#Kenny PLEASE explain

[nothazellevesque]

okay but seriously WHAT is the choreography for Julie’s perfect harmony dance recital ??? like… she’s actively hallucinating a dead guy exiting a mirror, nick is doing jump spins and sliding sideways on his knees, there’s a girl in the background who is hitting the woah, and not ONE person is on beat/ doing the same thing, when in the first rehearsal they are all doing the same choreography at the same time. i am literally so perplexed. am i too drunk for this? or is it just that chaotic

please mr kenny ortega why is nick the only one actually doing the same choreo from earlier. why is he the only one who cares about his grade (maybe julie’s doing it too, but that girl is EXPERIENCING VIVID AUDITORY AND VISUAL HALLUCINATIONS THE WHOLE TIME so god only knows what she’s up to)

[thebuckandeddiething]

EXCUSE ME?!

I refuse to believe it got cut, but if it did, I'm going to need Ryan to leak it on IG or something…

[jgxjess]

My husband is 6’4 and somehow has the ability to tiptoe throughout the house without making a sound and I can’t tell you all how many times he’s just appeared behind me and scared the shit out of me or how many times I’ve played the “where is my husband lurking” game only to find him sitting in the pitch dark on his phone or switch like some sort of super villain.

So when people talk about Bigfoot being agile and stealthy I absolutely believe them.

[heybobbygirl]

One time this boy in my grade showed up to class wearing one of those t-shirts that says "I ❤️ HOT MOMS" which is funny by itself. But what makes it even better for me is that his name is Kenny, and I can vividly imagine Kenny from South Park showing up to school in that as well. It doesn't end there either. He got sent to the office as soon as he took off his jacket, and when they called his mom she literally didn't give a fuck 💀💀 it was so goddamn funny

[methinmycoffee]

For my Quest For Rankings, I just watched “Two Days Before The Day After Tomorrow” (S9 E8) and I googled it and this way the first picture:

But Kenny wasn’t in this episode? At all? I even called out the weird cooler in the back seat for no reason. I’m so confused. Did he die originally I the explosion and they cut it? And they just removed him from the boat all together? But then why use this image, where did it come from?

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

-----

The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter. 

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway. 

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence. 

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan. 

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life. 

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together. 

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you. 

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes. 

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk. 

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop. 

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked. 

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in. 

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.” 

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.” 

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day. 

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually. 

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid. 

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did. 

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.” 

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner. 

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude. 

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.” 

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?” 

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked. 

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” 

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.” 

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?” 

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word. 

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his. 

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.” 

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of. 

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked. 

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked. 

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.” 

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot. 

God, you were down bad. 

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face. 

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed. 

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible. 

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little. 

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting. 

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual. 

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken. 

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.” 

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?” 

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger. 

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision. 

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.” 

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm. 

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed. 

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece. 

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice. 

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!” 

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his. 

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive. 

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless. 

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

[hunnyswift]

chapter one: hey, cowboy

summary: in which jake seresin is called back to san diego for a mission and meets the perfect girl…

chapter cw: profanity, use of alcohol, sexual innuendos, age gap

18+ minors DNI

◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟

if there was one thing you loved , it was the hard deck. the perfect bar for you and your two best friends to work at and constantly drink at. the three of you had moved to san diego not that long ago , and upon exploring where you lived , you found the bar right down the road from your shared beach house.

at first , it was just a place for you three to wind down after a long day or party until the sun came up on a weekend. nathalie was the first one to apply to be a bartender , and then mckenna , and finally with some convincing , you.

tonight , however , it was only nathalie and penny behind the bar. you and mckenna had the night off seeing as it was a wednesday night. it wouldn’t get so busy that all of you would need to be on the clock.

so , around seven you and mckenna made your way there with tupperware in your hands — dinner for the ladies behind the bar. nathalie had been working all day , so you knew she was most likely starving , and how could you bring food for her and not your favorite boss ever?

“we brought sustenance!” mckenna announced as she burst through the front doors , making her way behind the bar to kiss and hug both nathalie and penny.

“we had so much left over and knew you two were working so hard and long we couldn’t not,” you explained , handing the boxes over and smiling when you see them pop open immediately.

penny thanked you both after eating a few bites and then turned around to help the next guest. for a wednesday evening , it was pretty busy. “what’s going on tonight?” mckenna asked for you , eyes moving around the crowd of uniforms.

“karaoke , duh,” you joked ; it was your idea to bring karaoke to the hard deck. though it took a lot of convincing and heckling penny , she ending up agreeing about a month ago. it’d been a hit so far , but nothing like the crowd tonight.

nathalie looked up , still shoveling the lasagna into her mouth as much and as fast as possible before she had to get back to work. “mm! bunch of pilots and sailors are back right now. don’t know why or for what. but that’s why there’s so much khaki floating around,” nathalie explained , pointing around with her fork.

“meow!” mckenna purred , grabbing the drink in front of her — penny quickly and slickly sliding hers and your drink onto the bar.

“oh please, i bet they’re all dogs that last five minutes in bed. don’t waste your time , kenny,” you laughed , sipping on your own drink.

◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟

jake seresin and bradley bradshaw did not like each other. that much was clear from their first interaction of the night — going back and forth was their thing. they were competitive and snarky.

but after years of knowing each other and being sent all over the world together , they’ve come to an agreement. the only thing in common these two had was the fact that they loved women. luckily enough for them , they didn’t have the same type , not once going for the same lady before.

so , when their group had settled down and jake noticed two gorgeous young ladies walk into the bar and start chatting with penny and the bartender , he nudged bradley and nodded their way. bradley’s eyes followed , landing on yours.

your lips curl when you notice the two men staring and you jolt your head , silently asking them what the fuck they wanted. bradley laughed , patting jake on the back as he ‘called’ your friend.

“mustache and ken doll headed our way,” you moaned quietly to mckenna and nathalie , turning back in your seat to not face them any longer.

mckenna doesn’t try to hide her exciting , looking over her shoulder quickly and smiling when she saw the aforementioned mustache. “hot!”

“ladies,” bradley spoke first , sliding in between you and mckenna while jake stood next to you with a smile.

“the name’s hangman,” he spoke , holding his hand out to you to shake. you grimaced but took his hand in yours nonetheless.

“i’m gonna go back to work,” nathalie chuckled , eyeing the two of her friends. mckenna obviously falling for her guy’s smile and charm while you looked miserable. “love you!”

“love you too,” mckenna replied easily as you groaned the same response out.

“wanted to stop over here and say hi , introduce myself , y’know?” hangman explained , waving to the area around you. “haven’t seen ya here before.”

“is that a question?” you wondered , holding back a chuckle at his tone. you’d never seen him before. “because i’ve never seen you either , and i work here so…”

“is that so!” hangman smiled , sitting down in the empty bar stool next to you, “cause i was just over there saying to my buddies how i feel like i’d remember a face like yours.”

“got anything better than that, cowboy?” you raised your eyebrows , recognizing his southern accent easily. he sounded like home in a way. hangman laughed , never having been called out before. “like a real name? not some call sign?”

“jake seresin at your service , ma’am,” he corrected his earlier statement , reaching his hand out again as a fresh start.

“wonderful,” you smiled , introducing yourself as well. “you buying me a drink? or just flirting for the fun of it since you probably haven’t seen a woman since the eighties?” you questioned , shaking your now empty glass in your hand.

“what’ll it be? call your friend over here again,” jake instructed , nodding to nathalie , who hadn’t strayed too far. “oh , and i’m not that old!”

you laughed , letting your head fall back. “no? that’s what most forty year olds say.”

“alright , alright. i am not forty! do i look forty?” jake started to sound worried , only causing your laugh to grow.

“lielie , will you grab me another please? on mr. hangman’s tab!” you giggled at nathalie , handing your glass to her.

“top shelf tequila like usual?” nathalie joked , looking to jake to see his reaction , which was hard considering all he was doing was looking at you with a goofy smile.

jake reached his hand out for a second , stopping nathalie from moving to grab any liquor. “actually , you might wanna check her id. how old are ya , sweetheart? twelve?”

“ugh! you wish , perv!” you jested back , pulling his hand back from nathalie, “i actually am twenty-one , for your information.”

jake laughed with you , noticing how your hands were still connected. “alright fine , grab her whatever she wants , lielie,” he nodded kindly.

nathalie looked between the two of you , shocked someone else had called her by the nickname you made for her. “yes , sir.”

◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟

since jake had come up to you , and mustache had reached mckenna , you’ve downed several drinks. mustache’s sung a few songs , and nathalie clocked out. but now , rather sitting at the bar , you three had joined the guys and their pilot friends. it was going well.

“no , no! i could slaughter you in a game of eight-ball!” you shouted , pointing at coyote , jake’s closest buddy within the group. “i swear on my mother!”

“oh no , she’s bringing up her mama,” mckenna giggled , sipping on what seemed like her hundredth drink of the night , leaning into bradley’s arms.

coyote let out a belly laugh , standing up and grabbing a pool cue. “game on , kid.”

jake let go of your hand , allowing you to stand up freely and get to work. “lielie , how much you make tonight?” you asked , picking out a pool cue of your own — the same one you used every night.

“um — i don’t know , like $350?” she replied , eyebrows furrowed.

“alright , coyote. i’ve got $350 on this game. you okay with that?” your smile was playful , but you were completely serious.

mckenna sobered up for a second. “babe , are you sure?”

“yeah , y/n/n , i don’t know these guys well enough to bet my tips for the night,” nathalie agreed , her lips tight.

you flash them both a look. “how many nights have i beat maurice in a row?” you played against one of the older regulars that came in all the time , working or not. it was a tradition at this point.

“like a lot?” mckenna guessed.

“honestly , i love it!” phoenix , the only female pilot of the group spoke up. “machado , i’ll add a hundred to the pot. i don’t think you’re winning this one.”

“i’ll rack them up,” he laughed , setting the game up.

“sweetheart , you’ve got a lot of confidence,” jake whispered into your ear , smiling at the fact that you’ve gotten more comfortable with him and his buddies.

you turn into his arms. “jacob , it’s not confidence. it’s skill , and it speaks for itself. just watch. i know you’ll enjoy it,” you whispered back , kissing his cheek before pushing him back into the booth.

the pool game starts , people choosing their sides and who their betting on , throwing their own bets in the mix. “coyote , all you need is to make every ball the next round and for me to miss this one. really , shouldn’t be too tough,” you chided as you lined up your shot , the last of yours before the eight ball. you sink the twelve ball in , looking up at your opponent and shrugging. “oops?”

“that’s my girl!” jake cheered , clapping his hands together with a laugh.

“coyote , man , she’s killing you,” fanboy jested , cracking up with payback and phoenix. bob laughed quietly with them , popping a couple more peanuts into his mouth.

“shut up!” coyote warned , clearly stumped by the fact that he was being beat at his own game by some twenty-something year old.

“c’mon , babe! you’ve got this!” mckenna yelled , shaking nathalie in her arms. “we’re winners!”

you relocated around the table , calling the pocket before getting low and aiming again. “sorry , coyote. it wasn’t meant to be for you,” you apologized , shooting your shot and making the ball in. “but it looks like nathalie made $700 tonight!”

the whole group jumped out of their spots , jake grabbing you in a hug before passing you off to your friends as he went to rub it in coyote’s face.

“i love you , woman,” nathalie beamed , jumping up and down with mckenna as they shimmied towards you , ‘making it rain’.

“this is why you’re my best friend , i swear,” mckenna howled , hugging you tightly. “we getting drunk tonight!!!!”

taking your drink back from jake , you smiled. this was fun. usually , you , mckenna , and nathalie stuck to yourselves or hung around with penny and the older gentlemen that frequented the hard deck. this was worth it though.

“wanna celebrate?” you asked , raising an eyebrow at jake as you finished your drink , nodding to the bar.

“c’mon , sweetheart. i’m buying!” jake wrapped his arm over your shoulder , beginning your walk to the bar. he let you sit down , standing behind you closely.

you were willing to wait patiently for penny to make her way to you , knowing she was still busy despite it being near bar close. but you could feel jake pressed against your back , his lips ghosting down your neck , telling you how good you looked beating coyote. “let’s celebrate at home! guys , we’re afties at the house! meet you there!” you announced to everyone still hanging around the table , throwing a hundred on the bar for penny and yanking jake by the hand out the building.

◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟

ooohh first chapter is out! show it some love please<3

this is also not proof-read! i’ll going thru it when i put the next chapter out , but until then y’all are blind to potential typos and fuck ups

[lucysarah-c]

I would like you very much to talk about the girlfriend effect on Levi's fashion

The man has zero sense on it it's actually hurt

The way I squealed when I read this ask. I was like that TikTok sound of “OH MY GOODNESSI LOVE THIS QUESTION! I THINK..!”

*Deep sigh* Anon, you're absolutely right; it's time we face the truth about Levi's sense of style – it's hideous. Have you witnessed those panels of him in the Uprising arc with a T-shirt on top of a long-sleeve shirt? I mean, seriously, it's like, "You're lucky I adore you, Levi…"

Now, let's establish some basics. We can't delve into the "girlfriend effect" without first acknowledging Levi's life as a man. I hate to break it to many of us, but Levi is, indeed, a man – raised by Kenny, no less. Levi values cleanliness and practicality. To sum up Levi's approach to broad topics: cheap, pragmatic, and straightforward. The only exceptions to this rule are tea and cleaning. Levi grew up in poverty, so he won't waste a single penny on face cream, even if you harass him. As an example, there's a "game" that was only available, I believe, in Japan, that had side stories, and Levi literally told Erwin he wasted too much money on "pointless" stuff like hair pomade…

Levi doesn't buy much furniture, treats for his body, clothes – anything, really. I'd even venture to say he might get some of his clothes from donations. He saves his money for tea… and tea sets.

And here's where the girlfriend comes into the picture. It starts subtly; she spends a night in his personal chambers and suggests bringing in new pillows, curtains, furniture, scented candles, and bathroom appliances for her stuff. Then the full transformation happens.

Levi, pale as ever, refuses to wear sunscreen like any man would. “I'm trying to look after you!" she would insist while running her hand through his face; he's not pleased. He hates the sticky feeling, but it's just the beginning. He pretends to dislike it, but he falls asleep so easily when his face is on her legs, and she's giving him a face massage with a full face glam, mask, and gua sha.

"You have to use it like this, against the hair movement, to create volume so your hair doesn't stick to your scalp," she says, applying molding wax to his hair to give it more volume. Skincare routine? Check. Lip balms? Check. Hairstyles? Check. Personal chambers now looking comfy and homey? Double-check.

And finally, the clothes. He's against it at first, always in uniform, so why bother? But she explains how proportions and colors can make him look taller, and he's tempted to tell her he doesn't care. However, her puppy eyes beg him to wear what she chose.

The result? Levi, who once dressed like a pre-teen from the 2000s, transforms into a model. The LOOKS? He goes out with the vets for a few beers on a day off, and MPs are turning around; even Erwin is surprised. He's supposed to be the high maintenance of the group, not Levi! This transformation becomes the main giveaway that Levi is dating. Glowing skin, glass-like complexion, perfectly cut and smooth hair with ideal volume.

The cherry on top? Suddenly, he's taking days off, going out more, and knows a lot about which restaurants are "not that bad," all while dressing like a Vogue cover.

The only disadvantage? Now he has his pockets full of lip glosses, napkins, hand cream, etc. Women's clothes don't have pockets. How is he supposed to explain to the MPs when they ask for a pen, and he pulls out a pink, glittery lip gloss from his pocket? Not everything is an upside.

I ADORED this question! I hope the answer is somehow what you had in mind! Thank you so so much for sending this.

I hope you and your loved ones are doing great today and stay safe!

Lots of love!

Tags!: @nmlkys @jimoonbeau @fictiondrunk @notgoodforlife @nube55 @justkon @i-literally-cant-with-this @darkstarlight82 @thoreeo @quillinhand @humanitys-strongest-bamf Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[feitanii-ll]

"𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄"

— [ or, the orange trends with various anime men.]

— [ft. reiner b, kento n, koutaru b, ichigo k, kyojuro r]

"𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄..."

reiner is ever so attentive. he's made it clear since the beginning of your relationship that he would be at your beck and call for as long as he's alive. he's always happy to please you, and he's excellent at doing so— but this request seems different to him for some reason.

you go to question why your statement has him lighting up and buzzing with excitement, but he beats you to it,

"I just bought oranges!" the man beams. his eyes are slightly wide and swimming with happiness, which makes you smile,

"no way." you giggle

"yes!" he moves to the refrigerator, the slippers guarding his feet make a familiar shuffling sound as he walks. he pulls the door open, and lo and behold, there sits a large bowl of the orange fruit. "something told me, 'I should get some oranges. yn might be craving them', and like," he looks back and forth between you and the bowl, pleased and at a loss for words.

"I can't believe that, baby." you're also giggling in disbelief, moving to stand up and shuffle your way over to him as well. you don't hesitate to lean up and kiss him, bracing yourself on his strong arms as you lean up on your tip toes and peck at his lips, "you know me so well," another kiss "thank you.."

"you don't have to thank me," he sighs breathily, and he isn't surpised about the way you're still able to make him all shy and floaty, "um, have one," and he grabs the largest orange from the batch, which you take gratefully and share with your husband.

[ ་ . ° 🍊 ○• ]

"𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄"

with a schedule like his, kento finds himself unable to stop at all. he's constantly buzzing around and always working, so much so that he's including your scoldings towards him as part of his daily schedule.

but right now, as he sits in a diffused room that smells of lysol and vapor rub, listening to your sick coughs echoing throughout— he's completely still and complacent.

a calloused hand pats at the top of your head, and you shiver, even before the sound of your husband's deep and silky voice reaches you, "you want an orange, my love?"

"please, kento?" he frowns at the sound of your scratchy tone, "it'll make me feel better."

"of course, dear," you brace yourself for the kiss he presses to your head before he stands up, "can you do me a favor? take a nap, sweetheart. try and sleep, and I'll get you everything you desire."

you feel too icky and exhausted to try to argue, so instead, you shut your eyes and doze off, which gives your husband enough time to rush to the store and collect the oranges he knows aren't in the refrigerator.

when you wake up, you blink your blurry vision away to see a pretty sight. your husband resting peacefully beside you on a wooden chair and a bowl of your favorite fruits, diced all prettily in a large glass bowl— including the already peeled oranges within it.

"thank you, kenny..." you whisper to yourself as you're only met with soft snores.

[ ་ . ° 🍊 ○• ]

"𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄"

"no way, you too!? I thought I was the only one who felt that way!"

"kou..what do you..? what do you mean?" you're thoroughly confused as to what your husband was saying. he seems to be really excited and...confused about what you meant.

"okay, so just last Friday, I was talking to keiji over the phone, and he wouldn't believe me when I said that that day just felt so... pineapple-ish, ya know what I mean?"

you're afraid he's dead serious, and you don't have the heart to tell him that you in fact have no clue what he's talking about.

"honey, I mean like.." you smile as you gather the words, trying to explain, "I mean like I feel like an orange." maybe that wasn't the best way to put it. again.

"I know! although, personally, I feel a bit more like a pear today." oh..

"baby, I mean that as in 'I want an orange'" you're wheezing now. why was he so damn cute? dumb, but cute.

his face goes blank, and you swear there's nothing but dust behind his pretty golden eyes. "oh... so, you don't feel like the physical fruit? OH! OHhh, you mean you wanna actually HAVE an oran—"

"yes," you laugh in your hands, and the man laughs with you. you're both surprised at the spiel he had just went on.

"I thought you meant–"

"I know, kou" you sniff and sigh heavily, wiping a tear from your eye, "i know."

a long beat passes between you, in which you're both smiling stupidly at one another. that is until your husband breaks the silence again,

"might be a good time to tell you..." his words are shaky, teetering on a laugh, "we're out."

and the laughing between you two ensues one again.

[ ་ . ° 🍊 ○• ]

"𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄"

"we've got some in the fridge..." ichigo trails off as he sees you, just after turning his head away from the TV. "oh, you've got it already"

you were in fact already holding an orange in your hand, so why did you tell him that you were craving it. why weren't you just.. eating it?

"somwthin' the matter?" he lifts a brow, observing your entire body. he's known you long enough to understand that you want something. your arms are by your side, but your face and eyes are almost pleading, like you're embarrassed and wishing that he'd just read your mind and give you what you want. he's always so observant when it comes to you.

"can you peel it for me?" your lower lip juts out as you ask, and you're smiling shyly all the same.

"you want me to peel it for you?" he scoffs, and you'd think he's being rude if he wasn't already reaching his hand out to take it from you. he strips the fruit of its skin and smiles as he does, "you're spoilt"

"mhm," you nod in agreement, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, "your fault, by the way."

"yeah yeah," he rolls his eyes, outstretching his hand and handing you the fruit, "here, mama."

you bat your lashes playfully, looking down at his sitting form. you lean over, pressing your lips to his pale cheek and giving an over-dramatic hum and mwah! whilst wrapping your arms around his neck

"thank you, ichigo." you whisper, and your heart sputters as his chocolate brown eyes drift over to yours, half-lidded and staring deep into your own.

"mhm," he hums, "do you need anything else?"

a beat passes, and the man watches as you make your way past him to sit on the couch, immediately leaning into his side, "can I choose something to watch?"

he laughs, "yeah, of course."

[ ་ . ° 🍊 ○• ]

"𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄"

any other time, kyojuro would run to get you whatever you want. having been married for 5 years, kyojuro has made it his priority to take care of you.

which is why he's conflicted when you request an orange whilst lying in the medical center, bruised and bandaged after a 4 day long mission to slay a demon a long way out.

"wh..an orange? darling, I've got to stay here—"

"kyo, please.." your voice comes out in a whisper, reaching out to grip his bright haori, "I just want an orange... and a pain killer."

your husband sighs, conflicted. on one hand, he wants to stay by your side and aid you, but then again... your request for an orange was part of that. "my heart, I'll..I'll go. please, stay still?"

"im not going anywhere, am i?" you giggle, eyes watching as he goes to stand and head out the door.

when he comes back, you're sitting and looking out the window. gentle hands give you the fruit, and you thank him with a soft voice.

"thank you, kyo," you begin to peel the orange, "but i'm fine, I sw— ow" you hiss

"what's the matter!?" kyo's eyes are wide and he jumps up.

"im okay, honey" you giggle, looking at him. "the juice is making my cuts sting. could you peel it for me..?"

a sigh of relief leaves his mouth, and he sits back down with a racing heart, "yes.. here, give it to me." and he takes the orange from your hand, peeling it in no time. you smile at him, resting a gentle hand on his knee, which wipes the stressed look from off his face.

"I worry, my heart.." he sighs, and he holds out a slice to you, to which you open your mouth the eat it, "you got hurt so bad.."

"but I have you now. I'm fine, kyojuro. you've taken good care of me," you lean over and kiss his cheek, making his eyes flutter shut.

"always, honey. now, here. eat up!" he grins.

© feitanii-ll

ALL STORIES BELONG TO ME!!

also, this is my second account because I think I was shadowbanned on my last one.

hope you liked this one

[kenlvry]

Hey mootie could I request Kenny, Kyle, stan, and Craig with a fem s/o who just basically lays her head on their lap when stressed?

reader who lays her head on their lap

an, HEYYYY 🤞😝😝 okay boo hope you like this. ALSO THIS WAS SOOO RUSHED LIKE UNDER 30 MINUTES

kenny

kenny entered your house expecting a warm welcome from you but was greeted with you pacing around the living room

"are you okay?, you wanna talk abt it?" he said sitting down the couch "KEN I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO" you approached him laying down on the couch and layed your head on him.

he was like woah 🤭 "well damn if you wanted to relieve it on me its my pleasure" readjusting his sitting position smirking.

"dont make me bite your dick off" he immediately apologises.

its become a habit of yours, you'd text him to come over and lay your head on his lap while rambling about the thing your so stressed about. he loves it sm, he listens to whatever your saying not even paying attention because he was looking at you the whole time.

he'd definitely think you wanted to do something else iykyk but you just make a disgusted face to him.

sometimes you just lay there not talking about anything just enjoying the moment,sometimes youd fall asleep and kenny is having major cramps but he couldn't move for the sake you.

stan

okay when you first did this to him he may or not have stood up and pushed you down

i mean he also thought you were gonna something else.,, he was too shocked to say anything.

when you explained he just groans in embarrassment. anyways he loves it, he would stare at you for so long while you just kick your feet repeatedly bc of something cursing the living hell of that someone, you'd have to bring him back to reality alot of times.

he can tell when your stressed and would immediately get in to position, your face looks like your about to drop the most shocking news ever? his lap is empty and is ready.

one time you slept and so did he, when he woke up he completely forgot you were there and stood up making you fall.

you didn't lay on his lap for a long time after that...

he sometimes takes pics of you sleeping which is kinda creepy but he swears its not 🤷

kyle

loves this, its one of the things he loves about you. the way you just lay your head on his lap rambling or just laying there stressed not talking about it until ur ready

he strokes your hair when you do this and just nods and smiles when you ask if he agrees on something

also takes your pics, he either uses it as his profile picture or his background no inbetween

TBH I THINK HE'D LAY ON YOUR LAP TOO YK?? i mean you dont mind you love it so winwin

craig

he doesn't say nun but inside he is kicking his feet covering his face rolling around screaming and jumping around

subconsciously strokes your hair and when he realizes it he pulls away

"YEAH AND IDK WHAT TO DO ITS JUST SO FRUSTRATING" you cover your face and groan "yep true ☺️" while stroking your hair

sometimes you catch him staring at you just staring, no emotions not even a smile no thoughts just 😐 inside hes like "her eyes are so pretty" "please dont get up" "stay here longer please"

[suddenlybambi]

use me ♥ kenny mccormick

pairing : kenny mccormick x vampire!reader

nsfw (smut) - minors DNI!!! - aged up characters (18+)

tags : mentions of blood, biting, blood drinking (all that usual vampire stuff iykyk) , mild praise kink, afab reader, mild sub/dom dynamics

word count : 3.1k

summary : mysterion just wants to keep the streets safe and y/n just needs to feed - he has an idea, but she refuses it until she has no other choice

masterlist

a/n - bambi stop turning men into subs challenge 💀

this isn't proof read because its 1am and i wrote this in a haze, so lemme know if you catch any mistakes please and thank you xoxo

The body crumpled to the floor of the alleyway as Y/N let go, doing her best to wipe her mouth clean of the blood. They weren’t dead, she was always able to stop herself before it went that far, but they would probably be a little woozy once they were conscious enough to get up again.

In her usual act of what she considered to be kindness, she slipped an iron supplement into their mouth, making sure they swallowed it in their half-conscious state. 

Leaning down and lifting her mask up slightly, she held their eyes open to look into them to work her literal charm. 

“You are going to forget you ever saw me; you just passed out on your way home,” She instructed. She could tell by the expression on the man’s face that it was working. They would always get this weird dopey look to them. “You are also going to drink more water because you are a bit dehydrated. Probably best to get some iron supplements for yourself while you’re at it, just for good measure.”

The person nodded, and Y/N knew her tracks were covered. Slipping her mask back down to cover her eyes, she let the man go and watched as he brushed himself off and stumbled away, wobbling a little as though he were drunk. Turning around, she began walking the opposite way down the street to return home. She would be satisfied for another week if she was lucky and didn’t over-exert herself.

“I assume the red on your lips isn’t lipstick?” Mysterion stepped out from the shadows as Y/N passed him. She knew he was there; she could smell him and hear his breathing from down the street, watching her feed. “You just couldn’t help yourself?”

“You know I don’t have a choice,” Y/N sighed, having had this conversation before on several occasions. She walked past Mysterion, but he followed her, never one to give up easily.

“I gave you a choice,” He corrected, trailing slightly behind her. “You just didn’t choose it.” 

“That was a one-time thing out of necessity,” The words were routine to her by that point. She used to bribe Chaos to distract him on the other side of town while she fed, but he had caught on to the trick. “It’s not safe.”

“What’s not safe is for you to be roaming the streets and picking people at random,” He interjected. “For the public or for you.”

“And your suggestion is any better?” Y/N stopped and turned around. Even past the mask that covered her eyes, he could see the anger brewing from the slight red tint her eyes had started to assume. “We don’t know the long-term effects it would have on either of us.”

Mysterion had been right about it not being safe for her to pick people at random. There was a time when she fed from a man on some sort of drug that she had a horrible side effect from. She thought she was finally dying, but that was when the masked hero appeared. She couldn’t explain what was happening to her, but he seemed to understand well enough to know that she needed clean blood to heal, so he offered his own. His blood was like nothing she had ever had before, it was blissfully intoxicating, and she couldn’t stop.

The next night, when she saw him again, she thanked him but said it could never happen again. While Mysterion couldn’t die, at least not for more than a day, the guilt for killing again after she had sworn not to ate at her more than the new craving for his blood.

“I thought you enjoyed experimenting?” His tone was teasing, but that just angered her more.

“Just…” She sighed, trying to calm herself down as best as possible before she really flipped out on him. She knew that was what he wanted. If she did, she’d attack him. If she attacked him, she’d end up feeding from him. It had almost happened a few weeks after the initial incident, and he’d been provoking her ever since. “Just leave me alone. I’ve been doing this for longer than you could ever imagine.” She turned around again and started to walk, but his next words stopped her after only two steps.

“376 years, right?” He phrased it as a question but said it as more of a statement. How did he know that? “That’s just if I’m going based on your death certificate. Took a lot of digging, but it was easier when I found that you were born in England.”

“Congrats, dude,” She waved her arms up a little in a mixture of disbelief and frustration. She didn’t want him to see the genuine shock. She felt that he had taken time to research her. Modern technology was amazing, but that was still a difficult thing to do. “What do you want? A prize for being a top-notch stalker?”

“If you want me gone, why don’t you just charm me away?” Mysterion had inched closer to Y/N as he spoke. She could see his eyes through his mask, his pupils blown out in the dark of the night. “Unless you can’t?”

He was right. She couldn’t. She had tried before, tried to make him forget her. She didn’t think he was aware that it had been an attempt to charm him instead of just another plea to leave her alone, but she was suspecting he knew more about her than she wanted him to.

“Stay out of my business, and I’ll stay out of yours, Kenny,” She hoped the use of his real name would throw him off his tracks enough to make an escape. She had known the moment she saw Mysterion that it was Kenny. His blood had a distinct smell that she had always picked up in class. She assumed it must have been something to do with his immortality.

Immortality did strange things to the body, she would know.

“Your business is my business when you roam these streets looking for victims,” He slowly pulled away from her, giving her some space as he looked around to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. “Let me walk you home?”

“Get fucked,” With that, Y/N jumped up and transformed into a bat, flying off over the empty streets. It was a terrible idea, but she needed to get away. It drained her energy and, subsequently, her thirst at ten times the rate as just going about her normal day, which would inevitably lead to her having to feed again within the following few days, where the entire conversation with Mysterion would repeat itself, just as it always did.

It had been too long since she last fed. 

Going to school for the first time had caught up with her unexpectedly. She lost track of time studying in the evenings. She had managed to obtain a necklace that allowed her to walk in the sun 17 years ago and that had opened up the world to her again after 350 years of living in the shadows. There was so much to learn that she had never gotten the chance to before when education wasn’t readily available, least of all for women. She relished the opportunity to learn and lost track of the days.

She hadn’t even thought about feeding until the first drop of blood from the fight between two students in the halls hit her like a tonne of bricks. She could smell it from the opposite end of the hallway.

Instinctively, she closed her eyes, knowing they would have already turned red from the thirst. The thirst was overwhelming. She needed to get out of there before she lost herself, but she couldn’t will her legs to move. The need to hunt was driving her mad.

A hand grabbed her arm while her eyes were closed. She knew from her already heightened sense of smell that got even stronger while hunting, that it was Kenny. He didn’t say anything to her, just started to drag her away. Y/N kept her eyes closed as she let him pull her through the halls, trusting him to do what was best for everyone by getting her far away from the people she could hurt. 

She didn’t know where they were going until the fresh air hit her, and she heard a car unlock. She finally felt safe enough to open her eyes, climbing into the back of Kenny’s car. The backseat had tinted windows. She had seen him get into the car on enough occasions to know that. No one would be able to see her blood-red eyes and her protruding fangs if she stayed in there.

The panic was short-lived as it resumed in full force when Kenny climbed in next to her. He needed to get away from her, and he needed to do it fast. His scent was intoxicating, and she would very quickly lose herself. She could hear his racing heart pumping blood through his veins.

“You need to leave. I haven’t-” She started to explain as fast as she could, but he interrupted her.

“You haven’t fed in 2 weeks. I know,” He finished for her. Y/N’s anger started to slowly simmer within her. He knew that, but he was still taunting her? Whatever game he was playing was a stupid and dangerous one, and he needed to stop. “I’ve kept an eye on you.”

“Stalker,” She mumbled, somewhat half-heartedly. She thought she had caught the scent of him in her yard, but she had brushed it off as her imagination. “I’ll go tonight. Just let me calm down alone for a bit, and I’ll be fine to go back in.” She emphasised the alone as much as possible.

“We’re not taking that risk,” Kenny refused, reaching over the front seat to lock the doors. She felt trapped, like a mouse in a trap, but the cheese was Kenny fucking McCormick. He may as well have been trying to serve himself up on a platter. “Just feed on me.”

“Is this fucking funny to you?” Y/N could feel how sharp her teeth had become, almost slicing open her own lip as she spoke. The thirst was unbearable. She needed Kenny to leave. “Do you get off on this or something? What is wrong with-”

He cut her off again; however, this time, it wasn’t by talking. Kenny had pulled Y/N onto him, holding her on his lap with a secure grip on her waist and stopping her from talking by planting his lips on hers with a frantic kiss. She should have pulled away. She should have lept over the driver's seat, unlocked the doors, and used what little energy she could muster to run at her super speed until she found someone she could safely feed off of.

She should have done all of that, but she didn’t.

Instead, Y/N kissed Kenny back. Her body shifted into autopilot, her hands running through his hair. It was bliss until the unthinkable happened.

Her sharpened fangs cut Kenny’s lip, and a single drop of blood hit Y/N’s tongue. Panicked, she pulled away and tried to climb off of his lap, but his hands on her waist wouldn’t allow it.

Two words were all it took to break her final thread of resolve.

“Use me,” Kenny instructed in a breathless whisper. Before either of them could truly register what was happening, Y/N’s fangs were in his neck.

Kenny let out a shaky moan as the sharp pain suddenly turned into pleasure. It was one he had sought out ever since Y/N had fed from him all those months ago. She had explained it to him once when she was telling him that she wasn’t really hurting the people she fed from because her fangs would automatically release endorphins into them. She described it as a numbing feeling, but it made Kenny feel anything but numb.

The pleasure, coupled with the soft sounds of Y/N mewling as she drank from him, let alone the added fact that she was on his lap, was enough to leave Kenny rock-hard. He couldn’t control himself as his hips bucked up against her.

His heart almost stopped when she very suddenly pulled away, the feeling of her fangs no longer in his neck and the blood draining from him left him feeling empty. Her eyes were half-lidded as she looked down at him, lips stained red from blood, and her mouth hung slightly open.

Kenny thought he had died once again and gone to heaven when she, without warning, rolled her hips against his. His cock twitched desperately in his pants, and his grip on her hips would have been bruising to anyone but a vampire.

“When I asked you if you got off on this, I didn’t realise I had hit the nail on the head,” Y/N’s voice was low and seductive. Kenny had never heard anything so sexy in his life. He wanted to hear her talk all day, every day. He tried to roll his hips up to meet hers again, but her hands snapped down to his thighs, holding him in place. “Use your words, and I’ll consider giving you what you want.”

“Touch me, fuck me, use me, please,” He begged without hesitation, knowing it was the fastest way to get what he desperately needed at that moment. “Please?”

Y/N captured him in a breathtaking kiss, he could taste his blood on her tongue as it swirled with his, but he couldn’t care less. Her hands slid up his thighs until they reached his beltline, moving at superhuman speeds to impatient get her hands on what she wanted. The zipper popped open and flung across the car as she broke it, neither of them caring for a single second.

The muscles of Kenny’s thighs twitched and spasmed as Y/N’s hand slipped down his boxers, pulling his swollen cock out. The tip was red and leaking precum. Y/N ran her thumb over it without hesitation, bringing it up to her mouth, her tongue darting out to lick it up. He caught sight of her fangs, still protruding from the rest of her teeth. She was still hungry.

“Remind me to go down on you when my mouth can be trusted,” She whispered in his ear, pressing her chest against him as she leaned in. “For now, I’m impatient. We’ll have to skip to the main event.”

“Please,” He nodded eagerly, cock twitching in anticipation. Y/N took it in her hand, pumping it a few times as more precum leaked from the tip.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” She smirked down at him. He didn’t have time to register what had happened before she sunk down onto him in one swift move. He hadn’t seen her remove her underwear. He didn’t know if she had done it at super speed without him seeing (though the panties were nowhere in his car to support that theory) or if she just hadn’t been wearing them in the first place. The latter drove him crazier than he already felt.

Just as she sunk down onto him, her teeth sunk back into his neck. Kenny was the most delicious meal Y/N had ever had, and she couldn’t help herself from going in for seconds.

Painfully slowly for Kenny, she lifted herself up and down on him. She kept a tortuous speed, her strength stopping his desperate attempts at thrusting up into her.

Reaching for his hands, she pried them off of her hips, slipping one up her shirt and under her bra to fondle her breasts and manoeuvring the other so his fingertips brushed up against her clit. He took the hint instantly, switching between each breast with his left hand to make sure they both received adequate attention and rolling her nipples in between his fingers, revelling in the louder moans that his neck was barely muffling as she fed from him.

His right hand slowly circled her clit, starting slow at first but speeding up as soon as she picked up the pace, sliding herself up and down on him. He felt whenever he hit her g-spot as her walls would clench around him, causing him to repeatedly hit it as the pleasure became unbearable.

“So close,” He managed to choke out, his movements becoming slightly sloppy as he started to lose himself. Y/N pulled her fangs from his neck, lifting her head just slightly so she could whisper in his ear.

“Cum for me,” He did so instantly, a loud moan escaping his throat, his head tilting back as he filled her up. He felt her walls clamp around his dick as she reached her own peak, her eyes rolling back slightly.

When she looked back at him, her eyes had returned to their natural colour, and her teeth had once again dulled down. He was completely struck by her beauty but struggled to keep his eyes open to admire her as he felt woozy from the blood loss. He heard her curse as his eyes drooped closed, his head lulling to the side.

Kenny wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he woke up to Y/N curled up against his side in the backseat of his car. She appeared to have done her best to clean him and herself up while he was passed out, but since she had broken his zipper in the heat of the moment, his jeans were still open.

He stretched a little as he woke up, Y/N lifted her head to look at him, and he could see relief flooding her face.

“I was worried I had taken too much,” She sighed a breath of relief, a hand reaching up to cradle his face. She intently examined his eyes, looking for confirmation that he was okay. “I’m so sorry; I lost control.” Kenny pulled her in for a kiss, far sweeter than the passion-filled ones they had shared earlier.

“I’m immortal, remember?” He reminded her softly as they pulled away. “You can’t kill me for long.”

“But we don’t-” She was about to protest again about how they didn’t know what would happen to either of them if she continued to drink his blood since he wasn’t a normal human, but one look at the pure adoration in his eyes stopped her in her tracks. “You should have just told me that was what you had in mind when you said you wanted to experiment. We could have been doing that for months.”

“Well…” Kenny grinned as the words processed in his mind, the implications clear as day. “We have an eternity left to catch up on missed time.”

[senbbonzakura]

helloo may!! 💌💌

can i please request main 3 x f!reader with black cat personality? like, have a soft spot only for a their s/o, sarcastic, more closed in themselves, sometimes irritated, i hope yk 🫶🏻

hello anon!! i tried to do research on black cat energy but idk if google gave me good information so i hope thats accurate!! tried my best <3

⋆BLACK CAT PERSONALITY READER WITH MAIN 3 :

✩ — STAN !

he honestly doesn't mind u being introverted most of the time

stan gets kinda tired after hanging out with the gang and then he can just lay in his bed, relax and "recharge" with you

he tries to keep u away from his friends bc theyre CHAOTIC all together

abt the sarcasm part...

"i hate you, get out of my house" while obviously joking

"awwww😿😿"

dw he answers like that on purpose to make u mad

✩ — KYLE !

kyle didnt like you at first

he thought ur just rude for being so dry while he talked to you for the first time

at the same time... he wanted to be friends with you

lets skip this part. u two ended up as partners somehow okay

u had to explain to him why youre acting like that bc he thinks hes doing smth wrong

u two definitely would study "together"

that means that u would study separately but in the same room and next to each other. just in silence

i feel like he enjoys working alone too without anything disturbing him

so perfect!

✩ — KENNY !

HES THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER BF YOU NEED.

you two are just perfect together

when he first talked to you he thought your attitude was hot

thwats why he didnt give up on trying to talk to you all the time

boom u 2 r partners

he would be the one enjoying doing risky shit with cartman

and every time u say that their idea is a bad idea

kenny listens everytime... almost

he cant help listening to your every word tho

sorry anon this went kinda bad.... i hope you enjoy it tho😭😭

[luvrlou]

Heyy girll can u do a niko o/s where yn gets invited to shoot with the beta squad as a guest nd ppl knows abt yn nd nikos relationship so they think it’s cute etc nd they keep flirting while they’re filming 😭🙏🏼

Cutie Patooties

Pairing: Niko Omilana x fem!reader

Summary: Niko's day seems to lighten up incredibly after a certain guest is invited into the studio.

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Recently I have been really into the beta squad and the sidemen so please keep these requests coming! This is so rushed I'm sorry!!

Word Count: 1k

The other 4 members of The Beta Squad, plus Yung Filly and Hary Pinero, were sat giddily in the studio awaiting the special guest for this Saturday's video, everyone knew this would send Niko's mood sky rocketing.

He had been in a mood for the past 2 weeks since his girlfriend, you, had been on tour for your newest album so he hadn't been able to see you. Little did he know you were going to be waltzing through that set of double doors at the rear end of the studio as soon as the cameras start rolling.

"Niko! Get up!" Kendall, one of the members of the camera crew called, he pulled himself off the couch and towards the other boys.

"Today on Beta Squad.." Kenny began the intro before Chunks interrupted.

"We have a guest!" He announced, earning a confused look from your boyfriend.

All the boys turned to look at the double doors at the back as all the cameras moved to focus on it.

The doors swung open as you waltzed in, "it's me!" You stated, twirling around.

"No way!" Niko shouted, his mood immediately lighting up.

"Yes way!" You shouted back with a laugh as he jogged over to engulf you in a hug. "Can you guys believe this? My own boyfriend didn't notice my 10-day break in shows!" You jokingly complained to the camera, earning a huff from Niko.

"Be quiet and let me enjoy your presence for 2 seconds," he mumbled, picking you up and spinning you in the air, earning a squeal from you. He placed you back down on the ground and engulfed you in yet another hug. "I missed you baby."

You both walked over to the other boys, Niko's hand grasping yours for dear life. The boys then began to explain the video. They had 5 girls waiting in the main studio as Filly was going to be playing Blind Dating Girls Based On Their Outfits.

You were sat on your boyfriend's lap, in between both Chunkz and Sharky, with Aj, Harry and Kenny in front of you on the couch.

"The Beta Squad are gonna play cupid, by trying to find, our friend Filly, love. The twist is, the girls are hidden behind a curtain, and round, by round, we'll slowly raise the curtain to reveal the girls that may take Filly's heart. Also! Another twist, Filly doesn't get to pick who goes through each round, we do. By wingmanning from another room and deciding which girls will get rejected. Let's see if we can find Filly true love!" Chunkz explained, going over each rule of the episode.

"See if Aj was doing this, he'd be able to see under." Niko stated, earning laughs from the other boys.

You turned around to him, "and if it was you, you would see over it."

"Yeah! What she said! Lanky!" Aj quipped, making Harry pull him back down to the couch.

You leaned back into Niko, Sharky audibly awing at your comfort around him. Filly started asking the girls their names and ages, without interruption from the 7 of you in the next room.

He went on to ask about icks which sparked conversation between you and the boys.

"Y/N what are your icks?" Harry asked you, making you lean further into Niko in thought.

You hummed, "I haven't really thought of any."

"Well what's one thing Niko could do that would make you be like 'wtf is that thing I'm dating'?" Kenny asked you.

You smiled in return before speaking, "I love him too much! He couldn't do anything!"

Niko grinned and kissed the top of your hair, everyone else reacted with disgusted sounds and Aj mumbled "they're so cute it's disgusting."

After a while of watching Filly talk to the women, Niko grabbed the mic.

"Ask them if they shave." He told him in a monotone voice.

"Niko!" You shrieked hitting his arm and snatching the mic. "Don't you fucking dare Finny, that is the crudest thing you can ask a girl! Instead ask what their favourite song is or something."

He smiled at the camera that was used to show you guys what was going on in the other studio. He went down the line asking what the girls' favourite songs were.

The first girl said a song by you, which made all the boys, including Finny cheer, the next said Under the Influence by Chris Brown, the next said anything by Britney Spears, and the final girl said Irregular Love by LilTjay.

"Okay, It's time for us to vote out another girl," Harry said into the mic.

"Girl 2, she really said Under the Influence, absolutely not." You stated.

This caused Chunkz to pipe up, "what's wrong with Under the Influence? Huh!"

"It's a shit song that's what's wrong with it!" Niko answered, making you nod your head proudly.

"Shut up! You're only saying that cause you don't want to upset Y/N!" Sharky exclaimed, making Niko flush.

"All I'm saying is I want rid of her," you huffed, making Niko wrap his arms around you softly.

"The fans will be loving this," Kenny laughed, indicating to you and Niko.

He was right, the number of edits you had seen floating around Instagram, Twitter and Tiktok of the two of you was crazy. They were adorable, you had to admit, and seeing the reactions of fans when you commented on their videos was enough to leave you happy for a week.

"So what? I'm just showing my girl some love." Niko nonchalantly answered, making you hide your face in his arm.

The video continued on, every so often the cameras would switch from Filly to you and Niko cuddling into eachother.

When the video came to an end Filly walked into the other studio which contained you and the boys, with his new girl, Melissa.

"Love is in the air!" Chunkz grinned, looking between you and Niko to Filly and Melissa.

[kingdumkum]

WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.

summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret? wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)

cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.

dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. 💛

Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.

It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.

An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.

The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.

You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up. 

It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?

Nothing from Tadashi.

You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.

Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.

But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.

Again.

Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”

“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“

“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?” 

Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”

“Baji.”

The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”

You frown and start searching for your mascara. “At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”

Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”

“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”

Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”

Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”

You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”

Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…

You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.

“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”

Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—

By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.

When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.

You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.

Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms. 

You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you. 

Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”

“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”

“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.

But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.

He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”

Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely. 

“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.

“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”

Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.

You almost do.

Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”

The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.

Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.

That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.

It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.

“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.

“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?

Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—

“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.

“Asshole.” 

Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.

“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.

He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.

Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours. 

You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm. 

But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.

Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.

Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.

Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.

So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.

And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.

Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.

Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.

Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”

“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—

“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.

He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”

You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’

He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.

If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…

Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.

The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.

“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.

It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.

One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.

So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.

“Did it hurt?”

Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”

Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”

You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.

But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.

You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.

Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.

You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.

At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.

The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you. 

“What’s… wrong with me?”

Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.

But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.” 

Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—

But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”

“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—” 

This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.

“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“

“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“

“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”

“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”

“They don’t deserve you—”

“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”

“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”

The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills. 

You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…

He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.

He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.

Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.

Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.

It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.

You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you. 

When your gazes meet, you wait.

“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”

“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”

“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.

You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”

When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.

“I stopped them.”

For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.

“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”

Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”

You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—

Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—

Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.

“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”

A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.

“Say it again.”

It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“

“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.

“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”

“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”

He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.

You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real. 

For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”

“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.

You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.

“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.

“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”

There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago. 

“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”

He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.

You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“

“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”

Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.

“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement. 

Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.

“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.” 

Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.

“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.

“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.

You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—

But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.

Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.

You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.

Loudly.

Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.

“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”

“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”

“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes. 

You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.

You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.

“M’sorry…”

A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—” 

He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.

“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”

“Ididntmakeit.”

You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).

This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.

Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.

Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.

Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”

“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.

Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”

“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.

“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.

“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that? 

The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.

So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face. 

“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth. 

But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”

He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”

You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”

Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth. 

He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”

The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.

So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”

This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”

Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face. 

“I’d like that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.

“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”

You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.

“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.

“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”

“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.

He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.

“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.

“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.

“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“

“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”

He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”

You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”

Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway. 

“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.” 

You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.

The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold. 

You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.

“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”

“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”

“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”

He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.

“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”

“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”

“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.

Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.

“You’re… in love with me?” 

Keisuke blinks.

For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”

You kiss him.

The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.

There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”

Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.

He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.

He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?

“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.

He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist. 

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—

The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.

Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name. 

“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“

“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”

His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up. 

His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”

You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.

You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”

Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.

Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt. 

Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.

“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?” 

You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you. 

He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.

There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.

He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.

When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.

Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”

It sends you over the edge.

With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“

“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”

You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.

 The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.

Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.

“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”

A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.

Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.” 

“I love you too, Kei.”

He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.

He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.

“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.

When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along. 

The answer comes easily.

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”

“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”

Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”

“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.

You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”

He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.

They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.

“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.

Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”

“Then how—“

“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.

You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.” 

It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.

“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.

“Too much?”

Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”

Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”

If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.

When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”

With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”

You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.

“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.

“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.

He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.

You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.

His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.

“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.

Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.

Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it. 

A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.

“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“

“You’re big.”

Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”

You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”

Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”

Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.

You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”

It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.

He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.

“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”

You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”

With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”

He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.

You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?” 

His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.

“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.

“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can. 

He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot. 

Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped. 

The world is only real for the two of you.

He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.

He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.

It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—

“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”

You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.

“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.

Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all. 

You never realized how empty you were.

Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.

“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”

Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.

Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”

You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.

You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.

He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.

The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.

Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you. 

Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.

“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.

You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”

Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.

You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”

You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”

He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”

“For me?”

He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”

With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”

He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”

“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”

Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.

“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.

So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!

hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!

[teewritessmth]

~~Fragmented Affection Part 02~~

Kenny x f! reader

Summary : After splitting with your shitty ex, you seek comfort in your best friend Kenny. But are you two just friends?

Warnings : smut, breastplay, blowjobs, cum, safe sex

You ring his doorbell and within seconds he opens his door wide with the biggest smile on his face.

"Hey Kenny".

You greet him and wrap your arms around his neck. He wraps his arms around your torso and breathes in your scent.

"Hey beautiful, thank you for coming."

Your face flushes as you remember the nickname he used to call you all the time. It's been a while he said that, so it made you feel a little giddy inside.

Kenny holds you by your wrist and gently leads to you to his table.

"Did you bring your TV in the kitchen, Ken?"

"Uh yeah...I thought maybe we could watch your favorite show while we ate so we don't have awkward pauses during dinner."

Your heart burst at his gesture, he was such a sweetheart.

"Are you the cutest?".

"I'm afraid I might be."

He pinches your cheeks and pulls your chair for you.

The rest of the dinner goes by in a flash. Kenny either making small jokes about the characters or adding his own character to the show. You stomach hurt from laughter as you lay in his couch, watching him bring his TV back to the correct place. You smile at him and give him a backhug.

Kenny stiffens a little bit but reciprocates your hug and gently kisses your forehead. You nuzzle into his chest and hold him tight.

"I love you Kenny" "I love you Y/n"

Both of you immediately let go of the hug and look at each other, eyes wide. No way you said that the same time he did.

"Y/n?"

"You're explaining first"

"Fine, sit down."

He let's out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Y/n, you've been a great friend to me all these years. But recently, I've felt so much more for you. Everytime I call you, you're there. You're laughter is like music to me. My jokes are effortlessly funny when I say them to you. I've never felt anything this deep for anyone I have ever met."

Your eyes water. The man in front of you had bared his heart out to you and you couldn't even form coherent words for him.

"K-Ken".

That's all you say before you get into his lap and kiss him.

He returns your kiss with the same urgency, combing his fingers through your hair. You held his face and kissed him deeper, your tongue gently caressing his.

No words were exchanged as you slid his shirt off him and traced his abs. He took off your top and helped you out of your pants, leaving you in your undergarments.

You dropped to you knees as you palmed him through his shorts, feeling his hard member through his shorts.

He helps you take off his pants followed with his boxers as you push him back to the couch. He lets out a small laugh and caresses your cheek as you kneel infront of him.

"You're so pretty".

You blush and slowly stroke his dick, licking gently at the head. He lets out a gasp and makes a ponytail with your hair in his hand. You give him a long lick from his base and envelope your mouth around him, loving the way his head falls back at the sensation.

You bob your head faster, trying to fit all of him inside your mouth and pull back with a 'pop' sound.

You hear him suck in a breath and look at you confused.

You climb up to his lap and whisper in his ear-

"Finish in me first, then finish in my mouth whenever you want".

He groans and attacks your neck with kisses and unclasps your bra. You toss it aside as his big hands cup your boobs and leave kisses on them. He takes a nipple in his mouth and gently sucks on it, fondling the other one with his free hand. You feel goosebumps across your body as he switches to the other boob, giving it the same treatment.

You line the tip of his dick to your entrance as you slowly sink down on him, gasping and moaning by how well he stretched you out.

"K-Kenny, please fuck me".

That being said, he holds you steady by your hips and thrusts upwards into you.

You lean towards him, pulling him closer to you as you ride him reaching closer to your orgasm.

He spills inside you with a groan the same time you cum around his dick. Your thighs shake due to the intensity of your orgasm and Kenny picks you up, carrying you into his bedroom.

After a quick clean up session, you two hold each other and talk about all the times you've felt strongly for each other. Kenny keeps on kissing your face like a million times but hey, you didn't mind.

Throughout the course of the night, that man fucked you on his couch, on his bed and in his shower when you woke up the next day.

Truly the most affectionate man you'll ever come across against.

Requested by @sexybarkbark

[kylelovskii]

Hello!! I really like your writing i was wondering if i could have a dom!kyle smut!?!?? I need some sub reader😸😸 Its okay if you ignore it :>

yes ofc!!

thank you for requesting!

i made this a little nasty if you don’t mind

a little bully!kyle if you will and innocent!reader

tw!! bj, degrading pet names (bitch, dumb bitch), degradation, slight handjob, hair pulling, slapping

i don’t care

you were getting a few books from the library to read over the summer, then you felt your head get jerked back by your hair.

"ow..who-" you started before you looked up. it was kyle. "oh, hii! what’re you doing at the library?" you giggled, ignoring the fact he had a firm grip on your hair, and the fact it was starting to hurt.

kyle had an angry look on his face. the kind of look you got when you did something he didn’t like. "what? did i do something?"

"yeah, actually, you did. the fuck were you doing all touchy feely with kenny yesterday, huh?" he barked, tugging your head back more. you squeaked in pain. "he just needed my help..he said, 'if you ever give a boy a.." you trailed off, thinking of what he called it, "..a boner….you should always help'. then he taught me what to do, that’s all. i just wanted t’be nice," you mumbled, giving kyle a pitiful look with your puppy eyes.

kyle mentally cursed himself. "fuckin' bastard..look, if anybody other than me tells you that, you tell them: 'kyle said i can’t do that', you hear me?" he ordered, putting a finger in your face.

you smiled and nodded. kyle let go of your hair and you turned to him, holding up a book. "do you want a book, ky? we could read together over break," you asked, giving him your signature sweet smile.

"no. i don’t do any of that reading shit. come with me." kyle grabbed your hand and led you to the back of the library towards the restrooms. he opened the bathroom door labeled for both men and women. luckily, it was just a one person, so he could lock the door without any suspicion.

"what are we doing? i wanna read my books," you pouted when kyle shoved you into the door. "i don’t care. you did something i didn’t like, and you need to be punished so you can learn."

"but i didn’t know!" you whined. then you felt a sharp sting on your cheek. kyle slapped you. "i said, i don’t care. take it or i won’t talk to you for a week."

kyle knew how to get you all upset and vulnerable. not like you weren’t vulnerable, you were just always very naive, eager to please anyone.

you lived and breathed kyle. if he wouldn’t use you, then who else would? if you weren’t good for him, how could you be good for kenny, or anyone for that matter?

"okay, i’m sorry. can i have a kiss? on the cheek? you hurt me."

god, had you ever been punished a day in your life?

"no. this is a punishment, you’re not gonna get what you want," he answered. you sighed in defeat. "now, you’re gonna show me what kenny taught you, alright?"

"alright..i need you to sit, though," you explained, pointing to the toilet.

kyle stepped over to the toilet, sitting down and manspreading. you situated yourself on your knees between his legs.

looked at him expectingly, but he looked at you like you were stupid. "well, go on."

you started to tug down his basketball shorts, then neatly placed them on the floor.

"he said to do this first.." you started palming him through his boxers. "oh, god dammit-" kyle said quickly, tossing his head back.

"mm..i don’t remember everything he said, so i might not do that well. m'sorry," you told him, not looking at him. you kissed his bulge then took off his boxers. kyle sighed and looked down at you, your face innocent and oblivious to what you were really doing.

"no..no, it’s okay. you’re doing good," he reassured. you took kyle in your small hand, your thumb moving over his tip.

as much as kyle hated admitting it, kenny taught you well. then again, he was a chick magnet. fucked a girl at least every night. of course he knew his shit.

you started moving your hand up and down a little slow. your hand was soft, you felt perfect. kyle could cum right then and there.

you were going so slow. "go faster," kyle demanded. "but this is what-" kyle cut you off, "i don’t give a shit. go faster."

you barely even sped up. you were starting to piss him off. "god, dumb bitch," kyle muttered to himself before grabbing you by the hair and shoving his cock in your mouth.

you cried. "shut up!" kyle whispered, "shut up and fuckin' take it, bitch."

you choked and sputtered as kyle fucked up into your mouth. you felt that weird feeling down there that you get when you do this kind of stuff with kyle. maybe he’d 'take care of you', as he put it.

"god, i fuckin' love your mouth, baby. you always take me so well." kyle grabbed a fist full of your hair and shoved your face all the way down till your nose touched his tummy.

"motherfucker," he grunted out, raising you back up a bit. he could hear you struggling, but he felt too good to care.

you forced yourself up off him and said, "ky- gotta breathe, can’t breathe." kyle rolled his eyes while you caught your breath, then when he decided you were finished, he shoved you right back down.

"m'gonna cum in your mouth, 'kay? be good and take it. keep goin'" kyle told you. you nodded on his cock. kyle pressed his foot on your clothed cunt, and when you moaned around him, release washed over him.

"god- shit- motherfucker!"

you felt that familiar salty taste spurt down your throat. thick and warm.

kyle pulled you off him, leaning his head back and panting. then there was a knock on the door.

"(y/n)? you haven’t checked out your books yet, honey."

it was the librarian. the two of you were super close. you were a little book worm, so you were always in the library with her, creating everlasting friendship.

"yes! i’ll be right out, promise!" you replied to her, standing up and hurrying to the mirror, smoothing down your hair so it didn’t look like you were just manhandled.

"okay, dear. i’ll be at my desk," she said, then you heard her footsteps deafen.

"that was a close one, huh?" kyle said, already dressed again. "aren’t you gonna take care of me? i got that weird feeling again," you asked kyle. he laughed.

"are you stupid? that was a punishment. gosh, man, you don’t listen. i told you: you aren’t gonna get what you want," kyle explained. again.

"now let’s go check out your stupid books."