OFF WITH HER HEAD!

looking over his shoulder at the sudden loud noise of revving motorbikes, shuji feels a pang of jealousy at all the people that are staying behind. he should rejoin them, he should turn around and ignore the ache and the sticking of his jeans to the blood on his skin, he should and he so desperately wants to go back to laughing at some poor sod tripping over a purposely stuck out foot or trembling from the booming voices of hotheaded gang members ready to jump him if they so decide. but… he can't bear to turn back now, not when he's getting a little light-headed and breathless just from walking. he's just going to embarrass himself further. laughter echoes in his head, it doesn't stop even when he presses his bruised hands over his ears, still slowly walking, limping, ahead and aimlessly trying to piece together a makeshift map of all the locations where he could catch a fucking break.

in the depth of his mind he knows there is one… but even the thought of it makes him roll his eyes in annoyance. the place he doesn't go to unless things are dire, unless he's so desperate for a fuck or he's so drunk he doesn't know what he's doing, going against better judgement (though he hardly has any judgement at all) because would he fuck want to find himself around you without an ulterior motive. shuji hasn't even cleared this decision with his brain, and yet the drag of his feet keeps moving in the direction of your place, like some kind of fucked up autopilot thriving on self-destruction. and maybe he's a little sick for wanting it, despite the frown between his brows at the very idea.

the dull ache in his thighs keeps his walking slow, but something could be said about him still moving despite the sheer unwillingness to keep going. he has to exhaust every option, though, no matter how uncomfortable it may be. maybe he'll get lucky and you won't be home. he lights another cigarette with the previous one, keeping that one thought in his head. you won't be home. like a mantra he's trying to make true, manifesting his own physical misfortune to pacify his mind.

your apartment building is towering over him ominously. the flickering light over the entrance isn't helping, either. maybe it's an omen, a carved out sign that screams run, you stupid bastard, but he's trying to remind himself that he's not a coward. no matter how much he hates being here or dreads seeing you act like you're none the wiser about how he feels, still keeping up with your caring and gentle touches like last time… he just wants to prove to himself that he can do this. that is, if you're actually at home. which he's still hoping you're not. obviously.

the front door gives way, so at least he doesn't have to go through the whole excruciating ordeal of waiting for you to come and check who it is and maybe even refuse to buzz him in. one lucky thing, he scoffs.

the lights time out twice by the time he's climbed up the stairs to your floor. there's still time, he still has a chance to turn back, but he clears his throat and rubs his hands over his tired and bruised face, readying himself to see the last person he is willing to be vulnerable around.

every second between the knock on the door (too faint for you to hear, so he had to knock again, this time like he means it) and the sound of several locks opening from the inside feels as if a deft hand is playing his nerves like a guitar, plucking strings with a sort of planned carelessness to appear nonchalant while picking out the most bone-vibrating sounds. for a moment, just before the door opens, he's trying to force himself to be fine with it all, maybe going over why he dislikes you so much, trying to once again convince himself that it's not important and that he could get over it.

shuji doesn't account for the feeling of shame to ache more than the split skin just above his eyebrow. his heart beats in his ears, pounding his head into a dizzying disorientation that has him leaning on the top of the door frame for balance. he hangs his head down, swallowing saliva quickly to hear something other than the laughter that followed when you picked draken over him, and then later your giggle when you let emma have him instead like it didn't matter that much in the first place. like even your better choice was replaceable, if anything just because your friend liked him better. and it wouldnt really hurt that much in that moment had it not been fucking draken. that old embarrassment resurfaces every now and then when he's not swatting it away like an annoying fly, the dumb helpless feeling of things slipping away from his fingers. like the keys to his home weren't the only fleeting thing that he could hold in the palm of his hand before he got the harsh reminder that nothing in life is guaranteed and fortune favours his enemies after all.

the door opens and he's unsure if he feels more relieved of pissed off that you're home.

"shuji?" you say, softly like you've just woken up, though he knows it's bullshit and you're putting on this sweet innocent doll thing again. as if you didn't check your peep hole to see who it was, as if you're not relishing in seeing him struggle to stay on his feet when he would rather be lying in a ditch somewhere. or that's what he tells himself.

"you gonna ogle me while i bleed out or let me in?" shuji grumbles, pushing himself off of the door frame and walking inside when you move out of the way.

he hates that he knows the layout of your place. hates that he automatically takes off his jacket and hangs it on the hanger and knows there's just enough space for his shoes beside it. why is this the moment of weakness when his brain decides to remember details he didn't even know he knew? you close the door and walk past him, brushing against his elbow, and he has to stop himself from thinking about how it felt to grab you and pull you closer, to hear you yelp and giggle before you tangled your fingers in his hair.

you're quick on your feet, already rummaging for the box of gauze and other shit you put on him when he inevitably comes over bloody and tired. the cushion on your couch may as well already have his bony ass imprinted on it, and despite his emotional discomfort it feels good to sit down, to let out a deep groan as his body settles down into the familiar softness, and let his head fall back to finally rest. not that he should be resting here anyway. not that he should have even come over, but the more he sits and feels your closeness, the less appealing crashing in the park nearby sounds.

you didn't ask him any questions, he notices. just kept busy with dabbing a wet cloth over his bloodied knuckles, and maybe it's because of something inside him that he's not willing to acknowledge, but he lets you do what you will, maybe feeling ever so slightly grateful for it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

shuji wakes up desperately needing a smoke. he goes to pat his pockets, discovering that he's not wearing any pants. an almost smirk starts to form on his lips until he realises he's alone, sitting on the familiar couch—though not his own—in the dark with only a little lamp on in the hallway. he's stiff with a dull ache in his limbs, a headache announcing itself in his temples. there's a glass of water on the coffee table, a couple of what he assumes are painkillers beside it, so he leans forward with an audible, if a little shameful, groan to grab them. water feels good on his scratchy throat and he drinks while trying to piece together what has happened—what he did.

he was weak. that much is clear. knocking on your door was akin to admitting defeat, because why else would he let you see him in this state time and time again. his leg still kinda hurts, but it doesn't sting like hell anymore, looking down he sees that you finished the job of bandaging him up even after he passed out asleep. he hopes that he didn't mutter something embarrassing. his shirt and jeans are neatly folded on the other end of the couch, almost in a mocking way showing him that he got a kindness he's sure he didn't deserve from you. with a stifled grunt he gets up, inspecting his clean, though bruised and scratched, knuckles, and a few bruises blooming along his ribs that he can see when he turns towards the hallway. it's incredibly late, he's glad you've gone to sleep and left him alone.

digging around the pockets of his jeans for the remnants of cigarettes left in his there, once more he remembers—by the lack of his house keys—why he's here and not in his own bed. the lighter is cold in his hand and he squeezes it tight, the stinging tug on the freshly scraped skin on his knuckles almost a little satisfying as he tries not to lose his shit.

some crisp air on the balcony is just what he needs as he pushes open the door and stands there in his boxers. shuji shields the flame from the breeze as he lights the cigarette, closing his eyes trying to savour the smoke before he exhales it. this night has been an absolute shit show.

you don't have an ashtray here, but he feels no guilt ashing his cigarette on the edge of a plant pot on the balcony. maybe next time you'll cuss him out and kick his ass instead of letting him get cosy in your apartment, maybe that's what he needs to stop coming here. maybe that's what will let him move past the clenching feeling in his chest that he's telling himself is hatred.

there's one left in the pack, almost intact, only a little crumpled from when he landed on his ass—he's still trying to convince himself he tripped, refusing to believe someone managed to kick him onto the ground. he'll save that one for later, for when he's ambling the streets dragging out the minutes until he gets home and faces the consequences. there's one more stop before he gets dressed and slips out of here, hopefully without you noticing, he flicks the bathroom light on and hisses as the cold white bulb fries his eyes for a moment.

normally he wouldn't flinch at the sight of his face in the mirror. he'd wink at the reflection, maybe flex a little, lean in to fix a strand of his hair so it looks effortless and messy instead of just stupid, but now he's looking into the glass and wondering how he got so serious. the curve of his mouth isn't tugging upwards, his dark undereyes stand out against the pale skin of his face, there's a bruise just under his eye, stretching along his cheek bone and he can feel it pulse under the skin. fuck, he needs a good night's sleep. maybe several nights. maybe he should call kisaki and ask if he could crash at his place tomorrow and ignore the world until he's properly awake instead of running on fumes from fight to fight just trying not to slip out of the heat of the moment. maybe so, but first he needs to piss.

no matter how much things suck, at least there's a few moments when he can just focus on the relief as he stands there with his eyes closed. it's so mundane, so normal, and it finally doesn't feel like he's running for his life.

"feeling okay?"

he startles, cursing as he nearly gets your toilet seat wet.

"the fuck—" his heart bangs in his ears, thundering as he looks over his shoulder to see you leaning on the door frame. of course, he didn't close the bathroom door. of course, this is your place after all. of course, of fucking course, you must have woken up when he walked down the hallway past your bedroom. he can't recall if your door was shut or not, he simply didn't pay attention while feeling along the wall in this familiar space he's hating himself a little for remembering. either way you're here now, tugging on the oversized t-shirt you're using as pyjamas, making it cover at least the tops of your thighs in a feeble attempt to appear somewhat modest. your hair is all over the place, clearly showing you just tumbled out of bed upon hearing him. and your face…

"did you—" you yawn, "see the painkillers i left?"

shuji just nods, shaking his dick off before he pulls it back into his boxers. "what is this, you're spying on me while i'm trying to take a piss to check if i took my meds?"

even as tired as he is, he doesn't miss the roll of your eyes as you push off the door frame to rinse your face with water. why you'd want to be more awake at this ungodly hour is beyond him, but then again, he doesn't want to make sense of your actions or motivations.

"sass me all you want, shuji, i'm not gonna let you suffer just because you can be a dick sometimes." he frowns as you catch his eyes in the reflection above the sink.

"sometimes?"

there's a little quirk of your mouth, too tired to be a smirk, too lazy to be a smile. "most of the time." you concede, wiping your hands away from him as he turns towards you.

"i shouldn't have come here anyway." absentmindedly he scratches across his chest, chasing after some invisible itch that makes him very aware of the fact that he's mostly naked in your bathroom… again.

"you said that before," by the twitches of your head towards him it's clear you're trying not to look at him, whether out of respect for privacy or determination not to start something tonight, "but you know i'll help you when you need me."

"i don't." he all but snarls. like a cornered animal, though he knows he's in no danger here. not from you, not in your apartment. he's just lashing out to stop thinking kindly about you, and on some level he knows it. "i don't need you."

you just nod, but he catches your eyes in the mirror again, for better or worse, and stands a little straighter. you must be doing that on purpose, putting yourself out there like that, making sure he's thinking about you when he doesn't want to. shuji hates that you take it gracefully, handing him a towel to dry his face after he splashed it with cold water. he wants you to be at least half as mad at him as he is with you. at least a little bit, to stop him second-guessing this overwhelming feeling of dread.

"i'm just saying," you begin, folding your arms across your chest, "that if you're hurt and can't go home i'll help. i'll ignore that you hate my guts and i'll never mention it to anyone, just…"

a sigh on your lips betrays the exhaustion and some sort of longing, but he chooses to believe it's not for him, because where was that longing when you danced on two sides of the choice, toying with him before someone 'better' caught your attention and took you from his grasp. not that he wanted to have you in his grasp anyway… it didn't matter… he just felt stupid that he lost to fucking ken ryuguji of all people.

"you touched my stuff again." he interrupts because he can't let you go on about how you're so nice and helpful to him, not if he wants to keep a shred of his sanity around you. "told ya not to touch my fucking stuff."

you raise your eyebrow at him, and he's glad that you don't have a soft sleepy look on your face anymore. he can't bear it, another minute and he might start feeling bad for sticking a cigarette butt into your plant pot.

"you're welcome?" you scoff.

"i don't go 'round just putting my hands on everything in your place, do i?"

as if to argue his point, he reaches out and grabs the first thing he can reach on the hook by the door. it's something soft, and he only looks when your eyes widen at the sight. shit.

"if you could just… leave them…" you murmur, furrowing your brows as he lifts the pair of panties he picked up towards the light.

shuji can't deny that seeing you this flustered makes him feel a certain way, some kind of proof that he's not the only sick bastard in this dance getting hard by the displeasure between you. and he really is getting hard, he feels the strain of his boxers against his growing erection and the weight of your gaze as it meets the bulge.

it's a little freeing, too, knowing he doesn't have to try to make you like him. the hate he feels scratch at his fingertips is enough to keep him aroused, and you're never fucking making it difficult, are you?

he steps forward until you're backed up against the hallway wall, looking up at him as his hand—still holding the pair of panties he swiped—presses flat above you. the heat is rising between you again, stirring something in him whenever you're vulnerable around him.

"why would i do that?" he asks, almost too quiet for you to hear. it's almost unlike him, that low voice, but there's hardly any space between your bodies and every word hangs in the air until you swallow hard. "why the fuck would i do what you want me to?"

you don't answer, but where there was some kind of softness in your eyes before, now it's covered with something closer to what he's lacing his words with, a poison made to enhance this tension until the only emotion is the feeling of his hands on your body, his teeth on your skin, your moans in his ear. his other hand goes to your throat, and you quickly cover it with your palm, but not prying it off… never prying it off.

the defiance in your face has shuji bare his teeth just a little, enough attitude to not make the mistake of thinking this is in any way him being weak, this is him taking what he wants.

shuji slots his knee between your thighs, pressing closer until you've got no other choice but slowly grind against it, because both of you know how this will end. all of his burning rage ends here, when his cock is achingly hard for some sick reason, because the red he sees when looking at you surges into his crotch every time you're close enough to touch. he lowers his head down so it's level with yours, never letting go of your neck as he nudges your ear with his nose. shuji can feel your warm skin shiver, your hips roll against his thigh as you try to get as much friction as you can while he's here and willing.

a hitch in your throat vibrates against his palm, and shuji groans into your ear, nipping the shell of it in a moment of weakness. he will not kiss you like that, not gonna make it feel tender, no matter what. if he's going to give in to the want, he'll take it for all it's worth.

and it's worth the tension in his cock as your soft thigh rubs against it in a desperate effort to get yourself off while he presses you against the wall. his other hand trails down your side, then up again as if he's mapping out your curves, as if he hasn't grabbed them countless times before, until he cups his large palm over your breast, bunching up your oversized t-shirt when he wishes he could just rip it off and touch you like he deserves to. a moan tumbles out of your mouth, kicking him sideways as his thumb rubs over your clothed nipple. he shakes his head slightly, you're such a freak getting off to him touching you like this, making you work for it to show you want it more than him, even though his erection is screaming, the blood pulsing in his ears by the time your hips stutter and you squeeze his leg with your thighs, a feeble attempt to keep riding out through your orgasm.

your eyes rolling back and lip caught between your teeth is a sight, one that has shuji's jaw clench and his cock twitch impatiently. he's lowering his leg, but not letting you away from his crotch which presses against your belly with urgency. one clever hand sneaks under your shirt after releasing your throat for a change of approach, now tugging your soaked panties to the side so he can relish in the evidence of how much you want this.

"tch… pathetic." he groans, thumbing your folds apart slowly, gathering the wetness that's gathered there before he presses against your clit, sinking his index finger inside you. "all that from a little grinding… you been missin' me?" he adds the last part almost like an insult, knowing it has you rolling your eyes at him, and what's his talent if not getting under your skin and stinging you over and over.

"shu—"

"that's it…" he mocks, "tell me to shut up, doll." he groans, lifting your shirt up until he almost gets it off you, only briefly considering leaving it over your head like that. at least then he wouldn't have to cum while seeing your blissed out expression. but he yanks it off completely, tosses it on the floor somewhere, and finally gives you another finger to suck in with your cunt while he lowers his head and sucks on the soft flesh of your breast, biting it to hear you whine.

now all he needs is to get his cock out of these damn boxers, but your hands are already pawing at him, slipping your fingers under the waistband until you're tugging them down low enough to free him from the fabric, springing upwards so eagerly it would be embarrassing if you didn't clench around his fingers at the sight. he keeps pumping them inside you, gently scissoring them until you're squirming, wrapping your arms around his neck quite demanding so he sees no other option but to reach down to grab you by your ass and hoist you up, making you protest as his fingers leave the warmth of your cunt. your slick juices are covering his long fingers so he takes a moment before giving in to place his two wet digits against your lips, waiting for you to open like a good girl and lick them clean.

the tip of his twitching cock pushes at your soaked pussy, nudging your folds apart but not quite sinking into you yet, almost dragging it out like the excruciating moments in between him knocking on your door and you opening it, suspended in a space of possibilities as if he could suddenly get a fucking grip and leave without fucking you… as if he could deprive himself of the satisfaction of betraying his more rational side. so he does that tantalising dance a little more, until you're tangling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, until you're kicking your foot out and panting hard, trying to wiggle your way out of his hold and onto his cock. it's torturous, but at the same time rewarding, because coiling in his abdomen is becoming more intense so he knows that the moment he gives it what it craves will be all the more satisfying. you've called him out on that before, calling him a masochist, but the word just slid off his skin like water that time, even though you may be a little correct with it. not that he would give you the satisfaction of knowing that. the fuck do you know about him anyway?

shuji never gives you the time to adjust. from the first slide of his cock into you, his hips start thrusting never once waiting for your hand to unclench from his hair. leaning down, he grunts into your neck, catching your sensitive skin with his teeth as he clashes his hips with yours. fucking you is a means to an end, the end being his own volatile nature relishing in an orgasm stolen from your body. every single time he thrusts into you, feels your greedy cunt suck his cock inside it, he imagines it a victory of sorts, because even though you thought you could cast him aside before, you keep opening your legs for him now. there's no sweeter victory than your pussy so slick crying out for him.

even now, as you moan quietly for him, breathless and pressed against the wall, he's looking at you with his lips parted and his eyes glazed over, unsure if he could ever get such a damn kick out of fucking someone else, someone he didn't fucking hate this much. a masochist… maybe. but it doesn't matter what you call it when all that truly matters is how much he loves punishing both of you with harsh, determined snaps of his hips against the flesh of your thighs.

"nah… nah fuck this." shuji mutters, grabbing you tighter and taking you away from the wall. you're clinging to him harder, the beginning of a protest dies in your throat as he takes you to your bedroom, step after step making you bounce against his body.

"what the—" you begin, but a moan ends your sentence right there when he lays you down on the bed and keeps rolling into you like nothing happened. "shuji… f-fuck."

"shut up." he punctures the words with harsher, faster thrusts, stuffing every single inch of his cock inside you. shuji listens for the pulse under your skin so deliciously warm under his lips as he presses them on your neck, sucking a bruise against your throat while he ruts into you like a madman. the squelch of your wet cunt against his balls as they tap against your lips has him grunt harder, louder, while he's biting another bruise into your neck. it's dizzying, maddening, and shuji grabs your legs to direct them behind his back where you lock your ankles together.

his hair tickles your chest as he shakes his head trying to keep it together when you pull him in deeper with your legs, making his pace falter for a moment before he realises he's starting to move a little slower, but the strokes are more precise.

shuji looks down at you, frowning, because you're seemingly under the impression that you're calling the shots here. "hey," he snaps, pushing himself up and grabbing your cheeks with one large hand, "knock it off."

your response is a half-baked whimper, your lashes batting up at him as he squeezes your cheeks together. he might even think you're cute pouting like that if you didn't piss him off so much.

"j-just slow down a lil…" you drag the words out, squeezing through your teeth until he releases your face and props himself up on his palms, creating more space between your bodies.

"why the fuck would i slow down?" shuji all but cackles, looking down at the dark red bruises at the base of your throat. "don't act like you don't wanna be fucked stupid."

he grabs a pillow from the edge of the bed, though, and slides it down to your hips. a smack on the side of your thigh tells you to lift up, and he slots the pillow under your ass, so when you settle back down on it he speeds up again.

"fuck… fuuuuck there it is." he grunts, still holding himself up to watch your tits bounce with every rough snap of his hips. "don't fuckin' tell me how to fuck you again."

the angle change has him rutting into your cunt like it unlocks some primal part of him. the messy, wet slide of his thick cock in and out of your soft walls is loud, slippery, and so damn addictive as your poor little cunt tries to squeeze his cock to keep him inside. pathetic. he pushes himself up and unhooks your legs from behind his back, pressing your knees further against your chest. he's got you opening up for him like a flower. a flower that's taking his relentless thrusts all sopping wet and going dumb on his dick. a flower that's whining as your hands grip the sheets under your back while he fucks you. shuji shakes his head and ignores the tugging sensation on his leg under the bandages, hoping he won't bleed through them while he's trying to fuck the night to an end.

shuji didn't think this would be the view he would have tonight. you, folded over yourself with your pretty cunt swallowing his cock. you, getting red in the face as your head tilts to the side, and you repeatedly moan against the mattress in time with the rough snaps of his cock into your perfect spot. you're so drunk on him it's almost funny, your body is pressed into the mattress and every single push of his fat tip into your spongy walls seems to deepen that hazy state you're in. to think you tried to make him fuck you slowly…

your thighs indent under the press of his fingertips. squishy flesh of your body invites his palm for a smack as he lands it on your ass and then the underside of your thigh. shuji grins as you whimper and tighten on his cock, dripping your arousal around it as he spanks you again and again, slamming harder into you until you're crying out.

"gonna cry?" he teases, a little breathless, "gonna cum on my cock? with me slapping you like this?" landing a lighter little slap against your clit earns him another jolt of your walls closing on him. shuji chuckles, doing it one more time to see you twitch under him.

"fuck— you—" the whine on your lips turns into a long, drawn out groan and you shudder and cum and he feels your defiance rise as your cunt squeezes him tighter.

"mhm… that's right." he groans, leaning forward just a little, changing the angle to feel the pinch on his tip as your cunt pulses with the waves of your orgasm, sending shivers up his spine. this is how he wants to feel it, until he's seconds away from bursting, until the golden light behind his eyelids blinds him and he has to let go. shuji slams harder into you, fucking that messy little cunt with reckless abandon while pressing your legs forward.

and right there is where he loses himself, on the very brink of an orgasm, his balls tightening with the inevitable release, his abdomen feeling like there's a storm inside. he quickly pulls out of your sopping cunt, stroking his cock with swift movements as his hand glides along the length easily with how wet your pussy got it. strings of pearly cum spill from his tip, landing in warm puddles on your belly.

it reaches as far as the underside of your breasts, and you open your eyes only to avoid the burning gaze of his golden irises, instead looking at your skin shimmering with a light layer of sweat and the very prominent splatter of shuji's cum. you're breathing heavily, but so is he, sitting back on his heels still holding his spent, quickly softening cock. his other hand runs through the mess that is his hair, the blond streaks in the front sticking to his forehead.

your legs finally fall onto the bed, still quivering a little, but your breathing is evening out. shuji looks down at the mess he made on your stomach and the corner of his lips lifts a little as he leans in to lick a slow, torturous strip between your sensitive folds. your attempt at pushing him away with your foot for the overstimulation on your poor clit only has him more amused, sucking in the little nub between his lips for a brief moment, just enough to make you curse at him.

"yeah, yeah." he murmurs, letting a glob of spit land just above your belly button, close to a little splatter of cum. "same to you."

he gets up off the bed with a groan, a little dizzy, and awkward standing in your bedroom. he knows his way around well enough, though, so he pulls a few tissues out of the box on the bedside table and puts them in your palm, setting out to go and find his boxers. by the time you're up and wobbly on your feet, leaning against the door frame naked, he's pulling his jeans up and stumbling into the hallway to put his shoes on.

"you're welcome." you mutter, folding your arms across your chest.

shuji looks you up and down, you missed a drop of his release on your hip, but he's not about to tell you that. he grins and grabs his jacket. "ditto. but don't hope for a repeat so soon."

the rolling of your eyes is only the best way he's ending this night. a glance at the clock tells him it's not the best time to go out and roam the city until he can brave his return home, but he'll have to manage. the alternative would be unbearable.

"oh shut up, shuji." you add something else after it, something he can't really hear as he unlocks the front door and slips out, exhausted, but a little better than when he found himself at your door earlier.

"yeah, see you in hell, doll." he responds mockingly, patting his pockets once the door shuts and he's out in the dark stairwell again. and he remembers that he left himself one last cigarette for later, but he can't feel the pack in his pocket… fuck.

⋆˙⟡ burekforsatoru || do not modify, repost, or feed to AI. likes and reblogs appreciated, nice comments make your skin clear.

He was in the middle of playing a shonky horror game, that's what Kenma called it, before he got jump scared, pausing the game, when you walked into the room. You tell him you were heading off to bed, giving him a slow and deep kiss, your fingers slightly running through his hair that he left out today, before leaving him. "Good night, baby," you murmur against his lips before leaving.

An insane flood of messages flooded into the chat, so fast that he couldn't even process what they were all talking about or saying. There was a mixture of responses ranging from:

youregettingclippedkenma

absolutely INSANE work

dynastymeow

hes defo hard rn

kenmasleftthumb

nah bc that kiss looked too real wtf 😭

sugawaraluvr

“goodnight, baby” I FELT THAT IN MY SOUL 😩

nekosupremacy

someone pls tell me why my screen is fogging up 😭😭

blushinglibero

KENMA YOU JUST GONNA SIT THERE AFTER THAT???

Then there was one bold comment that made him choke on air, and he sat up from his chair and looked to his other monitor, eyes so close to the chat. 

nottafreakiswear:

hear me out on this kenma, your gf  + you... onlyfans...?

"What did this loser just say?" he mumbles to himself, but he was fighting the soft pink tinge that was coating his cheeks. 

volleybabe69

the way she played with his hair… lord have mercy

xxmitsukittyxx

pause the game? nah pause my HEART

hinatasimpclub

this man’s living in my dream scenario rn 🧍‍♀️

streamerkk

bro’s tryna act normal but his EYES SAID EVERYTHING 😭

puffypaws420

“shonky horror game” ok but the REAL horror is how single i am after seeing that 😩

kneecaps4kenma

tell me he’s not adjusting in his chair rn 😭😭😭😭

And for some reason, everyone completely missed it! No one was even paying attention to that singular message that popped up and disappeared from the next mass amount of chats popping up. He slumps back into his chair, placing his headphones down momentarily next to his keyboard before running a hand through his deul coloured hair, letting out a sigh. 

Maybe... the idea isn't too bad...

So that's where you are now, completely open to the idea that Kenma proposed. He wasn't in any better state than you, a moaning and whimpering mess, both of you.  Kenma's cock was nuzzled perfectly up against your cervix, slow thrusts into your cunt as he holds his phone to capture how your ass is squishing against his pelvis, and the deep curve of your spine.

You're on your knees while your breasts are tight up agasint the mattress, and your head stuffed agasint the sheets, trying to muffle your moans as his cock fills your cunt up to the brim. Your hands grip the silky sheets while breathy whimpers leave your swollen lips, your knees shaking as well. 

Kenma's hands tighten on the fat of your hip, thumb rubbing agasint the side of your ass soothingly. "Good girl," he praises, and you moan in response, being incoherent to say any words in reply, completely exhausted. "Taking me so well, look at you."

He moves the camera momentarily close to your cunt, sucking every inch of his cock as he deeply rolls his hips into you. Kenma can feel how your walls are clenching him tightly, desperate for a release that he isn't giving you. You don't think you could take it anymore. 

"Please, baby," you beg, your cunt fluttering around his cock as you tighten around him indefinitely. Your back and knees were beginning to ache, but you loved how his dick thrust so perfectly up into your cunt. "I need to- Hah- Please."

"C'mon pretty," he says, His thrusts speed up and you spasmed around his length as your high washed over you, your legs shaking as his weight pressed down even more than it was. His thrusts didn't slow, causing you to whimper in overstimulation, but Kenma helped it, his hips continuing to rut into yours, helping you ride out your orgasm as he chased his own.

With a deep moan, his hips slam tight agasint yours, his cum spilling deep within you. Slowly, he takes his length out of your cunt, a whimper befalling your lips, and he lowers the camera. He spreads your folds, cum dribbling out your trembling hole, the camera capturing everything, even how he slides two of his fingers back inside, pushing his seed inside you. 

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Baby, please, let us watch over this together."

Do not copy, steal, modify, use for ai, translate, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.