Kenzo Tenma X Reader - Blog Posts

Heyy guys this summer I’ll be writing some fan fics I’ll be doing mostly anime like death note and monster(barely any Fan fics😓)

just wanted to come here and if your apart of those fandoms maybe y’all could send some ideas etc but I’ll prob start writing them when school ends around the end of may!!

anyways just send them in might take a while but I’m so excited also I take any request nsfw included<333

“Silent watcher” Kenzo Tenma x F!Reader

genre: fluff, slight angst to comfort. cw: slight spoilers, anxiety, dealing with trauma, post canon au

The second week of October in the foothills of southern Germany was overcast. From the small open balcony, where her feet were freezing from standing for so long, there was a view of the misty plain a couple of dozen meters down the slope. She rested her shoulder on the door frame, slightly leaning to the side, and dispassionately watched the drumming raindrops. The humidity of the air provided a sense of coolness with each breath, as if reaching the alveoli directly, and the rhythmic pounding of the drops hitting the surface was pleasantly calming.

Once she hated the rain. But then something changed. No, the rainfalls did not become less frequent, less gray. She became different.

From a warm awareness, a shadow of a smile appeared on her calm face, and her auditory receptors were distracted by another monotonous sound. The rustle of the rain slowly began to replace by the rustle of a pen sliding over paper, coming from the bedroom they shared for the duration of their stay in the hotel. Her bare feet carefully stepped over the wooden sill, not wanting to feel the still fresh pain of hitting it last night, and found themselves on a room’s floor which was only a couple of degrees warmer than the wet tiles of the balcony. Her hair, slightly fluffed up by the moisture, kept trying to get into her face as her quiet steps made their way towards the desk.

He had once loved the rain. But then something had changed. No, the rainfalls had not become less frequent, less gray. He had become different.

The black ink of the pen traced the lines of the German alphabet evenly on the expensive coated paper. He wanted to focus on the unwanted mail, just not to hear it, just not to remember it, just not to see it. The meaningless advertisements and annoying requests for interviews that he had finally learned to ignore seemed to be a salvation for him at such moments. Focusing on the calligraphic handwriting, on the work of the hand, writing the letters with excessive diligence, he was distracted. Perhaps this was partly why he decided to connect his life with neurosurgery. Endless hours of painstaking manual work freed him from the need to live in the present. The brain was busy, the heart also temporarily fell quiet. The silence lulled.

Kenzo continued to write out template phrases of greetings, apologies, farewells. It seemed as if just a little more and he would go to the neighboring rooms, collecting advertising letters, and would write responses to them, signing them himself as Mr. N or Mrs. T. He himself, also not noticing, slightly blushed from excessive efforts, completely immersed in routine work.

The pen froze only for a moment, when a cool trace of someone else's palm remained on his hot cheek, on the opposite temple - a slight imprint of cold lips.

If someone had been watching them through the window that overlooked the shallow slope, they would have been reminded of Klimt's "Kiss". The play of temperatures descended on his collarbone, diving under the collar of his wide shirt along with a woman's forearm, as cold as the pads of her fingers, which still tormented the capillaries on his cheek with a chill. The rain was disgusting to him. The rain was mixed with blood, hatred, the sticky and tenacious nightmare of Ruenheim. But now only it gave him another moment with her, another joyful moment of life. Another second, minute, hour, day spent with someone who truly knew him. Love in the present, not the future and not the past.

And only the rain could paint their "Kiss".

English is not my first language, but I’m pretty fluent, so had to use translator and correct some mistakes, would love some feedback :)

MORE FOOD FOR ME THANKS FOR THIS MASTERPIECE

i have a breeding kink just for fun okay i don't have the slightest desire to bear a child

but help dear god, the way he starts looking at you so lovingly—in utter reverence, even—as he slowly notices the changes in your body after you told him you're having his child? my word. he is beyond saying.

your hormones would sometimes have the ick on that very loving gaze, but oftentimes, especially when you're touching yourself at night to ease the stress of pregnancy, you couldn't help but make it your primary image of pleasure. it makes you close your eyes in a bliss, makes you arch your back, makes you moan until he hears you from the other room, until he walks to your queen-sized bed to offer a little help as your loving husband.

he knows your body could only take his fingers, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to put himself inside just to feel how wet you are, how loud the squelching noises of his dick slamming in and his balls slapping your skin would be. he's physically aching to adore the changes he had induced in your body. you tell him your body changes are unpleasant because it doesn't fit the stereotypical standard of beauty—quite funny that you think he'd be able to see the point, though. this man is so down bad for you.

your nipples getting more swollen, brownish, and round? beautiful. your arms and hips plumper? oh god help him fight the urge to touch them at every chance he could get. and most especially, your tummy growing day by day as it bravely adjusts to the comfort of your child? he never thought he could feel even more love for you, more than he ever had when he married you. you are just so beautiful it makes him insane, even in places he's supposed to think about others. do you even know how many times people had caught him giggling at the corner of the room for no reason? pathetically down bad, that's what he is.

and as you're about to reach your peak with his fingers flicking faster and faster alongside yours to keep up, he cups your cheek and says;

"goodness, darling, look at that. look at you—"

he lands a chaste peck on your forehead the same moment you moan out loud;

"—look how my love has changed you."

his remark took you unexpectedly your hips stared shaking. love juices spurt out of you with a broken sob. he toppled that with a hungry kiss. he rides out your high with his tongue inside, decreasing the volume of your moans the same way he slows his fingers down.

you end up knocked out, mouth hang open, lips swollen and red, all that and he could only smile like a lovesick boy who kissed his crush for the first time.

oh, his lovely wife. you are so thoroughly loved.

ERWIN smith, WOLFGANG grimmer, KENZO tenma, KAGAYA ubuyashiki, UZUI tengen, GOJO satoru, JEAN kirstein