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kingdumkum · 11 months

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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!

#baji #keisuke baji x reader #baji x reader #baji smut #keisuke baji smut #baji x reader smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #keisuke baji x reader smut #tokyo rev smut

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xxiiam · 5 months

Note

Up to doing an AOT- Levi Ackerman x Scout!Reader smutty one shot ??! Also I keep up with your ao3 series All Mine and LOVEEEE IT. But Attack on Titan has also been living rent free in my headdd ♡♡♡

☆彡 ~ trouble ?

Levi Ackerman x cadet!reader - serious dilf-ish activities

Wc - 1.75k

Fem reader, Levi is peanut butter and extra jelly, Age gap (Levi is in his mid 30s and reader is 19) , reader calls Levi “sir” , lots of spit , sloppy blowjob , m receiving , degradation , Levi calls reader , “cadet” , “brat” , “slut” , “sweetheart” , slapping (face and pussy) , meandom! Levi (with some soft dom inflictions)

Note ~ TYSM FOR LOVING ALL MINE !! I love writing it for all of you guys 🫶🫶🫶 || this has been sitting in my drafts for a good two days so I decided to release it

The whole day during training , you trained near Eren. You even talked with him every so often. Levi watched the pair of you , his same scowl making a very bold statement on his face , “if I see you stop to flirt with Yeager one more time L/N you’ll be on cleaning duty in my office for the next three days” he warned coldly . You screwed your face up , gaze switching from Eren to Levi , “I’m not flirting sir. He was just asking me-” . “So you wanna talk back? Meet me in my office after dinner” he said turning on his heel and observing other people . “Someone’s in troubleeee” Connie teased before being rewarded a slap across the back of the neck from jean .

You opened the door of your captains office after knocking nervously , “you wanted to see me sir?” You said biting down on your bottom lip and walking in front of his desk where he sat finishing his coffee. His cold gaze met yours , “I just have some concerns cadet” . You furrowed your brow , “about what sir?” . “I think you’re being distracted by Yeager . He’s no good for you” . You smiled at your superior, confused , “you called me in here because you think I’m distracted by Eren?” . Levi shook his head , “I know how the younger generation is- sex they all want it, but the guys lack in preforming isn’t that right?” . You stared at him before shaking your head , “I dunno” , “I’m sure you’ve experienced one of these boys. That’s what they are . Boys . You need a man, and I’m tired of seeing the boy you choose be him”

You almost laughed when Levi said this , him talking like this was so out of character for his usually extremely serious tone and workaholic attitude. You walked closer to his desk , “well I’m not seeing any suitors who could show me the difference between a boy and a man” you smiling and batting your eyelashes . He set his cup down sighing - shooting a glare at you . , “on your knees cadet” he said standing up and walking around his desk to you . You stood your ground and remained standing , staring at him with a shit eating grin . Levi always hated when someone disobeyed his orders . He put a firm hand on your shoulder and pushed you down to your knees and slapped you across your cheek , making your head turn to the side . You looked up at him innocently , “listen to me when I tell you to do something brat”

You nodded your head , “yes sir” , “that’s what I like to hear” he said whilst unbuckling his pants and unzipping , his cock pressed against your cheek , he slapped it across your face , “open up” . You decided to obey him , your wet lips wrapping around the tip of his throbbing cock . “Show me how slutty you are for me and NOT a boy” he said between gritted teeth . You removed your lips from his cock and spit into your hand , massaging your spit onto his cock . Your hand stroked his cock lazily , “look up at me sweetheart and put some fuckin’ effort in for me” he said with his hand resting on your cheek softly which was a complete juxtaposition to how he had just previously slapped you.

You applied more pressure whilst stroking your higher up’s cock , you knew you were doing something right since he stopped talking and resorted to soft groans . “I bet Yeager hasn’t seen you look up at him like this has he?” . You couldn’t really reply since your mouth was so full , Levi made it even fuller by pushing your head down . Your nose brushed against the hair above the base of his cock . He held your head down until the tears that had formed in your eyes had become tears rolling down your cheeks , he pushed your head back causing you to breath heavily trying to catch your breath.

His fingers motioned you to stand up even better , he pointed to the edge of his desk, “you want me to bend over the desk?” , he shook his head sternly , “take your pants off and sit . One leg up so they’re spread” . You nodded your head before starting to unbuckle your pants, Levi was far from a patient man when it came to this . “Stop. Just let me do it since you’re so fucking useless” he tutted before practically ripping your pants down and letting you do the rest . You sat on the desk with one leg up like he instructed. Levi’s rough hand traced up and down your slit , he leaned in closer to you . You almost thought he was about to kiss you until a painful slap was brought upon your aching cunt . You whined out of pain , “stop whining.” He said coldly clearly not fazed by your hand clawing at his arm . He was most definitely not fazed since he slapped again . And again . And again . With each slap his hand became increasingly more covered with a slick liquid . He stared down at his hand curious then back at you , “yeah I bet you like that? You like that? So slutty you’ll even like when you’re slapped on your slutty cunt. You’re almost disgusting” .

You bit down on your bottom lip , you clenched around nothing hoping he’d surely give you more pleasure than just slapping at you . Your eyebrows furrowed when you looked up at him desperately, “wondering when I’ll fuck you? Open up” . You stuck your tongue out , mouth opened wide and he did exactly what you thought he would , a large glob of spit fell from his tongue onto yours , “swallow then I’ll fuck you” eagerly you swallowed it all , showing him your clean tongue . He grimaced , “you really are a slut yknow that?” . You nodded , “can you fuck me now please?” . He slapped his cock against your bare cunt , “whyre you trying to give ME orders cadet?” , “sorry sir just impatient” . “Oh I can see that” and with that he slid his bulbous angry red tip into your sopping hole . Then thrusted the rest of his length into you . Not giving you any time to adjust , he didn’t think you’d deserve it .

His calloused and scarred hands gripped at the plush of your thighs , lifting your legs and putting them onto his shoulders as he bullied his cock inside you , “you’re so tight . Clenchin’ down extra hard on your captains dick?” He jeered , you threw your head back in ecstasy . Who would’ve known his dick would’ve been so good despite how short he is? Your moans and whines just couldn’t be contained and Levi made sure to mock you because of it. “Panting like a bitch in heat” he mocked you whilst his thrusts remained consistent and just as mean as him , they were brutal they hit in all the right places at the right speed . He did not dare to falter since he has so much stamina from training so much . You could feel every ridge , every vein . It was all almost too much

But Levi didn’t care if you could take it or not , you were going to take it anyways , Levi didn’t make much noise apart from the occasional grunt or almost moan when you clenched down and throbbed on him after finishing for the nth time , “ I think I’m not gonna cum in you , you don’t deserve it . Your mouth” he said most likely to himself but there was a glint of a grin in his eyes when he saw how disappointed you were when he said he wasn’t gonna cum in you . “Hm. Do you want me to cum inside you sweetheart? You are a slut aren’t you?” He said thrusting in between every word of the sentence. “Tell me how much you want my cum inside you” . Your hands gripped at whatever they could on his desk , your eyes were practically just permanently rolled into the back of your head, “please- sir I wan- need your cum s’ bad..please” you begged as your body shook violently by his relentless thrusts . You didn’t know how many times you finished and neither did he , he cared that he hadn’t yet . He was already overstimulating you for finishing before he said to.

Levi’s hips stuttered for a moment before crashing into yours , it seemed like he was becoming more sloppy , more vocal . “Fuck- you feel so good. So wet and tight f’me aren’t you?” You nodded , “yes sir- jus’ for you” . His hands , gripped harder at your thighs making sure to be able to thrust deeper in you , he bit down on his bottom lip , “ ‘m gonna cum in you, and you’re gonna take it all and not complain- isn’t that right?” He spat . You nodded , not being able to give a real fully formed response . He gave a final grunt before his hips clumsily rolled into yours , his thick ropes of cum staining your insides white.

You both got cleaned up and dressed , before you left his office , he was sat back down on the desk you had previously been fucked on , “you’re not gonna be distracted anymore are you cadet?” . You shook your head , “no sir, can I come back again tomorrow for extra discipline lessons?” He closed his eyes and nodded before waving his hand , motioning you to leave . When you got outside you saw the other cadets standing in shock , jean cleared his throat and spoke up , “we were gonna listen in on you being shouted at by captain. We heard some other noises - what what was that?” . Your face heated up . “It was Eren’s idea” armin said ratting him out . “Eren is just trouble” Connie said shaking his head .

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marvelobsessed134 · 14 days

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I’m not that innocent

A/n: Set around the events of Iron Man 2. Instead for Natasha spying on Tony, you will take her place. (Love Nat tho don’t get me wrong). This has been sitting in my drafts for *ehem* about 500 years but here it is :)

Warnings: smut, blowjobs, getting caught (not sexually), degradation, reader goes by a undercover name for a short amount of time, reader doesn’t get to cum lol, and I think that’s it let me know if I forgot anything.

Summary: Tony catches onto your act

This mission was simple enough. Go undercover as Tony Stark’s assistant to collect information on him for Nick Fury. Originally your friend Natasha was supposed to go on this mission but unfortunately she got sick with the flu so Fury asked you to take over.

You were nervous since Tony is a powerful CEO, literally Iron Man, and he’s mega hot. But you knew you had to set aside your personal feelings to successfully get this mission done. The CEO was obviously flirty with you, and you couldn’t help but be a little flustered. Everything was going according to plan until one day.

You were caught bent over in his office, looking through one of his file drawers when you heard a door open, close and lock. A grunt filled the room. You quickly looked up to see non other than your target. Standing there like a deer in the headlights, you just stared back at the older (and albeit larger) man.

“What do you think you’re doing Missy?” Tony asked as he slowly started to stalk towards you. “Just looking for these files that Pepper wanted.” You tried to easily make up a lie.

“That’s interesting because Pepper left early today.” Ah, shit. You are so cooked.

“Oh! Um, sorry must’ve slipped my mind um-“

“What were you doing sifting through my private files?”

Quick, Y/n, say something! Your mind shouted at you. But really, what excuse were you supposed to use now? Especially since he called your bullshit on your first one. Without even having to say anything, Tony spoke up, “I have a feeling you’re not really an assistant. You work for SHIELD is that right?” Okay, how the fuck did he get that spot on?

It must’ve been written all over your face because he said, “Yeah, I’ve had an inkling for awhile. I bet your name isn’t really Holly Brooks. What’s your real one?”

You were too scared and stunned to speak and so the raven haired man lifted your chin with his index finger and said in a lower tone, “I said, what is your real name?”

You gulped, “Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

“That name suits you far better than Holly does. And because you’re so pretty, I’ll let you out of this office and I can forget you ever did anything.” You looked at him with a surprised but hopeful expression.

“But you’re gonna have to earn it, sweetheart.”

“Earn it? How?” You had an idea of what this “earning” would entail and it made your panties damp.

“I think you know what I want.” He said cockily before pushing the file drawer closed and walking to his desk chair before sitting down in a leaning position. “Get on your knees pretty girl.” You were quick to obey, getting on your knees as you looked at him with doe eyes.

“You gonna undo my pants or what? Are too much of a dumb spy to not know how to suck cock?” His degrading words sent you spiraling and you let out a quiet, “Sorry sir.” Before buckling his belt and pulling his pants and boxers down allowing his large cock to spring free. Your eyes widened at the size and the tip already leaking of precum. You did wear a revealing outfit today, a white blouse with the first three buttons undone to show your black lacy bra, and a shirt black pencil skirt with just your matching panties under it. Maybe you were waiting for this moment…

You took his cock in your hand and began to jerk him off before taking the tip in your mouth and sinking down his length. “Oh fuck.” Tony hissed as you began to suck him off, bobbing your head up and down and jerking off whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. The older man gripped your hair roughly and started to control your movements, using your mouth as his own personal fleshlight.

“Such a slut, you like this don’t you? I know you’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I saw you staring at me a couple times with those fuck me eyes.” He groaned out, enjoying the way tears filled your eyes as you helplessly sat there on your knees being used by him.

“Who knew you were such a good cocksucker? I’m gonna have to keep you around.” His words made your brain short circuit and encouraged you to lick him and help him get to his finish while he was using your mouth.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum. You better take it all or I swear to god-“ The CEO cut himself off when he released his seed into your mouth and down your throat, you swallowed it all and he pulled you off his dick, leaning your head back to look at you. Your mascara was messed up, your face was wet from tears, and your eyes were blissed out.

“Such a pretty girl. Could’ve treated you real nice, taken you out to dinner before I take you home and destroy that little cunt. Too bad you have to be a whore.” His tone was so condescending and somehow that made it better.

“Get up.” Tony commanded and let go of your hair. You stood up and watched him rise as well, taking his blazer jacket off and loosening his tie before unbuttoning his shirt and fully getting rid of his pants. He grabbed you and pushed you against the side of his desk, kissing you hungrily. You kissed him back, hands wandering his sculpted body like it was the best thing you’ve ever put your hands on.

The raven haired man ripped your white shirt open and roughly pulled the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts, letting them pop out effortlessly. He tweaked and played with your nipples, spitting on them, sucking them, making you moan and squeal in the overwhelming sensation.

Then he pulled your skirt up roughly, and cupped your clothed core, “So fucking wet. Just from sucking my dick? Or was it being naughty and getting caught doing something you shouldn’t have been doing? Which is it?”

“Both.” You answered obediently and honestly.

“Fucking slut.” He huffed before ripping your panties off which caused you to gasp but you didn’t have a chance to open your mouth when he turned you around and bent you over as if you were nothing.

He slapped your ass once, twice, three times before lining up his cock to your dripping entrance. As he gripped your hips he slowly pushed in making the two of you moan. Oh god, you thought to yourself, his employees can probably hear this. They think you’re just another one of his conquests. In way, you are.

“Oh fuck! So fucking tight!” Tony growled as he began to thrust and fuck into you faster and harder slapping your ass occasionally. “Such a bad girl, thinking you can tease me all day, make me hard in meetings, just to try and fucking spy on me,” he scoffs, as if the whole situation was pathetic, “but now I have my cock deep your pussy so, at least one of us is winning.” He continued to fuck you senseless, your hands gripping the edge of the desk. You couldn’t hide your moans and cries as the CEO repeatedly hit your g spot.

“Oh god! I’m gonna cum!” You cried.

“Yeah? Do you think you deserve it? After all you did?” Tony grunted.

“Yes! Please let me cum! I’ve been such a good girl so far!” Your cries and pleads were pathetic. You were pathetic, Tony thought. And god was he having the time of his life.

He felt himself getting closer and closer to edge and said, “Yeah, I don’t think so.” And pulled out of you before shooting his cum on your ass.

You whined at the loss of contact and orgasm making him laugh and say, “If you want to cum, you have to let me take you out to dinner. And get rid of any files you might have stolen from me digital and physical copies.

#marvel smut #marvel x reader #tony stark #tony stark smut #tony stark x reader #tony stark x female reader #dom Tony Stark #iron man 2

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alpacaparkaseok · 2 months

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How to Steal Moonlight |2|

Chapter 2. The Brawl

→ Pairing: mafia!BTS x reader (not poly)

→ word count: 3.1k (yes she's itty bitty)

→ warnings/tags: SFW, we're angry and fighting but we're also really thirsty?

→ a/n: hellloooo, it's me. updating with just a little chapter that's been sitting in my drafts for almost a year. pls accept this humble offering. for those of you still reading this, ily.

“Where is she?”

Tearing across the room, you rip the card from the lilies, taking a handful of the flowers along with you. Jungkook stares at you, a hint of fear in his eyes.

You’ve cracked. Shattered, and the pieces of you that were still intact are scattering across the ground until the only thing that’s left are the mangled lilies hanging from your hand.

“Who? What’s…tell me what’s going on!” He calls after you, wincing from the effort it took to yell. “Hey!”

You’re gone, out the door and striding down the corridor with death in your eyes. Namjoon and Hoseok appear, guns drawn. “What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Fire licks up your veins just looking at him. All you can see is her, reflected in his eyes.

“Where’s Victoria?”

He stiffens, jaw set at the mere mention of her name. “What did she do?”

“Where is she?”

Hoseok answers after seeing the stricken look on Namjoon’s face. “Kitchen.”

It’s all the answer you need, already breaking out into a run. Hoseok hangs back, ducking his head into Jungkook’s room. Namjoon is hot on your heels, looking for all the world as though he’s trying to come up with an explanation but doesn’t dare hope for one.

“Victoria!” Shout echoing down the staircase, you take the stairs two at a time. The kitchen light is on, the voices inside quieting. All you see is red as you jump down to the landing. Free hand fumbling for something – anything. A knife, a gun, an old newspaper.

A pack of gum is all you can find in your pockets, but you hold it as if it’s your preferred weapon as you burst into the kitchen. Both Yoongi and Jimin sit at the island, the latter holding a spoon of cereal to his mouth.

Victoria sits at the table, feet up, face hiding behind a book. Her eyes are icy as they flick up to your form, sliding to the hulking figure of Namjoon behind you.

Taking advantage of the distraction, you huck the pack of gum with every ounce of power you have.

It flies through the air, spiraling as it shoots like a torpedo before connecting square with Victoria’s exposed forehead.

“You little-” she drops the book, massaging the already red welt. “Did you just hit me with a pack of gum?”

Legs carrying you over to the table, you sidestep a bemused Yoongi and yank Victoria’s chair out. “Recognize this?” The card hits the table along with the lilies, crest facing the ceiling. Victoria has the good sense to flinch away from it as if it were a live snake baring its fangs.

“What are you on about this time?” Her eyes meet yours, that insufferable smirk eating up her face. You have half a mind to slap it off, raising your hand to do so, but something holds you back.

No, not something. Someone.

“Let me go,” you hiss, yanking your hand from Namjoon’s grasp. He stares down at you with a stony expression, jaw twitching. “And you,” stepping closer, you block off any escape route. “You have ten seconds to tell me how this got here before I pick a bone to break.”

Namjoon shuffles closer, eyes lit from the inside with an unholy flame. “Skipping straight to violence, capa? Since when were you the one to get their hands dirty?”

“Don’t think I’m about to start paying you for your opinion.”

Yoongi appears at Namjoon’s shoulder. “Step back, Namjoon.”

“Are you kidding me right now? She’s gonna kill her!”

“That’s sweet, Joon,” Victoria croons, sparing him a withering look. “Glad to see you still care when it’s convenient.”

Yoongi pulls Namjoon back a few steps, the job considerably easier now that he’s been impaled on Victoria’s barbed words. Jimin remains at the island, pouring more cereal into his bowl while he watches the show.

“Ten seconds,” you remind Victoria. She rolls her eyes, grabbing the crest and holding it up to the light. “Did Yadiel teach you the easiest way to break a clavicle, too?”

She snarls, throwing the card back onto the table. “He taught me lots of things, kid, though I doubt he dared touch you. His precious little student could never stoop to such lows, could she?”

Seokjin has wandered in now, taking in the view with an air of boredom. He approaches the island, tapping Jimin’s shoulder. “This seat taken?”

“All yours.”

“Your nose might be the better choice,” you muse, cold fury sludging through your bloodstream. “It might be an improvement.”

Victoria laughs, the sound high and shrill. It grates against your ears. “You really think you’re something, don’t you? I’m absolutely terrified. Look, I’m shaking.” She extends her arm out in a mock show-and-tell, and you seize it, holding her elbow straight.

Voice dropping into a lover’s murmur, you approach a different tactic. “Shaking like you do when you let yourself fall asleep?” Victoria’s face flickers between resentment and shock as you speak. “I’ve heard you calling out, Victoria. What are you dreaming about?” She shuts down, expression turning impassive in a last-ditch effort to avoid showing her hand. “Do you lie to yourself and say that you would’ve killed him if you had the chance? Is the fact that I’m the one that did it what keeps you up at night?”

One moment, you’re standing before her, and the next she’s pinning you to the ground. Stars dance in your vision as your skull hits the tile, the world a mess of gnashing teeth and hair. You struggle to get a hand free, distracting her as you suddenly flip your weight, sending her toppling to the floor beneath you. Somehow you clamber to your feet, momentum churning.

“You ran away!” She accuses, kicking out as you lunge for her. Blinded by rage, you receive the kick square in the stomach. “You shot him, and all this time, you’ve probably thought that he was afraid of you. That he never sought you out for fear that you’d finish what you started.”

“I did,” you wheeze. Around the kitchen, everyone stands frozen. Seokjin keeps twitching in his seat, jaw set. “I killed him, in the end.”

“Only because Taehyung let you.”

Your head snaps up to see the expression on her face. Braid undone; Victoria’s greasy hair frames the exhausted expression on her face. “He didn’t…” but you trail off, unable to finish the sentence. Victoria nods before lashing out once more, going for your legs. This time you expect it, spinning out and tripping her. Instead of dropping to the ground she grunts, pulling you down with her. Your teeth sing with the impact.

“Yadiel waited for Taehyung’s order to return like a good dog. Why do you think that was? He wanted you back, Bianchi. Talked about it all the time.” She laughs as you elbow her, causing her to lose her grip. “I almost killed him myself a couple times purely because he wouldn’t shut up about his little Bianchi princess!”

The thought makes your stomach flip, recalling the feeling of his breath curling over your ear – the prolonged touches along your hips as he adjusted your stance.

You try to roll away, but Victoria is faster. She pulls you back, sitting on your spine as your face digs into the floor. “You wonder why he dressed me up in red? Have you ever thought about that? Red dresses, red nails, red lips. Everything red – I think it helped him forget that I was just a consolation prize. Something Taehyung gifted him to keep him quiet.”

The humiliation of being pummeled in front of your crew makes your cheeks burn a sharper scarlet, but try as you might to break free, Victoria holds on all the tighter. She isn’t done.

“You have no idea what he had planned for you, do you? The life he wanted. All the things he was going to…” Victoria stumbles over her own words, her breath catching.

The truth is staring you in the face, and you think you’re going to be sick on the kitchen floor. Swallowing hard, you close your eyes against the thought.

“I’m you.” She rises with one last push off your body, sneering. Even with your blurred vision you can see the tear tracks on her cheeks. “I’m the version that couldn’t get away. Better looking, smarter. Not quite as noble as his little Bianchi. But you all the same.”

Victoria walks back to the table, ignoring you as you flip onto your back. Grabbing the lilies and the card, she stands above you. You stare back up at her, having the distinct feeling that you’re six feet under, staring up from your grave as she throws flowers down.

“If you think for even one second that I’d do anything for Kim Taehyung, I’ll personally dig your grave next to Yadiel’s. Understood?”

Nobody speaks as she storms from the kitchen, leaving you still on your back. You can hear every step she takes up the stairs, stomping away back to whatever hole it is she hides in when she wishes to disappear. The kitchen is silent as a mouse as everyone sits in shock, staring down at your prone body.

“She’s got spirit, Namjoon,” you spit out. “I’ll give you that.”

Namjoon looks disheveled despite the fact that Victoria never laid a finger on him. He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from your glare.

“I’m…”

“Don’t apologize.” You roll up onto your knees, back screaming in protest. No serious damage, but enough to bruise more than your pride. “Run a perimeter around the building.”

He doesn’t stick around long enough to say anything more, Yoongi hot on his heels. Jimin’s eyes dance between their retreating figures and you. “Er…So, I’m gonna go see a guy about some hubcaps…”

As soon as he vanishes, you become ultra-aware of being alone here with Seokjin. He strides over, kneeling in front of you so he’s eye level.

“Where’d you find this?” He asks, picking the discarded card up from off the floor. The sight of it makes you nauseas.

“Flowers. On Jungkook’s side table.”

“Oh.” He lets it flutter back to the ground, fingers finding your hair as he pushes it back gently. “How’d that feel?”

Your eyes shut, forcing yourself to see nothing but black. “Which part? The part when I realized that our security measures are an absolute joke? Or when I got laid out by Namjoon’s ex?”

Seokjin cracks a smile that quickly turns into a sympathetic wince. “If it makes you feel any better, you just got more action than Namjoon’s had in years.”

Croaking out a laugh, you lean heavily on the side of the table and rise to your feet. Seokjin watches your every breath, something hard and calculating hiding behind those dark eyes of his.

“Spit it out,” you say, although it comes out as more of a whisper than anything.

“I just…” he shakes his head. “Not sure this is the appropriate moment to say this-”

“Seokjin.” He meets your eyes at your firm tone. “Out with it.”

He frowns, staring down at the table. It strikes you at that moment just how tall he is. He certainly towers over you, but it’s the way he’s ever so slightly hunched over, as if shielding you from what lies beyond these four walls. It makes you lean in a little closer, hand reaching out to grasp the sleeve of his sweater.

Seokjin’s eyes flash as you sway into view, latching onto yours with an electric shock. He visibly swallows before he speaks.

“If you’re going to fight,” he murmurs, “you need to avoid getting so beat up.”

You can’t help but scoff. “Are you seriously telling me to win next time?”

“And if I am?”

“Well,” you shrug. “It couldn’t be helped. She was better. Angrier.”

Seokjin shakes his head, eyes dropping to the ground as he steps closer, effectively trapping you against the table. You rest against it, arching a brow.

This man. You don’t know where you two stand, or where you’re going. Everything since that night you kissed is a blur – a memory that you find playing on repeat at all hours of the day. Whatever this is, it’s impossible not to feel as if you’re being pulled in by his personal magnetic field.

He grasps your hands only to plant them firmly on the tabletop, making you lean back even farther. Any hope that he didn’t hear your faint gasp is diminished when he grins, cheeks reddening.

“Next time, it’s ok to play a little dirty,” he whispers. He clamps down on his smile long enough to nose along your throat. You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding as he pauses, lips trailing just below your jaw.

Your eyes slip shut as you frown. “That’s hardly fair,” you respond, lungs no longer functioning as Seokjin plants an obscenely innocent kiss to your neck. It’s quickly followed by another, this one much slower.

You can feel his smile against your skin, sending goosebumps racing along your flesh. “You’re seriously concerned about fair? In our line of work?”

It’s silly, you know that. To be concerned about keeping score while working as a glorified thief. Yet it’s how you’ve always worked. Keeping track of the hits, as though counting cards in a casino.

A part of you had always thought that you could anticipate when the next blow would come. Now, you can hardly get back up again before Taehyung strikes again.

Seokjin pauses, straightening up until he meets your eyes.

“You’re thinking about him again.”

Not a question – not that it needs to be. He seems to be able to sense it whenever you get sidetracked like this. It’s certainly not the first time that it’s come between you and what you want.

Which is Seokjin. Your heart seems to beat out his name as you frown. Seok-jin, Seok-jin. Seok-jin.

It’s a struggle to not lean forward, lose yourself in his touch rather than have to face the issue nipping at your skin.

“I don’t want to be,” you whisper, eyes closing. “I hate this. Everything he’s left behind.”

“What will you do?”

There’s his lips again, whispering into your hair. He’s pulling you against him, letting you rest in his arms. Your mind flicks back to your earlier revelation. Seokjin, coming into your bedroom. Checking on you. Just making sure you’re still there.

You’re both too broken for this.

“Tonight? Start looking into staff. Doctors, nurses, janitors. Whoever might be on his side. Someone here must have planted the card.”

A pause. “And then?”

“Seokjin, I...” you chew on the inside of your cheek as the truth roils through your veins. Leaning back, you look up into his dark eyes. See the fear that sometimes grips him in the middle of the night, lingering just below the surface. The something else that you never know what to make of.

You let out a long breath. The something else in his eyes wins out.

“I’ll go with you.”

Killing a man has consequences. Of the bad sort, typically. Jail time, guilty conscience, a trail of blood and tears left behind. Nasty business.

Yet standing here, now, you just can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Jungkook, lay down.”

He obliges, bed creaking. The glare he directs toward the end of his nose is most likely directed your way, although you can’t be sure. It could be for the chocolate pudding, now out of reach.

Hoseok, sitting on the edge of his bed, reaches it and passes it back to him. “So...how do you want to go about this?”

Everyone is here, even Victoria. She sits in the back, near the door. There’s a bruise blooming along her jaw. This you add to the list of things you don’t care about. Besides, you’re fairly certain she gave you a concussion.

“Do we even have eyes on his location?” Jimin asks. “Did he actually go home?”

Yoongi clears his throat. “He was last spotted five days ago. Looks like he’s holed up in his family’s estate for the moment.”

Like the rat he is.

You clap your hands together, wincing at the loud sound. “Great. Here’s the thing – we can’t all hop on a plane and jet over to Italy-”

“Sicily,” Jimin and Hoseok speak in unison.

“Same thing. We can’t all show up looking for him. We’d be caught out in no time. So – here's the deal. Yoongi, you’re here. We have business with the Genovese family, which you’ll be heading up. Don’t look at me like that – we've talked about this. Jimin, Hoseok, you’ll be helping him.”

Hoseok frowns, but it’s Jimin that complains. “There’s no way you’re leaving me behind. You’ve already broken the terms of our contract-”

Your ears burn bright red as you recall that Jimin – Jimin, the gods-forsaken heathen – is the one who found out about you and Seokjin. And now he’s blackmailing you with it.

“- and I’ll do much worse than that if you don’t do as I ask,” you finish for him, offering up a sickly sweet smile. “Namjoon, Seokjin, with me. We’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow for Italy-”

“Sicily,” Jimin groans forlornly.

“- so pack your bags. We’ll go over the details on the plane and fill the rest of you in.”

Jungkook makes a sound of protest from his bed, and struggles to sit up on his elbows. “Take me with you!”

“No.”

“Sorry, I meant to say, I’m going with you.”

You turn your back on him, heading toward the door. “No, you’re not. You’re not in any state to go anywhere right now, Kook. You’ll stay here. When you’re ready, you’ll join Yoongi and assist him here.”

“But I-”

His protests are cut off by an icy voice. “I’m going with you.”

You stop in your tracks. “You don’t want that.”

Victoria rises from her seat. The fire in her eyes hasn’t gone down yet. If anything, it’s burning brighter than before. As she nudges past Namjoon, she tilts her chin up a bit higher.

“Take me with you.”

She stops right in front of you, and you see it, then. What she needs. All the pent up anger and the sheer sense of loss she must feel after losing herself to Yadiel.

All of it is Taehyung’s fault.

I’m you, she’d said in the kitchen. As she gazes into your eyes unflinchingly, you can’t help but know she’s right.

“One condition.”

Her head tllts to the side, interested. “Name your price.”

The smile threatening to break through is difficult to contain. Still, you manage it. “Teach me how to fight like you.”

Victoria grins, and the sight is unnerving. Feral.

A reflection of yourself.

“Deal.”

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@baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @fangirl125reader @knjkitten @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @marianeamine @beginwithamin @limiworld @buttvi @yoontaethings @sunshinejunghoseokie @delacyrose224 @jiminiesmagicshop @hyungieyoongi @shiningmoonchild7 @preciouschimine @pb-n-juju @rubylookingaround @elyte @kookieebangtan @champagnenoona @lachimolala22019 @chemicalclub @sporadicfuryface @ambearsstuff @ithtefani @purelyecstacy @shrimpmsg @kookiewhtaee @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @wantingpjmandthemoon @alpacaseoks @biscuitkooky

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byoldervine · 3 months

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How To Physically Get Up And Start Writing

1. Set requirements. I used to do my work every day at 2pm and I had to stay at my desk for one hour, then I was allowed to leave it or continue if I wanted. If setting aside a specific time/amount of time on the daily doesn’t work, these days I’ve been saying to just get 1000 words by the end of each week, which has meant I can get it done in small pieces, cram it all into Sunday or just breeze through it on Monday to free up my whole week, whatever works out. I’ve consistently been able to go over the requirement and get more writing done since it’s not a huge amount of writing for a whole week

2. How did we get here? I mentioned this on a recent post already, but just doing one or two small steps and telling yourself “I’m not gonna start writing, I’m just gonna get up/sit at my desk/light some candles/put on some writing music” and then doing the steps you’d normally do to set up before writing can help trick your brain into thinking “Okay, well we’re already here, might as well do some writing while we’re at i- hey, wait a minute!”

3. Recalibrating movement controls. If you’re mentally yelling at yourself to get up and make yourself start writing but your body just isn’t responding to you, what helps me sometimes is to move my body a little. Something like tapping your fingers or wiggling your toes can be a good start, then you just build up the movements from there as you’re able until your body is moving enough that you can rock yourself up. If this is a regular problem for you, it might be worth looking into Executive Dysfunction, which can be very common in autistic and ADHD folks, and other tricks that can help with that

4. Help or hinder? Sometimes what works for one person doesn’t work for another, but worse is when what works for one person causes more problems than solutions in another. Is there a writing practice you adopted from someone else that really isn’t working for you? It might be the time to cut it. I personally get really motivated when seeing my word count and how many more words I need to reach my goal, so I’ve plastered it all over the place to help me stay motivated, but a lot of people get discouraged by it and avoid it at all costs unless they want their productivity to take a hit. Don’t do something that isn’t helping you

5. Fear factor. Does anything worry you about your writing that may be discouraging you from doing it? Maybe you’re struggling so hard to make it perfect that you just don’t want to write at all. Maybe you’re reaching the middle and are realising you’re still only halfway through the first draft and the work still left is overwhelming. Maybe you’re nearing the end and you’re too scared to let it all be over. Lean into these fears, reassure yourself and question how you can make it easier for yourself to manage these worries going forward. Sometimes identifying the problem is the hardest step

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wooahaes · 1 year

Text

strawberry cheesecake

pairing: non-idol?han x gn!reader [reader has a uterus/is menstruating]

word count: 1.0k~

warnings: menstruation tw. food tw. this was meant to be non-idol but honestly read it however you like, idc. reader gets kind of emotional bc have you ever had really good food when ur having a bad day? its healing. also this isnt proofread.

daisy’s notes: oh to have a cute boy and enjoy cheesecake w him and then take a lil nap while being comforted... han would understand me on the cheesecake part. he would. also this has been sitting in my drafts for three months. be free.

“Oh, hey! Sorry to bother you, but, uh... Why did Jisung tear ass out of here like... maybe ten minutes ago?”

You’d been half-asleep when Chris called you for the third time in five minutes. Work was tiring, you were exhausted and ache-y, and you had opted to collapse into bed for a quick nap before you made dinner and relaxed for a few hours. Of course, fifteen minutes after you laid down and barely five minutes after you fell asleep, your phone had started ringing. And of course, it was the Christopher Bang himself, calling about your boyfriend like you kept tabs on his every move.

“No clue. Bye, Chris--”

“I’m asking because he mentioned your name,” he said before you could hang up. “Did something happen? Like. He heard someone mention what time it is, said ‘oh, shit’ and then booked it out and said he’d be back in maybe an hour. I mean, we’re not busy or anything, but if you needed something--”

“What?” You squeezed your eyes shut. Fuck, you were still feeling a headache coming on. “Chris, I don’t know why he would--”

Immediately, you heard the sound of your front door being bust open and the sound of footsteps. Your bedroom door opened after a moment, and there stood Jisung with a plastic bag in one hand.

“Is that him?”

“That’s him,” you said. “I’ll, uh, I’ll text you later.”

Jisung quickly made his way over to you, setting the bag aside carefully as he sat down in front of you. “I didn’t forget!”

You stared at him. “Uh. Hi, baby--Everything okay?”

“This morning,” he opened the plastic bag, “you said you wanted cheesecake after you got off work. I was going to bring it by sooner, I just--I got caught up with the guys, and then--”

He pulled out two containers of cheesecake from one of your favorite cafes to frequent with him. The strawberries and whipped cream were packaged separate, and there was something cute about the way Jisung was careful to make sure they were still sealed as he set them on top of your slice--setting his own strawberries with yours.

“And then I had to order and wait and--and it didn’t take long, but I was supposed to come straight here, and...” He trailed off, looking up at you. “Do you feel okay? Did you eat? And take medicine?” He frowned. “Baby.” He set the containers aside as he began to look you over. “Is your head hurting? I know you sometimes get migraines--do I need to grab medicine?” he said, his voice a little softer now. “I promise I didn’t forget until now--”

You gently clasped a hand over his mouth, “Honey. It’s okay.” You said, “I forgot I even said that.” You couldn’t help but smile, pulling your hand away so that you could plant a tiny kiss against the corner of his mouth. “But it’s really sweet you brought me cheesecake.”

Jisung was blushing when you planted another tiny kiss against his lips, just soft and chaste as could be. “Do you want it now? I can put it in the fridge if you aren’t hungry.”

“What about you?” You said. “I thought you were hanging out with the guys.”

He reached for his phone, pulling it out--angling the screen just right so that you could catch a glimpse of missed calls and texts from his friends (which must have come before Chris decided to outright just call you instead). “I think I scared them.”

“Chris said all you said was my name and ‘oh, shit’ before you booked it out,” you said, “so they probably thought I was dying.”

He frowned at his phone for a moment before looking back up at you. “I can stay long enough to eat cheesecake with you,” he said. “I’ll text the group chat.”

Jisung had looked away from you, watching you break into your cheesecake. When you tried to return his small container of strawberry sauce to him, he pushed it back to you--insisting that you could have it today. He finally looked back to you a few moments later after sending a quick text, only to notice the way you were sitting there, fork still in your mouth and tearing up.

“Is it bad? I can go somewhere--”

You shook your head, fighting back tears. Jisung had ran to get you this cheesecake and was apologetic because he knew how bad your periods could get. Maybe it was the hormones, but something about the combination of a caring boyfriend going out of his way to make you happy and the sweetness of a slice of cheesecake was enough to make you want to cry.

“Do you need medicine?” He asked a moment later, watching you. His hair fell into his eyes, and you watched the way he brushed it back. “Just tell me what you need, okay? Is today bad?”

Another shake of your head as you took another bite of cheesecake, rattling off something about how you just really loved him. He had smiled at you a moment later as your words fully sank in, and he shifted so that he could be sitting closer to you.

“I really love you, too,” he said with a soft chuckle.

Despite what he said earlier about staying long enough to eat with you, you managed to get Jisung to cuddle with you for what was meant to be a few minutes. He pulled you into his arms, already starting to curl up closer and closer to you.

“You said you’d go back,” you reminded him, yet still snuggling in. He was holding your heating pad in place, and the last thing you truly wanted was for him to leave you when your cramps had yet to die down. “Jisungie,” you whined, just to tease him. “Neglecting your friends for me...”

He planted a tiny peck into your neck. “I’ll go in a few minutes.”

(And yet he stayed right there with you, dozing off faster than you did... even with the numerous texts from most of his friends later on asking where he went. Chris merely texted you to make sure both of you rested well.)

taglist: @twancingyunhao

#wooahaes.fic #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #stray kids imagine #skz fics #stray kids fics #skz fluff #han jisung x you #stray kids fluff #i literally almost forgot to add tags to this fic.

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piratefalls · 3 months

Text

a leverage quinn/eliot thing i'll never write that’s been sitting in my drafts for a literal year so i'm just yeeting it out into the void

okay so who the hell knows if this is in any way an original thought but i think it’s sort of accepted by fandom that quinn and eliot knew each other long before they fight in the first david job. so let’s run with that. maybe when they met eliot was fresh out of the service and trying to figure out what he was going to do with his life. private security would be the obvious choice, but he still needs the adrenaline, and a break from people giving him orders. so he becomes an independent contractor, a retrieval specialist, and on a job he runs into mr. quinn. same place, same time, but different targets, and they hit it off while digging through an old storage space. and they just keep running into each other, time and time again, and eliot gains a reputation for being the best while quinn is happy to remain in the shadows. being lesser known has its own set of benefits.

and then they hang out after a heist, and things happen, and they find themselves becoming more than friends. this goes on for the next year, maybe two, and then...then they work a job together. something they’ve never done before, for some reason. and it feels off from the beginning, but it's quinn, and eliot trusts him more than anyone in the world, so he pushes those concerns aside until he can’t. the job goes so wrong so fast, and eliot finds himself taken hostage, waking up in an old warehouse, bruised and bloody and so tired. all he has to do is survive, because quinn is coming, he just has to hang on until quinn finds him. quinn will always find him. and then quinn does find him, and he looks so guilty, so fucking sad, and it hits eliot like a kick to the stomach that he’s been sold out. eliot gets free somehow and they fight their way out, and at the end of it all, a trail of bodies behind them, they stand there and look at each other. quinn is devastated, trying to find the words, and eliot just... shakes his head and walks away. he never hears quinn quiet plea for him to wait.

in the interim eliot finds his way to moreau, the awful things he does to forget, never telling anyone why he will only work alone. after a while he realizes he either needs to get out or lose himself completely, so he gets out, spends some time with toby learning to cook, and eventually goes back to working solo. then he’s hired to do a job in LA, a one and done with a team of thieves, and he does it. what a massive miscalculation on his part, because he does not want to like these people. liking people means wanting to be around them, giving them power over you even if you don’t mean to, and he just won’t do that again. but he does. and he keeps coming back, and despite the fact that hardison never shuts up, and parker loves jumping off buildings in a way that makes him deeply concerned, and nate is a ticking time bomb, and sophie is as warm as she is a terrifyingly good liar, he finds himself building a home there, working with these four people, beating up bad guys because he's helping people.

and then sophie cons the team, and the betrayal hits twice as hard this time. but before he even finds that out, he sees a face he’s done his level best to never see again. he lets quinn beat him up a bit, lets him think he’s winning, because eliot knows quinn has always been one thing above everything else, and that’s cocky. and when eliot grunts “now that rib’s broken,” he doesn't tack on like my fucking heart the way he wants to. it’s been years, and it wouldn’t have the impact he wants it to. and then the team separates and he’s never felt so adrift in his life.

in the immediate aftermath, quinn tries to reach out, and eliot keeps changing numbers, because really quinn should have gotten the fucking hint after the first five unanswered calls. eventually eliot shoots him a text, saying that quinn needed to leave him alone, and that he would reach out when he wanted to. the calls stop after that.

three years later, eliot has to go hunting for quinn because he needs a favor. and all quinn wants in return (besides the money, of course) is for eliot to just let him explain. they can go back to not talking, but he wants eliot to know the truth.

and when the job is over, when dubenich and latimer have been dealt with and the bat cave has been deserted, quinn tells him what really happened that night. how eliot wound up in that warehouse, why the job went sideways. [there’s some kind of bribery/secret that he was just desperate enough to keep quiet that he’d sell eliot out] and the price was that quinn had to turn eliot over. he tried, tried so hard to think of a way to get them all out of it alive, and they were almost home free and everything went so wrong so fast and he couldn’t think fast enough. and then eliot walked away never knowing that had the right amount of pressure not been applied to the exact right spot, quinn never would have put eliot within 100 miles of that job because even though they never said it in so many words, quinn had loved him and he knows eliot loved him too.

and so eliot takes a few days to think while everyone else scatters to parts unknown but this time with the full understanding that they’ll all eventually be reunited. eliot thinks, and thinks, and eventually texts quinn and invites him out. they can start with a beer.

#leverage #kelly watches leverage #quinn/eliot #is there even an audience for this pairing anymore lmaoooo #eliot spencer #mr. quinn

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scryarchives · 1 month

Text

𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

gojo satoru and himiko nakamura have always been rivals, however, working on the same movie has put himiko at her limits.

my masterlist !

✭ pairings: gojo satoru x oc actor! au

✭ warning: gojo's probably out of character, the ending's rushed as hell. actor au.

✭ author’s note: got sick of this just sitting in my drafts tbh

✭ word count: 1.5k words

disclaimer: i’m not of japanese descent and am unfamiliar with japanese honorifics, etc. feel free to correct me!

Himiko hated everything about him. She hated his brilliant blue eyes that glimmered like ocean waves, his charming grin that brought every woman to his knees, and most of all, she hated that he knew how to press every one of her buttons. Every. Single. Time.

At this point, it was well known that the two were rivals in the industry, and it was entertaining for all to see; both actors and fanbases.

And unfortunately, it was during their meeting for a chemistry read that Himiko found out that Gojo Satoru was, a little too eagerly in her opinion, playing the main character. She wouldn’t have minded that fact one bit if it weren’t for the luck she had, scoring her role in the film as his love interest. ‘Quite the dastardly bit of luck,’ she groaned to herself.

She felt her eye twitch as he waltzed into the studio with his cocky smirk as per usual, it was rare to ever see him without it. His circular dark blue sunglasses didn’t hide the mischievous shine in his eyes, and Geto Suguru walked in, his brown eyes grazing over every little detail of the studio. The two were known to never be apart, almost appearing in every film together, with a rare few exceptions.

However, the moment Gojo’s sky-blue eyes met her lilac ones, she knew from the way his smile grew that he wouldn’t be leaving her alone anytime soon.

“If it isn’t little Miss Nakamura!”

“Impale me now,” Himiko sighed, turning to her agent, Chizuru. “Must I work with this… moron?”

Chizuru scrolled through her phone, her thumb flicking the screen, tucking the silky stray strands behind her ear as Himiko’s lilac eyes stabbed into Gojo’s lanky figure, his best friend, another fellow actor with black hair and brown eyes lurking behind him. A click of Chizuru’s tongue was enough to tell Himiko everything.

“Unfortunately, yes…” Chizuru winced, “The movie’s set to be one of the biggest names this year, and if you back out now, it’s going to be a great loss for both your reputation and in terms of revenue. It’s a little late for that in my opinion.”

The shorter woman then leaned closer to Himiko, whispering in the fierce lady’s ear, her voice barely audible over the blasting of the air conditioning, “Besides, as your cousin, I just say go for it. Grit your teeth and bear it – in the end, you’re probably never gonna see his face again.”

Himiko dragged her manicured hand down her face, her black nails softly scratching against the side of her face in irritation, her lilac eyes rolled back at the pesky white-haired man in the room.

“Bargain for me,” Himiko sighed, crossing her arms as she made her way to the seats where the men all stood around, and she watched Gojo interact with the directors and producers with a ridiculous amount of energy that he could’ve been mistaken for a child in a candy shop, “I’d like a higher pay as compensation for dealing with his stupidity. I’ll add a small percentage to your pay as thanks for handling my nonsense.”

Chizuru sighed, fixing her bun the slightest, pocketing her phone, “You got it, Miss Nakamura. Just don’t try to tear his face off while I’m gone.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” The star huffs, hearing her younger cousin leave the room with the ‘click!’ of the studio’s door.

Seeing how much the man-child she despised with a burning sense of rivalry managed to light a fuse of anger in the producer, Utahime Iori; an already well-established actress often known to be patient, amused the lilac-eyed actress. At least she wasn’t the only one who felt a tingling sense of irritation at the sight of Gojo Satoru.

Himiko felt her irritation build as Gojo sauntered his way towards her, his friend watching from the corner of the studio, his arms crossed as he watched Gojo’s antics towards the irked actress.

“Nakamura! Have you watched my latest movie? It’s a box office hit, as per usual,” Gojo smirked, Himiko’s hands on her hips as she raised her eyebrows.

“No, I didn’t watch it. I don’t waste my time on cheap catchphrases and explosion effects, Gojo,” Himiko huffs, Gojo opens his mouth again to say something back, but the clearing of a throat pulls him out as he turns to the blonde man in the room.

Nanami Kento, the director of the whole film, rubbed his temples in annoyance, his baritone voice muttering silent curses at Gojo before beginning with a tone of a sigh.

“Please, Gojo,” Nanami sighed. “Let’s get started on the chemistry read between the both of you.”

Gojo shrugged with a smile, “No objections here!”

Reluctantly, Himiko sat herself at the table, joining the younger director and the thorn in her side. Despite Nanami being younger, she admired him quite a bit, and it was enough to keep her around for the movie – with the exception of the paycheck, of course.

Himiko eyed Gojo’s partner-in-crime, Geto Suguru, as he sat on the couch behind them, her thumb pointing back at Suguru with her voice low towards Nanami, “What’s he doing here?”

“Moral support, ever heard of it, Nakamura?” Gojo smiled over at Himiko with a teasing smile, leaning closer to whisper in her ear. “Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless.”

Himiko grimaces, gently pushing Gojo with two of her fingers, Geto snickering from behind them in amusement. He could clearly see why his best friend liked to irritate her, and she made it all the more fun by not lashing out like Utahime does. Her annoyance with Gojo’s antics was like a pressure cooker, building up until it exploded.

“Now, we’ll be recording this whole session,” Nanami spoke, dismissing Gojo’s antics, “We’ll let you know when we start rolling the cameras. I assume you both have memorised your lines?”

“Of course, who do you think we are, amateurs?” Gojo chuckled, not missing the way Nanami rolled his eyes.

“Then we’ll start in three… two… action.”

Himiko takes a deep breath before turning to Gojo, running her hand through her hair, getting into character, her expression morphing the moment her eyes meet Gojo’s.

He can almost feel his heart wrench with the hurt in her eyes, and he sees exactly why she’s made it as far as she has as a rising actress. The crack in her voice really sells it all for him.

“So what now?” She whispers, her eyes filled with betrayal and ruin, “You’re just gonna take off and leave me alone again?”

Tears began to appear in her eyes, and Gojo felt his heart lurch seeing her pretty lilac eyes all glossy and shiny, tears falling from her eyes that glimmered like amethysts. His hands reached up to touch her cheeks, his expression softening into a matching one of heartbreak.

“Baby, that’s… that’s not it at all,” He shakes his head, his voice soft. “I promise, I promise I’ll come back. I could never leave you, not even if I tried.”

“Then stay.”

Gojo couldn’t tell if it was the way she leaned into his palm when she said it, or if it was her watery amethyst eyes, but it made a knot grow in his stomach. He tucks her ebony hair behind her ear, cupping her cheeks as his thumb swipes over her waterline.

“I’ll stay,” He whispered, “Just for tonight. Just for tonight, I’m yours.”

“I don’t want it to be just for tonight,” Her hand clasped his, tearing it away from her face as she entwined her fingers with his, “I want to be by your side as long as you’ll have me, whether it’s for months or years.”

Himiko’s heart fluttered like a bird in her chest having Gojo’s blue eyes staring so intently at her, so gently, as though just the slightest touch of his fingers would break her.

She couldn’t deny that he was attractive, it was a worldwide fact at this point – however, Himiko refused to boost Gojo’s ego further, even if she couldn’t help the pink blush that grew on her cheeks as Gojo’s face neared hers.

“Then I guess we’re stuck together for a long time,” He cupped her cheeks again, leaning down to gently press his forehead on hers. Himiko’s breathing hitched as he softly placed his lips on hers.

She felt her eyes slowly close and her lips glide over his soft ones, their kiss soft and gentle, and she felt herself get lost in his touch, letting herself lean into his touch as he still cupped her face.

“And, that’s a wrap,” Nanami called out, the two actors pulling away, Himiko’s cheeks dusted with a warm shade of pink as her frown returned, clearing her throat into her fist. She could feel Satoru’s eyes on the back of her neck as she turned back to Nanami, smiling at him as she put on her façade of confidence.

Utahime’s was one of disgust, but really, when was she ever not disgusted at Gojo?

“That concludes today’s session, so you’re both free to go. Thank you,” The blonde-haired man curtly nodded his head. He didn’t say much, only turning to Utahime as the two began to talk in hushed whispers, Geto lingering around as Himiko dashed out, Gojo following hot on her trail.

Neither began to question why they returned on set a few weeks later, holding hands, and a scarf around Himiko’s neck despite the warm weather.

taglist: @mooncleaver @underwateredwrld @mcmisbehaving @neteyamrealgf @khany2026 @tinkerbelle05 @iheartamajiki @sad-darksoul @yunymphs @cindol @rrairey @yurislotusgarden @kesshavx

< comment/dm me if you’d like to be on the taglist! >

#sam writes !#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen anime #gojo #gojo jjk #ocs #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satory x reader #oc #jujutsu kaisen oc #jjk oc #jjk angst #jjk actor au #actor au

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idyllicbarb · 1 year

Text

Intentions

SUMMARY: He’s the next quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals, his family believes a wife will make his image look picture perfect. Your family wants you to get marry before you hit twenty-five, it’s the best match!

WARNINGS: kissing, cussing, angst, dirty talk, small smut, etc

NOTE: this is set in a covid free world + you and joe’s parents are evil in this book sorry!

“I have to get married? That’s bullshit!”

“Joseph Lee Burrow, you watch your goddamn mouth.”

Joe rolls his eyes before storming out of his family house to his Porsche. His parents just told him he has to get married before being drafted into the NFL. They want Joe’s image to be picture-perfect. Joe doesn’t get it, since he’s so young, just graduated college and finally getting a taste of adult-life.

You on the other hand, were dealing with parents who want you to also get married so early. Your parents got married soon as they hit college, but you’re not them. You didn’t want to be like your parents.

“I’ve found the perfect husband for you.” Your mother announces, you peer your eyes in her direction in irritation. What even is a perfect husband?

“He can’t be a perfect husband, mother. Nobody on this earth is perfect.” You roll your eyes putting your attention back on the movie you put on for your younger siblings.

“Non-sense, sweetheart. You’ll meet him at the event we have to attend as a family for a close friend of your father and I.” Your mother states before walking away leaving you to skull in silence. There’s no way that being a wife so early to a man who is nine times out of ten— a control freak is your new reality.

Groaning, you walk upstairs to your childhood bedroom and slam the door as hard as you can. “Don’t you be slamming anything in my house, missy!” You hear your father yell from the stairs.

You flop on your bed, “Fuck my life.”

It’s the day of the event. Which means you’re meeting your soon to be husband, the word husband rolling off your tongue makes you want to puke.

You’re standing in front of your mirror looking over your outfit for the tenth time. You didn’t want to walk out that door and meet somebody who’ll probably hurt you more than you’ve ever been in your life.

Your mother leans against your door with a smile on her face, “Look at you. Dressed as a young lady should be, are you ready?”

“Yes,” You grab your belongings and head towards the door before your mother grabs your wrist lightly. “Don’t mess up our family’s reputation, do you understand me?”

You tilt your head and laugh in annoyance before aggressively pulling your wrist away from your mother, “You care more about this family “reputation”, more than you care about how forcing me to marry early is affecting my mental health. Pathetic.”

Walking off to the family car, you huff and relax your shoulders. You were just now realizing today’s going to be a long day.

Joe was re-fixing the clothes his dad laid out for him. It’s stupid, getting married early. What if the woman is already in a relationship? What if Joe doesn’t get along with whoever this young lady is. So many questions with no answers is starting to tick Joe off.

“My precious son! Oh you look handsome, she’s going to love you!” Robin, Joe’s mother, squeals before giving him a big hug. Joe smile doesn’t match his eyes, he could never disappoint his mother.

“Thanks mom.”

“You seem nervous.”

“Pfft. Me? Nervous? Never.”

“Joseph. I know you, you’re my son. You’re nervous about today.”

Joe turns to look at his mother, “Only nervous because I don’t know this woman nor her family and this could go wrong quickly.”

“How can things possibly go wrong?”

“I’m probably not her type. She’ll probably think I’m some kind of slut when finding out that I’m thee LSU Quarterback. The woman probably doesn’t even want to get married, mom. We’re both young.” Joe explains before sitting down on his bed and playing with his bracelets.

“Your father thinks it’s for the best. I wish I could do more, but I can’t. I’m sorry.” Joe’s mother says before kissing his forehead and leaving him alone in his thoughts.

“Joe! Get down here now boy, our event is starting.” Joe’s father yells and Joe groans loudly. Reality’s starting to kick in.

Your family arrives a few minutes late, there’s plenty of cars outside the gigantic house. Your nerves start to kick in, any minute you’ll be meeting the man who is suppose to be your husband. Not paying any attention, the car door opens and you look up in startled.

“Now’s not the time to be acting delayed, Y/N.” Your father says harshly. You roll your eyes before stepping out the vehicle and fixing your clothing.

“I’m not acting delayed, I don’t want to be here putting on a front. Trust, I’m just as annoyed as you are, father.” You shoot back before walking side to side with your mother up the large stairs to the front door.

A few people greet your parents as you give a smile and wave, not knowing who any of these people are. You realize, you don’t know what your parents do outside of work. Whatever it is, it landed them to forcing you to marry a rich man with parents who are evil.

The door opens and you’re met with an older man whose wearing a suit. He looks familiar but you can’t figure out why, “Angie! Good to see you again. This must be Y/N. Your Prince Charming has been waiting for your arrival.”

You laugh, not really liking the joke. But of course, you can’t disappoint your parents. You and your mother step inside the house, “Why yes, it’s lovely to see you again as well, Jim. My husband is getting our other kids out the car, is Joe ready to meet Y/N?”

Joe? Your eyes squint around the house, looking at all the purple and yellow decorations. No, this cannot be who you’re thinking it is.

“Yes. He’s helping out in the back, we should all walk out there.” Jim suggests before looking your way, you nod and send Jim a smile before heading out to the backyard.

You stop in your tracks when you see the one and only, Joe Burrow. Yes, the same man who is LSU’s savior and predicted to be drafted in the NFL. No, he can’t be the man your parents want you to marry.

Jim calls Joe over, he pats Joe’s large shoulders before pointing over at you, “Son, this is your soon to be wife, Y/N.” Joe looks over at you and you almost feel your knees give out.

“Nice to meet you,” You say first holding your hand out for Joe to shake, in which he does but only for a short minute. After, you turn your eyes towards your mother she smiles at you.

“Well, we’ll leave you two to it, right Angie?” Jim says and your mother says something before walking off but you’ve muted her in your head. Joe stares in the direction of his dad for a bit before looking over at you.

You feel his eyes on you, “What?”

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“What is there for me to say?” You roll your eyes, already irritated by the heat and by this whole situation.

“No need to be rude, I just wanted to know you, well, I have to know you. Since you’re going to be my future wife.” Joe says putting on his famous Cartier glasses.

“Why would I be impressed of being the wife of a NFL quarterback? You’re going to have other women on you anyways.” You state before walking back inside the house to get some shade. Not even bothered enough to see if Joe has followed you inside, you go to find the bathroom to fix yourself.

Closing the door behind you, you stare at yourself in the mirror. “This can’t be my fucking life,” you mumbled under your breath. Fixing your appearance up, you head out the bathroom to come in contact with your father.

“How’s things going with you and Joesph?”

“I think you and mother have very low expectations of me. I will not be a NFL wife, are you insane?” You question your father and he laughs at the expression that’s plastered on your face.

“Sweetheart, it’s for a good cause.” Your dad says, attempting to reassure you.

“What exactly would that good cause be? I am so much more than a future wife of a NFL quarterback who is cheating on her.” You cross your arms in frustration, not realizing that Joe can hear your entire conversation from only a few feet away.

“Y/N.. how do I put it like this? It doesn’t matter what you think! It never once did, don’t ruin what your mother and I built for this family. Understood young lady? ‘Cause I could care a goddamn less about how you feel about things you’re creating in that mine of yours.” Your dad says lowly while staring directly into your eyes.

Your lips tremble as if you’re six years old again, you walk off down the hall so nobody will have to see the tears fall down your face. Joe turns his eyes when your father walks inside the kitchen, maybe now he sees as to why you’re upset. Joe doesn’t want you to be unhappy while he’s having a time of his life on the field. Your parents basically want you to be a stay at home wife.

Joe walks out of the kitchen in attempt to get his dad to cancel this whole ordeal.

“That I cannot do.” Jim says with a cigar lightly hanging out his mouth.

“Why is that?”

“Both parties involved already agreed to everything being set in place. You two get married and you have the best NFL career ever.” Jim says before taking a puff out of his cigar.

“This isn’t something that I want, dad.” Joe says gaining a laugh from his father.

“Quite frankly Joseph? I don’t give a damn about what you want. This is for our family and Y/N’s family. You and her can try to reason with us all you want, but ain’t not a got damn thing changing. Clear?” Jim tells his son before standing up out his office chair.

“Now, you get out of here and get that young lady to act like a wife to you boy! Quit trying to act different, I raised you better than this, Joseph.” Joe’s dad says before closing his office door on his son.

“Fuck it,” Joe says under his breath before walking off to find you. He has an idea in mind, only if you can cooperate with him.

You’re back outside standing off to the side scrolling through whatever TikTok you find amusing when a shadow stands in front of you. Turning off your phone, you see Joe smile, and it’s the kind of smile that you didn’t know you needed to see. Though his charming ways still don’t rub off on you in a good light.

“Yes, Mr. Burrow?” You question with a fake smile across your face. Joe feels himself almost go hard at you saying his name last but plays it off.

“I have an idea, only if you’re willing to listen.”

“Hm, maybe I am.”

Trying to take Joe serious as you sit in his Star Wars’ childhood bedroom is getting difficult. Cute to see that he’s never changed his room. He notices your small smile, “What’s so funny?”

“I think it’s adorable that your room is Star Wars themed.”

“Adorable? I bet your room is Dora or some shit.” He mutters sitting down in his gamer chair.

“It’s actually Princess and The Frog.”

“You look like a frog.”

“You look like Chewbacca.”

“Take that back!”

You stand up getting in the face of Joe, “Make me.”

“I wouldn’t say those words if I was you, not while being in my room with the doors closed and locked.” Joe smirks seeing you slowly back away, he gets up grabbing your arm softly pulling you into him.

“What’s the matter? You scared?” Joe teases.

“Never scared, I said make me, Burrow.” You shoot him a sinister grin not realizing what’s in store for you. Before you know it, Joe has you bent over his lap with your skirt down to your ankles.

“I should spank you, do you want that?”

“No..” You whimper feeling Joe trail his finger up and down your nicely shaved legs.

“Seems like it. You’ve been mean to me up until now, that’s not fair.” You put your head down only for Joe to lift it back up.

“I’ll be good to you.”

“You promise me?” Joe asks leaning closer to your lips, planting a small kiss on them before pulling back.

“Yes I promise.. kiss me again please.” You request, closing your eyes when feeling his soft plump lips on yours. It seems as if you’re in Heaven.

“I want to fuck you so bad right now, but you’d have to cover your moans and I don’t want that, mama.” Joe says pulling you up on his lap, your skirt still around your ankles.

“Maybe we can.. sixty nine?” You suggest, seeing Joe’s eyes go directly to lust. He takes his pants and shoes off in an instant, grabbing your hips placing your head directly towards his crotch area.

“I’m pretty big, just saying.” Joe brags before pulling down your panties slowly.

“I can handle you, trust.” You shoot back, squeezing his dick softly.

You don’t give Joe enough time to reply, because your mouth is already on his balls, taking them one at a night. Joe mumbles, “Fuck,” under his breath before kissing around your mound.

You both moan at the pleasure that you two are giving each other right now. Never did you think this day would involve you getting ate out from the back, and boy was Joe doing a damn good job.

You were still not giving his dick any attention, attempting to tease him but it didn’t work. Not while he’s leaving kisses on your pussy, making your hips buckle in response.

You finally move your mouth towards his dick, trailing your tongue up and down causing Joe to shiver in response. Him moaning on your pussy makes you do the same, you take Joe slowly, trying to get used to his massive size. He at some points hits the back of your throat while tears roll down your face, but you don’t care.

Gagging on Joe’s dick made you feel proud, you didn’t know why. Maybe it’s because of the way Joe’s moaning your name right now or how you can feel him about to cum in your mouth.

Joe stops eating you out, catching his breath, “Do you want to cum at the same time?” He asks and you give him a thumbs up, too busy in trying to him nut. Which Joe grunts under his breath before putting his mouth back on your pussy.

It doesn’t take that long before Joe’s cum is shooting inside of your throat and you’re leaving a wet mess all over Joe’s face. Swallowing all of his load, you turn to see Joe licking up everything you gave him. He sends you a shit eating grin, you slowly get off Joe, not until he’s pulling you into his side.

“You were right.” Joe blurts out after a minute of quietness. You hum in response, too lazy to actually open your mouth.

“You can handle me.”

You giggle before turning your head to see Joe already staring into you. Leaning down, he plants a small kiss on your lips.

“We can nap for a while, they probably won’t care.” Joe says rubbing your arm and you nod your head before tucking yourself into Joe, falling into a blissful nap.

It’s an hour later, you and Joe have rejoined the party. Fixing yourself up the best you could, your mother noticed something off about you, but she’s ignoring it.

You were currently grabbing yourself a drink when Joe slowly creeps up behind you, “Hey mama.”

You turn your head, giving Joe a meaningful smile this time. Kissing his lips softly, “Hi.”

“Our parents want to speak to the both of us.” Joe says before grabbing your hand and walking you over to where your parents are standing.

“Joe and Y/N! It’s great to see that you two have rejoined us.” Robin, Joe’s mother says with a smile on your face.

“Sorry, we got carried away with watching a movie in my room.” Joe tells his mother, not being able to look her in the eyes. You hide the laugh that wants to spill from your mouth.

“Well, it seems as if you two get along just well, right?” Your mother asks you, staring into you so that you won’t say a stupid response.

“Yes, we do. She means a lot to me, and I’m happy that you four set this up for us to meet.” Joe pulls you into his chest, you nod your head smiling at you and Joe’s parents. Yeah, this being your new reality doesn’t seem bad. Well, it doesn’t seem bad for you and Joe. You and his parents have no idea for what’s in store for them come draft season.

#joe burrow #joeburrow #joeburrow fanfiction #joeburrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joeburrow fic #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow imagine #nfl #cincinnati bengals

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josiesullysblog · 1 year

Text

Pandora

~AGED UP Neteyam x Avatar reader

~Angst, fluff

~Proofread?-no

~Summary-okay this might be long, but the reader is very into science. She dreams of being become a scientist, but her dreams are quickly denounced when her mother wants her to marry. In a pit of rage, she runs off and ends up somewhere new.

~Note-I’m SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY! My real life has been catching up to me, and I have finals coming up! Outcast should be posted by Sunday since I’ll be unable to write any other day :( but until I can write I’ll be posting drafts.

***

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always been connected to the forest. Your mother says if at any point she cannot find you, she knows you were somewhere in the forest.

It was like your scared place, nobody could mess with you there. You blame this connection on your father, he was a scientist, and when you were one year old, he surrounded you with his work. You don't remember everything, obviously, but you remember people.

A woman, she was nice but spent much time in her studies. And a man in a wheelchair, he was fun he always played with you. Although he always seemed to be going somewhere else.

Your father rarely let you out of his grasp, but when he did you explored everything in the forest. Your mind and body were one and you could truly be free, but at some point, we all have to grow up.

You can't remember much else about your father, but he died trying to protect you. Your mother never talks about it, and you don't bring it up. But you still feel connected to your father, like you know he is watching over you.

It's the main reason you wanted to become a scientist, to finish what he began. Your mother was very against this, she said it was far too dangerous and you should stick with a job like a teacher. You never listened to her, your mind was set on being a scientist.

“Come on, [Y/n] we can't keep them waiting!” your mother knocked on your door again. You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you wore a dress you’d never choose and had your hair in a style that didn't suit your face.

“Mother, why are you doing this again?” you opened the door and your mother quickly dragged you down the stairs. “It is always nice to meet with the Smiths! They invited us so we will go,” you got in the car and sighed. You were meant to be researching more into your father's study.

He wrote of a place far from here, one that took six years to get to but somehow only took him a few seconds. The rest of the work is torn up as if someone hadn't wanted anyone to know the rest.

You studied his work every day since you found it. You wish you got to meet the man everybody spoke of, but you sadly don't carry many memories with the man.

“Please do not talk anyone's ears off with nonsense talking,” you weren't even paying attention to a word coming from her mouth. Your eyes raced with the trees, “the smiths have a lovely back garden, maybe if you behave they’ll let you in it,” you lit up at the idea, “okay!”

When you both pulled up, you noticed how everyone dressed nicely, “what are we celebrating here?” your mother checked your outfit once more, “we don't need to celebrate something to dress nicely, [Y/n],” you sighed and walked inside.

Everyone waved at you, which was weird since they never spoke with you. You sat on the couch, closest to the sliding door. “Penny for your thought?” you turned and noticed, James, the oldest Smith child, “just thinking.”

He smiled sitting down next to you, “you're rather an odd one,” you gave him a face, “i’m not odd, I just do things differently.” He laughed, “there is nothing interesting in the garden, yet your eyes cling to it,” you looked at him.

“I was just imaging what it be like to live in the woods,” it was his turn to make a face, “probably terrible, such thoughts are better left in the mind.”

You looked away, you weren't in the mood to cause trouble so you chose to be nice, “I guess.”

He stood up quickly clearing his throat. “Meet me in the garden, I have a little surprise waiting for you,” you nodded before walking off. You would rather be anywhere but here, you rather be studying, playing in the forest, or just staring at a wall.

You thought you became a little dumber every time you hung out with your mother's “friends.” They were no fun at all, and their children were annoying to be around.

“You should head to the garden,” a little boy came up to you, “don't listen to him, he has nothing important to say,” a girl his same age came talking next. “At least people listen when I speak,” the boy hit the girl causing a mini fight.

“Let go of me, penis face!” the girl yelled causing a laugh to fall from your lips, “how about we head there together,” they stopped and you three headed in the back.

It was breathtaking, you couldn't help but walk a little faster then the two children. “Gorgeous,” you whispered under your breath.

You let the sun kiss your face, you let the wind pick your hair, and you listened to the songs of the birds. You sat down on the grass, till a voice could be heard, “there you are we’ve been looking for you,” James looked at you funny while you stood up.

He led you to the gazebo under a big oak tree, “stay here,” everyone seemed to pour in as he turned around. Your mother smiled big at you, “smile,” she mouthed at you. You smiled at her request confused as to why everyone was watching, James fell to one knee and grabbed your hands, “[Y/n] [L/n], will you be my wife?”

So, this is what everything is about? The reason everyone is all dressed up and watching you? To see you become engaged? You took your hands back, flashing an awkward smile, “where is this coming from?” James laughed, “this has been in the plans for months,” you couldn't believe your mother would do this to you.

You touched your forehead, “I need a moment.” You ran in the opposite direction, they were the last people you wanted to see.

How could your mother throw something like this on you? She didn't even ask if you wanted to marry, and she knew you were planning on being a scientist. That's when it hit you, she wanted to marry you off so wouldn't end up like your father.

You walked deeper, letting mad mumbles leave your mouth, “I decide who I marry, and it will certainly not be that boy!” As you walked, your dress became stuck on a branch, “and this excuse of a dress,” you tugged hard on the dress.

“I’ll be dammed if i’m forced to marry that man, I’ll run away!” anger engulfed your body. You tugged harder the dress finally letting loose, but not without a rip. “[Y/n]!” you heard your name and began running. You didn't know where you were headed but getting caught was the last thing you needed.

As you ran you kept turning around trying to see who was behind you, but you saw nothing. You were running so fast, you hadn't noticed the big tree in front of you.

You collided with it, blacking out at impact. The voice that called for you stopped, and the footsteps stopped it became very peaceful.

Jake watched as his children played. He never dreamed of having children, his mind was moving too fast for that. Until he met you, barely even a baby a fresh toddler with so much energy.

Everyone was a bit weary of him at first, they wanted his brother. The one who trained his whole life to see this planet, yet they ended up stuck with Jake.

But you wanted to play with him the moment you met him. You played with him, made him laugh, and always treated him with kindness. It was like you didn't even realize he was in a wheelchair, you just wanted a friend.

That's the good thing about children, they always see the good in you before judging.

Grace played with you sometimes, although she was more busy working you could tell she held a soft spot for you.

You were a human child, he wondered how you even got there. Your father was the smartest man alive, he figured out a way to travel from earth to Pandora in six minutes.

Your father was absolutely smitten with you. Showing you what he was working on, always finding something to keep you busy. He loved you even in his last moments, he loved you.

Jake regrets letting you go back to earth, it was selfish of him but he just had a feeling this is where you belong. Especially after knowing you can breathe pandora air without a mask.

It was actually the first time you met Neytiri, your father had been distracted for a few seconds, and you wandered off.

Now any other human would immediately start gasping for air, but you were different it didn't affect you at all. You were perfectly fine and played with flowers, till you heard Jake and Neytiri laughing.

They had been sitting by the river, letting the sun hit them when you walked over. You giggled loudly running right into Jake’s arms.

“Jake!” you grabbed hold of his ears playing with them. “I thought humans couldn't breathe without those masks,” Neytiri looked at you weirdly. She hated humans and couldn't believe the fact she was looking at one so small.

“Let's go back to daddy, [Y/n],” he grabbed you and walked you towards your father's study. “Stay right here,” he couldn't open the front door and left you there as he tried to find an alternative.

Your eyes landed back on the other lady, and your legs carried you back to where she was. She was watching the river as it sang a song you giggled a little walking slowly, “hello.”

The woman turned and looked at you funny, “where is Jake? How’d you get here?” you laughed as you didn't understand what she had said.

She stood up and started motioning for you to leave, “go away! Go back to Jake, human child,” you smiled and grabbed her hand hugging it, “[Y/n]!” you said your name.

“And i’m Neytiri,” she felt her heart soften as you laughed, “up, up!” you started jumping for her to pick you up. She pretended to not care, but she still picked you up.

Your hands immediately touched her ears, she watched as your eyes lit up, and your fingers then traced her freckles and you let out a happy laugh, “pretty!”

“[Y/n]!” Jake ran back for you, he stopped as he watched the scene. Neytiri became absolutely smitten with you, laughing as you tried playing with her tail. “She is very cute,” Neytiri said acknowledging Jake’s presence.

You played with the two of them for a few minutes, but they were enough to have Jake wondering what it would be like to start a family with Neytiri.

She was so gentle with you, he didn't know if it was because she didn't want to hurt you, or because you were so small. He looked back on these memories with fondness.

“What are you thinking about,” Neytiri wrapped an arm around his waist bringing him back to reality.

“Her,” he wished you were able to grow up with his kids. Neytiri never liked humans, but for you, she held a special spot in her heart.

“Daddy, watch me!” Tuk jumped from a high rock landing on her feet. Tuk reminded Jake of your spirit always eager to learn.

“Good job!” Tuk ran into his arms, laughing. Neytiri also found herself thinking about you, “you guys seem lost in thought today,” Kiri said she noticed how absent-minded the both of them were acting. “We are thinking of the past,” Neytiri smiled bittersweet at the memories.

Neteyam's parents, of course, told them what happened before they were born, but he knew they didn't tell the whole story.

“She was only a year older than Neteyam,” Jake started, “she was a very energetic child, for a human child,” Tuk eyes widen, “there was another human baby here before Spider!”

Neytiri nodded, “she was different from him, she could breathe the air here,” the children's eyes widen at the thought of their mother liking a human. “She was very brave, even for being so small.”

“She saved me and your father, children,” Neytiri would never forget the bravery you showed even though you were still small.

Neteyam’s interest grew as his parents spoke of you. He wanted to meet the brave human child, “what happened to her?”

Neytiri's eyes fell, “well, her father passed so they sent her to live with her mother back on earth.” Lo’ak thought for a minute, “but I thought babies couldn't go back?” Jake nodded, “they can't but her father-.”

“AHHHHHHH,” a scream was heard through the forest. Tuk clung to her father quickly, “what was that?” Jake handed Tuk to Kiri as he placed a hovering hand over his knife.

“Stay behind me,” Neytiri stood closely as they came closer, a Na’vi sat on the floor looking at her hands. When Tuk noticed it wasn't a threat she ran toward her, “are you okay?”

A blood-curdling scream came out of the girl as she pushed herself away, “STAY AWAY.”

Your eyes landed on Jake, and his heart stopped beating. Neytiri came closer, trying to grab Tuk when she stopped as well. They’d recognize those big eyes anywhere, “[Y/n].”

When you had awoken, you didn't remember anything. Well, you remembered why you ran off, but you didn't remember tripping or falling.

You attempted to stand up but fell quickly. It was like you were in a new body, so when you looked down at your hands and saw blue you couldn't help but scream. Had you fallen in paint? You felt your body and realized you were no longer human at all. You took a deep breath in, “must be a dream.”

That was the only logical way to explain how this could happen. You examined your hand, you must've been starting for a long period of time you hadn't noticed the little Na’vi girl come in front of you.

“Are you okay?” you let a scream out, covering your mouth afterward to stop yourself. You heard bushes move and noticed another blue Na’vi come out, “[Y/n],” you couldn't believe he said your name.

“I thought she was human,” the girl in front of you spoke as another one came out the pushes, “I don't think this is her,” someone spoke from behind the large man. “Maybe she is,” a tall boy spoke. He immediately went quiet when you made eye contact, looking anywhere but at you.

Neteyam felt like he was going to vomit just looking at you. You were absolutely stunning, although you looked lost. Your eyes traveled to everyone, “she’d be human if she were [Y/n],” you stood up stabilizing yourself with a sigh, “how could I be the wrong [Y/n]” if this is my dream?”

You rubbed your arm, which had a nasty cut from falling earlier, “who are all of you anyway?” You assumed you’d be waking up from this lucid dream soon enough, so why not talk to the people.

“I’m Tuk! That’s my sister Kiri!” the little girl pointed at a girl who waved at you. You gave a smile back, “that's my brother Lo’ak, and that's my other brother, Neteyam.”

You nodded at Lo’ak and went to do the same to Neteyam, but his eyes were stuck on you. “Hello,” you spoke to him breaking him from his trance. “Hi,” he spoke shyly.

“And these are our parents-,” Neytiri cut the girl off, “Neytiri and Jake,” she assumed their name would jog your memory but you didn't say anything, “cool names, and you guys already know mine.”

“Let us bring you to Mo’at, she can heal your arm,” Kiri came forward and began dragging you. “I’ll be alright when I wake up, no need!”

Everyone looked at you funny but kept walking, “how come she hasn't remembered?” Neytiri whispered to Jake who shrugged, “give her time it's been a while.”

Your eyes lit up as you watched the scenery around you, “this place is amazing!” you faced Neteyam, “my father was a scientist!”

Neteyam watched as you stopped every five seconds to look at something, “my mother said he was crazy smart,” Neteyam smiled, “you must be then.”

“Oh, i’m not up to his level yet, but hopefully by next year I’ll be sure to be even smarter!” Jake smiled he knew you’d probably outgrow your father's smartness.

“Who is this Mo’at person?” you looked at Neteyam to answer but he said nothing so Kiri spoke up, “she is our tribe Tsahik,” you nodded as you all walked closer, “Tsahik,” you muttered the word under your breath.

“We're here!” Kiri brought you to sit down as an older woman walked in. She smiled big at you, “who are you?” the woman grabbed your arm examining the cut, “Mo’at?” the woman made eye contact with you, “no, i’m Mo’at the question is who are you.”

“[Y/n],” you winced as she began fixing the cut, “the [Y/n]?” you shrugged, “is there another one of me walking around here?” the woman gave you a smile, “last time we spoke you could barely walk, let alone speak.”

You looked at her funny, “we’ve met before?” she laughed as Jake walked in, “I think she might have hit her head on her way here!” Jake gave a sad smile, “you are to be a Tsahik in training very soon, we can't have one with memory loss.”

Your eyes widen as the woman finally finished your arm, “Tsahik in training? What is she talking about?” you stood up facing them, “you’re [Y/n] are you not?” Jake questioned you, “Mo’at you remember her, you'd know if she was her.”

“Not hardly,” Neteyam walked in as Jake sighed, “you looked so much like her,” Even though you were blue now, Jake swore he’d be able to recognize your smile and your eyes. You backed up walking into Neteyam, “this is just a dream.”

Neteyam looked at you weirdly, “i’m going to wake up and be back in my room,” you pinched yourself yet nothing changed. You pinched yourself harder, and this time Neteyam put a hand over yours stopping you. “Okay, maybe this isn't a dream.”

“Maybe if I brought you by the waterfall it help jog your memory,” Neteyam smiled at you. You nodded as he led you out of the room, “there is no memory to come back, you guys have the wrong girl!” Jake watched as you left the room.

“She was picked by Eywa,” Mo’at said, “she will sooner or later learn her fate,” Jake nodded, “I just wish things didn't go down the way they did.” Mo’at nodded, “we all wish things were different.”

You sat by the peaceful waterfall in silence. Unbeknownst to you, this was the very one you met Neytiri at, “remember yet?” you shook your head. “You said your father was a scientist, what was he like?”

You shrugged looking at him, “wouldn't know he died when I was younger. But I still feel connected to him, I have all his old diaries.”

You smiled at Neteyam which made his heart flutter, “he spoke of me in them, he said he loved me more than anything. Can you imagine loving someone is much, you’d die for them?”

Neteyam nodded, “yea, I understand,” you blushed looking away, “I wish I could stay here,” you knew whenever you found your way home, you’d be forced back to reality which was marrying that boy.

“Then stay, we could explore the forest every day together!” he grabbed your hands looking into your eyes. “I wish but my mom would hate it,” you felt so comfortable opening up to Neteyam it was like you’d known him your whole life.

“She’s forcing me to marry someone,” Tears welled up in your eyes thinking about it. “I’m my own person and it feels like she just wants to get rid of me.” Neteyam kissed your knuckles, “it's going to be okay.”

Neteyam let you rant, he listened only speaking to calm you, he hugged you and you felt so safe. You both were put till late, talking about different things.

“Sky people have been terrorizing us for a long time,” you listened as he explained how his father used to be one of them, but Eywa chose him, “Eywa saw him and let him become one of the people.”

“What do you mean she saw him?” Neteyam smiled, “when someone says they see you, they don't mean literally they mean they see into you.”

You still looked a little confused so he did a hand gesture, “I see you, [Y/n], I see into you, I see the raw version, not just the one you put up for others,” you smiled big, “I see you Neteyam.”

He smiled, “do you still not remember?” you sighed, “I don't remember anything Neteyam, I wish I could!” A sudden movement in the bushes caused Neteyam to jump in front of you, “let's head back.”

As you both moved quickly, a hand grabbed you by the hair pulling you away from Neteyam, “Neteyam!” you reached out for him but he was grabbed by his queue.

He yelled out in pain, and a memory came back to mind. A man screamed as he was being held by his hair, “look at this pretty little thing,” the man behind you held you firmly as he sniffed you. “Let go of her,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Please let him go,” you tried moving but it was futile, a larger man came out smiling, and Neteyam's eyes widen at the man. “Surprised?” tears rolled down your cheeks as he came closer to you, “don't cry, pretty girl but it seems your boyfriend might've forgotten to tell you who I am.”

“They call me Quaritch, but you can call me Miles.” He flashed you a smile as the man behind you laughed. “DON’T TOUCH HER!” Neteyam screamed causing the man to look at him.

“Good catch, you caught his oldest son,” the man grabbed Neteyam, “here's what's going to happen, little lady here is going to tell Jake Sully we have his son,” he shook Neteyam a bit, “or else i’m going to kill him.”

The man let go of you and you tried running to get to Neteyam, “Stop, please!” Neteyam was dragged away but not before you heard him yelling, “it's going to be okay, my love.”

They left as soon as they came, leaving you to your tears. You wiped your tears and stood up quickly, heading back to Jake. You were going to get Neteyam back.

***

I’m excited to see if you guys like this one! Hopefully, I really liked this idea! Hope you enjoy it!

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