Hi !! Congrats On 2k!!!! You Deserve It! For The Event Can I Get Sakusa + Choking? With Anything Else

you ever think about how they'll probably see this picture in a yearbook when they're 60 years old and reminisce about their time as a part of the karasuno volleyball club? cuz i do all the time

heyhey! can you do a hq boys w the tiktok prank where you pretend you used his credit card to buy something super expensive? idm which characters but if you could include kuroo that’d be great :} only if you want to, though

HAIKYUU BOYS REACTION TO TIKTOK TREND WHERE YOU PRETEND TO USE THEIR CARD TO BUY SOMETHING EXPENSIVE

characters — timeskip!bokuto kōtarō, kuroo tetsurō, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, suna rintarō

a/n — AAAAAAAAAA i love this trend pls, i wanna be spoiled by these men deadass!!!

☾ BOKUTO always left his credit card lying about so it was easy to end up having it on you for the prank. he brightened immediately as you entered the living room, opening his arms while sat on the couch so you could fall into them. “baby, what’re you doing?” you reached into your back pocket, pulling out his credit card along with your phone as you scrolled through your tags, showing him the bag online “i bought this! isn’t it pretty?” he nods enthusiastically before you scroll down to see the price “babe! it’s $2000, that’s A LOT!” “i used your card though, kou is that okay?” he gasps so loud he almost swallows you “but $2000 is expensive for a bag baby.. don’t you have some already?” “but i really wanted this one..” there’s a moment of silence as his arms tighten around you “you really wanted it?” “yeah..” please there’s a little grin on his face when his eyes meet yours “okay baby! if it makes you happy that’s okay! you’ve been working hard anyway!” when you tell him it’s a prank he literally offers to buy you it.

☾ KUROO was working in his office when youd approached him, asking for his credit card just for a few details for something - his head was a little cloudy, mindlessly taking his wallet out of his slacks before handing it to you, going back to sifting through paperwork before stifling a yawn. you returned later, a giddy grin on your face as he finally finished up his stuff “hey kitten.” one of his arms rose as an invitation for you to crawl underneath as you cuddled into his side “here’s your cards back.” raising a brow before he shrugged “oh yeah, thanks.. forgot about that!” he threw it to the side before placing a kiss against your temple “i bought that jacket i showed you lastnight.” you can feel his gaze burning into your immediately “the $3000 one?” “duh!” he groans before pinching between his brows, wiping a hand down his face “KITTEN, i can’t believe you’re using me for my good looks and money - have you no shame?” goes all floppy and bans you from his wallet lmao, mf tells everyone ur robbing him.

☾ ATSUMU always gave you his card whenever you asked, insisting you take it out on days out with your friends or while running errands - just because he loved spoiling you, so he was quick to hand it over when you asked “ya’d be aswell keepin’ it on ya at all times, angel.” youd returned a few minutes later, giving him it back before he scooped you onto his lap, hand smoothing up your thighs “so what did ya buy? somethin’ pretty?” you nodded as you excitedly scrolled through your phone, showing him a super expensive bag before he almost threw you off his lap in shock “BABY, that’s $3000 dollars though?” “but i really liked it ‘tsum!” his head falls back against the couch as he groans, arms falling by his sides, he literally stays like that for a good 10 seconds like you gotta nudge him alive again before he’s pulling you into him again “if it makes ya happy baby a guess, yer so damn spoiled ya know a cant say no ta yer pretty face!” makes you give him kisses as compensation for the stress.

☾ SAKUSA knew he spoiled you, all you had to do was bat your eyelids at him and he’d fold. so you were easily able to tangle his bank card off him with a quick peck and a hand on his chest. you’d approached him again as he drank his coffee in the kitchen “finished, love?” you nodded before sliding him the card, his fingers intertwining with yours over it instead “what did you get?” “just a bag, it was on sale for $2000.” his hand almost crushed yours, he nearly splutters drinking his coffee and he stiffens up so bad, his lips pulled into a pout as his eyebrows immediately furrow “are you kidding?” “i liked it omi.” he blushes at the nickname despite you using it daily, clearing his throat to regain his composure “i told you to run big gifts by me first..” but when you blink up at him, apologising through a pout you hear him sigh before he runs a hand through his curls “you’re a spoiled brat.”

☾ SUNA you lay in bed, cheek pressed against his chest as you both scrolled through your phones. you’d borrowed his card for groceries so you still had it on you for the prank “rin, guess what else i bought when i went for groceries??” his gaze flicked to you momentarily before he locked his phone, placing it against his chest “what?” you turned your phone towards him, showing him the $2000 coat on the screen as he blinked at you, face remaining deadpan “and how did you afford that?” “with your ca—“ you don’t even get your whole answer out before he’s snatched your phone from your hand, getting up from the bed as he taps away on the screen “damn brat, you better cancel it.. $2000 on a coat you don’t even need, you’ve got me to keep you warm.” pouts when you tell him you’re joking and mf tells you to have fun being cold lmao.

— SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK

synopsis: despite being hopelessly in love with you, atsumu miya wants nothing but for you to stay as far away from him as possible

pairing: atsumu miya x gn!reader

genre: angst, unrequited/one sided love

warnings: one swear word n uhh hearbreak 

word count: 883

❝ i don’t want a friend (just one more night)

i want my life in two (my life in two) ❞

He may not show it, but one of the many things Atsumu wanted was to share his life with someone. Specifically, a loved one. Ever since childhood, he dreamt of the two of you growing up, sharing fond memories together the older you got. Having a happy ending together, and not regretting a single bit of your lives once you died. 

He wanted to share everything, both good and bad, with you. He wanted you to be able to say “look! That’s my boyfriend! I love him so much”.

Of course, not everyone is lucky enough to be blessed with a cheerful story full of chocolate, flowers and other sweet things. 

Keep reading

the comfort of not knowing

rindou never felt the need for love. not until he learned that he could get it from you. not until you became the very personification of such an abstract idea. suddenly, you are love—and he needs you in all of his days.

warnings: vulgar language. sex talk. alcohol use.

part two

rindou haitani had his fair share of girls before. don’t get him wrong—nothing was serious. they were mostly hookups and if not, just casual dates he did not want to be a part of but had to go anyway because his brother set him up. 

he did not mind the loneliness, really. he rarely even felt it. sure, he sees ran, sanzu, kakucho, and everyone else in bonten with their girls but they were all temporary. they come and go, most of the time faster than the seasons change. rindou never understood the need for it aside from momentary pleasure that would fade in seconds. he never felt the need to have those too if they were bound to end anyway. 

a waste of time, as he likes to call it.

Keep reading

Title: Going Live.

Pairing: Yandere!Nanami x Reader (JJK)

Word Count: 7.6k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Camgirl!Reader, Kidnapping, Physical Intimidation, Long-Term Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Delusional Behavior, Slight Exhibitionism, and Panic Attacks + Disassociation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were a lot of things to Nanami Kento – his world, his light, his love – but above all else, you were the reason he looked forward to getting home.

Calling it ‘infatuation’ would’ve been a disservice to the depth of his feelings for you. It’d been love at first sight; instant and wholehearted, a shackle snapped shut around his neck that he had no will or desire to escape. His eyes were on his watch as soon as he crossed the threshold, his coat shrugged off and abandoned along with his tie in the doorway. He didn’t bother turning on lights or taking off his shoes, doing anything to make his empty apartment seem more lived-in, his focus solely dedicated to reaching his home office with as few disruptions as was possible, with Gojo and the higher-ups still attempting to contact him about the curse he’d finished exorcising less than an hour prior. They could wait. You wouldn’t.

He was smiling by the time he collapsed into the leather-cushioned chair, his laptop still on his desk from the night before – the last time he got to see you. The motions were automatic, practiced to the point of reflexivity. One hand glided over the keyboard while the other found his phone, silencing it in the same motion as he tossed it haphazardly onto the desk, out of his view. He checked his watch one more time; 6:59. Good. He was early.

His grin brightened, as did his laptop. Your stream flickered to life a second later and with it, your smiling face. The relief was instant, pure warmth accompanying it. The bittersweet tinge – as subtle as it was prodding – came only a moment later, but Nanami did his best to ignore it.

You were the sole reason Nanami Kento looked forward to getting home. The center of his world, the sole light in his otherwise bleak life. The person he loved more than anything, more than everything.

It was only a shame, then, that you had no idea he existed.

One of his favorite things about you had always been your meticulousness. For tonight’s show, you were splayed out across the foot of a queen-sized bed, surrounded by pastel pink satin sheets and a fleece comforter of the same shade, a matching dormant hitachi vibrator (Nanami’s favorite and, guessing from how often it made an appearance in your shows, yours too) nestled between your thighs. Your outfit was aesthetically pleasing – a set of lacey, baby blue lingerie with white, knee socks – but paired with your set up, casual enough to give the impression that you hadn’t realized the camera you were posing in front of was actually on, as if you weren’t entirely prepared to be seen by a thousand or so strangers just yet. The fact that you didn’t start talking right away, only humming as you idly toyed with your hair, only added to the nonchalance of it all. You would make a good actress, if you ever decided to pursue something more, for lack of a more applicable phrase, legitimate.

Nanami’s attention drifted from you to your chat, slowly starting to fill with impatient viewers. Despite himself, he felt his absentminded smile waver, an irk of irritation momentarily tainting his bliss. He knew you weren’t entirely real, that he didn’t have any right to be possessive over a performer, but he loved you. It would’ve been difficult for anyone to watch someone they loved be exposed to so many prying eyes.

user34333: fuck she’s hot

hotbox420: looking good y/n!!!

lostandconfused: why does she still have her clothes on?

 The only silver lining was how oblivious you seemed to it. Another minute passed before you straightened, yawning slightly as you pushed yourself up, legs hanging over the foot of your bed. “Welcome home,” you started, with a quick stretch and a playful wave towards the camera. “Everyone’s already put the kids to bed, right? I’ve got a very special surprise I want to bring out a little later, so nobody’s allowed to leave early.”

Your tone was light, melodic, saccharine. Already, Nanami could feel his cock beginning to harden against his thigh, straining at the material of his pants. You were always mobile during your shows, prone to flitting from one position to another, but tonight, you almost seemed antsy as you pulled your legs back onto the mattress, tucking your knees underneath you and bowing your head, your neutral smile taking on a shy undertone. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” you admitted, speaking quickly enough for the words to blend together. Then, with more composure, “Who wants to get us started?”

Nanami’s hand was already on his keyboard, waiting for your cue. Somehow, he was still too late.

blueeyeswhitedragon sent 150 credits!

blueeyeswhitedragon: Bra first, pretty please.

You giggled as you raised your hands, leaning forward to give the camera a better view of your chest as you undid the clasp at the nape of your neck. Nanami’s breath hitched as the thin fabric fell away, revealing the soft curves of your breasts and your pretty, perfect nipples – already hard, already enough to make saliva pool underneath his tongue. The lower clasp was next, undone with more effort and more bouncing than what seemed absolutely necessary, but Nanami couldn’t complain, not when he was struggling to undo the fly of his dress pants without ever looking away from you. There was another giggle as the article fell away entirely, then a third as you cupped your chest with both hands, groping gently. “I used to be so shy about taking my top off on camera…” You trailed off, batting your eyes. “But, you guys think I’m pretty, right?”

Your requested affirmations flooded the chat in an instant. Nanami grinned, slumping back in his chair. He could compliment any part of you earnestly, but aside from donations, he rarely let himself participate in your chat. Speaking to you so openly, being one of a dozen people whose username you’d glance over in a second – that wasn’t what he wanted. Anonymous adoration wasn’t the shape his affection took.

Eventually, you collapsed back onto your bed. “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you went on, as Nanami wrapped a fist around the base of his cock. “What next?”

There was another offer – 300 credits for your panties, 400 if you took them off with your back to the camera. You obliged, bent at the waist, inching the silken fabric down your thighs at an almost sadistic pace. After you finished, you seemed ready to move onto the main show, but another donation cropped up in your chat.

user34232 sent 75 credits!

user34232: for the socks pls

That, as far as Nanami could tell, seemed to catch you genuinely off-guard. He could see you blushing as you leaned towards the camera – or, he supposed, the laptop you had positioned underneath it, as if you’d misread something. “…my socks?”

Nanami stifled a grown, tightening his hold. With his free hand, he reached for the keyboard,

n. kento sent 200 credits!

n. kento: Don’t take them off.

You played your part perfectly, sighing as you let your head lull to the side. All it took was you batting your eye lashes while letting out the sweetest murmur of “Well, I don’t know if that’s fair, but…” for your chat to dissolve into a bidding war, donations ranging from five credits to five hundred. If you were making any earnest attempt to keep track of which side was winning, you clearly had no motivation to call it too early on – pulling your legs onto your bed and kicking your feet out playfully towards the camera. “Some of you guys ask for such weird stuff,” you went on, rolling your left ankle. “If someone doesn’t tell me what to do soon, I think I’m just going to have to change into another outfit.”

Nanami let out a breath of a chuckle, only half aware he was typing.

n. kento sent 1,750 credits!

n. kento: You look beautiful. Keep them on.

You laughed, and this time, Nanami chose to believe it was sincere. “I get it! We’ll move on.” You were already leaning back, rolling onto your stomach, giving your viewers a perfect view of your ass as you reached for something off-screen. “Normally I’d ask for a suggestion,” you said, as you brought what you’d retrieved back into frame – a pale pink rabbit vibrator, the penetrative half of the forked wand ribbed. “But I have something I’m kind of looking forward to. I promise, I’ll try to get past the boring stuff quickly.”

You thought too little of yourself. Arousal drooled from Nanami’s flushed tip as you positioned yourself on the edge of the mattress, legs spread wide and slick, glistening pussy fully on display. You were already wet, but he knew you would be. It was something you joked about often – how sensitive you were, how something as minor as a wet dream would have you soaking through your panties. Normally, he would’ve figured you were just playing it up for the sake of your viewers, but it was hard to deny the evidence in front of him.

A whimper slipped past your parted lips as you eased the head of the toy past your entrance, stretching yourself out on its bulbed tip. Now, now, he started to move his hand, pumping his fist over the length of his shaft in short, slow strokes, matching your tempo as you rocked your toy into your pussy. A dull hum fills the room as your thumb finds the switch built into the handle’s underside, and your expression immediately goes from dazed to pained, your tongue peaking out from between your lips and your eyes fluttering shut as your hips bucked against the vibrator. “It—It feels—” Your thighs threaten to twitch shut, but you hold them open, determined to give your audience the best possible view of your pussy clenching around your toy. “I really—I wanna get some bondage gear soon, so that I can—”

Whatever you might’ve said was replaced by a bubbling moan, and just like that, Nanami was fucking his fist without restraint. He knew how pathetic it was, but it would’ve been impossible not to imagine it was his cock sinking into your dripping cunt rather than an inanimate toy, not to wish it was your pussy clamping down around his length rather than his own fist. He wondered what you smelled like, if you wore perfume, what it would be like to have his face buried between your thighs. He was aware, vaguely, that your chat was the most active it’d been all night, people trying to catch your attention with donations and tips and compliments, but they didn’t matter. They weren’t watching you, not really, not the same way Nanami was. He knew you, well enough to know that you couldn’t think once something had been stuffed inside of your cunt. He loved you, enough to wish he was the one making your mind go so euphorically blank.

There was more moaning, more failed attempts to speak, but you didn’t let yourself cum. You were visibly trembling by the time you switched the toy off, and it took agonizing seconds to ease the wand out of your disappointed pussy – seconds Nanami watched with rapt devotion. More out of sympathy than anything else, he lets go of his cock entirely, gritting his teeth and attempting to ignore the pulsing ache forming in the pit of his stomach. What was next was better. What was next was worth waiting for.

You took a few panting breaths, your voice still airy by the time you managed to speak. “I have a—” You paused, grinned. Nanami smiled too. “I have a surprise for all of you, tonight. I think I mentioned that already, but— oh, right.” You perked up, playing excited. “We have to move to the floor, for this next part.”

You slipped off-screen, and a second later, the camera shifted to follow you – falling onto a corner of your room less staged than your bed, but just as pristine. Abstract, pastel tapestries obscured the walls, but the dark floorboards were left bare. On one side, most of a dog kennel was visible, decorated with string lights and clearly meant for one of your more niche shows, and on the other, he could make out the bottom corner of a poster – not for anything kinky, or sensual, or in any way suggestive, but an underground band, a local band. You probably hadn’t realized it was in the shot, let alone meant for it to be. You were usually more careful about giving away anything even remotely personal, but Nanami couldn’t be mad.

After all, it’d been that poster that’d let him find you.

He could still remember the first time he ever saw you – actually saw you, not through a screen, but in person. After he knew that you lived in the same city as him (the same district, even), it’d only taken a few more days to find your name, your age, your address. Still, he put off visiting you for weeks, telling himself that it didn’t matter, that you wouldn’t recognize him, that you wouldn’t want to see him. And, in the end, you hadn’t seen him at all – you hadn’t needed to.

That night, he’d watched your show from the rooftop of the building opposite of yours, straining to see you through a bedroom window left carelessly open. Even now, the guilt was almost tangibly agonizing, the shame practically unbearable.

Almost as unbearable as the temptation to go back.

But, that part would come soon enough. You were on screen, again, holding something he recognized.

“I have some exciting news,” you chirped, as you kneeled on the floor, holding a pitch-black dildo, a suction cup attached to the base. Despite its color, Nanami could make out defined veins running down the silicone shaft, a noticeable girth to the base. A perfect mirror of the cock currently pulsing for attention in his lap.

He felt himself grinning, as you went on. “I got my first real fan gift!” You held up the toy to your cheek, like a child showing off their first stuffed animal, before planting it on the floor between your thighs. “It’s so big, too,” you said, showing off its size, where the blunt tip rested well above your navel. “Everyone say thank you, Daddy Kento!”

Your chat was instantly flooded with predictable responses, but Nanami couldn’t look away from you. You were enjoying yourself, clearly. You must’ve thought you were so smart, renting out a P. O. box, going on and on about how grateful you were to your dedicated fans when he reached out to ask if you accepted physical donations, and you were smart. It was only a shame that Nanami loved you enough to look past all of your attempts to keep him away.

As you began to move onto your knees, he allowed himself one more intervention.

n. kento sent 3,000 credits!

n. kento: Take it to the hilt.

It was cruder than he usually cared to be, but as your eyes flickered towards your monitor, your lips quirked into a slight smile. You didn’t respond verbally, but you nodded, and sunk down onto his cock.

Immediately, his hand wasn’t enough, but he tried to make do – matching your agonizingly slow pace, imagining what it would feel like to have you lower yourself down onto his real cock, rather than a cheap imitation. Trails of iridescent slick dripped down the dark silicone, your camera positioned strategically to catch every bounce of your breasts as your breathing hitched, to provide the optimal view of your pussy stretching around the tip, then the head, then the shaft as you lowered yourself slowly. “It—It’s so big,” you repeated, bringing a hand up to your stomach while the other remained on the floor, keeping you stable. “I mean, I knew it would be, but—fuck—” Another inch, Nanami’s fist moving over the same part of his cock. You let out an airy laugh. “Just be thankful I’m so tough.”

“I am,” Nanami muttered, his voice echoing off the bare walls of his office. “You’re perfect.”

“I really wanna cum on this one, too – to, like, christen it, or something. Been keeping myself pent up all day for it.” With a pitchy keen, you brought yourself a few inches higher, then dropped. Your free hand shot away from your stomach and back to the floor as you continued to bounce on the toy’s length, getting just a little deeper each time. “Welcome it to family, y’know? Maybe make it a regular, for you sadists out there.”

Nanami stiffened at the thought of you fucking yourself on a replica of his cock in front of thousands of people twice a week; drooling and panting as you told your viewers how big he was, how good he felt inside of you. With his restraint brought to its limits, he fucked his fist carelessly, his attention fixed on the steady movements of your hips as you rode his toy. Your eyes didn’t flutter closed, this time – they clenched shut, and you couldn’t seem to keep your voice under control, little mewls and half-conscious whines bubbling up from your chest as you struggled to take that much more of him with every thrust. When you did manage to speak, your voice was uneven, whiney, so sweet it made him want to dig his teeth into something and tear. “I’m so close,” and then, as you brought yourself back down, so close to bottoming out, “I wanna cum!”

“You will,” Nanami whispered. He knew you couldn’t hear him, but it was true – you would, and if he’d been able to, he would’ve made you. He would’ve let you fuck yourself on his cock whenever you asked, would’ve woken you up every morning coming undone on his tongue and made sure you fell asleep with his cock buried inside of you. If you were with him, you’d never have to think again, never have to feel anything but pleasure – any time you wanted it, every time you wanted it. He’d make sure—

You didn’t moan as you reached the toy’s base, you screamed. One of your hands moved to the space between your thighs, two fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit as you nursed yourself through your orgasm. Nanami didn’t stand a chance, still chasing his fantasies as he spilled over his hand; searing hot cum pooling on his lap, soaking into the material of his shirt, spilling onto his desk. He didn’t stop moving his hand, though, not until you went limp – bending at the waist, bracing yourself on the floor. Finally, you managed to raise your head, flashing that brilliant smile towards the camera. Of course, Nanami smiled back.

In a daze, he watched you ease yourself off of the toy and wrap up your stream, so familiar from your script that he would’ve been able to recite it with confidence. Even after you signed off, the screen going black, he didn’t move, only letting his head roll to the side with a shallow sigh.

It was pathetic, just how much he loved you. It was painful, being so far from someone who made him feel so irrationally happy.

He could only count the days until he wouldn’t have to limit himself to only watching from a distance any longer.

~

There was a man in your apartment.

A man you didn’t want to be in your apartment, just to be clear. You’d heard the front door open, seen a bulky silhouette moving through your living room, and now, you were listening to him riffle through your bedroom as you hid in the en suite bathroom – crouched in the smallest corner you could find with both hands locked over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound of your own breathing. The door was locked, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want to find out how much a thin sheet of wood would do to protect you. You didn’t want to give him a reason to acknowledge you at all.

As far as you could tell, there was only one intruder. You could only hear one pair of muffled footsteps, with second-long gaps between every little movement. The air caught in your throat as you heard him edge closer, closer, then pause. There was a dull clack, the sound of metal clashing against plastic, and you relaxed, sighing into your palms. Your filming equipment. It was expensive, but nothing you couldn’t replace. If you were lucky, he’d take what he could carry and leave.

And that was what he seemed to be doing, too – more rustling interrupted every so often by a few moments of heart-wrenching silence. Soon enough, you heard the intruder start to move again, his footsteps edging closer to the bathroom door as he moved to leave your bedroom entirely, and—

“(Y/n)?”

Fuck.

You didn’t say anything, holding your breath and digging your nails into your cheeks, willing yourself not to move, not to think. You didn’t make a sound, you couldn’t have, and yet he kept talking.

“I know you’re in there. Please, come out.”

He couldn’t know. He couldn’t know. You’d kept the lights off, and you hadn’t moved in minutes, and—

He tried the knob, and something cracked deep inside of your chest. There was an airy sigh, then a dull thud, like he was leaning against the door frame. “Please,” he repeated, sounding more exasperated than angry. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Y-you can take whatever you want,” you stuttered, your voice unsteady, just a touch louder than it really had to be. That was fine. You didn’t have to pretend to be brave, so long as you made it out of this alive and uninjured. “I won’t call the police – I can’t call the police, I left my phone in the kitchen. You can take it, too. I… I don’t have a lot of cash, but my camera, it should be worth—”

“I don’t want your camera, love.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he sounded wistful. “Come out, or I’ll break down the door.”

Honestly, it hadn’t occurred to you that he could.

It took a second to pry your hands off of your face, and another to push yourself to your feet – your legs shaking as you struggled to stand. Almost mechanically, you moved towards the door; unlocking it in the same motion as you pulled it open. Light from your bedroom spilled into the entryway, revealing—

God.

He was taller than you’d expected him to be.

Six feet at least, with a build to match. The sleeves of his dress-shirt were rolled up to his elbow, showing off arms so muscular, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d planned to tear your door off its hinges with his bare hands. He had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, visibly full, but you could still see your equipment standing untouched behind him, and you couldn’t imagine anything else he would’ve wanted to take. His blonde hair was swept back, out of his eyes, and he was holding a butcher’s knife in his right hand, the blade wrapped in leopard-spotted fabric. Surprisingly, though, his weapon wasn’t what concerned you the most.

He was smiling. No, actually, that wasn’t right.

He was beaming.

“(Y/n),” he said, again. You didn’t let yourself wonder why he knew your name. “I—I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself earlier. I might’ve gotten a little carried away – I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“…it’s okay,” you managed, your voice barely audible. “Are you going to kill me?”

His expression dropped. “No. Of course not.” And then, after a brief lapse, “I’d never hurt you. I…” You saw his right hand flex around the grip of his knife, and thought you might black out. “I’m a fan.”

Instantly, you felt the blood freeze in your veins.

Fuck. Fuck.

You knew you should’ve gone into accounting.

“I… You’re a fan?” You tried to smile, but it might’ve come across more pained than relieved. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to meeting people who’ve caught my stream. Should I know what to call you?”

And just like that, his grin was back, any momentary tension assayed. You wished he would’ve put down the knife, too, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Kento,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed the pink hue creeping over his cheeks. “Nanami Kento.”

You grit your teeth as you struggled to place him. After a second, it came to you.

Kento. Right. The dildo guy.

Somehow, knowledge provided little comfort. Still, you soldiered on. “It’s really nice to meet you, Nanami.” You clasped your hands behind your back, rocking gently on your heels. “I—I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting any guests. If you want to step out for a couple minutes, I can change into something more comfortable, and show you how appreciative I am for your—”

“I’m not an idiot.” He cut you off, still grinning. “You’re coming with me.”

You didn’t let your smile waver, either. “And, if I didn’t want to go with you…?”

 “I’m afraid this isn’t about what you want, anymore.”

You meant to say something – opened your mouth and everything – but nothing came out. Your heart tightened in your chest, a not inconsiderable portion of your mind screaming for you to run, run, run. And yet, when he took you by the wrist in a feather-light hold, leading you through your own apartment and out into the hall, it was all you could do to smile and follow after him.

~

The first thirty minutes of the car ride passed in silence. Nanami – because you couldn’t stand to keep thinking of him as ‘that guy who bought you a dildo shaped like his own dick and paid you thousands of dollars to ride it live on stream’ – kept his knife in his lap, his hand falling away from the wheel and onto its hilt whenever you so much as took a deep breath. Eventually, your eyes fell to the clock built into his dashboard, and you broke through your paralysis with a nervous laugh.

“It’s a little funny,” you started, for lack of anything else to do. “I’d actually normally be getting ready for my stream, around now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him swallow, his jaw tensing. “I know.”

Great. Okay. Whatever. “I don’t mind, y’know,” you managed, before you could let yourself fully consider what you were going to say. “If it means we don’t have to go through with the whole kidnapping thing, I really wouldn’t mind sleeping with you – you can even take pictures, if you’d like that, or record, whichever you’d prefer.”

“That’s not what I—”

“I haven’t tried a lot of hardcore stuff, but I wouldn’t mind if that’s what you’re into. We don’t even have to go back to my apartment, you could just pull over, and—”

“That’s not what I’m interested in.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone left no room for protest. “I’m not going to… I’m not going to just fuck you once and leave you by the side of the road. I’m doing this for your sake.”

As if you’d willingly climbed into a maniac’s car. “I… I’m not following, Kento.”

“It’s for your own protection. Once I thought to look, it took me hours to find out everything about you.” He spared you a quick glance, that same uncanny smile. One of his hands left the wheel and, rather than moving to his knife, found your knee, squeezing gently. It took everything you had not to scream. “Imagine what someone could do with that kind of information. They could blackmail you, if they found your full name, or track you down if they pieced together your address. It’d be a miracle if they were only a stalker. It just wasn’t safe to let you keep going on that way.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. “They could even break into my apartment and abduct me at knifepoint.”

His gaze narrowed, but his smile only softened. Neither of you spoke for the rest of the journey.

After far too long and not nearly long enough, you reached your destination: a housing complex, leagues nicer (and more expensive) than your own rundown building. Calling them apartments would’ve been a disservice; they were more similar to free-standing condos, or miniature villas slotted just outside of the city’s more metropolitan districts. Without a word, you let him guide you into a relatively generic home, its only notable feature being the absolute lack of evidence of meaningful life within it. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a rental, leased exclusively to give him someplace to do… well, whatever he planned to do to you. It’d be more off-putting to know that someone actually lived someplace so vacant.

He led you through the empty halls and up a flight of stairs, keeping you in front of him and in his line of sight at all times. Finally, you reached the door he seemed to be looking for and, with a nod by way of instruction, let yourself inside.

Before you stood, puzzlingly, your own bedroom.

Or – the parts of it you could make out on camera, at least. The bed was the same size, the same model, made with the same sheets and littered with the same pillows, but the floor was covered in a harsh white carpeting, the surrounding walls soundproofed with suffocating black foam. Camera equipment identical to your own had been set-up at the foot of your bed, but an unfamiliar silver laptop replaced your own sticker-covered monstrosity. You didn’t see any chains, whips, or shock collars, which was good. You still didn’t know what the fuck was going on, which was bad.

Confused, you turned to Nanami as he crossed the threshold and rather conservatively, shut and locked the door. “There are clothes on the bed,” he explained, with a tone that made it difficult to tell whether or not he knew how weird this was. “A script, too. Memorize as much as you can.”

So he still expected you to stream. Or, that was what you hoped, at least – considering the only alternative was that he was planning to make an extremely elaborate snuff film. “I’m not used to using scripts.”

“You’ll manage.”

You didn’t bother trying to argue, only moving towards the bed and attempting to forget he was there entirely.

The ‘clothes’ he’d left for you turned out to be lingerie – the nice stuff, too, white and lacey and bridal with a babydoll cut. You glanced over his script (which, disturbingly, didn’t exactly not sound like you) as you got dressed and fixed your hair, doing the best you could without any of your usual supplies. You wouldn’t be able to reapply your make-up, but you’d put some on earlier, and—

You almost laughed at yourself, stifling a chuckle.

You’d been kidnapped, and you were worried about your make-up. If you got out of this alive, you swore, you’d never touch foundation or a ring light or a camera ever again.

He didn’t have to tell you when it was time – you would’ve known by instinct alone. With Namami watching from an armchair pushed against the opposite wall, you clambered onto the bed and took your usual position, kneeling in center frame. He’d never asked for your credentials, and yet, when you glanced towards the laptop positioned just underneath the main camera, you found that your own profile was already pulled up, a miniature timer in the corner of the screen counting down the seconds until you went live.

As it reached thirty seconds ‘till, it occurred to you that you were in a soundproof room alone with the man who’d kidnapped you and was currently holding you hostage, and that no one could’ve possibly known where you were or, more importantly, who you’d been taken by.

As it reached fifteen, you realized you were being held captive and being forced to wear bridal lingerie that your kidnapped must’ve picked out with the occasion in mind.

As it reached five, for the first time that day, you thought you might actually start to cry.

And, as it reached zero, you put on your biggest, brightest smile and hoped beyond hope that you’d stop thinking entirely, eventually.

“Welcome home!” Skipping over your normal grace period only felt right. You didn’t think you’d be able to survive sitting in silent, motionless suspension for another second, let alone a full minute. “Sorry if I seem a little nervous tonight – to tell the truth, I kind of am. I’ve got a major announcement, and I just can’t put it off any longer.”

Reflexively, your attention drifted first to your own feed – you looked perfect, as always – then to your chat, moving quickly despite your sudden start. You caught a few of the longer messages in your peripheral.

secretary.lover: Is it just me, or does she seem kind scared lmao?

blueeyeswhitedragon: yeahhh i thought her room looked kinda weird too lol

justheretowatch: fuck ur pretty

rapidfire: let me guess, another fake dick?

“I know I probably should’ve given you guys more of a warning,” you went on, fighting the temptation to break, to yell for them to call the police, to give up entirely and make a run for it. “But…”  

You forced yourself to laugh, to beam, to clap your hands together in front of your chest like a schoolgirl – excited to tell her friends that she’d gone through with her first ever confession. “I’m getting married!”

You didn’t have a ring to show off, but you tried your best to preen regardless, to not let any amount of fear or discomfort or hesitation show on your shining expression. After a show delay, congratulations and well-wishes filled your chat (some genuine, others more reluctant), and you did your best to go on without letting the sizable knot slowly gaining mass in the back of your throat smother your voice entirely. “This is going to be my last stream – for a while, at least, until we get settled in. And…”

You tried to remember what’d been listed next in Nanami’s script, but your conscious mind was bogged down by a thick layer of buzzing static, your sense of improvisation dulled by a heavy dose of anxiety. Your eyes flickered to where Nanami was sitting behind your equipment, only to find that the chair he’d formerly occupied empty. You didn’t have time to panic before the edge of the mattress dipped under a new weight, and you remembered what you were supposed to say. “My husband actually wanted to cameo on my send-off show. I was a little hesitant—” Another dip in the mattress, this one much closer than the last. “—but he insisted. I thought you all deserved a chance to meet him, too.”

As soon as you finished, you felt a large hand on your shoulder, a sudden presence at your back. Your gaze fell back to your feed, your own image now accompanied by that of your captor – on his knees behind you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, the framing positioned so that his head was cut off just above the mouth. The lower half of his face was covered with a black surgical mask, and you had to stop yourself from frowning. You hadn’t expected him to be stupid enough to show his face on camera, but still.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you felt his hand fall away from your shoulder, slipping underneath the lace camisole of your babydoll. You tried not to move, not to flinch, but you couldn’t stop yourself from jerking forward as you felt his hand slip under your bralette, the angular ridges of his knuckles visible through the thin silk. Despite everything he’d said about not hurting you, about doing this for your protection, he made no attempt to be gentle – the calloused pads of his fingers pressing into the curve of your breast with enough force to bruise. You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sincere reaction. If you wanted to go home, you had to put up with this. He’d never said anything about pretending to enjoy it.

(In the back of your mind, you knew he hadn’t said anything about letting you go home, either. Still, you didn’t let yourself dwell on such discontinuities).

 You should’ve known better than to think he’d attempt to follow the normal flow of your stream, and yet, it still caught you off-guard when his unoccupied hand found its way to the waistband of your panties, then to your clothed sex. You weren’t overly sensitive, despite how you might’ve acted in front of your viewers, but you were still on edge, still panicked, and while the adrenaline being held at knifepoint might’ve sparked was beginning to fade, having your kidnapper grope you on camera was enough to bring on a fresh wave. Reflexively, you pressed your back into his broad chest as his thumb traced over the length of your slit, pausing only momentarily to press into your clit with a dull, oppressive sort of pressure, biting down on your bottom lips to stop anything vulnerable and pathetic from escaping. If Nanami was affected by your stoicism, it wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling the flimsy material to the side entirely and slipping two fingers into you, your now-slick cunt providing humiliatingly easy access. In the same motion, the heel of his palm pressed into your clit, the friction immediately too harsh, too much. It would’ve been too much if he wasn’t touching you at all. It would’ve been too much if he was still sitting alone in his dark, empty house – getting off to the idea of degrading someone he claimed to care about so publicly.

It didn’t help that you were wet. Not dripping, sure, but wet enough for there to be an audible, slick clicking-type noise as he pumped his digits into you, never taking the pressure off of your clit. You could feel his cock pressed into your ass, already hard, already too familiar not to be nauseating, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush to move past your exhibition; his pace measured and experimental, his fingers prone to spreading apart and curling inside of you. To distract yourself, you moved your attention back to your chat, trying to pick out the longer messages between donation notifications.

user84343: girl i call dibs when you’re done with him

hotbox420: no seriously y/n are you okay???

bunnygirl69: still can’t believe you’re leaving us for him </3 can’t say i don’t see why tho ToT

absolutely.soaked: Blink twice if you’re in danger lmaoooo

“G-guys, I’m totally—” Your breath hitched as he forced another finger into you, the stretch now a touch past ignorable. His other hand kneaded at your chest, blunt nails scraping against tender flesh, and momentarily, you wondered if it really would’ve been so bad to take your chances and let him kill you right away. “I’m totally fine, I’m just—” His nails bit into your skin by way of warning, and you allowed yourself a single, stilted moan. “I’m just so happy that I finally get to—to—”

You didn’t know what you were supposed to say, but it didn’t matter. Nanami’s hand dropped from your chest to your side, his arm locking over your midriff and hauling you that much closer. You couldn’t stop yourself this time – whimpering as the tempo of his fingers sped up, as tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes. You glanced around the bedroom, searching for anything familiar, anything you could use to stabilize yourself, anything that you could start to find comforting. Instead, your eyes landed on the duffle bag he’d carried out of your apartment, the zipper now partially undone. You couldn’t see much, but you could make out the handle of a pink hitachi. It wasn’t difficult to guess what the rest of the bag’s contents looked like, what he’d spent so long riffling through your possessions to find.

It wouldn’t been pointless to try and hold back the crooked, ebbing sob that leaked past your lips. This time, when you turned to face your camera, it was with tears just beginning to spill and absolute terror written across your expression. “Call the police,” you managed to spit out, making no attempt to be subtle. “I—I don’t actually know this man, and this isn’t my apartment, and—“

It happened too quickly – like he’d been expecting you to do something so obviously short-sighted. You processed that he was pulling out of your cunt as you felt his fingers entangle themselves in your hair, and then your face was being shoved against the mattress, your body folding over itself as he forced you down. You tried to yell, tried to scream, but your voice was muffled by your own fucking comforter as you heard fabric shifting behind you, as you felt something warm and stiff and leaking align with your entrance. You refused to put a name to it, but that didn’t help. Nothing would’ve helped.

His palm pressed into the back of your head, his body slotting against yours as he leaned down, lowering his head so that he could speak directly into your ear. “I’m doing this for your own good,” he whispered, his voice muffled but still painfully audible. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

You didn’t have a chance to response. He was already inside of you – his cock filling you to your breaking point.

You weren’t sure if your viewers could hear you, but you hoped they could. It would’ve been a pity to sob so loudly for the sole entertainment of the sick, sick man currently rutting into you, grinding into your cunt from behind with a kind of animalistic desperation – all desire and no control. It was a struggle to stay on your knees, not to go entirely limp underneath him, but you doubted it would’ve made a difference if you hadn’t, that he wouldn’t have fucked your limp body just as enthusiastically. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely see the monitor – the miniature image of Nanami’s body moving on top of yours, his blond hair still obscuring the other half of his face, and then next to it, your chat. If you’d been thinking more clearly, you wouldn’t have let yourself look, wouldn’t have let yourself fully acknowledge that there were still thousands of people watching you, but you weren’t thinking at all, and you would’ve given anything for someone to say something that made you forget where you were, just for a second.

sniper727: so the bitch likes it rough? hot

callmeanonymous: FINALLY!!! I’ve been waiting for some cnc rp for actual years.

blueeyeswhitedragon: hey i think i might work with that guy

hotbox420: yeah no i’m calling the cops.

Predictably, your efforts were grotesquely unsuccessful.

Nanami didn’t seem as bothered. The weight on the back of your head disappeared as his hands found your hips, pulling up as he straightened his back. For anyone else, it might’ve been an awkward position – holding up your uncooperative form while bouncing you on his cock  – but no amount of unpleasant technicalities could’ve stopped him from burying himself to hilt with every stroke, keeping you in a constant state of mind-numbing fullness. You tried to talk, again, to call for help, but fractured mewls and pathetic whines drowned out whatever you might’ve said, and even those were put to an end as Nanami took you by the jaw, turning you to face him as his lips crashed into your – his mask either pulled down or discarded entirely, you couldn’t be bothered to check. The kiss itself was messy, rough, brutal, his tongue raking over yours as you sobbed unabashedly into his mouth – your connection only growing more chaotic as his hand once again found your clit and ground two fingers into the sensitive bundle of nerves. You knew what he wanted. You knew what he was trying to do.

And you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

With a ragged sob, you came undone around his cock, any strength you might’ve once had flooding out of your body and dripping down his shaft. Nanami groaned into your mouth, drawing back just far enough to bury his face in your neck and mouth meaningless nothings into your throat as he chased his own climax. He thrusted into you again once, twice, and then you felt pure heat pour into you – a new kind of torture that rendered you entirely senseless. You didn’t try to scream, again.

You were distantly aware of him moving, shifting, pulling something out of his pocket as he muttered a mix of ‘you did so well’s and ‘I love you’s into your skin. When you did finally manage to raise your head, you didn’t think to look toward the remote in his hand or your tattered lingerie or the cum slowly leaking out of your entrance. Rather, your attention landed on the same thing it always did during your streams – your monitor.

You’d never know why, but for whatever reason, you could feel your heart break in your chest as you realized that the screen had already gone black.

𝖔𝖈𝖙. 11𝖙𝖍 cnc + somnophilia.

w: mature content including *cnc, *somnophilia, brief f.receiving oral, spit, condescension, creampie.

★ kinktober mlist.

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Dabi x reader in squid game where they’re both players 👀 ✨

Squid Game AU - Player!Dabi x Player!Reader

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

Squid Game AU Masterlist

TW: Dabi is one of the scary players, Mentions of Violence and Murder, just a tiny bit of blackmail, implied dubcon.

30 minutes until lights out.

The clock hangs over the room, menacing streak of numbers that keep changing, leading you towards a nightmarish night, at best, and your painful death, at worst. Everyone knows what will happen; now that they're aware killing others in the dorms bears no consequence, the most violent of the players will wait until the lights are out to unleash their murderous fury in an atrocious blood bath.

And then there's you. Defenseless. Like a rabbit locked in with a pack of wolves. As much as you can rely on your wits during the game, you hadn't expected to be forced to fight for your life even at night, when there are no strict rules hanging over the participants and keeping them from hurting or killing others. There is no being smart when you're facing the sharp end of a knife or cowering under the fists of a merciless criminal, and as the numbers keep rolling above the beds, you know you have less than a 10% survival chance.

It feels unfair.

"Why do you keep looking at the clock? You scared or something?"

You raise your eyes to the man standing next to your bed, the knife hidden in the palm of his hand clicking against the metallic bars in annoying sounds. Still, your blood freezes in your veins at the sight of him; his black hair falling in front of cerulean blue eyes, the burn scars littering his face and body, the murderous fury alight in his gaze, waiting, expectant, ready to be unleashed as soon as the countdown strikes 0.

You don't know his name, and the number on his jacket is hidden under a blood stain, almost black now that it has dried, but you remember him, and more specifically the amused smirk that keeps pulling at his lips everytime he takes other players down in the games. He's among the worst ones, you know, among the criminals and murderers who are there because they need a bit of cash to escape from justice, far from the other poor souls forced to take part in such a game simply because they've been indebted after a few financial mistakes.

He's the last person you'd want to see near you when the lights go out.

Because of course, he's right. You're terrified.

"I'm not," you lie, and he barks a laugh. The sound makes you feel small, defenseless, weak, as if you were nothing but a prey cowering while the predator roars in triumph right before devouring them whole.

"Don't be so shy, princess. Want me to protect ya?"

You blink, surprised as he looks down at you, smug smirk pulling at his mismatched lips. You wonder what he did to earn these scars, if they're just the remains of yet another of his crimes, or if they're simply a red flag that you should take into account before accepting whatever it is he's offering.

It's not as if you have a choice, anyway.

And maybe he's just mocking you, playing with your feelings, giving you a sliver of hope before taking it away, but it's all you have, so you slowly nod, and whisper:

"Please."

His fingers are rough, calloussed when they gently stroke your cheek, as if you were a kitten that he'd been dying to pet. His digits slid under your chin before raising it, forcing you to look into his eyes. Blue, beautiful, and yet there's a sparkle of something scary burning in the cerulean irises.

"Alright princess, I'll be your bodyguard for the night. And, don't worry..."

His thumb rises along your chin, lingering a few seconds on your lower lip before slightly pushing until your mouth opens and he can feel the warmth of your tongue on his skin as it slips inside.

He smiles, and you don't think you've ever seen anything so terrifying.

"We'll talk about the price in the morning."

-------

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— 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞;

☾ Pairing: Kaji Ren x f!reader

☾ Word Count: 1.1k

☾ A/N: inspired by satoru nii's note on kaji getting his headphones as a gift also i am simply down bad

“How come he never takes that shit off?” Sakura mutters, mostly to himself, pausing on the uneven sidewalk to adjust the weight on his back. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows over the bustling street, the chatter of vendors and the hum of passing bikes filling the air.

“Hmmm?” The granny—Chiyoko, as she’s always insisting he call her but he can never bring himself to—leans slightly to peer over his shoulder, her sharp eyes following his line of sight. Her gray hair flutters in the gentle breeze, tickling his cheek.

Across the narrow street, past the stalls piled high with fresh produce, ones Sakura knows Umemiya likes to frequent, Kaji and his vice-captains are strolling down the sidewalk in their direction. Kaji's got his hands buried deep in his pockets, mouth set in its usual stern expression, a lollipop dangling lazily from between his lips. His white headphones sit snugly over his ears, their metallic sheen catching the light. They're always spotless, Sakura notes, as if Kaji takes painstaking care of them.

“His headphones!" Sakura grumbles. "He’ll go deaf at this rate.”

“Ah," Chiyoko muses, her voice laced with amusement, "but wouldn’t you also treasure something so precious to you? Young love...so sweet."

Sakura’s brows knit together. “The hell you mean ‘young love’?”

The granny fully ignores him. "I remember back in my day-"

"Hold on, the fuck you mean- sorry, I mean-"

Before Sakura can keep gracing Chiyoko with his colorful vocabulary, something cuts him off.

“Rennn!”

The sound of hurried footsteps and the unmistakable brightness in the voice snaps Sakura’s attention to the source. His head whirls around, and he freezes.

A girl.

You.

You're a pretty thing, pleated uniform skirt hiked up just a tad bit too short for school regulations. It flutters around your thighs, exposing an expanse of skin that has Sakura blushing right down to his toes. He quickly tears his gaze away.

Instead, he watches, stunned, as Kaji slows his pace and reaches up, fingers curling to hook his headphones down to his neck. He stands there, hands dropping to his sides, palms open as if he's expecting something.

And then...the most inexplicable thing happens.

You launch yourself forward, into the notoriously bad-tempered second-year’s arms, your own arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

“Ren! Missed you so much!”

“Huh?” Sakura whips his head around to gawk at Chiyoko to make sure she’s seeing the same thing he is. “Huuuh?”

The granny on his back just beams, eyes crinkling, like this is something she's seen happen a thousand times.

Kaji barely reacts to the impact of you. He plants his feet, arms coming around your waist, steady and sure. If there's one thing Sakura has learned, it’s that the blonde is deceptively strong. From his angle, Sakura can see the faintest hint of color rise to Kaji's cheeks, a subtle shift masked by the tilt of his head.

A soft jangling sound captures Sakura’s attention and he zeros in on the charm dangling from your backpack. It looks vaguely familiar and he squints, trying to place it. Then it hits him- he’s seen it before, a matching charm clipped to Kaji’s rarely-used bag. The trinket is small and undeniably cutesy, in sharp contrast to Kaji's abrasive personality, which is what had drawn Sakura's attention to it in the first place.

“Oi,” Kaji snaps, tightening his hold around your waist, but his voice lacks the usual bite Sakura has come to associate the blonde with. “Be careful.”

You pout, playful and unabashed. “Aw, but I knew you’d catch me.”

“Still.” Kaji eyes you. His fingers brush against the hem of your skirt, tugging it down slightly. “And this—”

You cut him off with a practiced ease, plucking the lollipop from his mouth and popping it into yours.

"Oi!"

“Yeah, yeah,” you say breezily, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It’s too short, other guys will mess with me, blah blah blah. But I’m not worried, because my big bad boyfriend will take care of any problems, won’t he?”

Kaji's lips twitch as though he wants to argue, but nothing comes out. Instead, what looks like the faintest smile slips onto them, though it’s gone in the blink of an eye.

“Hi, Kusumi-chan, Enomoto-chan!” you lean back slightly in Kaji's arms, tilting your head so you can see the other boys who have been smirking at each other the entire time. Sensing their silent amusement, Kaji snaps his head around, fixing them with a pointed glare. Their expressions transform immediately into pictures of innocence and they greet you enthusiastically, clearly charmed by you.

“Good t’see ya as always,” Takeshi grins broadly. “Still keepin’ our captain on his toes?”

“Someone has to,” you quip, swirling the lollipop stick between your fingers before slipping it from your lips. Kaji’s gaze flickers downward, tracking the motion, lingering a beat too long on your lips.

You tug at the headphones around Kaji's neck. “Still taking good care of these, huh? Never takes them off, does he, Enomoto-chan?”

“Well,” Takeshi says with a teasing grin, “they’re special. Given by someone even more special.”

“Shut up,” Kaji mutters, ears faintly pink, though he doesn’t refute it. He's still staring down at your lips, though his gaze flickers back up to meet yours when you reach a hand up.

“Aw," you smile sweetly at him, brushing a finger through the bangs covering his forehead, "I'm glad you're still putting them to good use."

"Tch." Kaji's gaze darts away but returns to you almost just as quickly.

Sakura sputters, completely thrown off by the revelation that the reason behind the permanent fixture on Kaji Ren’s head...is you. Dumbfounded, he watches you continue to shower Kaji—the same boy he's seen coldly pummel opponents to a pulp with the harshest of scowls—with affection. But none of that brutality is visible now. Instead, Kaji holds you with an unexpected tenderness, as if you’re something delicate, something precious to him.

You let out a long, almost aggrieved sigh, and Sakura can’t help but wonder if you’re starting to tire of giving without getting anything in return from the blonde.

“Why're you so handsome?” you pout, sliding a finger down the bridge of Kaji's nose until it rests gently over his lips. “It’s just so unfair.”

Sakura chokes on his own spit.

Kaji doesn’t reply to that at all. Perhaps he doesn’t know how to. The tips of his ears are an unmistakeable flaming red now.

And then, as if on instinct, he leans down. The movement is quick, almost imperceptible. But it's enough signal for you apparently, because you close the gap by pressing your lips to his, winding your arms around his neck tighter and relaxing into his hold.

Sakura feels his brain grind to a complete halt.

“As I said,” Chiyoko hums behind him with a knowing smile. Her short legs swing happily against Sakura's sides. “Young love.”