Kenma Fluff - Blog Posts

1:33am — kozume kenma

note: timeskip!

“i’m home!” the door of you and kenma’s home opened with a loud sound as your husband came staggering through the door with kuroo and yaku supporting either side of him. 

you walked downstairs and looked at the scene in disbelief. just how much did he drink? 

“ah, (y/n). kenma went over a little past his limit.” you only raised an eyebrow at kuroo’s statement

a little, really? kenma perked up when kuroo said your name, a hazy smile on his face. 

“(y/n)..” your boyfriend drawled out, reaching forward and escaping his former schoolmates’ hold on him. the sudden motion caused him to lose balance, making him land on the hard floor with a dull thud. 

with a big sigh, you looked at kuroo and yaku who were a little less drunk than the two toned male before thanking them. “i’ll take it from here.” the two nodded at your words, obviously out of their minds as they staggered outside the door with kai waiting for them. 

“ow, it hurts...” kenma whined from where he was lying down, his forehead was still connected to the floor. you made him turn around and you bit back laughter after seeing a red mark on the middle of his forehead. 

“kenma, get up.” you say gently, trying to help elevate his heavy and intoxicated body. 

“it hurts right here...” he pouts, pointing at his nose. you wanted to scoff at the child your boyfriend was acting like right now, but you needed to at the very least make him stand up.

“if you stand up, then i’ll make it go away~” at this point it felt like you were talking to a child, at the way that he pouted and whined at you.

“no… i’ll be better when you kiss me.” you blinked owlishly at his response, knowing the sober kenma would never say that upright.

“kenma, stop being ridiculous. stand up and let’s get you cleaned up.” 

“if you kiss me, i’ll stand up by myself.” he gave you a dopey smile, thinking that he was witty with his compromise. “hey~!” he drawled out, tugging on your sleeve. “if you don’t hurry up, i’ll freeze here and get sick.” his eyes still were not in focus as he said this. 

“hey… there… hurry up!” you still resisted, the pout was deepening every passing moment. you weighed out the pros and cons of kissing your drunk boyfriend. 

you didn’t get to dwell on your thoughts too much as you felt kenma tug at your sleeve sharply, you fell into his chest as he sat up and latched his lips to your own. 

his kiss was sloppy, you can taste the alcohol that he drank earlier. his eyes were closed as he pushed his tongue deeper in your throat, you closed your eyes and let him dominate the kiss. soft moans tumbled carelessly from your boyfriend as he pressed you closer

after a few seconds of swapping saliva, you pulled away. kenma smiled, eyes still closed as he placed his head on your shoulder. 

“hehe… i’m so happy.” he said, eyes opening and running a hand on your features. you smiled at him before standing up and holding out a hand. 

“mm, you got what you wanted. now let’s get you cleaned up.” he shakily stood up, leaning on you for more support. you pecked the side of his forehead as the two of you made your way to the bathroom. 

“(y/n)...” he whined, you hummed a response. 

“i love you.” you smiled and looked at him through the mirror, his eyes filled with unfiltered love. he was smiling hazily at you as you began washing his face. 

“i love you too.”

note: idk drunk kenma is so cute how could u not want to give him a lil kiss???

heyy first time requesting from you but i looove your work so if you don’t mind can you please write a timeskip!kenma x female!reader where reader is sick w high fever and kenma takes care of her and everything but two or one n a half day in she starts feeling really needy but is too tired embarrassed to tell kenma but he eventually finds out about what getting her so fussy and moody (other than the fever) and gives her what she longs for🙏🏻🙏🏻 I apologize if this is too long i mean no pressure at all you dont have to do it but i love the way you write fics please make it as long as possible thank youuu<33

I think I've ticked all your boxes hehe NEVER apologize for a request I love every one <333 thank you for your lovely words of encouragement! Enjoy!!!

--

Kenma had never liked seeing you sick.

Not in high school, not now, not ever.

He wasn't the overly expressive type—not with words, not even with touch unless prompted—but he was attentive in the quietest, most precise ways. It was in how he brewed your tea with exactly the right amount of honey, how he remembered which corner of the blanket you preferred, how he adjusted the thermostat a degree lower without being asked. It was in how he never once complained when you sneezed directly onto his hoodie and then apologized like you'd committed a crime against humanity.

You'd caught a fever two days ago. High. Dangerous enough to make him drop his controller mid-stream, tell his viewers he was logging off, and shut everything down without a second thought. His fans could wait. You couldn't.

Now you were curled up in bed, cocooned under three layers of blankets, face flushed and eyes watery. Your hair stuck to your temples in damp strands, and your lips were dry despite the water and juice he kept coaxing you to drink. A warm haze clung to you like a second skin.

Kenma sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing a clammy strand of hair from your forehead, his brows drawn together with a soft, worried furrow. You looked so small like this. Fragile in a way he hated.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, voice soft.

Your response was a quiet hum—too soft, too weak. Your hand barely moved when you tried to reach for him and gave up halfway through.

He sighed. "I’ll take that as a 'no' then."

He rose and padded barefoot to the bathroom to change the cool compress on your head. When he returned, you winced slightly at the shock of it against your heated skin but gave him the smallest of smiles. That smile was all he needed to stay planted beside you for the rest of the evening.

The first day was simple: fever, rest, more rest. Kenma read to you in a soft voice when you couldn’t sleep, half-watching the screen of his Switch when you drifted off. The second day, the fever didn’t break. Your cough got worse. You started getting whiny—not in a mean way, just more clingy, more fussy. You tossed and turned, grumbled at the blanket for being too heavy and then too thin. Kenma adjusted it each time without complaint, wordlessly refilling your cup when it was empty.

"Don’t leave," you murmured once when he stood up to grab your medicine.

"I’m just going to the kitchen."

"Still. Don’t."

He paused. Then slowly sat back down. "Okay."

You fell asleep not long after, your fingers curled in the fabric of his sleeve like a tether.

By the start of the third day, the fever had started to dip, but something was off. Not worse—just different. You were moody. Restless. Your eyes kept drifting toward him, then away. You fiddled with your sleeves, pulled your legs up under the blankets only to stretch them back out a moment later. You weren’t saying much, but when you did, it was to complain—your pillow was too soft, your tea was too sweet, your shirt was itchy.

Kenma didn’t mind. He never minded when it came to you. But the inconsistency in your behavior pinged in the back of his mind like a notification he couldn’t swipe away.

By mid-afternoon, he closed his game console and leaned forward, placing it gently on the nightstand. His golden eyes watched you with subtle intensity as you fiddled with the edge of your blanket.

"Okay," he said flatly. "You’ve been squirmy and weird all day. Spill."

Your eyes widened, and your face—already flushed from the fever—somehow turned redder. You immediately turned your face into the pillow.

He waited.

You groaned. "It’s nothing. I’m just... tired."

He didn’t buy it. Not for a second. "You’re not tired. You’re needy."

Your breath hitched in your throat.

Kenma blinked, letting the silence stretch for a moment as he watched you squirm. His voice dropped lower, a little softer, more curious than accusatory. "...That it?"

You buried your face deeper into the pillow, voice muffled and near-incomprehensible.

"What was that?"

You turned just enough to peek at him with one eye, your lip trembling slightly. "I just... I wanna be held. But I’m gross and sweaty and disgusting, and I didn’t wanna bother you."

Kenma stared at you for a long beat. Then he gave a soft sigh, scooting closer until his knees bumped the side of the mattress.

"Move over."

Your eyes widened again. "But—"

"You think I care about sweat?"

"I literally sneezed in your hair yesterday."

"You did," he admitted. "And I’m still here."

You shifted slowly, cautiously, your heart fluttering like the fever had sparked all over again. Kenma climbed into bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. He was careful not to press against you too hard at first, but once you leaned into him, he wrapped his arms around you with a slow, deliberate tenderness, pulling you close until your head rested just beneath his chin.

You melted.

The warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers settled gently against your spine and started tracing soft, grounding lines—it was everything you hadn’t been able to ask for.

"Better?" he murmured.

Your voice cracked. "Yeah."

He kissed the top of your head, barely a brush of lips against fever-damp hair. "Next time, just say it. I can’t read your mind, you know."

You made a weak, embarrassed sound. "I didn’t want to be annoying."

"You’re always annoying," he mumbled, brushing his thumb against your arm. "But you’re mine. So it’s fine."

Despite the congestion, the soreness in your throat, the heat in your cheeks—you laughed. A breathy, tired little sound that still managed to be real.

He felt your smile against his collarbone.

Kenma held you tighter.

Neither of you moved for a long time. Minutes passed, then maybe an hour. Eventually, you dozed off in his arms, breathing soft and slow, and Kenma didn’t dare shift or get up.

He stayed right there, running his fingers along your back, as the fever began to retreat.

The medicine was working.

But more than that, you had finally let yourself rest in the place you needed most.

With him.

Husbandry: Kenma

Kenma Kozume was a man of few words, but when it came to gaming, his focus was unmatched. His world narrowed down to the flicker of the screen, the subtle click of buttons, and the shifting of his fingers on the controller. You had gotten used to this side of him—the way he would disappear into his own world, immersed in a game for hours on end.

But today? Today, you weren’t in the mood to be ignored.

“Kenny,” you murmured softly, standing by the couch where he was seated, his eyes locked onto the TV screen. He didn’t respond, too caught up in whatever game he was playing, his brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed together in concentration. You knew better than to take it personally—Kenma could get lost in his games, completely tuning out the world around him. But after an entire afternoon of watching him battle it out with faceless opponents, your patience had worn thin.

“Kenma.”

Still nothing.

You sighed, your lips curving into a mischievous smile as you decided to take matters into your own hands. If he wasn’t going to pay attention to you willingly, you’d make sure he had no choice. Without another word, you climbed onto his lap, settling yourself comfortably as you straddled him, your arms loosely draping around his neck.

Kenma stiffened for a moment, his golden eyes briefly flickering toward you before shifting back to the screen.

“Babe,” he mumbled, voice low and distracted, his fingers still moving with practiced ease on the controller.

“What?” you asked innocently, tilting your head and pressing your chest just a little closer to his.

“I’m in the middle of a match.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning in to nuzzle your nose against his neck. “And I’m in the middle of needing attention.”

You felt the slight hitch in his breath, the way his hands tensed around the controller as you placed a soft kiss just below his jaw.

“You’re doing this now?” he murmured, trying to sound unaffected, but the way his voice wavered gave him away.

“I’m bored,” you teased, pressing another kiss—this time right where his pulse fluttered, your lips lingering a little longer.

Kenma’s fingers twitched, and for the first time in a while, he fumbled, his character on the screen taking an unnecessary hit. You heard the faint sound of a death notification and bit your lip to keep from giggling.

“You made me miss that,” he mumbled, but there was no real heat behind his words.

“Did I?” you murmured innocently, your lips brushing against his ear.

“You know you did.”

You giggled softly, but you pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers playing with the ends of his blonde hair. His gaze finally shifted fully to you, and the sight made your heart flutter. His expression was that familiar mix of mild annoyance and quiet affection, golden eyes softened by the warmth that was always reserved for you.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, his thumb lazily brushing against the joystick, but his movements were slower now, his focus barely on the game.

“And yet you love me,” you quipped, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Kenma’s eyes flickered down to your mouth, and you saw the way his resolve crumbled just a little more.

“Yeah,” he said softly, finally setting the controller aside and wrapping his arms fully around your waist.

You beamed, leaning down to capture his lips in a slow, sweet kiss—one that melted away the distance that had been building over the past few hours. His lips were warm, and he kissed you like he had all the time in the world, his grip on your waist pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

“Missed you,” you murmured against his lips.

“I’ve been right here,” he murmured back, but his hold on you tightened like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“Not the same,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his.

Kenma let out a quiet sigh, resting his forehead against yours.

“I know,” he admitted softly.

The game forgotten, he pulled you closer, his lips trailing soft, lingering kisses down your jaw, across your neck, and back up to your lips. His touch was gentle but insistent, fingers pressing into your sides as he deepened the kiss, his body molding against yours. His hands traced slow circles along your back, each movement pulling you deeper into the moment.

“You’ve been playing all day,” you murmured softly, your fingers threading through his hair, gently tugging as he kissed along your jaw.

“Mm,” he hummed, his lips brushing against your skin.

“And I’ve been sitting here, waiting for you to notice me.”

Kenma’s lips paused, his breath fanning against your neck.

“I always notice you,” he murmured, his voice softer now, filled with something that made your heart flutter.

“Then prove it,” you teased, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes gleaming with playful challenge.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing lightly over the fabric of your shirt.

“You’re really testing me today, huh?” he murmured, his golden eyes darkening with something deeper—something that made heat pool low in your stomach.

“Maybe,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly.

Kenma’s lips captured yours again, but this time there was more urgency, more hunger. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer until there was barely any space left between your bodies. His kisses grew more insistent, his lips trailing down the column of your neck, leaving a path of warmth in their wake.

“I’ll prove it,” he murmured softly, his voice a low promise against your skin.

You felt the heat rising between the two of you, your heart pounding in anticipation. And as his hands roamed your body, his touch both familiar and electrifying, you knew that Kenma was more than ready to remind you just how much he noticed you—in every possible way.

“Good,” you whispered, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you leaned in to capture his mouth again.

And in that moment, with his arms around you and his focus finally where it belonged, everything felt perfectly, wonderfully right.

Favourite Positions: Kenma

Kenma didn’t mind most positions.

He liked slow sex. Quiet sex. Something easy, something lazy—skin against skin while the rest of the world went quiet. He didn’t like being overwhelmed, didn’t like chaos, didn’t like the kind of intimacy that made him feel too seen. Too vulnerable. Too much.

But then there was you.

And you liked control. You liked watching him blush, watching his breath hitch, watching his hands tighten on your thighs as you rolled your hips just right. You liked when his focus shifted from the glowing screen in his hands to the way your body responded to him. You liked riding his face.

At first, Kenma thought he wouldn’t enjoy it. Not because he didn’t want to please you—he always wanted that—but because he assumed he wouldn’t be good at it. That he wouldn’t know what to do with his hands, or how to breathe, or how to make you come apart just from his mouth. He overthought it, worried he’d be awkward or freeze up.

But the first time you sat on his face? Something changed.

He liked the weight of you on his tongue, the pressure of your thighs trembling around his head, your hands fisting in his hair as you got louder, needier, completely undone. The way you moved, desperate and trembling, grinding down into his mouth like you couldn’t help it—it awakened something in him.

It felt powerful.

It felt intimate in a way he didn’t expect.

And that’s what made it his favorite.

Tonight, the room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of his monitor left on in the background, some menu music humming quietly in the silence. The air was warm, still, thick with tension as you straddled his chest, slowly shifting forward until your thighs framed his face.

Your knees hovered above him, thighs already trembling from anticipation, slick dripping down onto his waiting tongue as you tried to hold back—tried to be gentle with him.

Kenma wasn’t having it.

His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you down, anchoring you right where he wanted you.

You gasped, spine arching, one hand flying back to the headboard to steady yourself. “K-Kenma—!”

He groaned into you, eyes fluttering shut, tongue lapping firm, slow stripes from your entrance to your clit, flicking it with just enough pressure to make your hips buck.

“Sit,” he murmured, voice muffled against you. “Don’t run.”

You whimpered at the command. The heat pooling in your core flared violently, and you dropped your weight onto him with a moan. His fingers tightened in approval, guiding you to rock your hips slightly, grinding into his mouth at a pace he set.

That was what he wanted.

He didn’t need to see your face. Didn’t need to speak. He wanted your thighs around his head, your breath hitched and stuttering, your body twitching every time he dragged his tongue in just the right way. He wanted to hear the way you lost yourself.

You gripped the headboard harder, panting, your thighs starting to quiver. "Kenma, f-fuck, I can't—"

He moaned into you, nose nudging against your clit as his tongue moved faster, more deliberate, savoring every whimper you gave him. The vibrations of his groan made your hips jerk, your eyes fluttering shut as you got closer.

You were close. He could feel it.

Your thighs tensed, hips jerking, and suddenly your fingers were yanking at his roots, grounding yourself as you cried out, back arching. Your body bucked against his face, and Kenma didn’t stop. Not even when your orgasm surged through you, not even when your voice broke from how hard you were panting. He kept going, working you through it, tongue relentless, until your thighs twitched around his head.

Only when your hips tried to lift away did he ease up, licking you through the aftershocks like he was savoring dessert, mouth sticky with you, breathing heavy but content.

Your entire body was trembling.

You collapsed onto the bed beside him, flushed and panting, eyes glazed over and lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath.

Kenma wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gold eyes flicking over to meet yours.

“You okay?” he asked, voice hoarse but laced with quiet amusement.

You nodded quickly, still catching your breath, then whimpered when your thighs twitched again. Your skin was buzzing, hypersensitive, your body limp with exhaustion and pleasure.

Kenma smirked faintly, eyes soft but smug. “Good. You were loud.”

You let out a breathy laugh, covering your face with one hand, still dazed. “Shut up.”

He pulled the blankets over you, kissed your cheek softly, and curled in beside you like he hadn’t just ruined you with his mouth.

Lazy. Soft.

Still your favorite gamer boy.

But now?

He had a favorite position, too.