When he's a golden retriever in public but anything but that in bed
He's always had a personality in the public of oh he's too sweet and charming, the golden retriever, cutie who helps old ladies cross the street, the one who crams his girlfriend's family members names and birthdays, the one who carries all your shopping bags and never let's you lift a finger, who takes you out on dates to celebrate any achievement, who drives you everywhere. He's the perfect text book golden retriever boyfriend in public but in private it's a whole different story
When he has you face down in the bed sheets crying from over stimulation as he plows back and forth into you whilst you're shaking and barely staying up on your knees if not for his hands keeping you on your knees and arching your back perfectly so he can fuck your cunt just how he wants.
"S'too much" you slur out whilst squeeze the sheets beneath you to get a sense of stability "sorry love it's just that you look so good today─ and everyone kept looking at you and nngh fuck" he rasps when you squeeze around his swollen cock, the compliments going from your head all the way to your cunt.
Nobody would think that it's your boyfriend who couldn't hurt a fly that has his hand squeezing the fat of your hips and fucking up into your ass and rearranging your guts.
"S─shit right t─there" you whine while he pistons into your with his balls slapping against your clit driving you crazy, every thrust sending closer and closer over the edge.
The sheer size of him overwhelming you backed with how many times he's made you cum has tears running down your face and ruining your makeup
"S──so tight, all mine fu─ck... No one else mine mine MINE nghh" he's so fare gone after going about this for hours his cock twitching inside you.
"I'm gonna, I'm c─cum─" you cry into the pillow body shuddering all over, eyes rolling back hips snapping back into his cock, spasming and gushing all over his cock. Finally you felt his cum flowing deep into you fill you up to the brim the frothy mix of both of your releases forming a ring at the bottom of his dick.
Still recovering from the high you notice he hasn't stopped moving in you, his cock is still going at that punishing pace, like he doesn't even realize he's still fucking you and talking to himself in a daze "ah fuck so good baby , too good your pussy feels too aghh"
one negative aspect of having a professional gamer boyfriend is that on the rare occasion you want to go out to celebrate a fun holiday, he's busy streaming and can't come with you.
most of the time when he doesn't want to go out with you, after enough pleading and begging and doe-eyes, because he's whipped he'll eventually come around and the two of you actually end up having a nice time together. however, on this occasion he is shockingly firm in his notion that he cannot go out to celebrate with you, because he's already scheduled a halloween livestream for his fans.
which is annoying, but you don't worry about it too much because you know there is one tactic that you have yet to try that will undoubtably work and cause him to cancel his stream to spend time with you instead. and that is:
ragebait.
for your 'halloween costume', you didn't even need to buy anything new for it because all it consisted of was a black bra, a black miniskirt (which you cut even shorter), a cat ears headband and a clip-on cat tail, all of which you already own (unsurprisingly). then, you would draw whiskers on your face with eyeliner.
of course, this wasn't your true costume. but merely a decoy costume that you would use to elicit a reaction out of him. your plan was that, once kenma saw that you were going out in something so egregiously revealing, his protective boyfried instincts would kick in and he would insist that he comes with you to the party.
or at least, that's what you thought would happen.
in reality, when you appearing in the doorway on his bedroom, twirling and making all sorts of fuss over your 'amazing' costume, all kenma did was spare you the briefest glance and mutter, "you look nice. have fun tonight."
the doorway wasn't in view of his camera, which is why you felt comfortable doing another twirl, and trying to show off your outfit (or lack thereof) again. "i don't think you got a proper look at it the first time, kenma." you urge. surely if he wasn't freaking out by now, it was probably because he didn't see it right. "c'mon, take another look."
he sighs, and mutes his mic. this time he turns fully towards you, giving you his undivided attention and getting an unobstructed view of your skimpy costume. though, he still didn't seem bothered.
"you're a black cat, that's cute. i like your tail." he points at it, and you can't help but swoosh it around a little. "i hope you have fun tonight. sorry that i couldn't come with you." just as he is about to turn back to his stream, you interject,
"can you at least kiss me goodbye?"
he smiles warmly at you, and nods. "yeah. there's a break coming up in five minutes. i'll meet you at the door."
"okay." you murmur, defeatedly leaving the room and kicking the air as you do so. you can't believe your masterplan didn't work, and that, more importantly, he doesn't seem disturbed at all that you're going out in virtually nothing.
well, you're obviously not really going out in this; even on halloween, you'd just arrested for public indecency. but you can't let him think you were bluffing (even though you were), so you'll probably just sit in your car for a while and watch something on your phone, maybe go to a drive-thru and get a bite to eat. something like that.
dejectedly, you pad to the foyer and put your heels on. and as promised, a couple minutes later kenma joins you. he strolls up to you and pulls you in for long hug, which you reciprocate, even allowing yourself to melt into his embrace slightly. which you immediately regret when you move to give him a kiss and he jerks away.
"huh?" you splutter, staring at him with wide-eyes; a crazed expression like someone who had just been shot. "my goodbye kiss?"
kenma snickers, and nods again. "here." he says. and you're not quite sure what he means, until he gets on his knees in front of you and wraps his hands around your thighs, shuffling closer towards you so his head was right between your legs.
your thighs instinctually press shut and a flustered heat rises to your cheeks in response to his unexpected actions, "what about your stream?"
"paused it. i told them that i needed to give my girlfriend a kiss goodbye. so, let me give you a kiss." his thumbs dig into your thighs, and despite your initial confusion, you soon allow him to part your legs and duck under your skirt, where he's met with a peculiar sight.
"no panties?" he mutters while pressing kisses on the inside of your thigh. "that's risky considering how short your skirt is."
"i just— i forgot to put them on." you splutter, as if that was any more belieable than you choosing not to wear them for aesthetic purposes. regardless, that only makes it easier for his tongue to make contact with your sweet folds.
he licks and sucks at your cunt, lapping at it like a parched man until your entire pussy is glistening with a mix of his saliva and your juices. he pays special attention to your clit, nipping at it to tease you and and fiercely sucking it between his teeth, causing your knees to tremble at his attack on your sensitive bundle of nerves.
he spits on your hole to moisten it , yet it feels so affectionate. he does this repeatedly to prep you, and uses two fingers to push the it inside you, to ensure it fully lubricates you. yet, there's still strings of arousal and spit hanging from your hang and spilling down your thighs.
"ready, kitty?" he asks hoarsely, with his mouth still connected to your cunt, so you feel when his lips creep into a smirk at the silly nickname. "want it?"
"yeah.." you whine, feebly grasping at the edge of your skirt for an inch of solace.
"how bad? tell me how bad you want it, princess." he says, pulling his head back, out from under your skirt so he can glare at you. however, this doesn't work out in his favour, because when he sees you're glossy lip trembling and your angelic eyes gazing down at him innocently, he immediately folds.
"you're lucky you look cute as a cat. i can't make you beg for it when look so sweet." he huffs, diving back under your skirt, only so he can lick one final stripe across your cunt before plunging his tongue into your sopping hole.
you recoil at this forceful action, but he holds you firmly in place. "stay still." he commands, speaking more into your pussy than he was to you. "let me take care of you." your pussy drips around his tongue while he loses himself inside you. thrusting in and out at an erratic pace and curling in all different directions in deperate attempt to locate your gspot.
his hands caress the back of your thighs while his tongue slams into your cunt over and over, with such force that it almost splashes back in his face. "so tight.." he groans, the vibrations tickling your clit just right and ripping a shriek-like moan from you that echoed through the whole foyer. his tongue wormed around your insides, while his lips still worked on slurped up your excess and stimulating the rest of your pussy. "mpph, fuck, you taste like heaven, kitten."
you're unsure how long this went on for, but by the end of it, the coil in your stomach had been wound so tight by kenma's unabating and expert tongue abusing your gspot and his lips destroying your clit, that you were sent into the most mind-numbingly intense orgasm. your walls were spasming and your moans were so loud that they wrapped back around and bacame largely silent. and you're knees buckled under you, and kenma had to grip your waist and slowly lower you down.
"shit.." you curse, laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling as you struggle to catch your breath.
"hope you're satisfied with your goodbye kiss." kenma smirks, finally getting up from knees and heading back to his room where he was streaming, but not before giving you a peck on the cheek first.
you didn't even have the energy to leave the house after that. which upon greater consideration, you realise may have been apart of kenma's plan all along. hmph.
TSUKISHIMA 🕸 x pirate
wrapped up in your fitted corset and pirate costume, you're stood in front of the mirror, adding the finishing touches to your makeup before you're ready to head out.
just as you're adding a final dash of blood to the fake wound on your face, you can feel his unwell presense as he enters your room, without even looking away from the mirror. partially due to the frequent sniffling. although, before he fully comes in, he lingers in the doorway for a moment, crossing his arms as he gives your costume a once-over. "a pirate?" he scoffs.
"yup." you hum, refusing to pay him any attention and staying concentrated on completing your sfx makeup.
and despite noticing your deliberate attempts at ignoring him, he contiues, "not historically accurate at all." he scowls, eyes glued to your body. but that was perhaps in part due to the fact you were wearing a flowy white blouse that barely covered your ass, ripped tights and a cinched corset. of course you had other accessories too like a prop sword and a hat, but the bodice alone was enough to elicit complaints from your boyfriend. "why would swashbucklers wear corsets and heeled boots?"
very opinionated for a man burdened with the flu. you could tell he was just trying to get a reaction out of you, and your suspicion is only confirmed when you turn around and see a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. hence, you sigh and collect your stuff, preparing to leave for the party, "thanks, tsukki. i'll keep that in mind for next years costume." that amount of sarcasm was enough to amuse even tsukishima.
"hey. i just don't want you to go to that party, and everyone starts making fun of you for having a historically inaccurate costume." he places his hand on the side of your head and lovingly strokes your head with his thumb, "you don't deserve that." there was a shocking amount of sincerity in his voice for a man who was clearly joking. but for some reason this display of pity had you inwardly swooning and melting into his stupid, illness-infected hand.
"thank you, kei. but i think i'm willing to take that risk."
"suit yourself." he shrugs, shifting his hand behind your head and pushing it so he can pull you in for a hug. as you wrap your arms around each other, he says in a nasal tone, "have a good time tonight. sorry i can't come with you." then, you feel his spare hand snake down your back, until it's resting on the curve of your thigh, at the very edge of your blouse. "i'll be here when you get home."
at first you think it's sweet that you're usually standoffish boyfriend is being so affectionate. that is, until you think the hug is over but he pulls you in again. okay, maybe he just wants it extra long because you're going to be out all night, that's fair. but then after an additional thirty seconds, you try to pull away again and he just squeezes you even tighter.
that's when you realise. "you don't want me to go, do you?"
"why is your dress so short?"
"oh my god, kei!" you groan, yanking yourself away from his crossing your arms over your chest, affronted. "stop being so overbearing. you're not my parent!"
"fine. go to your stupid party." he grumbles, looking away awkwardly, "don't yell at me. i'm sick, remember?" he fake coughs twice.
such a drama queen, how do you put up with him? you ask yourself. "okay. thanks. goodbye, tsukishima." you sigh, collecting your stuff and heading towards the door. until, he interrupts one last time by calling out after you:
"wait. at least let me give you something before you go."
famous last words. now, he had you bend over the bed, with your dress hiked up and your panties pushed to side while you rammed into you from behind. his fat cock splitting your cunt open repeatedly, while your face was half-pressed into the sheets, surely smudging your makeup in the process, but were far too lost to care.
you're hole quivered around his length and you're knuckles were painted white with how hard you gripped the duvet beneath you. it was frightening how much stamina he had for someone who has been virtually bed-ridden with illness all day. it's like he managed to shake all the unwellness off himself in an instant, and is now back to drilling into you at his typical furious pace.
your walls squelched at each thrust, and your juices leaked out of your pussy, which he used as lubricant as he rubs his fingers over your clit. "oh, fuck, kei.." you groan, legs tensing as the wet friction causes electric jolts through your core. and despite this stimulation, his fierce drilling into your tight cunt never ceased for even a moment. he's adamant on keeping you stuffed. "mmph— ts— tsukki!"
"can't dress like slut and expect me not to fuck you like one." he grits, keeping an iron grip on your waist while letting his other hand freely roam your back. it would wander up and give you teasing tugs on your hair, forcing you to look up at the wall in front of you. then it would retreat downwards to grab and squeeze at fistfuls of your ass, like he owns it. "you think just cos i'm sick that i'm not gonna fill you up? please." his point is underscored by the sniff he does halfway through, due to his blocked nose.
due to his hips constantly slamming down against yours and his dick fighting against the restrictions of your tight hole, it wasn't long before he lost himself in your heat and finished inside you — no rubber so his seed was left to conjest your walls and paint your cervix.
audibly breathless, he pulls out, and you can feel the mix of liquids he left behind him drool out of your cunt. though he hastily sorts that out by fixing your panties and adjusting the fabric so it's snug against your pussy again. pleased with his work, he gives you a quick pat before collapsing down next you on the bed. you've never seen him so worn out after sex before, but you figure it's expected considering he's poorly today.
"have fun on your night out, sweetie." he snickers. if it wasn't made clear he was being condescending by your shivering, fucked-out figure on the bed, that is in no state to be going out clubbing. then, the fact he called you 'sweetie' is a dead giveaway — he typically only calls you petnames when he's being patronising.
"and sorry for messing up your makeup. but considering your costume, you'll be glad i gave you something to keep warm."
BOKUTO 🕸 x fluffy bunny
his strong arms snake around your waist as soon as you pause for one second, just to touch up your mascara in the mirror. you try to pay him little attention, as you're already in a rush, but that becomes difficult when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and you can feel him grin against you.
"aren't you just the cutest little bunny ever?" he laughs, hugging you from behind, so close that you can feel his muscled chest against your back and it's a little distracting. he continues to press open-mouthed kisses onto your neck, and for a moment you wonder whether he's already drunk from the pregame, or if he's being his normal lovey-dovey sickeningly-sweet self.
"thank you, kou. but we need to hurry." after placing your mascara back in your purse, you march straight towards the door. however, bokuto doesn't let go of your waist for some reason and ends up stumbling along behind you. "we're already running late."
bokuto finally drops the hug, but only so he can stand up and admire the sight of your ass almost peeking out of your short dress while you're bent over, scrambling to put your shoes on. he's especially excited by your fuzzy little pompom tail that was sewn onto the dress, just under the small of your back. in fact, you're whole outfit was just so cute, he could hardly bear it. those floppy rabbit ears, the sparkly makeup that makes your face glow, even the fluffy bracelets you wore.
naturally, he couldn't help but give in to his lesser urges, and reach forward to squeeze your pompom tail. it was only sewn onto your clothes so you didn't even notice, until his other hand followed suit and grabbed a fistful of your ass.
which automatically caused you perk up and gasp, "kou!" you stand up straight and instantly whip around to face him, only to be met with a his wobbly smile and prominent redish flush. yeah, he's definitely tipsy.
"c'mon! look at that tail! it's too adorable not to grab." he chuckles, making the motion with one hand, while the other trails down your leg, kneeding your thigh. "such a sweet bunny. can't believe you're all mine."
his head flops onto your shoulder but you're quick to push it upright again, so he can look you in the eyes as you declare, "thanks. but there's no time. we're already super late, bokuto, so we need to hurry. do you understand me?"
"ughh." he tosses his head back dramatically and groans, "why do you we need to go? why can't we stay home and so i can fuck my little bunny's brains out all night?" he pouts, glossy-eyed and seeming genuinely disheartened.
"do you not want to go?"
"no." he states firmly, shaking his head, and almost losing balance in the process. "i want to spend tonight with you, baby. hang and fuck like rabbits— hah, get it?"
"i do." you grimace, quickly pivoting, "but you promised kuroo that you would go to his costume dinner and you said you've been looking forward to th—"
"fuck kuroo and his costume dinner!" he yells definitively, before pulling you in my the cheeks for a dramatic yet sloppy kiss. at first you're astounded and try to say something, but then you realise there's no point in arguing with him since he seems to have made up his mind. all you can do now is enjoy your night.
your lips crash against each other, and you can feel his erection as he flagrantly grinds it against your thigh. your stomach flipped at the sensation and the reminder of just how big he was; your panties slickened in preparation to take him.
you eagerly hike up your dress and try to further close the distance between you and bokuto, but you drunkenly forgot that you were in middle of putting your heels on, so you lose balance and stumble forward in his arms. however, he ends up faling backward as a result, which you landing on top of him. thankfully he braced himself so neither of you were hurt. now you were strandling his thigh, while he's laid on his back.
after a couple of moments frantic 'you okay?'s back and forth, followed by some hearty laughter, he pulls you down to resume kissing passionately. his large hands roam your body, possessively rubbing every dip and curve, and further hiking up your skirt to reveal your dampened panties.
"shit, you're so perfect, baby." he moans, but with such an anguished undertone, it almosts sounds like he's in pain. "i need you so fucking bad. my sweet girl." while one hand tenderly cups your face, the other reaches down to free his cock, which he haphazardly manoeuvres it until the tip is rubbing against your clothed cunt.
you whine into his mouth, then clumsily tug your panites aside, relishing in how his shaft drags along your wet cunt. the friction alone drives you insane, and you let out a deep sigh of relief once he finally slips himself inside your hole and you get that lewd stretch you've been waiting for.
your knees are planted on the ground on either side of him, yet you're far too involved in the heated make-out session to bother ride him. even when you briefly tried, the alcohol immediately started to hit, making it virtually impossible to stay coordinated without fumbling or getting dizzy. thus, while you kissed, bokuto planted both hands on your ass and utilised this grip to slowly drag you up and down on his cock.
emphasis on slowly. inch by fucking inch, it drove you crazy. you'd never gone this slow with him before, usually he pounds into you like a madman but not he was letting you feel him and fully experience the friction of his dick against your walls. giving you time to get familiar with every last vein and curve.
"you comfortable, bunny?" he holds your head with both his arms, hugging you to his chest in a comforting manner, as you struggle and whine while taking his whole length. "cos i think we're going to be here all night."
ATSUMU 🕸 x cheerleader
"are you ready to g—"
atsumu barges into your room, and notices you stood in front of the mirror, fixing up your hair. you even turn to flash him a smile, yet he still looks utterly dumbfounded. then, he quickly bows his head and retreats, muttering, "sorry, i thought you were done changing."
"wait!" you call out after him, and he freezes in his tracks. confused, you clarify, "what are you talking about? i'm already dressed. plus, even if i was in the middle of changing, when has that ever stopped you in the past?"
you giggle, and you expect him to laugh at your joke too, but instead he just turns to you, wearing the most horrified expression you've ever seen. "your dressed?"
"yes."
he motions to what you're wearing. a top that was so cropped it resembled a bra, with the word 'cheer!' written across it. and a matching glittery microskirt. atsumu felt light-headed just looking at it. "that's your whole outfit?"
you tut, crossing your arms over your chest and rolling your eyes. "no, of course not."
atsumu huffs the biggest sigh of relief, practically hunching over as he does so. "good, that's what i thought. so what are you missing? a jacket? leggings? the rest of your shirt?" he throws the suggestions at you, but you think it's better if you just show him.
you shuffle over to your bed and pick up the two cheerleading pom-poms you bought, and excitedly shake them around. "these!"
atsumu's face abruptly drops into a frown. "that's it?"
"yup." you nod happily. but there's a beat of silence, during which atsumu's unusual lack of commentary — ironically — tells you everything you need to know. "what? you don't like it?"
he grimaces, opening his mouth to say something before realising that there's probably a better way he could approach this situation. "don't you think you're going to get cold in that?"
"no." you shake your head, and pout. from his demeanour alone you can tell that the problem is, you're hasty to whine, "you just don't like my costume!"
"huh? i didn't say that." he furrows his brows, cautiously edging towards you with an arms outstretched, as though he was trying to offer his scent to a volatile cat. however, in this case, he lets his fingers tap at the exposed skin of your waist, and despite your gloomy attitude, you let out the slightest 'hmph' of approval, which he takes as permission to wrap his arms fully around you.
holding you in his ridiculously warm and loving embrace, he hums, "i love your costume. wish you'd dress like this when you come and watch my matches with the jackals. looking in the audience and seeing you wearing this," he steps back and admires your outfit, squeezing your waist as he does so, "would give me some real motivation."
"the wrong kind of motivation." you tease, nudging his crotch where you can feel his length stiffening against your thigh.
he litters kisses from your collarbone up to your ear, where you can then hear him growl, "n' that's your fault for having your whole ass out." he puntuates his point by delivering a harsh slap on your cheek, and chuckling when you yelp and bounce in his arms at the impact.
there's a momentary lull, as his hand drags from your thigh, up between your legs until the pad of his finger is grazing your labia through your panties. the subtle yet perverted touch is enough to send shockwaves up your spine, and mixes with the arousal in your abdomen that was also caused by his gruff voice in your ear, "it's a shame we didn't meet in high school."
"y—you think?" is all your able to stammer out, as your panties are tugged aside and his fingers shamelessly delve between your damp folds.
"yeah. i would've loved a hot cheerleader dancing for me at all my matches." you can feel his lips pull into a smile as his daring fingerwork causes you to squirm in his arms. his middle finger would prod at your clit before two would slip into your soaked hole. they'd remain relatively stagnant at first, allowing you to adjust to it before they started to move.
"we had a cheerteam but they weren't anything like you." his hot breath burned your neck; he was so near to you, and there was no where you could go to escape. by now his fingers were rapidly pumping into your pussy, while his chest was pressed against yours and his arms are wrapped around you. even his face is slotted into the curve of your neck. you were as close as close could be.
"fuck, if you were there cheering for me though.. in this slutty little outfit." he chuckles at the comment, though his heart races at the mere thought of you as a real cheerleader for him. his eyes drifted shut and he let himself get lost in the fantasy. "god, i don't know what i'd do. probably try to get my hands on you first."
"yeah, yeah, you'd be mine. then i'd bend you over under the bleachers the first chance i got and fuck your lights out." you don't know if he realises it but the longer the rambles on, the rougher he gets with you. his fingers drill repeatedly into your wet hole like a machine, until you're emitting squelching noises with each thrust. he's got such a stern grip on you, his knuckles are white and his nails are virtually digging into your thigh. while his other hand is wrapped around the back of you, with his index and middle finger feverishly abusing your pussy while his thumb presses against your asshole, just to keep you in place.
"shit, you don't know that you're stupid costume is doing to me.." his breath his heavy, and so is yours. but in your case, it's due to the fact that his fingers are curled in such a way that he's repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, and white spots are beginning to cloud your vision as you eventually submit to your orgasm. a climax that leaves you a whiny, shivering mess in your man's arms.
"tsu—atsumu!" you cry out, being partially muffled by his chest. your hole feebly flutters around his unrelenting digits, and he shifts his spare hand up to cradle the back of your head. he kisses your earlobe and whispers, "that's it, baby. ride it out. c'mon."
once the molten grit in your stomach dies down, atsumu slides his finger out of you and you're able to catch your breath. although the orgasmic lust still lingered in your mind, it was usurped by the remaining desire to go out and party on halloween, so you find the strength to utter groggily to him, "aren't we going to go out?"
atsumu laughs and affectionately tucks a strand of your costume-wig hair behind your ear. while making eye-contact, he states bluntly, "no."
"why not?" you immediately whine in protest.
in a shockingly gentle manner, he explains, "honey, you can go out half-naked any other day of the year. but this is the only night i can fuck a cheerleader under the bleachers."
before you're able to even question what he means, he rummages around in the pocket of his jacket and pulls out his car keys. flashing you a smile, he offers you his jacket, and then his hand, "hm?"
You know it's wrong, so wrong to enjoy the attention of a creep.
At least, that's what people call him. But through the snickers and sidelong glances that surround him, there's something about him that intrigues you, attracts you, something you can't seem to get out of your head.
It starts off small, letting him eye you from across the room and flashing him a small smile. Then you notice he starts to get bolder, more confident in his advances. As the days pass, his presence becomes a constant in your routine. He waits for you after class, catches you alone in elevators, leans in closer during conversations, and even starts to find excuses to touch your arm or shoulder. Each interaction feels like a challenge, a test of boundaries that seems he's all too willing to push.
In the beginning, you almost listen to the unease flickering in the back of your mind, warning that maybe you are playing with fire. But as the tension builds, you find your resolve slowly melting, small touches on your arm turn grazes against your ass and the quick glances evolve into him blatantly checking you out.
So only you can be blamed for the situation you're in right now. Only you can be blamed for letting it get like this.
His hips snapped so fast you can't think, you can breathe. Pleasure courses through your body in electric flesh arrows and you could feel your pussy clench around his length in a futile attempt to adjust for his massive size. How could a creep like him be so big? Jesus, you could feel his mushroom tip press against your cervix every time he slammed into you. Countless loads of cum dripped from where you two were connected onto the white sheets below. At any given time he'd blow his load right into you and without much of a stutter fuck the liquid back into you, until he reached his high again and started the cycle over again.
"Mine," he grunts out, his breath hot against your cheek from the brutal mating press he has you in. The bed shook with every thrust, the head board banging against the wall from the way your cervix was getting absolutely abused. The friction, the way he filled you up so perfectly, his hot skin against yours, it was too much, too overwhelming, and your brain couldn't handle the pleasure. You could feel the euphoria absorb your body, making your toes curl and uncurl from the sheer pleasure.
"G-gonna cum in you again" He says through a moan, peppering kissed along your jaw. "Gonna fill you up, make you feel so so good." He doesn’t slow his movement, instead picking up one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder so he can reach even deeper. He places his other hand on your belly, rubbing your skin with his thumb.
"You feel me?" He coos, pressing down on your stomach, intensifying the pressure of his cock inside you and making your moans grow even louder.
"I can feel you, I can feel you squeezing me, feel so good, better than my fist." He chuckles and grabs your throat, squeezing it so your brain goes fuzzy with the slight light of oxygen.
His breathing becomes jagged and with a soft whimper followed by a silent "oh-fu", he blows his load into your battered pussy. There is no warning when cums into you, only the slight stutter of his hips that does nothing to deter his brutal pace. You are soaked down there, his sticky cum leaking out of you as he pushes into you over and over again. But you couldn't be bothered to look right now, you couldn’t open your eyes and ignore the colors you were seeing behind your eyelids. Everything was good - so, so, so good. Your skin was buzzing, mind cloudy, and the only thing you could focus on was the throbbing that was taking over your body.
"You gonna cum?" He coos into your ear, punctuating his words with an extra sharp thrust. "Cum for me, please."
As if on cue, you gasp, and let your orgasm wash over you. He doesn't stop his movements, instead, he fucks you through your orgasm until your crying for him to stop.
"Not gonna stop, gonna fuck you until m' shooting blanks okay?"
SHIGARAKI, YUUTA OKKATSU, L LAWLIET, SHINSO, KENMA, GYUTARO
𝜗ৎ Kenma absolutely hates public display of affection. Which is why Kuroo and his girlfriend are getting on his last nerves... But can a kiss between you change his mind?
♥︎ part 1: Kissing isn't that bad
wc: 4.1k
Tags: fem!reader x timeskip!Kenma, college au
cw: fingering, p in v, cursing, makeshift vibrator (kenma loves his controllers), dirty talk (kind of. kenma's pretty blunt lol), creampie, public sex (kuroo's in the same room and oblivious oops), virginity loss
a/n: thank you so much for everyone's kind words these past few weeks, it truly means a lot to me ♡ I tried to write for this whenever I had the time, so im sorry if its not exactly the best. (had no idea writing about a controller being a vibrator would be so difficult lol).
❀ all images are found off of pinterest! I do not own them. (credit to @/Freaka_LoonyZ for the middle picture!)
Kenma was the quiet type: His thoughts consistently buried within the depths of his prefrontal cortex, displayed only when a tactical explanation was needed for a win. And truthfully, the idea of intimacy was no different to Kozume — the years of consumed pornography, whether from the bookshelf of Kuroo’s apartment or the glow of his screen, was nothing more than an object of studious ventures. Sure, his hand wrapped along the base of his shaft felt fucking amazing… but it was the twitch in the woman’s lip, the goosebumps formed along a stretch of skin that indicated their partners bliss. The true win of intercourse.
Though, Kenma had never touched a woman.
Most often his fantasies were just… well, fantasies. Especially when it came to you. He had eyed you in class; observed the way the strap of your tank drooped each time you leaned forward. It was almost perfect, how close it was to exposing the top half of your breast. And like always, you would hoist it up, giving a sheepish smile to the boy who had just spent the past thirty seconds visualizing how perky your boobs must be under all the fabric.
Fuck — maybe he shouldn’t have been so eager to accept your advances in teaching. Because in full honesty, Kenma wasn’t a huge fan of lips. All they ever did was ramble. And kissing? Absolutely not; that activity always looked diabolical. Besides, his first (and last) smooch had inevitably ended in a split lip and a chipped tooth.
But you were good: Maven, even. The way your lips caressed his, teeth tugged against the pout of his lower lip whenever your tongues would break from their dance. And your underwear, which was utterly soaked from the friction of his clothed dick, enhanced every desire to lose his virginity with his best friend laid on the fucking floor.
Still, the rush of blood couldn’t truly rid Kenma of his jitters: Sure, the feeling of his tip swiping the cotton of his sweats with each drag of his hips was heavenly, but was it really having an effect on you? God, it was as if his years of studious intrigue meant zilch. The close-ups of recorded intimacy nothing more than just a pastime to masturbate. Because who was he kidding? No amount of porn could’ve prepared him for this; he had never used his tongue on a woman, never even laid a finger on their thigh. So how the fuck was he supposed to leave you satisfied — back arched, legs twitched with overstimulation, and a flurry of whimpers hidden by each other’s mouths.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This wasn’t the time to be nervous: Any more floods of perturbation through his veins and he was sure to go soft (a catastrophic blow to his already lacking confidence).
Realistically, if he didn’t want an inadequate performance to cloud your judgement, the only thing left to do was figure it out. And how different could it be from volleyball? From the strategic games exhibited on his PC? They all required observation. And this — this certainly would too.
His right hand released its clutch near your head, fingers trailing to the waistband of your shorts while his left forearm maintained his hovered weight. “Hmph,” he tugged his lips away, fully prepared to latch onto the exposed bone of your collar when he felt your body shift. At first, he took it as a comfort adjustment; until your fingers trailed over his.
Wait, were you wanting him to stop?
Fuck, maybe Kozume was getting too ahead of himself. He wasn’t aware of your thoughts, your notion of being sprawled naked and pleased while Kuroo snores on the air mattress. Besides, he was a virgin. And you taking his virginity seemed almost… important.
“Sorry, I can stop.” He tugged his head away, narrowed gaze shamefully directed to the tip of your right ear. What a fucking idiot… the least he could do was meet your eyes, but even that remained a hopeless venture.
You, however, were utterly confused. The position of your fingers was merely to direct his hand inwards; a subtle action to give him the greenlight to progress further. But it appeared Kozume was dense in those kinds of antics. Which, honestly, you should’ve guessed — it only took you six excruciating months to get him to talk to you in math. “Kenma,” his eyes stayed stationed away from yours; torso leaned upwards to create a respectable distance. “I was directing your hand… inside.”
Now that caught his attention. “Inside?”
“Yeah, like… y’know to my,” you scrunched your nose, eyes clasped together to disregard Kenma’s newfound inquisitive wonder. “Please don’t make me say it.”
“Oh.”
Oh? You basically just confessed months of sexual desire towards your friend, and all he could muster up was some neutral expression? There was no excitement to his tone, no waver of joy. Just pure… meh.
But what was worse? His next statement. “Y/n, grab the controller.”
Kozume had undoubtedly taken it upon himself to fully avert your declaration of yearning — opting to transition the tension between you towards the characters on screen. I mean, it was humiliating in itself to have his response be so impartial. But to re-direct your previous heated makeout session to Kole spilling his love for Mira? That was a whole new fucking low for you.
Maybe you had come off too strong. Or maybe Kenma’s titillated attitude was merely for educational purposes. Either way, your long-time fantasy of seeing Kozume falter beneath you had been crushed in an instant; a painful and tragic demise to any hope of reciprocated admiration. Yet there was nothing you could do except oblige. Forcing a conversation from Kenma was like pulling teeth, and there was no way in hell you’d have such a pressing discussion with Kuroo earshot to it all.
“Here.” Your fingers crept to your left, grabbing the forgotten controller near Kenma’s knee before planting it in his hand. And, of course, Kozume took no time in exiting the game you had so eagerly suggested. After all, he was a strategic player — a game with romance entwined was nothing more than an irritant.
It wasn’t until you tried to prop back up that things began to get confusing. Kenma, who had his eyesight still fixated on the settings, sprawled his palm across your reddened chest, pushing lightly till your previous position had been acquired. “Stay.”
Your furrowed brows pointed upwards toward Kozume, watching as his tongue pointed out; a small habit he always did whenever he’d deemed it necessary to focus on a task. But despite his sharp attention, the end of his finger danced almost absentmindedly around the thumbstick, the vibration of the once idle controller changing intensity with each swipe.
It was odd — how long the process was taking. Usually he was precise with his set-up, opting to keep the controls in a routine metric. His gameplays, especially in regard to Monster Hunter, was something he took quite seriously: A small tweak in something as simple as the vibration could absolutely throw him off.
So why was he messing with it?
“Y/n, are you sure?” You hummed in response, a puzzled expression still directed at the boy above you. Because initially, his query didn’t raise any flags; but how could it? It seemed as though the setter had already chosen his path, the infinitesimal choice leading to the outcome of ‘unrequited romance’ (or in your case, humiliation).
To Kenma, however, this was his chance to get consent. Yes, you had admitted your lust, revealed the fact that you desperately wanted his hands in your shorts. But he needed validation — another acceptance to this outcome. Because this butterfly effect was one you two wouldn’t come back from: The basis of friendship turned to a distant memory. For fuck’s sake his dick would be inside you. There was no way you would look at him the same after that.
So, while friendship would be patently out of question, the only issue that remained was how you’d view him in the future. You could leave him, pretend he doesn’t exist. Maybe even sit in the front row of math just to avoid his lingered gaze. Or maybe — just maybe… you two could become more. Something he wasn’t opposed to.
“Am I sure about,” your brow raised. “If the settings look good? I mean, it’s you who has a weird obsession with your controller metrics.”
He shook his head, his free hand hooking a pointer underneath the waistband of your shorts. “No,” but his continuation wasn’t particularly needed. With the way he tugged the hem of your underwear, gaze flickered to the damp spot soaked in between your legs, it wasn’t exactly hard to put two and two together. “Are you sure… about this.”
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Your brain almost went haywire, the pulse of your heartbeat surely prevalent through the thick of your shorts. Of course you wanted this. It was no doubt that you had fantasized about Kenma since the moment you laid eyes on him. Honestly, most weeks were spent strategizing, working tirelessly just to get to the point of mutual conversations.
For crying out loud, you had to beg Kuroo for help — someone you didn’t even know. The poor middle blocker, confused and completely caught off guard, had to discuss his friend with a total stranger after class. Not to mention get threatened: You’d be damned if your confession had gotten out.
“I’m sure.”
Kozume’s head tugged backwards, irises fixated on your face for any sign of hesitancy: Your lips were visibly swollen, eyes glossed from the constant tug and pull of his hips. And your cheeks? God, they were the cutest shade of pink he had ever seen. But that was it: there was no vacillation. At least, not any he could decipher.
So, he accepted it; the fate of this massive decision. His curled fingers dragged the fabric downwards, following the curve of your ass as you lifted your hips in assistance. And before he knew it, there you were, in front of him…. unclothed from the waist down.
Frankly, any form of words would be an understatement to how fucking incredible this moment was. Even Kuroo, his unspoken and horrid wingman, would call this story a fib. His introverted friend saw a pussy in person? Nonetheless yours? Yeah, it had to have been a wet dream.
His middle digit dragged back up, the pad of his fingerprint pressing lightly between your folds. And holy shit he could’ve cum right then and there; the feeling of your skin was so soft… so wet. His tented dick twitched in anticipation, the curve of his finger drawling lazily against your cunt to continue the overwhelming sensation of dopamine in his nucleus accumbens. Though to you, the rush of adrenaline wasn’t quite as satisfactory as his; the enjoyment of this explicit act overshadowed with edge. Kozume may not have known it, but his touch was featherlike, the swiping of his middle finger causing a twitch of eagerness in your inner thigh. It was almost cruel, how much of a tease his digit gave with each skim against your entrance.
“Kenma,” your legs tensed as he drawled another swipe. “Please.” His head tilted at your plea, eyes of bemusement glinted by the glow of his PC. “More. Push more.” He huffed in acknowledgment, the press of his finger tightening until his medial phalanx urged its way into your tissue.
You gasped at the sudden intrusion, the walls around his finger clenching hard until it elicited a grunt from the depths of the boy's throat. “Oh shit you’re tight.”
It was insane, how warm and gooey the inside of you was. There were no comparisons to it. The way your textured walls contracted with every thrust of his finger. It was as if your body didn’t want him to part — to rid itself from the pleasure of his middle finger grazed along your insides. And, honestly, he didn’t want to either. I mean, this had to be what paradise felt like. And who in their right mind would’ve wanted to free themself from that?
You whimpered at his achingly slow pace, shifting your hips with each push of his hand to create a harder friction between your legs. God he was killing you. It was like with each thrust, the pressure in your abdomen would swell, the notion of an orgasm becoming clearer with the length of his finger. But just as soon as it appeared, it would disappear — dissolve into nothing but a cry of pain and sheer anger.
So, once the setter delved back in, his languid thrust pushing closer to your cervix, did you grab his wrist. “Curl it.” His middle digit curled in an instant, creating a small u-shape until his fingerpad pressed against something softer, something almost differed in texture and swollen. “Mmmph…” You whimpered at the abrupt pressure against your g-spot; your back arched and head lifted to watch as the timorous setter finally found his footing. “J-just like t-that, yeah.” Your praise was broken, an earful of stutters conjured from your attempt to suppress the moans that threatened to rupture. But Kenma didn’t notice — his eyes too focused on your body: The way you twitched and stirred so prettily beneath him.
And he couldn’t stop; couldn’t change speed or tighten the curl of his finger. Because it was amazing, the way his slow, deliberate thrusts created such a wild look in your eyes. Fuck, you looked as though you were on the verge of tears. Or maybe it was the verge of death threats towards the leisured gamer. Nonetheless, he didn’t quite want it to end.
But you were impatient: Needy. Your hips buckled upwards, urging Kenma to amplify his pressure. “You want more?” You nodded at his blunt query. “Then be louder.”
Did he just say… louder? No, surely you didn’t hear him right — not with his friend just a few feet away.
Yet, with each fleeting second of hidden grunts and suppressed sighs, the harder he thrusted. He was practically begging for a reaction. Because truthfully, at this point, he didn’t care if Kuroo awoke from your broken whimpers. Those noises — those cute whines and pitched moans were from him.
And he’d be damned if he didn’t get to listen.
His knees shifted between your thighs, spreading your legs further until an ache spiraled to your hips. It was a precipitous action — one Kenma didn’t give much thought to in response to flexibility. But did he really care? No. Your glistened cunt wrapped snug around his finger was all the reward he intended.
“I thought I said to be louder,” his gaze stayed locked on your body, the occasional drop of eyeline catching sight of the dampened sheets pressed taut underneath you. “Or did you not want me to follow your pace?”
You opened your mouth, prepared to rebut his initial order of vocalization to keep from the ignominy of Kuroo’s awakening, but before you could respond — before you could acknowledge his request, Kozume did the unthinkable: The motorized controller, still held in his left hand, lowered, the edge of the plastic reaching downwards till it pressed against your small bundle of nerves.
“Ohmyfuckinggod.” The sensation was alacritous; flickers of vibrations against your clit sparking a surge of flutters deep within your abdomen. “K-kenma how did… nghhh fuck.” Realistically it wasn’t the craziest in terms of intensity, the pulse of the controller lightweight in comparison to toys. Yet the newfound feeling, accompanied with the consistent edge of Kozume’s fingers, had become a beacon to your unraveling. Which sadly meant your dignity had turned to a losing battle; the string of noises once hidden by loud breaths and sharp inhales overridden by tumultuous moans.
But your loss was inevitable. Especially when it came to Kenma — the strategic leader in any field he participated in. So, you accepted your fate, opting to acknowledge the fact you had no control over any part of your body; because right now, you were engulfed in bliss. Your head raked backwards, both hands clenching the fabric of his comforter while your hips followed the drag of his finger.
“Damn. You’re really wet.” He noted.
And it was true: the squelch of your cunt echoing in the room during each thrust was evidence enough to showcase the pleasure he was achieving. Which meant Kenma needed to focus. He needed to keep his attention fixated on the shudders your leg provided, tallying how many seconds it took between every twitch until you’d cum. His tongue dipped out, a red sheen painted across his cheeks at his level of concentration towards your exposed lower half: Fuck it was so beautiful. So wet. And all fucking his in this moment.
His hips rutted upwards into the air, chasing some sort of friction to tackle the pulse of his erection. It was almost torture; the throb within his sweats, the ooze of pre-cum stained against his fabric, and the pure agony of watching your cunt weep over his finger instead of his dick.
Fuck — was it bad he’s counting down until you finish so he could sink within you? I mean, sure, he’d probably only last a few thrusts. But who gives a shit. Just a second of feeling your gummy walls wrapped around his cock would be greater than any victorious boss battle.
“Kenma — ohmygod — press the controller harder.” He obliged to your demand, forcing his palm forward until you gasped, hips rotating to let your slick coat the plastic, sliding the vibrations up and down to your liking. And his finger — still thrusting in those quick, curled motions was enough to let the knot coiled in your abdomen tighten. “Gonna,” your hands released their grasp on the comforter, finding their way to the wrists of the setter hovering in front of you. “Kenma… g-gonna — mmphh.” You couldn’t even finish your original statement before the pressure spilled open: Your legs twitched, lashes fluttering with the beat of your heart.
Kenma just made you cum… with his stupid controller.
What the fuck.
The setter huffed in exhaustion, slipping his digit out and placing the vibration of his device to the side of the bed. It was clear the poor boy was lacking in stamina (not sure from what workout… the boy barely moved his body); his shoulders slumped, head tilted and eyes lazily fixated on the swell of your clit. Really, there didn’t seem to be much room for sex with the way he held himself. Which meant you were fully prepared for the two of you to slip into an elated slumber — the uncomfortable conversation around these explicit acts paused until the morning. Well, until Kozume spoke back up. “Wanna get on top?”
“Huh?”
“If I’m on top, the bed will creak too much.” While that declaration was partially true; his decision seemed to teeter based more so on the notion of movement. With you fully in control, the most Kenma needed to do was guide you with his hands. An easy set-up for the tired gamer.
Plus, if he spilled too early, he could always just blame it on your profound technique in riding.
Though, you didn’t really give a fuck who was on top. All that mattered was the idea of Kozume deep within you, pounding against your walls until tears spilled: The driving factor in what allowed you to overcome the tightness of your muscles from the first orgasm. You crawled forward, following the boy who positioned himself neatly against his pillows, hands fumbling to get the waistband of his sweats down to his thighs.
And truthfully, you weren’t really sure what to expect. I mean, you had never really contemplated his size; nor did you ever contemplate the look. The remnants of imagined pleasure came from the idea of how good it would feel. So, when his cock sprang free, slapping taut against his stomach, did your mouth hang agape slightly. The 5 foot 10 inch setter was carrying something a bit… bigger… not to mention curved.
You leaned forwards, head tilted at the sight of a single vein protruded along the underside of his shaft, running upwards until it reached his reddened tip. It was crazy. How flushed the poor gamer was.
“Uh, why are you looking so intensely?”
You peered up, observing Kenma’s frowned expression towards your inquisitive stare (yeah, you probably shouldn’t have done that — weirdo). “Sorry.”
He huffed in response, reaching his palms outwards until it met the curve of your waist. And for a brief moment, Kenma had decidedly poured his last remaining energy into a single pull - tugging you closer until you hovered over his lap.
Your hand found its way below your body, the edge of your palm wrapping loosely around the base of his cock. He shuddered from the touch, hips bucking upwards to create a sliver of friction between each other’s skin. Yet… you hesitated: Your body stayed held, keeping Kenma’s dick distanced from your entrance.
You were eager, that was certain. But even with the rush of blood and heightened lust, there was this gnawing feeling; a sense of dread over the what-ifs. Not to mention Kozume’s lack of experience… surely he was a virgin.
And after all this time, did Kenma really want to experience his first moment of intimacy with Kuroo snoring on the floor?
“Kenma, are you—”
“Please,” Kozume’s voice broke softly around the edges. And, if you didn’t know any better, it almost seemed as though the setter was pleading. His cheeks were puffed out, narrowed eyes widened in need, and his lower lip was pushed forward. “I’m sure about this. Just,” the poor boy looked as though he was on the verge of a sob. “Hurry.”
His grip around your waist tightened, a soft gesture of assurance that he was in fact ready. You nodded at the setter beneath you, the lower half of your body sinking downwards until his swollen tip penetrated the first few centimeters of your walls. “Fuck.” Your tissue was gripping him like a vice, sucking the boy in greedily to elicit a rupture of groans from his throat. “Didn’t realize, fuckfuckfuck, you’d feel even tighter.” His indifferent demeanor had officially cracked. And badly. Even his grunts were growing louder, hips thrusting upwards from impatience towards your slow pace in taking him in fully.
Yet the quickened stretch was agonizing — his single digit wholeheartedly underpreparing you for what was stored in his pants. All the affliction did was cause a string of whimpers… but holy shit was he was going to lose it. Even his dick throbbed within you: a new wave of euphoria flickered from your warped expressions and pitched whines.
His hands grasped tighter at that revelation, allowing the supple of your skin to spill slightly between his fingers; an action that surely would present future bruises. But you ignored the dig of his nails, trailing your palms upwards until it pressed against his clothed chest, seeking comfort in his body once your pelvis connected with his.
Though the pain didn't diminish; the sting within your body prevalent even in stillness. So, you dragged in a deep breath, fingers curling into his hoodie before rutting your hips back upwards to set a slow pace.
“Wait, stop.” Kenma’s grasp was quick to tug you back down, a flurry of whimpers following suit of every exhale. Shit… was he changing his mind? No — that didn’t seem likely. Maybe you went too quick, your tightened tissue causing rough friction instead of pleasure. “Im going to cum if you keep moving.”
In hindsight, Kenma probably should’ve closed his eyes instead. Because the moment his eyeline made its way across you; flushed cheeks, wrinkled top, ass seeping through his fingers while your cunt fluttered around his cock, he came. “Fuck im so s-sorry i-i couldn’t,” his words were meshed with groans, hips bucking and thrusting through his own high as he throbbed within you, the thick of his seed painting your insides. “You felt too good… ohmygod. Next time… i’ll, nghh, last l-longer.”
Did he just say… next time?
You parted your mouth, a mountain of queries waiting at the tip of your tongue to be shared with the boy beneath you. Though it appeared his friend had beaten you to the punch, a pair of hazel eyes perked above the bedside. “I was going to remain silent, but I’m a little fucking annoyed. Didn’t I say not to do anything fun without me?”
Sucking on Kenma Kozume’s tip while he pumps his cock and hearing him whine at the sight of you, causing him to ejaculate prematurely. I REPEAT. Sucking on Kenma Kozume’s tip while he pumps his cock and hearing him whine at the sight of you, causing him to ejaculate prematurely.
;; boyfriend!kenma is the ultimate ‘low-battery’ cuddler. when he’s had a long day of meetings and sponsorship deals, he doesn’t want to talk. he just wants to lay his head in your lap and have you stroke his hair while the tv hums in the background. he’ll let out a long, shaky sigh, finally melting into the cushions because you’re his only safe zone.
;; boyfriend!kenma buys you the most thoughtful, high-tech gifts that make your life easier. if you mention your neck hurts, a top-of-the-line massager shows up the next day. if you say you’re cold, he installs smart-heating in the floors. he doesn’t always say “i love you” out loud, but your entire environment is optimized for your comfort because he’s the one controlling the settings.
;; boyfriend!kenma has a secret folder on his phone filled with candid photos of you. you sleeping, you laughing at a meme, you focused on your own hobbies. whenever he’s traveling for a gaming convention or a business trip, he scrolls through them to help him deal with the social exhaustion. you’re his tether to the real world.
;; boyfriend!kenma loves slow mornings with you. since he sets his own hours, he’ll stay in bed for an extra hour just to hold you. he likes to tuck his face into the back of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and just drift in that half-awake state where the only thing that matters is the weight of you in his arms.
;; boyfriend!kenma is a sucker for parallel play. he’ll be on his switch and you’ll be reading a book, but your feet are intertwined under the blanket. every once in a while, he’ll lean over and kiss your shoulder or the top of your head without saying a word, just checking in to make sure you’re still there.
;; boyfriend!kenma gives you his undivided attention when it really matters. he might be a busy CEO, but if you send him a text saying you’re having a bad day, he’ll delegate his tasks to his assistant and be home within twenty minutes with your favorite takeout and a new game he thinks you’ll like.
;; boyfriend!kenma likes to rest his chin on your head. since he’s usually hunched over a screen, standing up straight to tuck you under his chin feels like a reset for him. he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and just sway slightly, closing his eyes and enjoying the fact that, out of everything he’s built and won, you’re the best part of his life.
;; boyfriend!kenma is the king of low-effort luxury; he doesn't care about the price tag of the jewelry he buys you, only that it matches your eyes. he’ll casually drop thousands on a designer bag just because he saw you glance at it once in a magazine, presenting it to you while he’s halfway through a boss fight. “here, i thought it suits you.”
;; boyfriend!kenma has a very specific love language: space. but not distance. he wants you in his office while he works, tucked into the crook of his arm or scrolling through your phone with your legs draped over his lap. he’ll subconsciously reach out to rest a hand on your thigh, his thumb tracing circles over your skin without ever looking away from his monitors.
;; boyfriend!kenma lets you wear his expensive, oversized hoodies—the ones that cost more than your—past—rent. he loves the way you smell like his cologne and home. when you try to return them, he just pushes them back into your arms. “keep it. i like seeing you in my things.”
;; boyfriend!kenma isn’t much for public displays of affection, but behind closed doors? he’s surprisingly needy. he likes to bury his face in the crook of your neck after a long stream, breathing you in until his heart rate slows down. his hands are always wandering, usually finding their way under the hem of your shirt just to feel the warmth of your skin.
;; boyfriend!kenma spoils you with the bouncing ball corporate card. you have the login to all his accounts, and he gets a notification every time you spend his money—it’s his favorite kind of notification. he’ll text you: “saw you went to that cafe. get the dessert too, baby. i want to taste it off your lips later.”
;; boyfriend!kenma is incredibly observant. he knows exactly when you’re getting tired or overwhelmed before you even realize it. he’ll quietly close his laptop, scoop you up, and carry you to bed. he doesn’t say much, but the way he pulls the covers over you and then crawls in behind you, pulling you flush against his chest, says everything.
;; boyfriend!kenma has a bit of a possessive streak that comes out in the quietest ways. if he sees another guy looking at you for too long, he doesn’t make a scene; he just slides his arm around your waist, pulling you so close there’s no room for air, and lets his heavy gaze do the talking.
;; boyfriend!kenma loves it when you sit behind him while he’s gaming and play with his hair. it’s the only thing that can actually distract him from a high-stakes match. he’ll let out a soft, shaky breath when your nails graze his scalp, his hands faltering on the keyboard as he mutters, “y/n... don’t do that right now unless you want me to turn the PC off entirely.”
;; boyfriend!kenma has a habit of pulling you onto his lap while he’s sitting in his expensive ergonomic chair. he’ll continue his business call or stream with one hand on the mouse and the other sliding under your thighs, hiking your skirt or shorts up just a little too high. he likes the thrill of you having to stay absolutely silent and still while he talks numbers, his fingers occasionally applying a firm, grounding pressure that makes your breath hitch.
;; boyfriend!kenma loves marking his territory in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. he’ll leave a faint, blooming bruise right on your collarbone or the sensitive skin behind your ear before he leaves for a meeting. he’ll smirk when he sees you trying to cover it with concealer later, whispering against your skin, “don’t hide it, i want everyone to know who you went home to.”
;; boyfriend!kenma is a huge fan of late-night ‘distractions.’ if you’re trying to read or work while he’s bored, he’ll crawl between your legs and rest his head on your chest, looking up at you with those heavy lids. his hands don’t stay still for long; they’re always tracing the lace of your underwear or the curve of your hip, his voice dropping an octave as he asks, “are you really more interested in that than me?”
;; boyfriend!kenma definitely uses his wealth to facilitate his more.. indulgent side. he’ll fly you out to a private villa just so he can have you all to himself, away from the prying eyes of his fans and employees. there, he’s much more vocal about what he wants to do to you, spending hours worshiping every inch of you until you’re nothing but a shaky, panting mess in the silk sheets he bought specifically because they’ll be comfortable for your skin.
;; boyfriend!kenma loves the contrast of his cold, expensive watches against your warm skin. he’ll pin your wrists above your head with one hand, the metal of his rolex biting into your skin just enough to be a reminder of his weight. he’s quiet, but the sounds he makes when he’s buried inside—those low, gravelly huffs of your name—are reserved only for your ears.
;; boyfriend!kenma has a thing for praise, but only from you. he loves it when you whisper how good he feels or how much you love his touch. it makes him get a bit more aggressive, a bit more desperate to please you. he’ll bite his lip to keep from getting too loud, but the way his grip tightens on your hips tells you exactly how close he is to losing that signature composure.
n: for one of my sweet freaky babies @j4zume !! i wrote this while trying to code a heart, hell yeah.
