, swallowing hard. "Turn around." He mumbles softly. You oblige, popping his thumb out of your mouth. Your back arches for him, presenting yourself like you are a work of art. He pumps himself twice before pressing against your core.
You release a faint hiss which quickly turns into a moan once he jerks his hips, pushing in fully. He is grasping your hips tightly, mentally counting to ten, not wanting the sense tampering feeling to end. Your walls are snapped taunt around him, slightly fluttering ever so slightly. "Stop that shit." He slaps your ass hard, causing you to cry out.
"Not even doing anything." You huff out, turning your head to the side to try to look at him. He begins snapping his hips at an unforgiving pace, causing you to moan and grasp the sheets. He watches with great focus each time your ass crashes against him. You can feel that he isn’t even in the moment; he’s in his head trying to prove a point. "Gunner."
He immediately stops and looks at you with great care in his eyes. "Yeah? You okay, princess?" You tug off him and make your way further up the bed, crawling away from him.
"Come lie down." You order softly, he obeys reluctantly, lying against the pillows. You straddle him in reverse, ensuring he has the perfect view of your ass. "I know you’ve dreamed up filling me up before, Gun." You grind back and forth on his dick, coating him with your sweet arousal. He gropes your hips as he swallows hard, nodding. "I dreamt of taking you in those private rooms and fucking you in all kinds of positions."
"Let’s start with one first, baby." With those hitched words, you align his dick to your sopping wet core and slide down slowly, you both release a faint moan. You look over your shoulder briefly, watching as his eyes flutter, trying to stay open. You throw your hips back slowly with a moan; you aren’t in a hurry. You would never say it, but you wanted this to last. Hearing his quiet moans and feeling his hands trace along your spine as if he was trying to memorize every feature about you was both terrifying and enticing.
He sits up pressing his chest against your back, causing him to go deeper and you to moan louder. He gently pushes your hair over your shoulder to kiss the back of your neck, yet that doesn’t seem satisfactory to him. He licks lightly before sinking his teeth in, biting and sucking eagerly. You release a broken moan and snap your eyes open. "Gun!" He hums against the flesh, reaching around to grasp your breast, rubbing his thumb over your perked nipple.
The pain quickly subsides as you lean into him with a moan. Your hips roll, craving him like never before. He flattens his tongue against the flesh before pulling away to examine the mark. Now satisfied, he moves his hips, matching the pace, causing you to moan louder. "Yeah? I make you feel good?" He asks as he kneads your breasts. You nod eagerly as you bounce on his dick. "Words, mama. Use your words for me."
"You make me feel so good." You moan mindlessly now, reaching a point where he could ask you for anything and you’d oblige. Something completely out of the ordinary. "Fuck, yeah. That’s my girl. You’re all mine, baby." The hold he has on you is borderline possessive while you continue to ride him into oblivion. "Mhmm, yes, papa. All yours." He moans against the back of your head, guiding your hips, feeling himself reaching that brink of no return.
He trails one of his hands to your clit to rub frantically, wanting you to finish before he does. You whine and reach down to stop him. "Not so fast, baby. Like this." You gently guide his hand with slow, controlled motions. You moan and buck against his fingers. He strums his fingers against you carefully. "That’s right. No need to rush." You look over at him. He meets your gaze and kisses you while they move closer to their shared orgasm. The pace slows to something passion-filled and teeters along a line you don’t want to acknowledge. You moan into his mouth, leaning fully into him. He tugs from your lips with a huff. "Cum for me, pretty girl. Please." He rocks up into you one last time, causing you to moan and tug him closer, spasming around his dick before finally cumming with a cry of pure pleasure.
He curses and eases you up, finishing all over your ass with a small whine. You attempt to lift your hips, but he quickly wraps his arms around your waist, not letting you go just yet. You release a breathy laugh and relax into him. Just this once.
After some time, he lays you down. You're expecting him to fall asleep until you feel something warm and damp against your flesh. You glance and see him cleaning you up with a damp rag. You didn’t even see him go to the bathroom. He places it on the nightstand and now lights up the blunt. He offers it to you first, and you gently take it, smoking slowly. He lies beside you, moving closer. You exhale, handing it back to him. You nuzzle against his chest, closing your eyes.
For the first time in a long time, you slept with true peace, jaw unclenched. He smokes, keeping a watchful eye. Tomorrow morning, he plans on asking you out on an actual date. Something quiet and intimate. The thought causes a smile to tug at his lips.
Little does he know that thought will remain a fantasy.
ᵎᵎ 🧸 ⋅ Kenma x gn!reader but of fluff then angst, sfw
⋅ word count: 1.5k
⋅ warnings: mention of insecurities, ooc?
ᵎᵎ 🧸 ⋅ Masterlist | Pt.2
He's not quite sure when his feelings for you began; in fact, he's unsure when he first ever noticed you.
Maybe it started off when he asked you for a pen, too lazy to rummage through his bag to find his own ones that were scattered all over inside, because he forgot to zip his pencil case closed.
Or perhaps it was when he first made eye contact with you as you handed him his eraser that had fallen from his desk. It was also the first time he truly looked at you, though he quickly turned away, offering a quiet "thank you."
It might have been the time you bumped into him while you were hurrying to the teachers' lounge, just like in a cliché anime scene.
He recalled how annoyed he felt when it happened. Papers flew everywhere, and as you frantically gathered them up, you stuttered a quiet, "I'm so sorry."
It would have been rude to just walk away, so he crouched down to help you pick up the scattered papers.
"Here", he mumbled, handing you the stack of papers he had gathered.
His breath hitched as he felt your soft touch as you took the pile from him.
"Thank you", you responded. And that's when Kenma made the mistake of looking at you again, and gosh, he immediately regretted it, because the second time he properly looked at you, he realised- you were so pretty. Like so pretty, he could imagine the sparkles and flower petals behind you.
He could feel the slight warmth creeping up on his cheeks as he looked everywhere but you, because if he did, he knew he would turn into a mess.
Unsure of his ability to speak without stuttering, he nodded awkwardly and walked away.
Ever since then, he couldn't help but start noticing little details about you— in a non-creepy way, of course. He used his long hair as an advantage to hide the fact that he was sneaking glances at you in class.
He found the way you unconsciously tilt your head when you don't understand what the teacher is talking about, cute or the way your eyes brighten when you know the answer to something.
"Since when did I start thinking about stupid stuff like that..." He muttered to no one as he had lost another fight against the boss.
It's no surprise that Kenma had no experience with things like crushes or dating. This man used to stay up all night playing games, or even wake up early just to do so.
Even after school and sometimes volleyball practice, he rushes straight home to continue where he has left off on his favourite game.
He really doesn´t scream boyfriend material at all.
"Whatcha got there?" The sound of another voice startled him, and he quickly looked up just to see you with your damn tilted head, curious about what he was playing.
"I-I uh..." He cursed himself internally. Dang it. Of course, he´s stuttering and, once again, avoiding your gaze.
Your eyes lit up when you recognised what game he was playing.
"Whoa, isn't the boss like really hard?" You asked him as you sat beside him to observe, which made Kenma even more anxious.
"It's alright..." he mumbled, leaving out the fact that he literally lost just a few seconds ago.
After a bit of hesitation, he asked. "You play this too?" He shifted a bit on his seat and continued to smash buttons.
"Mhm! My friend recommended it to me a while ago, but I keep getting stuck at the puzzles, so I never reached the boss...." You trailed off.
Kenma let out a hum of acknowledgement, trying not to focus on the fact that you're sitting so close, observing his gameplay.
Maybe the fact that you showed interest in his hobbies made him attracted to you.
As time went on, he got used to your presence, so he didnt get as nervous as the first few encounters with you.
But he couldn't deny the fact that his ears felt warm when you were around. Which left him irritated
He didn't dislike you; he disliked the way you made him feel, the way he couldn't help but focus on your details even more, now that you two got close.
The sound of your giggles, the gentle touch of your fingers, the melodic sound of your voice, it all left him awake at night.
It's driving him crazy.
He scratched his head and groaned out of frustration, rolling around on his bed.
It's the third night now that he hasn't been able to sleep. He sighed and reached for his phone on the nightstand. The screen's light blinded him temporarily before he lowered the brightness.
He revisited the chats he had with you. The difference between your chatting style and his was obvious. He's rather dry over text, just like he was in person, but it has never bothered you.
For some reason, he enjoys rereading your texts; it makes him wish that you would text him more.
"Kenma!" You sprinted towards him from behind on the way to school. You two had figured out that you shared the same path to school; you just took a turn early to return home.
"Have you cleared the level you talked about yesterday?" Leaning close, you once again watched what he was playing on his phone, just as you always have.
"I did...it was easy," he lied. It actually took him an hour to clear that stage, but you didn't need to know that, because the way you were amazed by his words left him satisfied.
You sighed as you continued to walk beside him. "I'm jealous, you know. I've never reached that far into the game," you grumbled.
"Have you ever thought that it might be because you don't build your characters correctly?"
"It's not my fault they give me shitty stats!"
The walk was peaceful, the weather was perfect: sunny yet not too hot, but warm. Some of the cats he sometimes sees were resting on top of the walls.
He looks down at your hand, and he wishes to hold it. Would you let him if he asked? Is your hand as soft as he imagined? The thought of that makes his cheeks warm.
He really wanted to know.
Although his thoughts were cut short, as he heard an obnoxiously loud "Hey" from a certain rooster head behind him.
"Don't you usually leave earlier for school?" Kenma narrowed his eyes as he watched his childhood friend catch up to them.
"I woke up later than usual," Kuroo groaned. "I didn't even have time to eat breakfast," he complained.
You just giggled beside Kenma and joked, "You could've run with a toast in your mouth, you know."
Kuroo later noticed the presence beside his best friend.
"You never told me you made a new friend." He hung an arm around Kenma's shoulder, which annoyed the latter.
"I don't have to tell you everything, you know," he grouched.
Kuroo let out a dramatic sound and playfully clenched the spot above his heart.
"How heartless you are!"
After watching the playful exchange between the two, you finally decided to introduce yourself.
"I'm 'name', Kenma and I share the same class. That's how we know each other. "
Kuroo let go of Kenma's shoulder and gave you a smile.
"I'm Kenma's childhood friend; he has probably mentioned me a couple of times already," he claimed proudly, but you only gave him a confused smile, which made Kuroo freeze.
"He did?" "He didn't?" you both asked in unison.
"I didn't," Kenma shrugged.
"You really are heartless!"
You three carried on with your walk, and you and Kuroo really hit it off. He was telling stories about him and Kenma back when they were kids, which made the blonde groan.
He also mentioned other stuff, like some fun facts about chemistry or how the nationals were coming up.
"You never told me about that!" You looked over at Kenma.
Kenma only hummed. "I didn't think it was important to," he admitted, as he continued playing on his phone.
His words made the black-haired gasp in disbelief.
"How could you not tell her that?! It's one of the most important events in the world!" Kuroo gave him an earful.
He then walked over to you.
"Why don't you come watch us play?" The question made your eyes light up.
"Are you sure it's all right for me to come?" you asked and looked over at Kenma to see if he had any objections.
Kuroo only smiled. "Of course it's alright! I'm sure Kenma over here won't mind," to which Kenma replied with a soft "not really."
"It will be fun, I promised."
After a bit of thinking, you nodded. "I will hold you to it then," you said, smiling and playfully punching Kuroo's shoulder, which made him laugh.
Kenma finally looked up from his phone and noticed how close you two had gotten.
He stopped in his tracks and watched you two interact in front of him.
Ah. With the amount of time he has spent with you, he has forgotten his place in this world.
It was as if he had been splashed with cold water.
He was reminded of how different he was compared to you.
And it gave him a bitter feeling.
a/n: I had this in my drafts for a year, and it was supposed to be just about the moments where Kenma has fallen for you, but then I remembered I like my men miserable
summary: you came to toronto expecting a weekend with your friends. instead, you ended up lost with a dead phone, no sense of direction, and a stranger who insisted on helping you.
cw: none so far
wc: 1007
if anyone asked, you’d blame your dead phone.
not yourself.
because there was no way you’d managed to get this lost in a city you’d spent weeks planning a trip to.
at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you stared at yet another unfamiliar street sign.
your phone died at the worst possible time.
not while you were sitting in a café.
not while you were on the train.
but in the middle of downtown toronto while you were trying to find a club your friends had picked and forgotten to properly explain how to get to
the most embarrassing part?
you all were staying at the same air bnb.
earlier that afternoon, everyone had split up to do their own thing before meeting back at the club later that night. one friend wanted to go shopping, another wanted food, and you’d decided to walk around the city for a bit instead of sitting inside for hours.
maybe not the smartest idea on your part to walk around an entirely new city in a country you’ve never been in all alone but it would’ve been fine if your phone was charged.
it would’ve been fine if you had actually memorized the route.
it would’ve been fine if your friends answered texts before your battery hit one percent.
but none of those things happened.
so now you were standing on a random street in toronto with a dead phone, no directions, and absolutely no idea where you were supposed to be.
“please turn on” you muttered, pressing the power button for the tenth time as if that would do the trick.
nothing.
the club your friends were supposed to meet you at wasn’t far—at least according to the directions you’d looked at twenty minutes ago—but every street suddenly looked the same.
you stopped outside a convenience store and looked around desperately.
nobody carried paper maps anymore.
everyone’s heads were down, staring at their phones.
just your luck.
after another five minutes of wandering, you finally spotted someone near a small takeout spot.
black hoodie. hands in his pockets. headphones hanging his neck.
he looked like he actually knew where he was going.
“uhh excuse me?” you called.
the guy looked up.
you froze for half a second.
he was cute.
not in an obvious way. more in the kind of way that made you look twice when walking past.
“yeah?” he asked.
“this is going to sound really stupid.”
a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“what’s up?”
“my phone died and i’m trying to get to this club to meet with my friends, but literally no one uses paper maps anymore.”
the guy laughed. not just a laugh that people do to make someone feel better.
a genuine laugh.
“you’re telling me you were looking for a PAPER map in 2026.”
“don’t laugh.”
“i’m trying not to.”
“you’re doing a terrible job”
he rubbed the back of his neck, still smiling.
“sorry. i just don’t think i’ve seen one of those in ages.”
“exactly my point,” you sighed. “everyone depends on their phones now.”
“everyone including you.”
you scoff with no real annoyance behind it.
his eyes flicked to the black screen of your phone before looking back at you.
“what club are you trying to get to?”
“lost and found”
his eyebrows lifted slightly.
“you’re nowhere near it.”
your stomach dropped.
“…you’re joking.”
“wish i was.”
you looked up and down the street as if the club might magically appear.
“i’ve been walking for twenty minutes.”
“yeah…” he laughed again. “in the opposite direction.”
you covered your face with your hands.
“this is actually so embarrassing.”
“could be worse.”
“how?”
“you could’ve ended up on the other side of the city.”
“don’t even put that into the universe.”
he smiled to himself before pushing away from the wall.
“c’mon.”
you looked up.
“i’ll walk you there.”
“you don’t have to.”
“i know.”
“…then why are you?”
he shrugged.
“i don’t have anything better to do.”
you narrowed your eyes
“that’s a lie.”
“a little.”
“so what’s the real reason?”
he looked at you for a second before a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“you seem interesting.”
you tried not to smile.
“is this your attempt at flirting?”
“did it work?”
“…maybe.”
“i’ll take maybe.”
the rest of the walk was surprisingly easy.
conversation never really stopped.
between teasing you for getting lost, he told you about the city, his favorite places to eat after long studio sessions, and how he’d been spending almost every night making music.
“it’s been busy lately,” he admitted.
“good busy?”
“yeah.”
“that’s a good sign.”
he smiled to himself.
“one of my songs has been getting a lot more attention than i expected.”
“that’s amazing.”
he shrugged like it wasn’t worth celebrating.
you found yourself laughing more than you had expected to.
it was different.
a good different.
twenty minutes ago, he’d been a complete stranger.
now it felt like you’d known him for longer than the walk across downtown.
“so,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “first time in toronto?”
“is it that obvious?”
“a little.”
“wowww.”
“don’t take it personally.”
“i am.”
he laughed.
“you’ll survive.”
“ehh.”
“you’ve made it this far.”
“barely.”
he glanced over at you.
“yet somehow i don’t think getting lost was the worst part of your day.”
“definitely not.”
the music reached you before the building did.
bass echoed through the street, followed by the familiar neon sign you’d been looking for all night.
“that’s it,” he nodded.
your face lit up.
“oh my god.”
“told you we’d find it.”
you turned toward him with a grin.
“thank you so much. seriously.”
“don’t mention it.”
before you could say anything else, the club doors swung open.
“there she is!”
you turned just in time to see your friends practically running toward you.
“girl!! where have you been?” one of them asked. “we’ve been freaking out.”
“your phone kept going straight to voicemail,” another added.
you held up your dead phone.
“it died.”
“we figured.”
“i got completely lost.”
one of your friends looked past you.
“…who’s this?”
you glanced back.
he was standing a few feet away, hands still in his pockets like he wasn’t sure whether he should stay or leave.
“he helped me find you guys.”
your friends exchanged quick looks before smiling.
“well…” one of them said. “thank you for making sure she didn’t end up missing.”
he laughed.
“someone had to.”
you shot your friend a look.
“don’t start.”
“i didn’t say anything.”
“you were thinking it.”
she raised her hands innocently.
he looked between the two of you, amused.
“i should probably get going.”
for some reason, that made your stomach sink a little.
“right…”
there was a brief silence.
“so…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “your phone’s dead.”
you looked down at it.
“guess asking for your instagram would be pointless.”
you smiled.
“a little.”
he reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone.
“i mean you could just type it in.”
you looked up at him for a second before taking his phone.
you searched your account, tapped follow, then handed his phone back.
he looked down at the screen.
“y/n”
“yep that’s me!”
“don’t say i never did anything for you.”
he slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“i won’t.”
there was another small pause before he smiled.
“have fun tonight.”
“thanks, and thanks for helping me.”
“anytime. try not to get lost again okay? if you do you know where to find me”
you let out a small laugh
with one last smile, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
you stood there watching until he was out of sight.
“…girl,” one of your friends said.
you blinked.
“what?”
“you were literally gone for forty minutes…”
“…and somehow came back with a new cute guy?”
your cheeks warmed.
“i was just trying to find the club.”
“mhm. suree”
“i was!”
“yeah yeah.”
you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.
maybe getting lost hadn’t been the worst thing to happen tonight after all.
a/n: okay so my first actual written fic so pls ntm on me. i’m so sorry if like i mischaracterized him im not that familiar with him so bear with me <3 and yes i got lazy with the layout!!
This is my cousin. I know now that there is currently a serial killer in AK and numerous native women have gone missing. As far as I know, only one body has been found, which is absolutely ridiculous. I hate to be that person, but if it was a white girl then the news would be all over everywhere and the killer would’ve been caught by now. I of course know that the cops in AK aren’t the best ones, but it is still absolutely ridiculous. Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear that we will find her, but it is my duty to spread awareness about this before things get even worse. I still pray that Alfreda Gregory is safe 🫶🏾🤎🪻
» You play a game of 'marco polo' with him for fifteen years. Call and response, you and him, always. «
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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.
it started off with him just rubbing your thigh, soft kisses, licking your cheek a bit. but now, he hums against you, lazy and pleased, fingers pressing into your thighs to keep you open. he wasn’t just doing it for you, he was doing it for himself.
“you’re so sweet,” he breathes, tongue sliding deep again. “like candy.”
gentle licks, then sharp flicks, then deep, slow sucks. he keeps changing it up, just to see how you react. all of your whines, gasps, moans just makes him hungrier.
kenma’s been between your thighs for what has to be over two hours now. he’s laid out on his stomach, arms looped tightly under your thighs to keep you in place, mouth locked to your core.
his lips are slick, his chin is soaked, and his eyes, half-lidded, golden, locked on yours— look dazed with want.
“you’re leaking,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your sensitive, swollen folds, tongue flicking out just to catch the drip sliding down.
every time you come, he rides the wave with you. never pulling back, never rushing. he flattens his tongue, dragging it slow and steady from bottom to top, then back again.
“you make such pretty noises,” he says, dipping his tongue inside this time, slow and filthy. his nose presses perfectly against your clit as he thrusts his tongue in and out.
you arch your back, thighs trembling around his head, and all that does is make him groan. low and deep.
“fuck. kenma— how are you still—”
“addicted,” he says simply, cutting you off with a long, lazy lick. “can’t stop.” he kisses your clit before wrapping his lips around it again and sucks.
he pace shifts. tongue deeper, faster, more intense now. you feel your high coming.
he keeps sucking, licking, driving you higher, until your legs are trembling uncontrollably and you’re sobbing his name, fingers yanking at his hair.
he pulls back. his lips are glossy, face a wet mess, eyes blown out with love. he licks his lips, like he’s chasing the last drops of you.
✦ f!reader, post timeskip, kenma is quite the horny fella, suggestive, explicit content.
KOZUME KENMA has insane stamina.
And he doesn't seem like it. Truly, he doesn't. After all, (and not to be stereotypical), but what could you expect of a twenty-two year old who's leisure time was spent playing 'vintage' video games and streaming it for thousands to see?
You definitely didn’t expect that right after those streams ended, he’d have you bent over his gaming desk, just inches away from a small Genshin Impact figurine. You turn around, your cheeks flushing a sweet, saccharine hue of scarlet as he cups your ass from behind, his hands firm and possessive.
The air is thick with tension, sexually charged, rather, as you feel his body heat radiating against you. Every breath you take is heavy with anticipation, and the way he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, sends a shiver down your spine. You can sense his desire, raw and palpable, and it makes your heart race. You’re completely at his mercy, craving every moment as he prepares to take you right there, the thrill of being so exposed only heightening the intensity between you.
No, Kenma is not just another boyfriend of yours you've had sex with. Kenma is an absolute fucking beast - and by the time you're on your third round, covered in his opalescent seed and dripping with perspiration (you're not sure who's it is), that very fact is made abundantly clear to you.
Kenma also isn’t shy about what he wants. He’d rather have you sitting on his face, completely lost in the taste of you. As he laps at your clit, he gets more and more pussy-drunk, his moans vibrating against the slick that covers his fave deliciously. Your muffled compliments only serve to fuel the desire within him, and he’s all in, ready to make you feel every bit of pleasure he can give. It’s raw, intense, and he’s determined to have you begging for more.
You're not exactly sure why he has such superhuman capabilities when it comes to sex. Perhaps, years of pulling all-nighters has finally translated into something good - that being the rather annoying ability to never get tired whilst he pounds his pretty, flushed tip into you, getting the angle just right, hitting you right where you want him.
No, actually. He hits it right where you need him. Because sex with Kenma has translated from something that started off with a few kisses into a ritual you're quite certain you can't live without.
You’d lose yourself in the heat of three rounds—four if the mood struck just right. Kenma would pause, a playful glint in his eyes as he reached for a bottle of strawberry-flavored lubricant from his side-table. With a teasing squirt, he coated your stomach, the slick, sweet substance glistening against your skin.
His fingers danced over you, massaging the lubricant in with a tantalizing pressure that sent electric shivers through your body. Each stroke was a delicious tease, trailing dangerously low, igniting a primal hunger within you. The air thickened with the scent of strawberries and coitus, as his touch turned your skin into a playground of pleasure, leaving you breathless and craving more.
The bottle spits its last, the slick gone, but you don’t stop - not until your body’s shaking, breath stuttering, chasing that high like it's the only thing that’s ever truly undone you. You’re soaked in heat, legs weak, stars bursting behind your eyes. And just when you're about to tapout, that voice cuts through - deep, filthy, smug - dragging out the words that ruin you - but make you crave it all over again.
me when i write a really long comment on a life altering fanfic and the author responds and writes something equally as long and i lowkey just reach enlightenment
when you're reading a fic and they sprinkle in references that fit the time inside the fic and you realize the writer understands cultural context so you lowkey just ascend
