𑣲Ysa

You don't hesitate, tossing your bag to your feet and climbing over the console until both of your thighs are on either side of him and your pussy is pressing against the print of his hard cock.

The windows were tinted dark. Nobody could see. Nobody would know.

"You talk to him about chemistry?"

He twists your necklace before he starts to unbutton your cardigan, fingers brushing against your skin. You're too stupefied to talk as he pushes the fabric off your shoulders, his hand sneaking under your t-shirt to unsnap your bra and pull it off.

"Let's talk about biology instead."

He pushes your shirt up and lowers his mouth to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. You toss your head back and let out a loud moan, fingers finding his hair to hold onto and gripping tight.

"You're s-so needy when you get j-jealous." You whimper, grinding against his jeans, skirt rising up your hips, body shivering when he bit down gently.

"Hmm, you like that?" He pulls back, his lips wet as he smirks at you.

You nod shyly, wrapping your arms around his neck and settling deeper onto his lap.

He slid his hand up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher until he found the damp heat between your legs. Your panties were soaked and he grins, an annoyingly cocky grin that made you want to slap him and ride him at the same time.

“This f'me? Or were you thinking about his big brain?” He pressed two fingers against your clit through the thin fabric, rubbing slow circles.

“You!” You gasp, chest heaving. “Always you. He’s nothing—ah!”

He shoved your panties aside and pushed two fingers inside your dripping cunt, curling them just right. Your hips bucked as you cried out, and he used his other hand to pin you down.

“Say it again.”

“You, Gojo. Only you.”

“That’s my good girl.” He finger fucks you hard, the wet sound obscene in the quiet car, your juices dripping down his fingers while kisses you to shut you up.

The way your pussy was clenching around Gojo's fingers had him leaking pre and staining his boxers. He felt like he was going to burst if he didn't fuck you soon.

He can feel you shaking, getting closer but before you can cum, he's pulling his fingers out of you and into his mouth, ignoring the shocked look on your face. His tongue swirls around his fingers, licking them clean and pulling off with a pop.

"Lift your hips."

When he smacks the side of your ass, you yelp but do as he says, lifting high enough for him to unzip his jeans and pull them down with his boxers.

He strokes his hard cock once, twice, watching you watch him and it has his own cheeks heating. Your glasses were crooked, lips swollen and red from his kisses and his self control snapped.

He didn’t tease, growing annoyed again when an image pops up of you smiling at that fucking loser. He grips your hip with one hand and uses the other to line himself up with your entrance. He uses his cock to push your panties aside and with one brutal thrust, he buried himself inside of you to the hilt.

"Satoru! Oh fuuck."

Gojo gives you a minute to adjust to his size, hand rubbing up and down your spine in a soothing manner while you whine against his neck. Slowly, he lifts your hips, teeth grinding from the grip your pussy has on his cock, and slams you back down.

He loves the way you're crying out and it only motivates him to go faster, his own hips rising to meet yours. Fuck, you were so wet and warm and he had to actively fight back his moans.

He knows you love when he's vocal but right now he was punishing you, so he bit his lip and fucked you harder.

"Who do you belong to?” he asked again, his voice cracking when you clench around him.

"Y-you. I'm sorry Toru, I'll n-never talk to him again."

He chuckles, pulling your mouth down to his and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. Your lipgloss tastes like strawberries, so sweet he can't help but nibble on it a little.

"Such an obedient girl." He fucks you faster, his abdomen wet and sticky with your arousal, your ass smacking against his thighs whenever your bodies meet.

When Gojo presses his thumb against your clit and flicks it, the knot in your stomach tightens harder, twisting as you get closer to your high.

"Haaah, m'gonna cum Toru!"

He doesn't stop, just grunts and rubs you faster until you're spilling over the edge, body glitching as you buck wildy against him, head dropping to his neck as your orgasm rocks your world.

Your breath is hot against Gojo's neck and his balls swell before he's busting a fat nut inside of you, hot ropes of gooey cum painting your walls in his DNA.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Despite his best efforts he can't stop the groans that escape his lips, deep and long, his hands squeezing your thighs as he twitches and empties himself inside of you.

Gojo's hips stutter as he pushes the last of his orgasm out, arms wrapping around your body and pulling you tight. Maybe you should keep talking to other guys so he can relive this moment over and over.

You grunt when his cock slips out, his cum instantly oozing out but he uses two fingers to rub at your clit, moving to your hole and pushing it back inside. He keeps them snug in your cunt, cocking jumping back to life as he uses his other hand to pull your lips to his.

The kiss is filthy, his tongue swirling against yours as you swap spit. His stomach flutters when you grind against his hand, his nerdy little slut.

When Gojo pulls back, he fixes your glasses and lifts your hips again, lining his once again, hard cock back up with your entrance and slowly pulling you down.

"Now what did we learn?" He asks once he's buried deep, his balls pushing against your ass.

"T-that, huuhh, that I shouldn't laugh at other g-guys jokes."

He kisses you again before pushing his seat back until he was almost laying down, his hands holding onto your waist.

"Atta girl. Now ride me until I tell you to stop."

❦ lisa's note: thanks for this request, it was fun to write! can you tell I love car sex? anyways something quick while I work on the arrangement ♡

gojo sluts: @rhaewinsdaughter @timgiohlover1767 @kissprl @lunevarin @keiito066 @pinkpantherrrrss @lounastar @luvs-angel @luvbambiboo @scramblenigojo @nationalmegumidihhopper @jisojoriver @lilactaro @mimicosmos8 @billiondollarworth @ayla111 @lesyeuxdeginana @miizuzu @vivillow @biggkayyss @darkcatsxs @suguru4life @majemki @amayaaaxx @rachelily @rae06-12

perm tags: @icebearcucumber @tojisfavoritegun @writingintheskin @saturneni @sakurasweetiesworld-blog @sleeeepybee @locallyclementine @butterbeanandsparkleface @butterbeanandsparkleface @writtenbyjil @sukunas-one-n-only-peach @alliesheartsss @kookiieeswirl @mrskamikazekaito @blogster-b33 @stvsgsb @meowguumi @a-court-of-smut-and-sluts @mutsu422 @love-d-luxe @xojoln @stillhollow-kindofthere @srslyoceans

love, at its worst, is waiting two hours for your streamer girlfriend to start her live because she decided to nap. love, at its best, is still waiting two hours, dropping ten thousand dollars in twitch donations the second she breathes into the mic, and typing out something so embarrassing that your stock-trader-ceo-gamer pride cracks like a raw egg on hot concrete.

and kenma kozume—beloved boyfriend of the internet’s it girl streamer, sworn enemy of sunlight, permanent sufferer of chronically bent posture—is unfortunately in the latter camp.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the loading screen music starts. your fans (your “little gremlins,” as you call them lovingly) are already flooding the chat, 250k strong, typing at inhuman speeds.

@ ratking97: LETS GOOOOOO

@ frogchair: MOTHER IS HERE

@ yuumama: omg she’s late but she’s pretty so it’s fine

@ thecheeseempire: do i drop out of college to watch this live???

the screen flickers and then you appear. a blur of soft lighting, glossed lips, headphones crooked over your ears, oversized hoodie that could probably house a family of raccoons.

“hi, hi, hi!” you chirp, leaning close to the mic. “sorry i’m late, i, uh… overslept.”

the chat goes feral.

@ rdgnbeertoe: i forgive u

@ shrimpgod: step on me queen

@ milkbottlepop: YOUR HAIR. OH MY GOD.

@ chairfan77: i waited three years in line for taylor swift tickets and this feels more important somehow

kenma is sitting in his own setup, in his own room, watching this unfold with a blank expression that doesn’t match the fact that his heart is sprinting a marathon.

he’s already logged in. his finger is already hovering over the button. he doesn’t even blink before the first donation flies across your screen.

$10,000 donation from @ kodzuken:

i haven’t been this premature since birth.

you blink. mid-sip of water. almost choke.

“oh my—” you clap a hand over your mouth, laughing so hard your chair squeaks. “oh my god. kenma!”

the chat collectively combusts.

@ kingcrab420: PREMATURE??????

@ eggsaladprince: HE DID NOT

@ uwu2: that’s ur man huh. that’s the ceo. okay.

@ toiletseatcover: nah this is true romance

kenma slouches lower in his chair, hoodie swallowing his face. he types nothing. he simply clicks again.

$5,000 donation from @ kodzuken:

hi honey.

“hi honey,” you echo instantly, smile softening despite your attempt to keep it together. “you’re… you’re insane, you know that?”

chat is gleeful, feral.

@ pottedplant: HELLO??? HE JUST DROPPED 15K IN TEN SECONDS

@ ilovebreadsticks: nah he’s down bad. down catastrophic. down cataclysmic.

@ 7elevenhotdog: tell me why i feel single watching this

@ ghostofmywifi: prematurity speedrun any%

“kenma,” you squint at your monitor, “why are you like this? don’t you have stocks to trade? meetings to attend? a corporation to run?”

he doesn’t reply. not in words. only in another click.

$2,000 donation from @ kodzuken:

please say my name i miss you.

you pause, warmth rushing up your neck. “kenma.” you say it gently this time, like handing him a glass of water after running across the desert. “kenma, kenma, kenma.”

the sound of his name in your voice does terrible, wonderful things to him. he buries his face in his hands, groaning like you’ve personally attacked him.

chat is losing their collective minds.

@ taxfraudchamp: DID SHE JUST SAY HIS NAME LIKE IT WAS SACRED???

@ imjustapigeon: bruh if my gf streamed and said my name like that i would literally explode

@ yeehawmilk: kodzuken rn >>>>> romeo montague

@ raccoonwife: HE’S ROLLING ON THE FLOOR I JUST KNOW IT

“you’re ridiculous,” you murmur into the mic, giggling, trying to focus on the actual game you’re supposed to be playing. “ridiculous and—so cute. i love you.”

kenma, who has not physically moved in ten minutes, blinks like you’ve just hacked into his chest and turned his ribcage into an instrument.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

twenty minutes later, you’re mid-match. your concentration face is on, tongue peeking out, brows furrowed just a little. chat is in awe, writing entire novels about your skill and, frankly, your existence.

@ dietcolaangel: ur so pretty when ur focused wtf

@ doginboots: HOW IS SHE THIS GOOD

@ lettuceleaf_: i would pay for her hand in marriage like it’s ebay

kenma, meanwhile, is spiraling. because you’ve said “hi chat” like forty times but you haven’t said his name again. his bloodstream is basically carbonated soda at this point.

so he clicks.

$1,000 donation from @ kodzuken:

hi it’s me again. your boyfriend. remember me? say you remember me.

you burst out laughing mid-shootout, losing the round entirely. “KENMA. i literally just said i love you like—five minutes ago. of course i remember you!”

@ floorboard69: NAH HE’S SO INSECURE 😭😭😭

@ bugjuice: “remember me” HE ACTS LIKE HE DIED IN WW1

@ cucumberking: we are witnessing devotion on a spiritual level

@ lilypadfairy: i want someone to miss me like this

kenma groans into his sleeves. his ears are pink. you’re glowing on screen, laughing like you have the whole world in your throat, and he thinks maybe he actually would sell the company if it meant keeping you happy forever.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

after a while, you switch to just chatting, leaning on your desk, chin in your hand.

“okay, okay,” you say, scrolling through chat. “who wants storytime?”

chat erupts.

@ beanstalkbaby: MEEEEEEE

@ fishinthebucket: MOTHER TELL US A TALE

@ wifebeaterbottle: YESSSSSS

you smile, and kenma is done for. utterly, irreversibly ruined. because you’re telling some silly story about how your toaster almost set fire to your kitchen this morning, and you’re so animated, so bright, and everyone is in love with you.

he knows you love him. you say it all the time. but watching thousands of strangers adore you too? it lights something sharp in his chest. not jealousy. more like a fever. like he wants to carve his initials into your laugh so no one forgets it belongs to him.

so he types again.

$3,000 donation from @ kodzuken:

i’ll buy you ten new toasters if you say my name again.

“oh my god,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands. “kenma, i don’t need ten toasters. i need… one toaster. just one.” you peek at the camera, eyes soft. “kenma.”

he melts. literally melts into his chair. his bones turn to pudding.

chat notices immediately.

@ seaurchinlover: SHE SAID IT AGAINNNN

@ pencilpusher22: man’s addicted to hearing his own name 😭

@ slayturtle: he’s like a cat who meows until u call him cute

@ smellysock: this is the healthiest parasocial relationship i’ve ever seen

“you’re so dramatic,” you murmur, shaking your head. “but i love you.”

kenma’s throat goes dry. he whispers at his monitor, like you can hear him through sheer force of will: i love you more.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the stream lasts another hour. you’re radiant the whole time, effortless, unbothered, while kenma hemorrhages money just for crumbs of your affection.

by the time you end it, the donation total from him alone is nearing twenty-five thousand. chat is unwell.

@ firehydrantfan: 25K??? FOR AFFECTION??? I NEED TO DATE A STREAMER

@ bugdust: this is what love looks like huh

@ treefrog: kodzuken is either insane or the blueprint

@ eggrolls: nah he’s insane and the blueprint

you yawn into the mic. “alright, i think that’s it for me tonight. thanks for hanging out, gremlins. kenma, thanks for, uh… your… really dramatic donations. i’m literally going to bonk you when i see you.”

chat screams.

@ picklejuicequeen: BONK HIM???

@ sleepdeprivedowl: THATS FOREPLAY

@ dustmite: ma’am we are in the room

@ toelicker69: heh, kinky

you blow a kiss at the camera, all glittering eyes and tired smile. “love you guys. love you, kenma. goodnight!”

the stream ends.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

kenma doesn’t move for a long moment. the silence is loud, like his ears are still ringing from the sound of your voice. then, slowly, he pulls his hoodie over his head, face burning.

his phone buzzes. it’s you.

future wife: you’re ridiculous.

future wife: also, come over. i want to kiss you until you stop acting like my sugar daddy.

future wife: (thank you though. i love you.)

kenma stares. then slumps forward, forehead against his desk, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

he comes to you. hoodie, headphones still hanging around his neck, soft hair falling in his eyes. he knocks like he’s got no patience for doors.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

“kenma,” you beam when you open up, hair still smelling faintly like your shampoo, skin dewy from your skincare routine, hoodie sleeves sliding down your wrists. you’re so unfair it hurts. “hi.”

he doesn’t even say hi back. he just drops his bag by the door and shuffles in, like a cat making itself at home in someone else’s living room.

you close the door behind him, amused. “what’s wrong with you?”

he stops in the middle of your living room, turns slowly, and looks at you with eyes half-lidded, pout carved into his mouth like it’s permanent.

“you didn’t pay enough attention to me.”

you blink. then laugh. “excuse me? ken, you practically bought my whole stream tonight.”

his brows knit together. “didn’t work. chat got… everything. i got, like… a crumb. a molecule. an atom. the kind of portion size they’d give in a three-star michelin restaurant where the plate’s bigger than the food.”

your laughter doubles, sweet and fond. “oh, baby,” you coo, crossing the room to cup his face in your hands. “are you jealous of chat?”

he doesn’t answer, but the way his cheeks warm under your touch is answer enough.

so you kiss him.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a peck on his lips, soft and brief. then one to his forehead. one to his nose. both cheeks. then another to his lips, just because.

he blinks slowly, eyelashes fluttering like he’s trying not to show how much he needs it.

“better?” you tease.

kenma shakes his head immediately. “not even close.”

so you go again. kisses like raindrops: on his jaw, down his throat, over his temples, eyelids, the little crease of his smile. every patch of skin you can reach, you cover in affection until he’s sighing like an overworked office drone sinking into a hot spring.

“you’re so needy,” you whisper against his skin, but your grin is soft, indulgent.

“don’t care,” he mumbles back, voice thick, hands sliding to your waist to hold you in place. “want more. want… all of you. more than chat. more than everyone.”

“oh, baby,” you coo, peppering kisses over his face like you’re stamping him with a love-brand. “you already have all of me.”

“say it again.” his voice cracks, barely a whisper, like he needs it to live.

you pause between kisses, lips brushing his cheek. “you already have all of me, kenma. every single part.”

he exhales shakily, like you’ve pulled a thorn out of his chest.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

you don’t stop. you don’t let him go. your kisses turn relentless, ridiculous, like a child armed with stickers covering a notebook page until no white space remains. kisses to his ears, down his neck, across his collarbone through the fabric of his hoodie. he tips his head back, eyes fluttering shut, letting you do whatever you want because he trusts you with everything he is.

his voice goes soft, almost slurred with warmth. “feels like… i can’t hold it. like my chest’s too full. you’re—” he swallows. “you’re everywhere.”

“good,” you hum, brushing your lips over his jaw. “that’s exactly what i want. i want to be everywhere for you.”

his arms tighten around your waist, holding you like you’re his anchor. “you are. you already are. you don’t even know—”

and then you kiss him properly.

slow at first, lips slotting against his like puzzle pieces, coaxing him open. then deeper, like you’re pouring all the affection he’s been begging for into his mouth. he sighs into it, sound vibrating against your tongue when you slip it past his lips, gentle but deliberate.

he kisses back clumsily, almost desperately, like someone who’s been parched for years finally given water. his fingers dig into your waist, your hoodie bunched in his hands, keeping you so close there’s no space left between you.

when you finally pull back, he’s flushed to the tips of his ears, lips pink and swollen, eyes hazy like he’s been spun around too many times.

“enough attention now?” you murmur, brushing your nose against his.

he stares at you, dazed. then shakes his head once, stubborn. “…need more later.”

you laugh, breathless, and kiss him again.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡‎

♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a: ok i’m gonna sleep, i have 5 hours. i’m so nervous !! i spoil the pretty people way too much

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

"Tobio, c'mere a sec, please!" You call into the quiet apartment. Pausing a moment, you listen for the telltale sound of him pausing the division one volleyball highlights reel and venturing to find you in your room, putting the finishing touches on your outfit.

"Yeah?" Kageyama's head pokes into your room, deep voice laced with confusion that absolutely does not lessen when he sees just what you're wearing. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes, Kags." You huff a half-laugh at his obliviousness. Splitting your attention between applying your makeup and him, you gesture for him to come in and sit on the edge of your bed. You can see his reflection in your vanity mirror, and he's scowling in that way of his he always does whenever he doesn't understand what's happening, but he follows your wordless command anyways. "So, date protocol—"

"You're going on a date?" He interrupts, posturing stiffening and arms crossing over his chest. "With who? Since when?"

"Uh, Hinata's one friend? That guy who was with him when we all went out after the last time the Adlers played the Black Jackals." You wave your hand through the air, knowing he probably doesn't remember the one guy from a couple weeks ago. You had barely remembered the guy, until he messaged you and asked you out a few days later. "Anyways, if I don't text you by eight, you're going to call me with a fake emergency."

Tobio is still scowling, and you're starting to piece together that this whole date idea is actually bothering him.

"Why?" He asks, totally lost. Screwing shut the lid of your lipgloss, you pause your routine to twist in the vanity chair to give him all your attention.

"In case the date is going bad and I need a get out of jail free card." You shrug. It's something you've always done, something you've always given your friends the task of, but everyone you would usually ask is busy.

It does feel a little weird to give the guy you've been hopelessly in love with since moving in together the job, but you'd rather be awkward than unsafe.

"What if you just..." Tobio's face scrunches up like he's thinking really hard about something super important. You've known him long enough to wait for what he has to say before you assign any weight to his words. "Just didn't go. That guy's a scrub."

He says it so seriously, you can't help but snort a laugh.

"You don't even remember the guy." You counter, turning back around to dig into your jewelry box. "Also, you're a grown adult. Stop calling people scrubs."

"He is one." He's quick to assure you, still stone faced and perched on the edge of your bed. Though, you realize as you sneak a peek of him through the mirror's reflection, the tips of his ears are dusted red. "You shouldn't be going on dates with scrubs. You're too good for them."

You busy hands still while digging for a pair of earrings, considering his words very carefully. There's a jagged edge to his voice, untamed and barely containing the width of what he wants to say.

Tobio Kageyama sounds jealous.

He clears his throat, and when you glance at his reflection again, his face is flaming red.

"So, stay here. With me." He offers through gritted teeth, hands clenched in awkward fists in his lap.

And then he bows.

You're smiling at his over the top actions, hand reaching for your phone to call off the date before you even process what you're doing.

"Okay, I'll stay."

Kenma Kozume paused his game the moment he realized.

You've had this date planned for a while now. Some guy that's a friend of a friend, sworn up and down to be absolutely perfect for you.

You're not entirely convinced, but you can't pine away after your roommate for the rest of your life, so you agreed to the date.

"You're bailing on me, you know that?" Kenma's whine cuts through the music that's been playing in your room since you started getting ready to go out. You ignore him, not even sparing a look in his direction as he slumps against the doorframe to the bathroom, watching you style your hair.

Kenma's been complaining about it since the moment you wrote it on the communal calendar in the kitchen. You did have to cancel your weekly Mario Party session with him, but you didn't think he'd get so whiny.

"It's one night, Kenma." You try and reason, focusing on your reflection in the mirror and not your moping roommate. "I promise the next date won't interrupt our game night."

You had meant your words to comfort him, but you're only met with a deeper groan.

"There's going to more dates?"

"I don't know!" You flush, hating how you're under such scrutiny from Kenma. You're used to his whining, even finding it endearing at times, but standing there and having him complain about you going on a date makes your heart do summersaults. It's too easy to convince yourself that he's jealous and not just annoyed about his plans changing. "We'll see how this date goes. I was just speaking, I don't know, generals. I don't want to be single forever, you know."

There's a long pause after your explanation, and you feel your face flame in embarrassment. You risk a glance sideways, only to find Kenma standing up straight in the doorframe, a determined look in his eyes.

"So if I said I'd take you on a date, instead, you'd cancel and hang out with me?"

Gone is the whiny tone he'd been complaining with moments earlier, and left only in its place is a steely seriousness you've seen from him a mere handful of times. It makes you pause, forces you to face him so you're certain you're not misreading the situation.

"I don't want a date from you just so that you can keep your plans," You counter, laying your cards on the table in a way you're not used to.

"No, a real date." He shakes his head, long hair slipping over his shoulders. It's then that you spot the flush creeping up his neck, and you're starting to believe him. "Mario tonight, but dinner tomorrow."

A beat of silence passes where your answer is expected, then—

"I'll tell him something came up."

Tooru Oikawa is not supposed to be here.

Your roommate isn't supposed to walk into the small café you're having a—pretty boring—first date with some guy you met at the grocery store. You're not sure where he's supposed to be, but it's not here.

"Ah, look who it is!" Tooru calls brightly, interrupting your date's story about his childhood. You can't help the way you threaten Oikawa's murder with your eyes as he approaches, wide smile on his handsome face as he completely ignores your date's existence. "I didn't know you'd be here, of all places."

It's a complete and total lie, of course. You'd given your roommate the name of the café as a safety measure, not having expected him to show up.

"Uh, do you know him?" Your date asks, surprisingly good natured, as Oikawa does the unthinkable.

He grabs a nearby chair and drags it to sit at the table with you and your date.

"He's my roommate," You admit, glaring at Oikawa while talking to your date. "Take a good look at him. He's about to be on the news tonight when they find his dead body."

"Your... roommate?" You're too busy trying to communicate how much you want to murder Oikawa without saying so many words to notice the uneasy edge in your date's voice.

"Oikawa, get out of here." You hiss through gritted teeth. He, predictably, smiles sweetly at you.

"Aw, but you usually call me Tooru!" He simpers, chin propped on the heel of his hand while he leans closer to you. It's purely instinct that makes you kick his shin under the table.

"You two... live together?" Your date asks, and you finally stop glaring at Oikawa long enough to give him your attention.

"Yeah, but he travels a lot for volleyball, so he's not around a lot," You explain sweetly, then turn your glare on Oikawa. "Why don't you practice that right now and get lost?"

"But I haven't even ordered yet, sweetheart."

"That's it, I'm telling Iwa—"

"I don't think I can do this." Your date interrupts your threat, and your head snaps in his direction. He's frowning, glancing at the smug look on Oikawa's face and how close the two of you are sitting to each other. "Your roommate is a pretty boy professional volleyball player? Yeah, not a mess I want to get involved in."

You're too shocked to argue against what was said, stunned into complacency as your date gets up and walks out of the café without further preamble.

It's a good minute and a half after you've been ditched by your date before you're able to look at Oikawa. He's still sitting close, still smirking at you like everything went exactly to plan.

"You..." Disbelief coats your words. "you scared off my date. On purpose."

Oikawa looks anything but chastised. In fact, you think he looks rather accomplished.

"You owe me a proper date to make up for this, Oikawa."

"Deal," There's no hesitation to his voice. He was waiting for this moment, you think. "But we're going someplace nicer than this on our date."

You nod, slowly, completely dumbstruck by the sudden turn of events.

"I'm still telling Iwaizumi that you did this."

Keiji Akaashi looks like his brain needs a few hours to reset.

You give your roommate credit. He's usually so composed and put together. Keiji is the dependable one, who always remembers your schedule and makes sure to never have guests over if you have work early the next morning and cooks extra to make sure there's some for you. He's a good roommate, and it's to no one's surprise that you fell so soundly for him over the course of living with him for months.

But it's that fact, the crucial detail that you live together, that keeps you from crossing any boundaries in your friendship.

It's also why you said yes to a blind date with your coworker's cousin.

You wait until the last minute to tell Keiji because you're a coward, and telling the man you might be half in love with that you're going out with someone you don't even know seems like unnecessary torture.

"What do you want for dinner tonight? I'll cook for us." He offers casually, as if that's not the most heartwarmingly domestic thing he could say.

You wince, busying yourself by digging in the pantry for a snack.

"I'm going a date tonight, Ji," You try to sound casual, unaffected, but you think the way you refuse to look at him might be a dead giveaway that you're anything but cool, calm, and collected. "So don't worry about me."

"Oh... kay," He mutters, processing. You don't wait to hear what else he has to say before you hightail it out of the room like a coward, hiding under the pretense of needing to get ready.

It's another hour before you see Keiji again. You spent the whole time in your room getting ready, and now it's time to make the dangerous journey to the front door and actually leave the apartment to go on the date.

Keiji's sitting on the couch, watching the news with volume down low as he casually flips through a book as if he isn't a walking dream to you. You barely make it out of your bedroom before he stands, face calm, and steps in your path to the front door.

"I need to leave soon," You squeak out, wanting to run and hide. Again. Keiji doesn't move, just stands in front of you with this typically calm expression.

"I've spent the last hour weighing my options." He says, completely decimating practically any other idea you could have had about what he was going to say. "And I've decided that I need to tell you how I feel before you walk out that door. I don't think I can handle seeing you date someone else."

You're stunned into silence, eyes wide and face aflame as Keiji confesses.

"I love you. And I know there's always the chance that you won't feel the same, but I had to try." He continues on, filling the gap in the conversation your shock left. "I couldn't let you go, knowing how I feel and not doing something about it."

You shake your head, grin threatening to crack your face in two.

"He's going to be here soon, Keiji. How the hell do I tell him I can't go because I'm in love with my roommate?"

Atsumu Miya is an absolute pain in the ass.

You've asked him twelve different times to vacate the apartment for two hours, tops, while you have a guy over. It's a study date, nothing serious, but you'd rather not have Atsumu freaking Miya around while you're trying to win over another guy.

Of course, he refused. You think he might've even enjoyed the way you complained about him ignoring your request, but you weren't too sure.

He's at least agreed to clear out of the living room—once you told him the other option was bringing the guy into your bedroom—so you're setting up your study materials when there's a knock on your apartment door.

You're barely able to stand to answer it when Atsumu comes flying out of nowhere to get the door.

"'Sup, dude." Atsumu nods his head in greeting, face set in something similar to cold nonchalance you know is completely forced.

It's then that you realize what Atsumu is wearing. Or really, what he's not. On his bottom half he has his grey Black Jackals sweatpants, his name and number printed on the side in case anyone was confused on just who he was.

But on top? Oh, Atsumu Miya isn't wearing anything.

"Put a shirt on, idiot!" You hiss, face flaming as you realize that he answered the door to let your date in while shirtless. You'd be less embarrassed if he wasn't absolutely built, but despite all his annoyances, Atsumu is unfairly attractive.

"Doesn't usually bother ya." Atsumu shrugs, smug smirk on his face as he glances your date up and down. "Ya here to study?"

"Ignore him. It's what I do," You elbow Atsumu in the ribs to force him to make room and let your date enter the apartment, and he surprisingly relents.

"When you told me you had a roommate, I wasn't expecting someone like him." Your date murmurs as you lead him to the living room. Atsumu is trailing behind you closely, and it's impossible to miss the satisfied laugh his huffs out underneath his breath.

You barely have enough time to bite back a groan.

"Trust me, you have nothing to worry about."

Atsumu doesn't lay off from there. For the next two hours, he's constantly in your peripheral vision. You hear him in the kitchen, getting snacks he doesn't even eat, he's cleaning things in the living room you've never even seen him look at before, and for the last half an hour, he's made himself comfortable on the end of the couch while loudly watching videos on his phone.

Your study date ends with nothing happening but actually studying, and you're beyond irritated with Atsumu as you walk your date to the door.

He doesn't even let you say bye to your date in peace, calling out your name loudly from the living room when you think you might get at least a cheek kiss.

The second you awkwardly wave and shut the door behind your date, you're stomping back down to the living room. Atsumu is still sprawled across the couch, looking smug as ever, and you waste no time in grabbing a throw pillow to smack him over the head with.

You get in a few good hits before he's grabbing your wrists and tugging you over the back of the couch so that you're laying atop him. Legs bracketing his hips, you're glaring down at him while he holds your arms in his hands like he got exactly what he wanted.

"Yer date was annoying," He smirks, looking too smug for someone who's hair is all mused up from being attacked by a throw pillow. "I could make a better study partner."

You jerk out of his grasp, slamming the pillow once more against his face for good measure.

A sweater clad arm appears to your right, gently setting a steaming mug of something that smells like chocolate next to the cold cup on your desk. Looking up, Kenma meets your gaze. Under the dim light of your desk lamp, his expression is calm and unaffected.

He looks much more awake than when you last saw him this morning and his comfortable clothes suggest he had not left the apartment, likely spending the past few hours playing on stream in the gaming room. He looks the exact opposite of how you feel right now and a part of you envies him and how all of his finals were web pages and presentations he had submitted several days ago, lucky computer sciences bastard. 

“Can’t,” you grumble as you pick up the pencil that had slipped from your fingers, “I’m already behind enough as is. If I don’t pass this exam I won’t graduate on time.”

Kenma’s lips purse into a small pout and if you had not just spent the past six hours plugging big numbers into complicated formulas, you probably would have teased him for looking so cute. But instead, you pointedly turn away from him and back to the textbook. As attractive as your boyfriend is, you can not afford to let that distract you from the grind, a baddie at work stays at work or whatever it is that Newton guy said. 

Blinking through the sting of your eyes, you set on solving the mammoth of a word problem even though you are pretty sure the letters should not be floating around on the page like that.

You are attempting to reread the second sentence for the third time in a row when a pair of warm hands abruptly slide beneath your underarms and lift you up like a toddler.

“Hey–!” You shriek, half in indignation and half in shock that your fun-sized gamer boyfriend has the strength to manhandle you like this. 

With an ‘oof!’ you’re unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. Kenma’s body quickly follows and before you can sit up, he’s wrapped around you like a needy python.

“You can study more after a break,” Kenma murmurs. “You aren’t gonna remember anything when your brain is fried.”

The puffs of warm breath against your ear make you squirm a little but Kenma’s grip only tightens.

Well, he has a point…

“Just for a few minutes,” you concede, allowing your muscles to finally relax. The warmth of Kenma’s body against soft sheets lull you into a comfortable daze.

Like this, cuddled up in bed with your lover, you find it easy to forget about the dread in your gut. Even the worst consequences don’t seem so bad when you have Kenma to come home to every night.

You wonder if he ever feels the same, if after a long day of classes and streaming and virtual meetings with investors Kenma ever feels healed just by being with you.

You hope so. Sometimes he makes you feel so unbelievably happy and safe that you can only pray you are able to return even half of those feelings to him.

One of Kenma’s hands begins to gently rub down your side and your eyes grow heavy. Humming softly, your eyes fall shut and you succumb to the insistent pulls of sleep–

–until you register just where his hand is going. 

You gasp as his cold fingers slip under the band of your loose sweatpants, grazing the front of your panties and showing no signs of stopping.

“Ken, wha–ah!”

His fingertips run over the crotch of your panties, blunt nails catching along the crease of your clothes slit. At the same time his mouth latches onto your ear from behind, gently suckling on the lobe in a way that makes your core heat up and your thighs clench around his hand.

Kenma hardly gives you any time to get used to any particular sensation.

The hand not stroking over your pussy reaches up to fondle at your breasts, gently squeezing your left tit. 

Your body heats up and you squirm, hands struggling to find purchase on his forearms. When your writhing inevitably loosens the clenching of your thighs Kenma takes full advantage–his fingers slip beneath the thin fabric of your underwear, middle and ring ringer nudging against your opening that has already begun to leak for him.

“You work too hard,” he whispers against your ear. You barely hear it and his hot tongue slides against the shell of your ear in a way that momentarily derails your train of thought.

“‘M gonna help you relax,” he promises. It sends something sharp through your spine and you shiver in anticipation.

A long finger breaches your hole without preamble, eliciting a pretty gasp from your throat. The movements of his finger are accompanied by embarrassingly loud slick sounds that seem to echo in the room.

From this position you can’t do much. Kenma is completely behind you, hidden from view, and your limbs are trapped beneath his own. You are forced to just lie there and take it, gasping when he suddenly adds a second finger to further stretch you out.

“Haven’t been able to do this in so long,” he laments, thumb clumsily shifting to sloppily rub at the throbbing nub above your stuffed hole. The angle is awkward and makes it difficult to directly hit your clit on every circle but the unpredictability of it only adds to your mounting pleasure. 

Hastily, the hand on your chest bunches up the soft material of your sweatshirt to expose your bare tits. The chill immediately causes your nipples to pebble and Kenma wastes no time dipping down to latch onto one, sucking so aggressively your back arches with a loud mewl.

Under his eager ministrations, your orgasm comes swiftly. You’re shivering and babbling nonsense while he teeths at your nipple. Kenma’s fingers work relentlessly even as your walls clench around them rhythmically, pushing you just to the brink of overstimulation before he finally stops. His fingers still, still stuffing you full and you struggle to catch your breath while he presses soft pecks against the side of your boob.

Your rest, however, is short-lived. 

The moment you feel you’ve finally caught your breath, Kenma is already pulling away from you, sticky fingers tugging your layers of clothing off as quickly as possible. You can only stare up at him dumbly, watching how the light of the lamp on the desk behind him casts an orange glow on his dark hair, roots grown out so far only the very tips remain the pudding blond from his high school days. 

You shiver as he tugs down your sweatpants and panties in one motion. Exposed flesh goosebumps with the chill of the air and you frown. 

“Hey,” you call, nudging the side of his rubs with your socked foot until he looks up at you. 

His pupils are dilated, golden irises nearly swallowed completely and he looks incapable of thinking about anything but devouring you. The thought causes your core to clench with need. 

“Y’gotta take off yours too,” you whine, “It’s only fair.”

Kenma lags for a second, struggling to understand human language before he follows your gaze down to his chest covered in a simple black sweater. Without argument, Kenma hurries to remove his own clothing. The cold makes him scowl halfway through removing his sweater and you giggle a little at the expression. 

You’re shameless in your assessment as your eyes rake over his chest. He is far from bulky like the volleyball players you occasionally watch together on screen. Huge muscles were never something he had cared much about nor was it something his past role as setter required. And looking at him now, you like him fine just as he is. More than fine, actually. 

What he “lacked” in juicy six-packs or bulging pecs, he made up for with sharp lines and elegant sinews of muscle, lying dormant under white, unblemished skin. Years of volleyball training have left subtle but evident signs, carving definition in his biceps that were obvious with the natural movements of his body.

Sharp collar bones dip down to a hard, flat expanse of chest, a slightly softer stomach, and tapered hips.

His arms flex with the movement as he pulls the turtleneck over his head, the tendons of his slender forearms twitching in a way that has your teeth tingling with the urge to bite into him. You’re reminded of how those same arms had lifted you from your chair like you weighed nothing.

Heat burns deep in the pit of your belly and only grows when he moves to remove his baggy sweatpants.

His cock, already swollen and leaking, bobs with his movement. The engorged tip is flushed a pretty pink and your mouth waters as you remember that first night you got down on your knees for him, servicing him while he streamed in front of thousands of oblivious fans. You wonder if he’ll let you do it again, maybe next time you can sit on his lap instead, his length buried inside of you while he answers questions in chat. No one knowing exactly why his cheeks are so flushed, no one noticing how his breath hitches in that pretty way when you teasingly clench around him–

“Lie down.”

You struggle to come back to the present but it seems not to matter because Kenma is pushing you back into the mattress himself anyway. He slots himself between your bare legs easily, pressing his palms against both thighs and forcing your legs open even wider. 

Even in the dim room, the wetness of your folds are apparent.

His hands slide down lower and lower until they reach your center, thumbs spreading your thick lips apart to reveal the small nub and even tinier hole beneath, twitching with a mind of its own as if begging him to fill it. Kenma takes his time to stare shamelessly. He studies you not unlike a game, half-lidded eyes darting between different parts with interest, thoughts undoubtedly running rapidly as he figures out exactly how he wants to break you apart.

You don’t recall Kenma ever being this bold–or maybe he was and you just don’t remember because it’s been so long. The stress of final exams had taken up your attention for the past several weeks and you can hardly remember the last time you had Kenma on top of you like this, looking at you like this. It almost feels like too much–

You avert your gaze quickly, his attention unbearable as your cheeks heat up. But that was a mistake–because you don’t notice he has moved at all until a drop of cooled liquid meets your heated flesh.

“K-Ken!”

You squeal, gaze snapping down to see Kenma’s mouth inches above your exposed pussy, lips parted to allow his saliva to drip down into you. You feel the first drop run over your pussy, slowly sliding down the crack of your ass before he releases another. This time you watch as the clear liquid drops slowly down down down until it lands directly onto your twitching hole, being sucked inside of you like it belongs there. The sight is so lewd and you can only helplessly watch as he holds your squirming thighs wide open. His eyes are trained on your mound where watches your hole eagerly swallow his spit, bubbling with a mix of his saliva and your rapidly increasing slick. 

He spits once more, the glob landing on your swollen clit, before one hand slips down to shove two fingers inside of you. Your hole is slippery and eager, accepting his thrusting digits so easily.

Even after weeks of not touching he knows your body so well, angling to press into that spongy mass at the top of your walls that has your eyes squeezing shut and your hands clutching the sheets as you cry out. 

“Oh, God, Ken–ahn!”

He presses featherlight kisses against your inner thigh like an apology but you can hardly focus on anything but the movement of his fingers inside of you and the coil tightening in your gut. 

You feel almost drunk, vaguely aware of how shameless the loud squelching of your noisy pussy and drawn out moans must be but unable to control any of it.

As if only intending to drive you more insane, Kenma presses a third fingers inside. It stretches you in a way that dances on the edge of discomfort but satisfies the deep craving you didn’t know you had even more. 

“K-Ken, please–”

More. Less. Faster. Slower–you have no idea what exactly you’re begging for as your whines devolve into a babbled mess but it doesn’t matter because he juster finger fucks you harder. The mattress is shaking, bumping into the wall sporadically and suddenly you’re falling apart, gushing through your second orgasm. He rides you through it, leaning down to lick around your entrance where his fingers begin to slow, massaging your rhythmically clenching walls. 

Your ears are still ringing a little when Kenma finally pulls away, fingers leaving you with a small pop. You swallow thickly, watching as he uses his sticky hand to grab his own length, guiding himself towards your drooling entrance. He purposefully slides against you, collecting sick and reminding you of how generous his size is. You know from experience how well it will stretch you out, filling you so well. Your slipperiness makes him slide a bit too much and the ridge of his head catching against your nub has you both quietly gasping.

“Are you ready?” he asks, sounding breathless.

You hips involuntarily jerk in anticipation before you stutter a small affirmative. 

Without preamble he’s pressing forward, head pushing into your hot hole.

It’s a tight fit, even after he stretched you open on three of his fingers, but he’s persistent. The pressure makes your hips shift but his left hand flies down to your left hip, holding you firnly in place and forcing you to take it. 

The head slips inside and Kenma makes a soft sound of desperation.

Once the fat head is inside the rest is easy and Kenma bottoms out in one smooth stroke.

You pussy flutters uncontrollably around the intrusion and Kenma groans with satisfaction, falling forward on his elbows to sloppily mouth at your jaw. The distraction helps as your body tries to adjust and you tilt your head to meet his lips. The kisses are sloppy, all tongue, and long strands of drool connect you two every time you part. A particularly harsh suck on his tongue earns you a breathless and pitchy sound from the back of his throat. It’s desperate, slightly feminine, and so Kenma that your core subconsciously clamps down around him, hard, prompting him to whine and nip at your lips as reprimand.

After a few moments he finally draws back, just enough to look down at where the two of you meet as he draws back to just the tip. The slow motion exaggerates his length in a way that has your nails digging into his back. You already feel empty without him and your legs lock around his hips, silently begging him to please come back inside, right where he belongs, please please please–

And he does.

With a sharp motion, Kenma thrusts back in, hips clapping together so hard you yelp. He draws back only to drive back in faster but with just as much force, your body forced deeper into the plush mattress. He sets a brutal pace after that, harsh thrusts pounding your insides in a way that promises you’ll be deliciously sore tomorrow. Your calves squeeze at his flexing hips as you stutter moans against his ear, words of encouragement and praise. His attention remains locked on where you meet.

Kenma watches in rapt fascination at how you cream around him, leaving a tacky white ring around the base of his cock. Each thrust only pushes it further up his shaft, more collecting at the base before that too gradually travels up and mixes with your pubic hairs into a frothy white mess. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows harshly.

His reaction, so obviously enthralled by how your body reacts to how he fucks you, has your veins feeling molten. A particularly hard thrust has your head falling back with a cry. Your eyes squeeze tight, nearly as tight as your walls clenching around his cock, and you feel his hips stutter. His pace is becoming sloppy, your own hips clumsily trying to meet his as you feel something growing inside of you, threatening to burst. 

You’re close. You’re so fucking close. A couple more thrusts and–

Your senseless babbling is abruptly cut off by the sounds of boyish laughter. You blink, confused before you look down at Kenma, staring at your chest and laughing like they just told him the funniest knock knock joke in the world. His hips slow as he buries his face in your collarbone to muffle his laughter. 

Should you be offended? 

What does it mean when your boyfriend looks at your boobs and laughs during sex? It certainly can’t be good.

“What’s so funny?”

Your voice forces him to meet your gaze and, with some obvious effort, he stifles his laughter, gradually calming down until he can answer coherently.

“Sorry, it’s just… jiggle physics.”

He bursts into laughter again and you blink owlishly, trying to understand. 

Jiggle….physics? Like…?

Your mind supplies the image of the notoriously busty girls in Zenless Zone Zero, 3D animated tiddies bouncing and jiggling like jello when the girl so much as takes a breath– 

The reference shocks you into laughter even harder than his own and suddenly the two of you are collapsed into each other, a sweaty giggly mess as you struggle to catch your breaths. Your fingers absentmindedly thread through Kenma’s silky locks, catching on a couple of tangles but he hardly seems to mind. While you’re still giggling, Kenma seems to have recovered. His head is still buried in your neck where he presses firm kisses against your throat. 

Your hands move to his bare chest between you and lightly push, intending to meet his gaze so you can add on another quip or playfully ask which character you would be–but he resists the movement. Instead, he presses you harder into the mattress and adjusts his hips in a way that has you gasping. 

When you look up, any hints of humor have left his expression and his gaze is back to that focused hunger from before. Maintaining eye contact, he starts up a new pace. His hips move with more control than before, measured and slow in a way that feels like he’s very intentionally trying to make you fall apart. His gaze is focused on your face, seeming to gauge your every reaction while a hand lifts one of your legs, forcing your cunt to take him even deeper. The high the two of you were working towards before is back even stronger than before. Your toes curl and your hands grip at his flexing forearms. 

“K-ken–ah–so good…!”

Your praise is rewarded with him lifting your other leg, putting you in something resembling a lazy mating press and quickening his pace. One hand diverts to toy with your throbbing clit, making you keen. 

“Gonna cum soon?” He asks, voice deceptively calm.

You nod vigorously, eyes squeezed tight and teeth clenched. The position has him driving in so deep it feels like he’s fucking the air right out of your lungs. Your nails are digging into his arms but he gives no indications of pain, only circling your clit even faster.

“Cum for me.”

Obediently, you tumble over the edge with a cry. Your abdominal muscles clench tight in the folded position, walls squeezing tight so tight it forces his own orgasm. He falls forward onto you, whining in your ear as cum spurts inside of you. It’s hot, thick, and copious. The sheer volume of it shocks you, so much you feel it spilling out around his length even as your cunt desperately milks him for it. It has only been a few weeks since you last fucked and yet he’s releasing inside you like he hasn’t cum in months. 

He manages a few more half-hearted thrusts into your twitchy hips before he finally stills. 

You expect him to roll over next to you and cuddle you to sleep, maybe even just stay flopped on top of you, sleepy from the physical exertion as usual. Instead, he pulls back only to sit on his haunches, holding your weak legs open with a hand on the inside of each knee. 

You struggle to understand what he’s doing, watching him through eyes heavy with exhaustion when, abruptly, you feel it.

You feel a fresh, wet gush of cum exiting your cunt, forced out by the twitching remnants of your orgasm. You stare, mildly horrified, as Kenma thumbs your sore lips open, spreading the reddened flesh wide open under his gaze. His eyes trained on your stretched out hole, drooling endlessly with his seed. 

It’s another day of streaming for the overgrown blonde, he boots up his PC and opens his Twitch and OBS. The stream begins and Kenma follows up with his usual introduction, waiting for the thousands of people who are pouring into his stream to settle in.

“Hey chat, we’re gonna be playing some Valorant today and maybe some ‘Resident Evil: Village’ later on.” The man hummed, moving his mouse around and clicking on the app icon. The game boots up quickly and within a minute he’s already in the lobby.

The chat is flooded with emotes, memes, and whatever they hell they wanna talk about — moving about a mile a minute but it all stops when something pops up on their screens.

Another account has joined Kodzuken’s lobby.

soboring: whos that

yodayoda: new duo?

nuggetFPS: I DONT RECOGNIZE THIS USERNAME GUYS

Kenma doesn’t say anything and starts the queue.

inarizaki1001: @kodzuken this isnt ur main acc??

The queue pops and Kenma as per usual locks his duelist champion, Jett. The chat is confused but they play along, wondering if the streamer had just decided to start climbing on a new account instead — it would be entertaining to have another Top 1 run anyway. All of this is tossed out the window when a girl’s voice suddenly floods the stream.

“Hey, Ken? Who should I play?” The sweet voice asked.

justathrower: IS THAT A GIRL?

simpl4m4n: LMFAOOOO IS THIS REAL GUYS?

customMade: DID KENMA GIVE IN AND HIRE AN EGIRL?

“Play whoever y’want.” Kenma hummed, shifting in his seat. He looks over at his second monitor where he has his OBS opened up and a pop-out of his Twitch chat — the edges of his lips quirk up but he doesn’t say anything, watching the comments fly by.

The sweet voice hums again and decides on locking in a champion, Sage.

S4INTLY: holy shit theyre A JETT SAGE DUO?

napphry: oh my god im gonna throw up

wubalubadubub: no way this is happening right now right

The blonde makes sure his microphone is muted in game before he speaks on the stream, “Guys, I’m duoing with my friend, she’s nice… so don’t be mean to her.” The lobby loads up and Kenma shifts his focus to the game.

The game was going well and the viewers had attempted to be nice and not mention the new duo and the new account but they just couldn’t ignore the fact that Kenma was playing a little differently today. Yeah, Kodzuken is a world renounced streamer, he’s popular and undeniably the best at almost every game he touches — but today the man was playing as if his life depended on it, which was an odd thing to say for a man who’s life revolved around gaming.

“Ken! You’re really good at this game!” The sweet voiced squeaked out after Kenma had managed to wipe the entire enemy team to save the round.

See, Kenma knows that he’s good at the game but that little compliment had the man malfunctioning. Blood rushes to his cheeks and Kenma’s palms begin to sweat, so what he has a little crush you? It wouldn’t have been the first time but this little crush has Kenma acting like he isn’t told this little fact almost every day.

He clears his throat and nods his head, “Thanks, t’was mostly luck…”

peanuuut: holy shit hes cooked

noddingpup: HUZZ SAID HES GOOD AT THE GAME

burgermachine: LUCK LMFAOOOO

For the rest of the game,the two of you throw some banter around, teasing each other. joking around, and just having fun — but Kenma, despite his ability to block out the world and focus in on his video games, cannot for the life of him fully focus back into the game. His brain is running around in circles and looking into crevices to figure out other ways that he could impress you again. Stupidly enough, all this thinking on how to win you over has the man doubling down in the lobby. He’s lost his focus and when he tunes back in he’s in a 1 v 5 position.

Shit.

Kenma is quick to act and he manages to find and shoot a person down. 1 v 4. The clock is ticking red and the blonde only has so much time before the bomb explodes.

“Holy shit! If you win this I’ll give you a kiss!” You blurt out randomly into your microphone, carried away by the intensity of the game and the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Holy fucking shit.

slUmpStax: WHAAAAT?

swordfallen: CLIPPED AND SHIPPED

generallySo: were so cooked

Kenma only glances at second monitor before he goes absolutely berserk. The man controls his character better than his viewers had ever seen, bullets finding heads and the only sound the stream can hear is the clicking of his mouse and keyboard and the quiet desperation as Kenma moves around the game.

1 v 3.

1 v 2.

1 v 1.

As the blonde shoots down the last enemy player, he immediately moves to diffuse the bomb. It’s ticking loud, spasming at this point with high pitched whines because it’s practically about to explode and Kenma is praying to all the Gods that he makes it on time but he could do nothing but hope.

The round ends - ‘0:01’ on the top of his screen.

Defenders Win.

moogleymouse: GG EZ

zazazaza: CLIPPED. AND. SHIPPED.

aimingOP: GG

Kenma’s hands are drenched in sweat and the sound of your excited squeals has his heart pounding. Jesus, he looks like a fool right now. The man looks over at his chat, he already knows he’s getting teased by fifty thousand people right now but he really could not care about his ‘nonchalant reputation’ at this point.

so all of a sudden when he trails his love bites down your stomach all the way to your...

"s- stay still..." dipping his tongue deeper into you kept your back arched, your thighs still quivering around his head, subconsciously, you didn't know if you wanted to keep him there or to push him off, really.

well, usually when it came to your usual love-making activities, he'd say foreplay is his favorite because he'll end up forgetting to fuck you with his dick when you taste so good on his tongue instead.

even when it came to kissing up your thighs, what can i say, he's one (im)patient man!

"nnnha! 'jin... w— wait... haahn s- slow down!" muttering under your breath, it was one of the factors that made enjin the munch he is for you, your hands buried in his hair while you continued to bury his mouth deeper into your folds, his nose bumps into your sensitive clit every now and then.

your brows furrowed, his hands squeeze your thighs—a quiet way of telling you to stop squirming.

"keep those pretty eyes open f'me, sweet..." mumbling into your cunt, darker hues becloud your cheeks, it was adorable how badly you were struggling in his hands, enjin's indurated fingertips rubbed small circles onto the soft plush of each thigh; tonguefucking a person as cute as you were probably had to be one of the best feelings out there.

"mmnf enjin please, t'much..." face being buried so deep in your pussy, he loved the way you tasted in his mouth, if you'd let him, he would stay between your soft thighs. your pulse quickened when the musk continued to fall off your forehead; licking long stripes up your slit to see the way your back would arch so undeniably,

he could hear the gasp for air in shock from you, only ever briefly removing his mouth to place lust-filled kisses and bites on your inner thighs. your spine continues to shudder, it was mean how your vision was so blurred. drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth, your grasp on his hair only clenches.

a shaky exhale leaves you, his tongue only slurps and sucks at your sweet clit with urgency, the pressure building up again right below your stomach, making you groan again; aching at how close you were again, your eyes widen before you shut them, almost not wanting to feel the rush of bliss again.

"mmm... y're close, arenf't ya," it's sick how easily enjin could tonguefuck you, how easily he could get you to come on his mouth, he could only tell by your breathing fragments that you were slowly starting to reach your peak, a small tear slips past your eyelid.

your heart beats rapidly, nearly out your chest, his arms tighten around your waist and brings your hips as close as possible;

you didn't even know really where to place your palms, yet all of a sudden your body's tension suddenly snapped, "fuckin' come, sweet! come on my tongue!"

was all you heard until your juices gushed into his mouth, flashes of white spark behind your eyes when your fourth orgasm peaks—it's alarming how fast you would cave into the pleasure he could give you.

you always joked to your boyfriend tamsy that he should tie you up so he could tease your body while you resist against the blue thread... it wasn't a bad idea, you mentioned it months ago, is it a crime he wanted to keep that in mind?

not really.

the mission felt like a fresh breath of air for those who've been looking for a hard case that was actually easy.

so edging you with adorable little kitten licks while his vital instrument kept your legs apart, blue rope securely keeping your thighs nicely sprawled open for him while cold air gives more attention to you than his tongue does :(

cold ghost touches trace your legs up and down, enough to make you shiver at how carefully he'd watch your face for any of the adorable reactions you had.

despite it showing on his face, he still had the need to hide his clear interest in pleasing you by teasing you for almost way too long...

"n- nngh!" you shut your eyes almost immediately before your lashes flutter open again, with disappointment clear in your face. "tamsy! are you even gonna... ahh start? if not i could just- whhaa!"

you voice cracked uncharacteristically when he dove his tongue into your cunt, now casually making out with your sweet clit; moving a hand to slip a finger inside your warm, soppy entrance. now it was your turn in wanting to hide what you actually feel like!

"mmmn, tastes s'much nicerf th... mmhaa- than i th- thought." his voice vibrates your cunt with a certain softness to it, your fingers thread into his hair while your hips rock themselves into his mouth.

it's an addiction, an urge you could say, for tamsy to move his mouth, working his tongue in your hole. but before you could even think to form a response, his thumb is rubbing nicely up against your swollen clit.

making your breath hitch, eyebrows knit, and pull his hair.

tamsy wasn't even one to be really vocal necessarily, but you made it hard to not when you'd squirm whenever the pulses of his words were echo into your whole being, small and noticeable shivers run up and down your spine. nodding frantically under intoxication, breathy moans that fell desperate on your tongue,

a fist of his hair in your balled palm was all he needed to see how need y you were, especially when you had the great idea of pushing his face even deeper inside you. tasting parts no one else has ever touched...

another thing he favored a lot when eating you out was your skin being squished by the rope, watching your soft thighs spill around the rope that kept you spread made his own eyes roll back,

his one hand on your thigh keeps a strong grip, locking you onto his mouth and bringing you as close as he could.

well... i'd have something funny he'd say here but really, he can't speak from how good you taste.

you feared to be around your boss, corvus, whenever something hadn't exactly gone to plan. it succeeds but at the cost of his team? most importantly: you, his secretary. it hurt him to see that the person who had plead loyalty and allegiance to him and the cleaners for as long as forever...

to see you being touched by someone that wasn't him on a mission that required you both to fake being a couple at a certain event.

he couldn't take it.

so here he was, the corvus of the cleaners, rapidly lapping at your adorably aroused, wet slit. your thighs sit nicely over his shoulders while he effortlessly lifts your lower body to be able to kiss every part. big hands resting on each side of your thigh,

you were spreading your folds for him, barely one eye open when you take peeks at the man you've been calling boss most of your time with him hungrily eat you out with a fucking passion. it was hard to tell if he was kissing or slurping, but there's one thing you knew,

and it's that he ravished you.

"f- uuckk... s- sir, pleasef— slow do... haah!"

your words die out completely when you let out an audible gasp, your hands flies to his head to push him in deeper; you could both feel and hear clearly that the pace he set suddenly accelerated. wait... you don't think he has a...

he removes his mouth from your cunt briefly, a clean 'pop!' sound echoes fast as he gives you another hungry stare, "say that again."

warm breath falling against your climax-ridden pussy, your face was flushed with dark hues, matching your squirming behavior as you remain flustered and frozen.

"i... huh?" you barely had a moment to think before he slipped two cold, and unnerving digits into your entrance, "ahhngh!"

"i want you to say it again. call me sir, sweetheart."

hardly being able to gather your thoughts properly, you blink through the strong vanilla scent he had helped you get for the occasion earlier.

jolts of electricity ran up your spine when he continues to grind his long fingers against your g-spot, making your back arch onto them, your mouth agape with a scarce sound out your mouth. squeezing around his digits wasn't helping your case at all either,

"go on, ask me to keep going."

you can only give an eager nod as you tried your best to even come up with the courage to speak, "mmn... sir?" god he could feel a twitch in his pants hearing your voice call out to him like that.

"can you.. ngh- please keep eating me o- out...?"

there are so many times he had wished he could just pull you aside and ease the tension in you. so many different situations, and now when he finally gets the satisfaction... is it so bad a man wants to please what's his when they've been so good for him all these years?

his loyal secretary.

his.

"nngh- ahh cor- s'good..." tears started to build up in the edges of your eyes, same beautiful eyes you'd use to ensure the cleaners stayed as diligent and disciplined while he wasn't there... now they're awestruck at the mess you made on his mouth.

your high almost immediately comes back, heat pooling just as much as it did earlier... was it his delirious pacing with his tongue? or maybe...

it was the way one hand would stay on your thigh to keep you stable, while the other would press a hand on your lower stomach. harshly might i add.

you could feel your jaw almost drop, a small drop of drool starting to dribble out your mouth while your legs jerk involuntarily, you don't know where to place your hands until—

a snap of electricity shocks your whole body, you barely even let out a cry of pleasure from how good it felt, hearing corvus swallow up your gushing juices only made it feel even better.

it was only the overstimulation that he continued to cause using his tongue while you were still trying your best to recovery from the heaven-sent orgasm he had just launched into you without even using his cock.

satoru was also, you noted with a warmth that bloomed low in your stomach, incredibly, incredibly hot.

it was a strange dichotomy he embodied perfectly; the ridiculous glasses, the messy hair, the oversized hoodie — all of it screamed 'cute, loveable nerd!'. but then there was the sharp line of his jaw, the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, the sheer, overwhelming masculine grace in the way he held himself even while hunched over a textbook. that bone-deep beauty that he seemed so unaware of in these moments, which only made it all the more potent.

you slowly pushed off from the doorframe, your footsteps soft on the wooden floor.

you didn’t want to startle satoru completely, but a small part of you, the part that was currently being consumed by a huge wave of adoration, wanted to see the exact moment his focus shattered. you crept up behind your boyfriend, your shadow falling over his work. he didn’t react, not even a flinch, so lost in his own world he was. you leaned down, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, and whispered;

"you’re doing the thing."

“hmm?" satoru mumbled, not looking up, his pen still scratching a note in the margin. "what thing?"

"the thing where you look like you’re trying to solve world hunger and global warming at the same time," you murmured slowly, your lips now ghosting along satoru’s jawline. "it’s very . . . strenuous."

satoru paused then, his hand stilling. a slow, pleased shiver ran through him, so subtle you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t pressed so close.

"it’s just a paper on quantu—mmph . . . !"

you cut him off, but not with a kiss on the lips, no.

you placed a soft, deliberate peck right on the corner of his mouth. a simple, chaste little thing, but it was enough to finally pull satoru’s attention away from the page.

your boyfriend blinked, his head turning slightly to look at you, his glasses still crooked. his eyes, a brilliant, captivating shade of cerulean, were a little unfocused, like he was dragging himself back from the theoretical realm of quantum entanglement to the very real, very immediate you.

"b-baby . . . " he said, a soft, dopey smile spreading across his face, the tension in his shoulders easing.

"mhhh. you’re very pretty when you’re concentrating, you know that?"

a faint blush, the barest hint of pink, dusted his cheeks.

"i’m not pretty," satoru mumbled, a knee-jerk protest, his eyes already drifting back to his notes. "i’m . . . i’m a force of nature. a towering intellect. pretty is a—hey!"

you had done it again, this time placing a kiss on his forehead, right on the smooth skin just above his eyebrow. you felt his muscles relax under your lips, the tension melting away from his brow. you pulled back just enough to see his expression, a mix of surprised pleasure and growing bewilderment.

"what was that for?" satoru asked, and his voice was a little higher than usual.

"you had a wrinkle right there," you said, your voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone. "from frowning. very bad for your skin. i’m just doing my duty as a concerned partner."

"my skin is flawless, thank you very much," he retorted, a familiar, defensive sass creeping into his voice.

but satoru’s blush was deepening, spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. he was trying to look affronted, but his eyes, still a little wide and glassy, were betraying him. he liked this. he liked the attention, the interruption.

you took a step closer, now standing directly beside his chair. you didn’t give satoru a chance to recover, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose, right where his glasses sat. satoru’s skin was so warm.

"you’re getting sunspots," you murmured against satoru’s skin. "or . . . lamp-spots. from all this studying."

"i don’t get sunspots," satoru whispered, his voice cracking just a little.

his hands had come up, hovering uselessly in the air between you, like he wasn't sure whether to push you away or pull you closer. he settled on gently gripping your hips, his thumbs stroking the fabric of your shirt. it was a grounding gesture, his way of trying to maintain some semblance of control.

you hummed, a non-committal sound, and moved to press a kiss to his cheek. the skin there was impossibly soft, and you stayed there for a moment, feeling the warmth of his face, the slight stutter of his breath. he smelled like old books, coffee, and something uniquely, comfortingly satoru.

"you smell like a library," you whispered, your lips brushing against his cheekbone.

"is that a good thing?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

satoru’s long lashes were fluttering, his eyes closing on their own accord.

"the best thing," you confirmed, and then you were kissing his temple, the hinge of his jaw, a spot just below his ear that you knew was a hidden treasure trove of nerve endings.

your sweet boyfriend gasped, a sharp, involuntary sound, and his hips jerked in his chair. his fingers tightened on your hips, a silent plea for mercy you weren’t ready to give.

“y/n . . . " he breathed, a world of meaning in your name. it was a plea, a warning, an invitation.

you pulled back just enough to look at satoru, to take in the magnificent, messy picture he made — his glasses were now truly a catastrophe, hanging off one ear and precariously balanced on the other, the bridge resting on the very tip of his nose. satoru’s hair was even more of a mess, courtesy of his own restless fingers. his face was a symphony of reds and pinks, the blush spreading down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his hoodie. his lips were slightly parted, his breath coming in shallow, rapid pants.

satoru looked utterly, deliciously undone, and all from a few chaste kisses from you.

but the most potent detail was his eyes. that brilliant blue, usually so sharp, so full of clever mischief, was now dark, hazy, and completely, utterly focused on you.

there was a vulnerability there, a raw, unguarded longing that made your heart clench. he looked beautiful. he looked perfect. he looked like he was about to combust if you didn't kiss him properly, and the sight of him like this — this brilliant, beautiful boy, brought to such a tender, wanton state just by you — ignited a primal, possessive heat deep inside you.

"you’re so cute," you said, your voice dropping to a husky whisper. "and so, so fucking hot, you know that? you have no idea what you do to me, sitting here looking like a wet dream in your nerdy glasses."

satoru’s adam’s apple bobbed again.

"not a wet dream," he managed to choke out, a last-ditch effort at his usual bravado. he sounded so small, so out of his depth. so perfectly, wonderfully him. "just . . . a very tired student who really wants to—mmph!"

you had had enough of his adorable, pathetic protests.

you shut him up properly this time, cupping your boyfriend’s face in your hands and leaning in to press your lips to his. it was a soft, gentle kiss at first, a simple meeting of mouths, but the moment your lips touched, it was like a spark to tinder.

satoru made a small, desperate sound against your mouth, his hands relinquishing their grip on your hips to come up and bury themselves in your hair, pulling you closer. the kiss deepened, his lips parting under yours, and you obliged him, your tongue brushing against his lower lip. he tasted like coffee and the faint, sweet residue of the cherry chapstick the young boy always used.

you broke the kiss, but only to tilt satoru’s head back, giving you better access to his neck.

you trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, feeling his pulse hammering a frantic rhythm against your lips. you found his pulse point, that spot that was always so sensitive, and you sucked, gently, just enough to leave a faint, pink mark. satoru whimpered, a sound of pure pleasure, his hips bucking up against your thigh.

"y/n, please . . . " satoru gasped, his head falling back further, completely surrendering to your onslaught.

you nibbled on his collarbone, which was peeking out from the neckline of his hoodie. you kissed the hollow of satoru’s throat, the slope of his shoulder. you kissed satoru’s eyelids, his eyebrows, the tip of his nose again. you were everywhere, dotting satoru’s face and neck with a constellation of affection. you kissed the spot behind his ear, and he shivered violently. you pressed a kiss to his chin, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, teasing him, drawing it out, savouring every minute tremor and low moan you could coax from him.

satoru’s glasses had finally fallen off completely, landing with a soft clatter on the book he’d been reading.

he didn’t even notice. his world had narrowed to you, to the sensation of your lips on his skin. his hands were tangled in your hair, clutching at you, his fingers flexing and uncurling, a sign of his absolute, hopeless surrender.

satoru’s face was a mess of colour, his skin completely flushed, his lips swollen and slick, his eyes completely dazed. he was a masterpiece of flustered desire, a picture of devastating vulnerability that he only ever showed you. the smart, sharp-tongued genius was completely and utterly putty in your hands. it was a heady feeling, a powerful intoxication; satoru loved you, and you loved him, and in this moment, that was the only truth in the universe.

finally, you couldn't take the teasing anymore.

the sight of him, the taste of his skin, the sound of his desperate little gasps — it was all too much. you needed more. you needed to devour him completely.

you captured satoru’s mouth again, but this time, there was no gentleness; it was a hungry, possessive kiss, your tongue tangling with his, claiming him, tasting him. you poured all your pent-up adoration and want into that kiss, and he met you with equal fervour, his own tongue dancing with yours, his hands tightening in your hair. he kissed you back like you were the air he needed to breathe, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered; and to satoru, you were.

you broke the kiss only when you were both gasping for air, your foreheads resting together, your breath mingling in the small space between you.

satoru’s eyes were closed, his long, white lashes fanned out against his flushed cheeks. a single, soft, shaky moan escaped his lips, the sound of a man completely and utterly conquered.

"your face is sooo red," you whispered, a teasing lilt in your voice, though you were just as breathless as he was. "like a very pretty tomato."

he managed to crack one eye open, peering at you through his lashes. a weak, crooked grin spread across his face.

"you’re very mean," satoru mumbled, his voice hoarse. "and i love you."

you smiled, a genuine, heart-stopping smile that crinkled the corners of your pretty eyes. you leaned in, kissing the red tip of satoru’s nose again.

"i love you too, my nerdy, beautiful boy. now," you said, pulling back and looking pointedly at the scattered papers. "what was that paper on again? quantum . . . something?"

satoru groaned, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, his body completely slumping against yours in a heap of exhausted, contented defeat.

"i think i forgot," he mumbled into your shirt.

you laughed, a soft, happy sound, and pressed a kiss to the crown of satoru’s messy white hair.

"good," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him. "then take a break. study later."

you felt the smile spread against your shoulder as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

yeah . . . this was your favourite version of satoru, and you were never, ever going to get tired of it.