#sorry this is so late anon 💛💛💛

[nottsangel]

hear me out: threesome with Cedric and Theo. Cedric is this praising lil baby who’s in charge of actual smashing wheras Theo is a degrading shite who’s more focused on getting you to choke on him.

-💛

THIS IS MY NEW DREAM THREESOME GAWD they’d be SO perfect together !!!!!!!!!! cedric’s sweet and gentle nature would be a perfect combination with theo’s roughness. at one hand, you have cedric, praising and kissing your body, slowly rubbing your sensitive clit, while on the other hand, theo’s calling you all kinds of filthy names as he makes you gag on his cock, his hands roughly grasping a handful of your hair 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[kissofthemis]

hello!! i saw request of reader saving nxx boys from people flirting/harassing them so i was thinking could you write about the opposite? id love to see nxx boys being protective^_^ love your writing!!

Thank you for the kind words, anon! Sorry for the wait!

❤️ Artem ❤️

"Yes, I have plans tonight. Yeah, tomorrow night as well. I'm a rather busy person, honestly...."

Despite your best efforts to deflect the stranger's attempts at flirting, clearly "no" was a hard concept for this pushy person to grasp. Artem could not blame you for not wanting to be direct; you were kind and courteous, never wanting to offend others or hurt their feelings if you could avoid it.

But this arrogant persistence was a force to be reckoned with.

"My phone number? To schedule something later? Ah..."

Artem Wing could hardly call himself a champion of justice if he allowed someone so conceited and disrespectful to be victorious here.

"Are you ready to head home?"

You seemed a bit startled as Artem appeared beside you, but the relief in your eyes was evident. "Y-yes. I just finished up for the day."

Artem nodded briskly. "Excellent. I took out chicken this morning, and I was wondering if you'd rather have it grilled or breaded & stir-fried. We can discuss in the car."

He gave a quick glance to the stranger who'd been pestering you, who had become strangely silent once Artem had shown up. The look in the attorney's eyes was collected and calm, but sharp with an iciness that could freeze one to the bone.

"Have a good evening."

More indirect than his usual style, but intense enough to get the point across.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💛 Luke 💛

"I'm in a hurry, I'm sorry."

"Can't even give me your number? Just your number, for when you aren't busy?"

"I... I'm running late...."

The discomfort in your voice was evident as Luke turned the corner to pick you up after work. Evidently he should have chosen a better spot to meet up, because this corner was swarming with pushy, insensitive animals.

"Swarming" may not have been the correct term, but just one scumbag harassing you was one too many in Luke's eyes.

"You're so cold." What a pitiful whine. "Would it kill you to smile and be friendly?"

"You want a smile, huh?"

Luke pulled up to your side at that moment, and he firmly placed his hand on your shoulder as he stared the harasser down. "You're not much to smile at, hotshot, but I'll do my best."

"Who the hell are you, kid? Get lost."

Agitation. A natural response when a greedy predator comes face to face with a rival.

But Luke had no qualms about knocking a small fry down a peg or two.

The corners of his mouth turned upward into a smirk, and he stretched his lips into a wide, toothy grin. At least, his face read "grin," but the light in his smile did not reach his eyes, which only swarmed with smoking fury and threatening shadow, like a stormcloud about to burst.

Perhaps it was the unsettling, cocky grin that made this fool step back. Perhaps it was the bloodlust in Raven's gaze. In any event, a loud curse was the only word of farewell before the nuisance turned and headed off. Luke felt as though he were watching a small dog stomp off with its tail between its legs.

"L-Luke..." you began cautiously. The brunet turned to you curiously, his eyes now sparkling and his mouth set in a lopsided, well-meaning smile. At the sudden change in demeanor, you couldn't help but let out a loq chuckle. "You're going to give someone a heart attack one of these days, you big guard dog."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💜 Marius 💜

Backed against a wall.

This wasn't the first time someone had inquired into your relationship with the Marius von Hagen, president of Pax, but...

"Good morning! Meeting Mr. von Hagen? How does he take his coffee? Would you answer a couple of que--"

You slammed the door in the paparazzi's face. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that getting caught on one outing with Marius would result in nosy reporters coming to your home!

With a sigh you slid down against the front door, landing in an unceremonious heap on the floor. How were you supposed to leave today? Or any day? You had errands to run, tasks to do, bills to pay, and you really, really wanted to check out the craft fair at Central Plaza this weekend!

A soft buzzing in your pocket distracted you temporarily from your growing worries.

"See you in 10."

What? Marius was on his way here? Wouldn't that cause even more problems?

You didn't get a chance to assemble your thoughts before a low rumble began to vibrate in your ears and make your entire body shake.

"Go on! Get out of here! You're a public nuisance, and I've got a fantastic attorney! Isn't a guy allowed to have friends?!"

You peered out of your window, and there was Pax's main man, wind whipping his dark bangs in his handsome face. He gripped a megaphone in his hands, looking relaxed and smug, but his knuckles were white with his stress. Vincent must have given him a heads up.

Marius' voice blasting out of the megaphone simultaneously filled you with hope and warmth, but also horror and despair. How would you ever beat the dating allegations now?

More importantly, where was he planning to park a helicopter?!

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💚 Vyn 💚

"Thank you."

You dipped your head politely to acknowledge your gratitude to the stranger who had offered to lead you to the student center. Stellis University's campus looked much different in the evening light, when fewer students were milling about. You should have been able to find it on your own, and yet...

For better or for worse, a young man had noticed you, and when he approached you explained your situation. He had agreed to lead you over, perhaps a bit too gleefully. But you were grateful for the help, and so you acquiesced, but you kept your finger hovering over a "dial" button on your phone just in case.

After your quick goodbye, you spun on your heel to enter the student center.

However, your escort didn't seem too thrilled to see you leaving so speedily.

"That's it?" he huffed. "A half-assed thank you? No phone number, no hug, not even a last name? Are you serious?" His voice kept rising with each word, his tone growing steadily angrier. "I did you a favor by even talking to an ugly brat like you. Have you ever tried smiling with that gloomy face of yours, you miserable fuck?"

Ah. One of those.

You weren't going to dignify that with a response, but then you heard footsteps behind you.

No. Don't come closer. You didn't want any trouble, least of all from an entitled, arrogant--

"Aha. I was afraid I'd have to send campus security out looking for you."

A familiar voice hummed by your ear, and your face lit up with relief. "Dr. Richter!"

A slender but firm hand rested on your shoulder, and you looked up to see bright golden eyes meet yours. Those eyes were like a beacon in the darkening night, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of them.

"The swing dancing starts any minute now. You have impeccable timing, as always." He let out a breathy chuckle.

"That should be my line, Dr. Richter," you retorted lightly.

Of course, the punk behind you hadn't left or stopped shouting. In fact, his rage only seemed to have grown since Vyn appeared, but Vyn paid him absolutely no mind. He must deal with rowdy students regularly, but this was something else entirely.

"Before we go inside," Vyn began, reaching into his coat pocket. "Let's clean you up."

"Hmm?" You didn't think you had any dirt on you, but you didn't protest as Vyn pulled out a silk handkerchief and gently began dabbing at your cheeks, nose, and hands.

"After all," he continued, and he lifted his gaze from your skin. But his eyes didn't go to yours this time; he appeared to be staring past you, at someone else.

You were grateful you couldn't see the exact look in his eyes as he murmured in a voice colder than the night breeze and sharper than a doctor's scalpel, "Spending too much time around ill-mannered, foul-tempered, idiotic boors is proven to be terrible for your health." His voice dropped an octave, and you couldn't help but shiver as he finished,

"And... if they are as foolish as they are filthy, terrible for their health as well."

[specialagentlokitty]

Master chief x reader - slow starts

If you still write for Master Chief could I request Master Chief x reader soulmate AU where they have timers on their wrists ticking down to when they'll meet their soulmate? If you don't write for Master Chief anymore that is absolutely fine. Have a good day😊💛 - Anon💜

Your timer seemed flawed, broken. Compared to everybody else’s timer, yours seems to jump ahead, go backward, sometimes the time would just vanish.

You weren’t sure why this was happening, nobody even after you saw specialist after specialist about it, not even they could give you an answer.

So you learnt to just start ignoring it, you never believed your timer now.

So when you were introduced to John after a mission you had recently completed with him, and your timer buzzed on your wrist, you didn’t think twice.

“Sorry, it’s nice to meet you but I’ve got to go I’m late.” You say, rushing past him.

John watched your leave, he didn’t show any emotion on his face, but he felt his timer go off.

He had wondered if his was fake, simply placed there to make Spartans feel a little more normal.

But there it was, set to zero just after meeting you, and he had heard yours go off but you didn’t even look.

Did you not believe in soulmates?

Did you not want a Spartan as a soulmate?

A lot of thoughts rushed around his head despite him trying to ignore them.

He tried to approach you to talk about your soulmate timers, but he could barely get close to you, there was always an excuse for you to to leave.

As a couple of weeks go past, he feels almost defeated.

John had been through hell and back and never gave up, but not being able to get a conversation out of you almost made him give up.

He watch you walk through the hallways towards the med bay, and immediately took that as his chance.

Getting up John quickly rushed to follow you, quietly slipping into the med bay after you, and he closed the door.

He walked over to you and stood quietly a few feet behind you, towering over you.

“You can’t keep avoiding this.” He said.

He didn’t sound annoyed as such, if anything he sounded a bit more confused than anything else.

“Master chief.” You greeted.

Turning around you sat on one of the med bay beds and he took a few unsure steps closer towards you.

“I don’t understand why you’ve been avoiding me. Do you not want to be my soulmate?”

You sigh slightly, running a hand down your face as you look at him.

“It’s not the simple, my timer isn’t accurate, it’s broken. Sometimes it jumps back and forth between times, sometimes it doesn’t change time or resets. You know just because you have a timer doesn’t mean your soulmate will have a matching one?”

John studied you quietly for a moment and pointed to your wrist.

“Your timer is still set to zero.”

“It’s not trust worthy.”

“You know it’s linked to mine.”

You both just stared at one another for a few minutes.

John wasn’t sure why he was trying to hard to get you to believe in your timer, to believe you were his soulmate.

His whole life he’d gone without needing any sort of relationship with people.

Maybe it came from the knowledge he had a soulmate, or from seeing other people and how happy and normal they were with their soulmates.

“Do you not want to be my soulmate?”

You sigh heavily.

“It’s not that, it’s just I can’t trust my timer.”

John frowned a little bit, taking your wrist he held it out and put his timer next to your, silently comparing something.

Each timer has a small set of numbers in the top right corner, your soulmate would have the same numbers, in the event that people questioned the soulmate timer or something went wrong with them.

John read the numbers and you did the same thing.

They matched.

“You’re my soulmate.” He stated.

He lowered your wrist back to your side.

“I can’t pretend I know anything about this stuff, because I don’t. I also can’t pretend to be the most caring soulmate, I wasn’t trained for this. But I would like to try.”

This made you look up at him in slightly shock.

“You want to try?”

He nodded his head.

“I’ve heard people say dinner is a good start?” He asks a little unsure.

“I uh… yeah…”

“I can’t cook.”

This made you laugh a little, especially at how bluntly he said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I can cook.”

John looked at you, bending his knees slightly so he could bring himself to your height.

“Can we have dinner?”

The slight lost look in his eye mixed with hopefulness made you sigh, and you nodded.

“Yeah, okay. We can have dinner and get to know each other better.”

John nodded and stood back up satisfied, hesitating he gently placed his hand on top of your head before walking away

[kingdumkum]

WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing from Tadashi.

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

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

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

Again.

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

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

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

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

“Baji.”

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

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

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

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Asshole.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did it hurt?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s… wrong with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They don’t deserve you—”

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

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

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

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

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

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills. 

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

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When your gazes meet, you wait.

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

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

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

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

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

“I stopped them.”

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

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

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

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

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

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

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

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

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such an asshole.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t need more encouragement. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loudly.

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

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

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

“M’sorry…”

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

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—” 

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

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

“Ididntmakeit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve never had sex before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

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

“You’re… in love with me?” 

Keisuke blinks.

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

You kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

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

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

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

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sends you over the edge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Kei.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer comes easily.

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

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

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

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

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then how—“

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

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

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

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

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

“Too much?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re big.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The world is only real for the two of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You never realized how empty you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[plleeeepppyyyy]

HELLO!!! I just want to say I really enjoy reading your Wally ficlets! They’re so adorable and you capture his personality nicely 🥹❤️

May I request Wally with a reader who secretly admires him? So much that they write him little notes in secret which expresses their admiration and love towards him?

Thank you!!!

- Cowboy Anon 🤠 💛❤️💙

• wally + secret admirer reader!!

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(why thank you 4 the praises cowboy anon,!!♡︎ also so sorry for posting this so late :( ) i’m finally back writing these!1!1! ngl i’ve been having trouble being consistent and writing. i think i have writers block,, but hopefully you guys enjoy this one!! i was gonna wait till clown dropped more stuff on the 21,, but i decided i was gone for a little bit longer than i wanted so i just HAD to post this one down! (•̀ᴗ•́)

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•now wally is the very observant type, he’s always kept tabs on his friends, just.. everything.

•but, he can’t really seem to figure out who exactly is giving him these little notes! it just confuses him greatly,,

•the first few times these notes have popped up, he def was confused. he went around and asked his neighbors if they were the one who did this or if they knew who did it. but they wouldn’t tell him! it definitely got him more confused.

•when it came to you, you also made up an excuse. you just.. didn’t really have the courage to tell him? plus, you found it really cute on how happy he was when he received the gifts and notes you got him.

•yes, it wasn’t only notes. it was flowers, stuff he would like, even full fledged letters!

•every-time wally received these, he always got so flustered. i just imagine him looking at the flowers you secretly gave him with a confused look, but his smile was still there.

•hell, he even asked home if they knew who it was. it doesn’t really matter if home knew or not, home wouldn’t tell him.

•despite not knowing who was giving him these gifts, he still took great care of it. especially the flowers, he really enjoys the flowers. he always found himself just smiling at them, the fact that someone out there was doing all of this for him had him so, so happy.

•he’ll find himself gushing over these gifts too, maybe to julie, barnaby, anyone. even you, so it definitely was hard to not just yell out that the flowers he was giggling over was yours!

ᕕ༼✿•̀︿•́༽ᕗ

❀❀❀

•nonetheless,,seeing him smile and just happy over these little things you’d do for him, made you so happy. yet, it did give you bit of a doubt, it had you thinking of, “oh, what if he’s expecting julie? or howdy? or anyone else beside me?!” it gives you the shivers just thinking of it.

•meanwhile with wally, he didn’t really think of who would do this for him. barnaby, well he would just pop up with a gift, he wouldn’t lead him on this long.. same with julie, julie would show up with a bunch of handpicked flowers. definitely not frank and eddie! maybe howdy.? not poppy.. she wouldn’t, nor sally. hm, it was a tough thing to think about. but then when he thought of you, he really wondered if it was you. who was doing all of this for him.. but, he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

•so, it remained a huge mystery for him. even so, wally accepted all of these things you’ve sent him. every note and letter, he finds himself reading them daily.. each flower taken care of carefully, any painting supplies and gift taken with gratitude. he definitely was attentive and careful with the stuff. he sent letters once in a while,, basically just thanking you, or “the secret admirer” for all of the gifts. it was a little hard for him to write the letters though, considering he didn’t know who it was!! (ง'̀-'́)ง

•at first not being able to find out who was sending him these gifts made him a little.. droopy, he just wished they could tell him or anything! but,, having the thought of one day showing them how gently and diligently he took care of their gifts made him admittedly a little happy.

•so, it continued on.. you kept sending wally stuff and he just accepted it with a big old smile. julie definitely knew you were doing this, and frankly.. she was annoyed. why couldn’t you just send him it yourself? she would’ve done it for you, and say it was from you!! but that was just julie.. eddie is definitely making a bank sending your notes and such to him. but she does help you, and hopes one day you’ll finally let up!

•pretty much it’s only a few neighbors you tell about this admiring you’ve been doing. but,, julie is a bit too TALKATIVE. so some others find out,, some others figured it out. (ur not very sneaky i guess…)

•it’s a little funny it’s like,, you and wally are just talking and the other neighbors are on the sidelines SCREAMING at you two to finally get some backbone and make it official.. (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)

•the problem with wally is that he’s just too stubborn and he thinks a little too much!! he just doesn’t like to assume and he can’t just outright go to you,, well he would. but he would save you the embarrassment.. if it were you.

•soo one day after soo many attempts to get you two to finally notice or fess up, julie blurted out to wally that it was you!! it was you, you were doing all these things for wally and it was soo obvious!! (in her words at least.)

•around the time, wally actually had a suspicion you were the culprit of these lovely written letters! soo, to say he was happy and a bit unsurprised. he had been paying attention to the way you wrote your letters, and that familiar handwriting was YOUR cute handwriting! he felt a little silly for hesitating to go to you about this whole ordeal. he just had to at least do something in your favor after all of the stuff you gave him.

•he was thinking of a painting for you,, but he wanted to catch you surprised.

•soo, the next day after, he had eddie deliver a bouquet of flowers right to you. obviously in your favorite color as well… he was just attentive like that. ❤︎︎

•once eddie delivered the flowers to you, admittedly pretty excited for you, there was a little note on it! at this time, you didn’t know who did this, hoping it was wally though. and to your shock, it was! you could obviously tell since he wrote a two word note..

“it’s you! :)”

• was what he wrote.. yes, very eerie and out of context wally. but still it was the thought that count. like said, he wanted to surprise you as many times as you did for him.

•and oh, boy were you surprised. admittedly very scared since you were going at a slow pace trying to show wally your love and admiration!

•you assumed it was julie who ratted you out, you called her up and she did admit it was her. she felt a little bad but at the same time, you needed a push! you felt too awfully nervous but julie was right, you couldn’t lead wally on too long. you just couldn’t.

•you thought and thought about what to say to wally.. since in your opinion you were better at words in letters than in person. but you had a nice idea.

•about after those thought and stress inducing hours, you decided to puff up and gain some confidence. usually you would hand pick some flowers for him, since the flowers around here were pretty looking. so that’s exactly what you did, you got some stuff from howdy’s and made a pretty good-looking bouquet, just to return the favor.. (you got a bit better at decorating stuff during this whole period of wally’s gifts.)

•despite having thoughts and feeling very reluctant, you just had to do this sooner or never. you dragged wally on for far too long, you went up to home. and by gods, home was READY for this day. he was getting pretty sick of the lingering gifts and thoughts you guys were cooping up together unknowingly.

•it was as if wally was waiting for you to show up and he immediately opened the door before you could knock or at least home could tell him you were here. his usual smile on his face, but his eyes seemed to hold some type of happiness on it. happiness he hadn’t felt in a good while at least..

•you felt even more nervous as he was RIGHT there in front of you, all you could do was just give him the flowers and say something as simple as he had.

“it’s me.”

•good thing he learned how to hug before this all happened!! he didn’t say anything else and just wrapped you in the biggest hug he could ever muster up, perhaps the biggest hug he’s given someone so far at least. he felt really happy, now he could show you how well he took care of the stuff you gave him and you could finally just give him the gifts in person like this.

•as much as he adored the letters and notes, and adored waiting for them daily, he preferred this. just having you near and by his side.

•it seemed as if all you guys could say to each other were just simple words, even if it was simple, it still held impact.

• “it is you.” was what he said, he really wished he could’ve kissed you. but this would have to do for now, maybe he could’ve learned how to do such a thing with you. he wouldn’t want to learn it with any other person anyway.

•once you guys pulled away for what seemed to be forever, he blew you a kiss. his smile seemingly more genuine from the norm, you were glad you did this. preferably the others would be glad as well, considering it was like watching a slow burn romance fold right in front of you.. that little blow kiss was a way of his thank you to all of the gifts you gave him. he definitely had to repay you greatly.

•you guys didn’t say anything like, “i love you”, at least yet.. you talked about how you really liked him and admired him. and you just couldn’t get the courage to give you the gifts in person, nonetheless wally was understanding. he still enjoyed them and he really liked them.

•after this interaction you guys were finally official!

•although wally was hesitant to date you considering he didn’t even know how to kiss. (╥_╥)

•but to you even if wally couldn’t kiss properly yet, blowing kisses, giving letters, gifts and hugs would do just fine. even if you guys were now together you wouldn’t stop praising him in letters or profess your love through gift giving.

•you were honestly just getting started on that, and definitely not planning on stopping anytime soon! (≧◡≦) ♡

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hopefully this was pretty good, i got a lil sappy at the end to be honest!! (╥_╥) but i wrote this a while back sooo, still this was def a cute request!!

again, so so, sorry for all the people who sent requests!! imma make sure i post the stuff i’ve written down so far next week and so on. writers block is a pain sometimes tho!! (for the new writings at least..) ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

ミ★

[merryspark]

Could you PLEASE draw Bee-former Crosshairs give Drift a kiss on the Cheek? xD

I really wanna see his reaction!

Oi, Dearest Anon!

Ooooofffff COURSE! I loved this ask too!

Actually I love to draw the Beez! :)

Aaaaaaannnnd some bonus scene just for You 🩵💚🖤💛💙🩷:

I hope you liked it! 💚🩵💙💛🖤

Thank you so much for the ask again, and apologies for making You wait too! 🫶💔 It's really a shame, but I tried to make up for it...uwu

(Also huge sorry for the grammatical mistakes i saw them too late... My english became a little rusty, lol!)

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

what are your thoughts on how sol going back in time changes the trajectory of almost all (if not all) the central characters' paths?

hi there, anon! <3

sorry this is so late: i've been super busy with my 'fic and annoying life stuff. but i'm finally getting around to all my pending asks!

so here we go!

💛💛 sol is such a beautiful character — so purely selfless. everything she touches; she tries to tint with gold. 💛💛

she saves her mother's hand from getting burned. she tries to warn hyun joo about her brother; but in the end, tries to help them anyway with the lottery numbers. because of her sweet, unassuming kindness; taesung decides to stay in school — and become a detective.

she breathed hope into so many lives. most of all; she was the saving of sunjae's soul: the love a person dreams of long before they're even born.

sol is like sunlight — she illuminates everything. 🤍

[prisonhannibal]

Hi, I'd just like to say how it's just so incredibly cool to me that you're making indigenous ( specifically sámi ) art. Though just "cool" might be too small a word to describe it.

As someone who IS sámi but. Kind of doesn't feel like they are / has a whole lot of their own complicated feelings about it (didn't speak the language at home and that sort of stuff yk), it's always so special to me to see anything about it online. Always makes me want to get a hold of myself and actually connect with my culture, it's so so important to me and seeing your art makes me really happy :'))

And honestly? Seeing stuff about us online makes it feel like it's not too late for me, that I don't have to just put "finnish" in my bio anymore. ( Though I can't really start thinking it's too late if I'm still a minor now can I?)

Sorry if this got a little much, but I wanted to let you know how important your art can be, don't feel pressured to answer this, if you want to you can just leave it or delete it!! I'm a scared guy hiding behind anon anyways :'))

Hi ❤️💚💛💙 Don’t apologize it’s not too much and I’m glad you chose to reach out instead of dealing with it alone, that’s a step in the process of reconnecting ❤️ There is a specific loneliness in not having connections to your people. I don’t know your circumstances or if it’s a completely disconnected situation or if your family grew up calling themselves sámi but not participating in the culture, so some of this might not be relevant to you but I’ll answer as if you have very little connection just in case, so I can cover too much instead of too little. I’m sorry if this is all unnecessary and preachy and you didn’t ask but I have things I feel like saying.

The language thing doesn’t say anything about how sámi you are, I didn’t grow up speaking my heart language (that’s what my áhkku calls it and I think it’s beautiful) either, the majority of sámi people don’t speak any sámi language. You have to remember that the damage done to our communities is so severe that I literally feel like I’m in a privileged position for growing up with our culture and traditions in a proud sámi family and that I got to wear a gákti as a kid, even though our language was taken from our family before I was even born. A lot of people don’t even get that. It’s not our fault, whatever we lost during the norwegianization period (and similar policies and laws in the other “countries” in sápmi) was taken from us when they beat and forced it out of our great grandparent and grandparent generation.

It’s not too late for you, or for anyone. I know many people who got their first gákti late into adulthood. I’d celebrate someone reconnecting in their 60s. You are so so so young, you have so many years left of life where you can have this, if you choose to take it. You’re also lucky that you’re young bc there’s many youth organizations across the borders. I work on the board in one and we work on organizing social stuff and duodji courses and stuff like that to create meeting spaces for sámi youth! I was actually just in Helsinki to meet with some of the organizations on the finnish and swedish side and they seemed very nice :) I would recommend looking into what’s available in your area, and if you’re interested in learning languages or duodji I wish I could help find resources, but I don’t speak finnish, but I imagine if you contact your local community they’ll be able to help you with that.

Connection is healing 🌸 Both for yourself and for our people, because we are still here and we always will be. The only people who win when we are quiet is the people who did this to us. I want all of us back and together and with the sámi spirit that ČSV stands for. There is no obligation to do anything and you should never feel guilt for not being able to do things, but I like to think that if my family from the past who weren’t allowed to do the things I do now could see me they’d be happy. When I took sámi classes I thought that the people that came before us when boarding schools were a tool to get rid of our language would be so happy to see that we’re allowed to learn now. I hope that thought can give some comfort and strength no matter where you are or what you do in this process ❤️

After the 2023 protests I was really fucked in the head, so I went home to my áhkku and she cooked reindeer meat for me and taught me how to sew a gákti, and that felt like it healed something in me.

Anyway, this was a really nice ask to get. It means a lot to me to hear that my art is meaningful to other people. I wasn’t always sure there was an audience for it, but I always made it anyway because I think sámi art and happiness existing is a beautiful and important thing ☺️

I need to say again, you are so so young, there’s so much time and so much you can learn and do, and there’s no rush. I have heard many from the older generations say how proud they are and emotional that our youth is taking our traditions and our languages back, we’ll be happy to have you. I wish you all the best

[oldiesstationlover11607]

🎶Hello, is it me you’re looking for?🎶

Salutations! It is I! 💛! Your favorite yellow emoji! I am sorry I haven’t requested anything recently. I just went to my show last night actually and so I’ve been busy prepping for that and traveling! It was amazing by the way! God it was like I dream! You’ll love it when you see them! Also, the last one shot was so cute and fluffy and I love it so much! When he gave the reader his shirt 😭!

Anyways, my request. At my show, Tyler made an innuendo on stage which inspired this. I was wondering if you could do a story where Tyler has a game where he tries to subtly flirt with the reader as many times as possible on stage. Maybe it could be talking, maybe it can just be him winking at her or something like that. Maybe after he does it one night, fans notice and they explode on twitter or something. Idk. I know this may be a stupid idea, but I felt like it could cute and fluffy if you want to try it! ☺️

P.S. Would you be willing to write for Spooky Jim (Josh’s blurryface persona)? I have possible ideas for that. To me, he’d just kinda be the same as Blurryface, just with Josh. But, you could see him differently (I’m sorry if you’ve written him before and I just didn’t see).

Flirt - Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Reader

Warnings: Tyler flirting - innuendos, Tyler kissing the reader and being extra

Word Count: 1844 - I lowkey feel bad for these being short but it kinda fits the request prompt lol

A/N: Welcome back bestie 💛 anon! I hope you like this one - Tyler has been so unhinged lately it's been hilarious. I'm so glad you enjoyed your show, I can't wait for mine :) And YES of course I'm willing to write for Spooky Jim! I love Josh so much lol and I can imagine his blurryface persona being so much more heartbreaking considering Josh is such a sweetheart. I haven't written him yet but I'd can't wait to see your ideas!

It had come around to that part of the album cycle again where Tyler and Josh were on tour and for the first time since Tyler and I had gotten engaged, I was on tour with them. We were about halfway into the shows when we stopped in LA for a two night stay. Tyler had gotten up much earlier than I–as usual–to make sure everything was set up and to do a soundcheck before the show. We normally slept in after the late nights with Tyler getting up around 12:00 and I at 1:00 (although Tyler did make sure to bring me food when I was still in bed). After an afternoon of exploring the city, we made our way into the dressing room, waiting for fans to pile in. He scrolled through social media and did some vocal warm ups before sitting down on the couch with me. Josh was sitting in front of the mirror, mostly ready with the exception of his hair, which he was redying. 

“How’re you feeling?” I asked Tyler. 

“Pretty good. It’s gonna be a good show, I can feel it.” Tyler could always tell how the shows were going to go–even before getting onstage–and everyone else around him could tell exactly how he was feeling. He had a calm look on his face, as if he was reflecting on plans for the show. 

“How much time do we have?” Josh asked, leaning back from the mirror to look at the analogue clock hanging on the wall. 

“About thirty minutes I think,” Tyler said, chugging the Red Bull can he’d picked out from the mini fridge. 

“Where do you want me during the show?” I questioned, each venue having a different ‘best spot’ that Tyler wanted me ‘stationed at’. Last night it was higher up in the venue in a VIP section for friends and family, which was cool because he could see me the whole time. 

“Just off stage works best. Debby’s going to be under the stage to help Josh before routines so if you want to hang with her then that’s cool too,” he explained. 

“Yep, I think she’s preparing everything down there now with Mark,” Josh got up. “I’m going to go wash this out.” He pointed to his hair and walked into the hallway in the direction of the showers, leaving Tyler and I alone. As soon as Tyler was sure Josh couldn’t see he wrapped his arms around me  and dragged me onto his lap. 

“You look good today babe,” he smirked, looking me up and down. I could feel the warmth spreading through my face. He always found the best moments to make me blush with his words. I moved in closer so he was hugging me close, my chin resting on his shoulder. 

“You look better,” I laughed, ruffling his hair. He chuckled, pulling me even tighter against him. he nuzzled the side of my head and planted a soft kiss on my forehead, before continuing

“I don’t know if I agree with you on that one.” He was never one to back down from teasing. He continued to hold onto me, gently massaging your thighs as you sat on his lap. Josh walked back into the room, his hair dry and back to its bright red peekaboo color. 

“We should probably get you where you need to be,” I chucked, looking at the clock and climbing off Tyler’s lap. He pouted, reaching his arms out and making grabby hands in my direction. “Come on.” I grasped his hand and pulled him up next to me–his hand staying intertwined with me even after he got up. We walked out of the dressing room and out into the hallway where the boys would usually split up. They hugged, patting each other on the back and smiling. 

“Have a good show,” I smiled, waving goodbye to Josh and following Tyler to the right side entrance. He held my hand as he followed behind the security guard, the sound of screaming fans pouring in through the walls. Tyler smiled widely, his expression practically screaming excitement and adrenaline. As soon as the guard opened the door the noise in the room multiplied, the room filled with screams and cheers, making it hard to even think. He held my hand tightly as he followed the guard, the room around us slowly shifting from the dim hallways to the bright stage being lit by lights and strobe. He stopped just off stage, taking a few breaths before he turned and faced you, his smile still beaming. 

“I love you,” I smiled. He pressed his lips to mine, cupping my jaw and slipping his tongue just inside my mouth. Something was different about him, like he had some sort of agenda or something to prove to me. He pulled back after a short while, gently biting my bottom lip as the music started playing. 

“I love you too,” he smirked, running onto the stage and turning on his celebrity persona. Tyler bounced through his first few songs, running around the stage and acting like his usual self. He was clearly high on adrenaline, with his brain focused on making sure the show ran smoothly. He made his way to the mic at the center of the stage for the talking break. As he began, he made direct eye contact with me, sending a cheeky smile my way. “Is everyone having a good time?” he shouted into the mic and pointed out to the sea of people who screamed back at him. “I can’t hear you. Scream louder for me!” He waved his arms in the air to the entire audience who screamed louder than before. “There you go,” he looked off stage at me and smirked knowing full well what he was doing. After a few more songs he moved to different parts of the arena for Ride where he was planning on getting people to sing the choruses with him. I had decided to sit under the stage with Debby who was watching, helping Josh to get changed for the next song. “Where’s my right side daddy?” I could hear Tyler shout through the speakers. My jaw dropped. 

“No fucking way.” 

Josh laughed under his breath, looking at me with raised eyebrows. “Yep.” As each chorus went by I nodded my head along to the beat and Tyler’s voice. 

“This is not happening,” I covered my eyes. 

“It so is,” Debby laughed, helping Josh into his jacket. The song continued until Tyler got to the last chorus, in the pit. 

“Oh my pit children, you need a daddy too,” Tyler’s voice moaned slightly making my knees go weak. He needed to stop this or it wasn’t going to end well for either of us. Debby was keeled over in laughter and I was mortified. This wasn’t happening. By the time they’d finished Paladin Strait and come off stage before the encore he’d continued to make suggestive jokes. Little did anyone know that each of his little jokes was perfectly aimed at me and as every one landed I got more and more worked up and embarrassed. Running offstage, Josh went straight to Debby and Tyler to I. My arms were crossed as he stood in front of me with a large and proud smirk slapped onto his face. 

“What?” he shrugged, taking a drink of water and jumping on the spot. 

“You know what,” I scoffed, clenching my fists and biting my lip to hide the smile I could feel coming on. I was terrible at being mad at people and Tyler always managed to unleash the happy side of me in the middle of every argument we’d ever had. 

“Yeah I do,” he kissed my cheek and ruffled my hair. With my brows furrowed I wrapped my arms around him, not wanting to let him go. As he rested his chin on the top of my head everything around us disappeared. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest as the smell of sweat and Red Bull poured from his pores. I didn’t care though, he was mine and he’d been driving me insane for the last hour and a half. Fans continued to scream as the end of the Paladin Strait music video played and Josh appeared next to us. I let Tyler go as the intro for Jumpsuit started playing. Josh ran back on stage to his drum kit but Tyler paused on the stairs looking at me. I shot him a wave and he mouthed the words ‘I love you,’ pressing his hands against his heart, ‘I know,’ I mouthed back with a short roll of my eyes before he bounced back on stage. I stood there, heart pounding, watching him take command of the stage once more, his voice raw and powerful as he sang the opening lines. The lights pulsed in sync with the music, and the crowd, already hyped, seemed to reach a new level of frenzy. I could see him glancing my way, just for a moment, every now and then. It was subtle, but after the stunts he'd pulled earlier in the set, I was more than aware. He was still playing his little game, flirting with me in front of thousands of people who had no idea the winks and smirks were meant for me. As the song ended, Tyler paused at the mic again, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

“You guys are incredible tonight!” he shouted, and the crowd roared in response. He turned slightly toward the side of the stage where I stood, his eyes glinting mischievously under the lights. “But there's someone over here who’s got me feeling... extra good tonight,” he teased, his voice dropping a little lower. I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. The audience, completely oblivious, ate it up, screaming and cheering at the implication. Twitter was going to be in shambles after this. He’d never been this bold on stage before, not with me watching from the sidelines. And I knew for a fact the fans would pick up on it. There was no way they wouldn’t. When they finished playing Trees and saying goodbye to everyone, Tyler ran off stage, completely drenched in sweat and buzzing with post-show energy. He didn’t waste a second before wrapping his arms around me, spinning me around in a tight hug. “How’d I do?” he asked, his breath hot against my ear, still catching his breath from the performance. I smacked him lightly on the chest, still smiling despite myself. 

“You’re impossible. You know that?” He grinned, leaning down to kiss me softly. 

“I only did it because I love you.” His smirk returned. “And because I love seeing you squirm like a bug.”

I shoved him playfully. “Yeah, yeah. Just wait till Twitter gets a hold of this.” Tyler chuckled, pulling me close again. 

“Let them talk.” His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “You’re the only one I care about, anyway.”

//

Requests open!

[domme-switch]

Hey mommy, I want you to tell me how u would deny my cock the privilege of cumming for days with ur touch and when u feel like it overstiming me till I cry for you to stop. U repeat this cycle every time

- 🫣

where are your manners pup? demanding things from mommy? I think I would not just deny you, I wouldn’t even touch you or tease you. not until you beg me to pay attention to you, then I might. but maybe I don’t cause some needy puppy here forgot their manners😌

if you remember them and start begging, then I can rub your needy cock until it’s leaking, then tie you up and keep you there until I milked every last drop from your cock and your poor limbs are shaking as I keep overstimulating you. I bet you will be begging me to stop touching you… and that’s what I‘m gonna do. eventually.

I won’t touch your cock anymore and neither will you. we will have to lock it up if you can’t keep your hands off. I will play with your nipples and your balls though, sometimes soft touches, kisses on your nipples even, but sometimes I pinch them, squeeze your balls, but never touching your cock until you’re so needy you want to grind on every pillow. but we will keep you denied until you’re crying from wanting to cum so desperately����

ohhhh this has been sitting in my drafts for so long I completely missed it!! sorry my sweet 🫣 anon for the late reply💛

[gingerjunhan]

Hi! It's 🍞 anon again! I LOVED the smau.. it was perfect 🥹

Would you be willing to do a little hurt/comfort fic with Jungsu based on his text?

Thank you!! 💛

☆彡 Hi 🍞anon! I’m glad you liked your request! Thank you sm for the love! 🩷

word count: 881 | pronouns used: none | genre: hurt/comfort, established relationship | cws: Jungsu is sad, long distance relationship, Gunil and Hyeongjun mentioned (literally one time), “bubs” is used (sorry if that’s cringe), lmk if I missed anything!

part one here!

You eagerly waited for Jungsu to pick up the phone, feeling the need to check up on him. After the small exchange you had over text, you had the feeling that he really needed to hear from you. As you listened to the phone ring, you started to go through your nighttime routine. Right as you finished putting on some comfier clothes, Jungsu answered the phone.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you sang into the phone, smiling to yourself. It was still rather early for Jungsu, so you thought you would try to lighten his mood with a joke.

He let out what could’ve been a laugh or a sigh on the other end of the phone, “Hi, baby.” The sad tone of his voice was hard to miss, and it caused you to frown.

“What’s wrong, bub?” Another sigh emits from the phone. “Long day ahead?”

Jungsu nodded on the other end of the phone as if you could see him. “I just… I wish you were here.”

“I know,” your frown grew. “But we only have a few more weeks until I can come see you again!” There was a silence on the other end of the phone, and you could’ve sworn you heard a sniffle. “Jungsu? What’s wrong?”

The sniffles grew a little more frequent. “I miss you,” he whispered quietly.

If your heart wasn’t already broken, you were currently feeling it shatter. Jungsu being upset was one thing, but him being this upset and knowing that there was nothing you could do to make him feel better was a completely different thing. You felt your bottom lip jut out slightly. “I know, bub- I miss you too! I miss you so much.”

On the other end of the phone, Jungsu sat in a ball on his mattress, wiping away the tears that had started to spill. He’s not sure what’s come over him lately. He could typically handle your long distance relationship just fine. He obviously missed you, but this time just seemed worse. He blamed it on the fact that you had come to visit while you had an extended break from work, and his brain still couldn’t wrap itself around the idea that you were gone. Jungsu had been counting the days until he got to see you again, and every day just seemed to feel longer and longer. He wasn’t even sure what to say anymore. He knew that whatever you told him over the phone wouldn’t be enough, and you knew the same thing. So, you decided to try and switch the topic to a happier one.

“Hey,” you tried to sound as happy as you could. You heard him respond with a soft ”hmm?”, followed by another sniffle. “When I come to visit again, can we go back to that park you took me to? The one with the cute little pond?”

At this, Jungsu smiled. When you first came to visit, he took you to all his favorite places. One of those places was a park that he typically had to walk past on his way back to the dorm from rehearsal. Sometimes, if he had a long day, he would take a walk around the park on his way home to clear his head. He sniffled again, “Yeah, baby. We can go back there. Of course.” You smiled at his slight change of tone. It was subtle, but you still picked up on it. “Y’know,” he continued, “there’s a really good boba place down the street from the park I think you would like.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. It’s really cute. You also get a good view of the park from there. We should go.”

You chuckled lightly. “It’s a date. I’ll add it to my long, long list of things to do once we’re back together.”

“You have a list?” It was now his turn to chuckle.

“Yup!”

“What’s on it?”

“Going to the park, getting boba, bullying the guys into having a game night so we can team up on them again.” You both laughed together now.

“That was so funny!” Jungsu unraveled himself from his own tight grip, and wiped away the last of his tears. “Gunil and Hyeongjun were getting so mad.”

“Hey, it’s not our fault that we’re better at trivia.” You both continued to laugh before Jungsu checked the time. He let out a sigh.

“I need to start getting ready for rehearsal. We have a pretty busy schedule today, and if I don’t start getting ready now I’m gonna be late.”

You sighed as well. “Okay, then I guess I’ll let you go to work.” you complained in a joking tone. You heard him laugh again. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Thank you for calling me. I bet you’re tired.”

“Sleep can wait when it comes to you,” your voice was genuine, and Jungsu couldn’t fight back a smile.

“Go get ready for bed, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Okay. If you need anything, text me. I’ll probably still be awake for a while.”

You couldn’t see, but Jungsu smiled and rolled his eyes at your bad sleeping habits. “Will do.”

“I love you,” you happily confessed over the phone.

“I love you too, baby,” he replied happily. “I’ll see you soon.”

taglist: @dazzlingligth , @mini-mews , @mxlly143 , @somethingaboutcheese , comment to be added!⁎⁺˳✧༚

[sickiesope]

Hiiii! How are you? I hope you’re doing well 💛

I have a request for you, can you write a BTS fanfic where it’s night and Jimin wakes up because of a nightmare and decides to go for a walk but it’s raining and it’s so cold so when he decides to come back home it takes a lot of time because of the rain. When he is at home he is surprised to see Jungkook awake and he takes care of Jimin, who has a high fever. I know it’s too long as a request but if you can, I would be happy if you write it.

Thank you 💛

This cute request is from awhile back! Sorry for the wait anon, I hope you're doing well too! 💜My brain hasn't been writing again until recently 😅

Late night

Sickie: Jimin

Caretaker: Jungkook

Summary: Jimin wishes he at least dressed warmer. Or waited for the rain to settle. 🌧

Jimin awoke in a sweat. He had a bad dream and can't fall back asleep. His heart and his thoughts are racing like crazy. He runs a hand down his face, sighing deeply.

Jimin wants to go for a little walk and fresh air, even if it's after midnight. A nice brisk walk to help calm down. He throws on a hoodie and pair of sweats. When he opens the door it's pouring rain outside. "Ughh, seriously?!" Jimin can see how fast it's coming down and the drops look huge. Does he really need to go outside? Yes. Yes he does, Jimin convinces himself. Just a for short time.

Jimin finds his raincoat and steps outside. He doesn't mind the smell of rain, he just wishes it wasn't coming down so hard. He pulls up his hood and starts power walking. It's cold outside and he's shivering lightly. "I'll warm up after walking a few minutes" he says to himself. The rain feels cold as it spatters onto his jacket. The hood keeps falling down which is annoying. He's getting wet and has to keep a hand on it. Then the wind started blowing rain into his face, much to his dismay. He keeps having to wipe his eyes every ten seconds, it's getting harder to see. Jimin wishes he at least dressed warmer. Or waited for the rain to settle.

"Dammit!"  he mutters to himself. Jimin decided he's had enough and wants to go home. He's freezing. He realizes he walked more than intended, the wind keeps switching directions and making it especially cold. Jimin is shivering desperately, his walking turned to jogging. He can't see properly everything is a messy blur. Luckily he manages to find home again and almost slips when he starts sprinting.

---

Jungkook thought he heard someone get up recently. He was awake himself, thinking about getting a snack in the kitchen. He notices Jimin's boots and jacket are missing. Confused, Jungkook quickly goes to Jimin's room and quietly opens his door. He notices Jimins clothes are scattered everywhere and he's not in his bed. His eyes widen.

Jungkook runs and opens the door and he's surprised by the rain.

"..Did Jimin leave the house and go outside in this??" Suddenly he sees someone running. He recognizes Jimin's voice and clothes. "Jimin hyung?!" Jungkook's doe eyes wider than ever. "What are you doing out there?!?"

"Kookie??" Jimin is so happy to see the younger and runs to him. They hug and JK gets wet but he doesn't mind at all.

"Hyung, what were you doing outside? It's terrible out there!" Jungkook takes his jacket and helps him with his boots.

"Ugh, I don't know...I had a bad dream a-and couldn't f-fall asleep" Jimin sputters. He's sniffling a lot too. He feels awful and developed a bad headache.

"Awwh, really hyung?" Jungkook says concerned. "Hmm, you feel warm despite being outside.. are you feeling okay?"

"Not really, my head really hurts" Jimin moaned. He can't tell if he's sweating or just wet from the rain.

"Let's get you back to bed hyung, you need rest. I think you're getting a cold or something." Jungkook helps him clean up and gives him water.

Jimin flops back into bed and it feels softer and warmer than ever. Jungkook gives him a tissue box and extra blankets. He makes sure Jimin is nice and comfortable and tucks him in.

"Can you please sleep in my bed, Kookie? I don't wanna sleep alone.."

"Sure Jiminie hyung I'd love to" Jungkook smiles. He joins Jimin in the nest of blankets and pillows. Things are quiet and they can hear the rain lightly from the window. It's a nice relaxing sound and they cuddle and fall asleep.

[band--psycho]

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader- Just Once

Thank you to the lovely anon who sent this ask in!

I'm sorry this has taken me so long to write; but I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

(Dialogue Prompt: 73 - It's you, it's always been you)

Warnings: Abusive partner, cheating

Today was the day. 

Probably one of the most important days in Benedict’s life. And though he smiled and looked as though this day was the day he’d dreamed of.

It was not. 

He could not admit it, not to anyone. But there was something in the way his mother smiled at him, the way Daphne looked at him and hidden in Anthony’s worlds, that made it clear to Benedict that they saw right through his facade. 

Today was the day he proposed to Alina Fairfax. 

Alina was a lovely woman, polite, kind, pretty…she had all the good qualities of a wife, except he did not love her. 

He tried.

But there was only one woman for the second eldest Bridgerton and that was his childhood friend, Y/n Y/l/n. 

Y/n was the only one who had really ever captured his heart. She just had this way about her; her eyes seemed to light up a room and her laugh…oh her laugh, it was infectious, in a way that would quite often have them both belly laughing. 

She was a lady; but she was not afraid to speak her mind, regardless of whether or not people wanted to hear her opinion. But she was also one of the friendliest and warmest people he had ever known. 

He wanted to be with her; he just realised it too late. And now Y/n was with someone else. 

~~~~

“How are you?” Benedict asked softly, sitting down next to Y/n on the bench in the garden of his family estate. 

Y/n had been different these past few hours; distant. Whenever he attempted to talk to her, she walked away from him. It was like she was purposefully avoiding him and he could not work out why. 

It took Y/n a few moments to speak the words, “I am perfectly fine, Mr Bridgerton.”

The hesitation. The fake smile that followed her words and the fact that she had called him ‘Mr Bridgerton’ made it very clear to him that she was not fine. 

“Y/n-”

“You should be with your fiancé,” Y/n interjected, rising from the bench, “And I should be with John,”

Benedict had never liked John; and it was not just because of the fact that he was courting Y/n. And today, Benedict could have damn near killed the man. 

Whilst Benedict was down on one knee, proposing to Aline, he saw John and Y/n on the other side of the park. He could tell by both of their body languages that the conversation they were having was tense to say the least. That’s not what caused Benedict’s anger, he knew that couples argue, but when John grabbed Y/ns arm, Benedict wanted nothing more than to punch him for laying a hand on her. Had it not been for all of the eyes that were focused on him, he probably would have. 

“What happened earlier?” he questioned, also rising from the bench, “Between you and John.”

In that moment he swore he saw a flicker of fear form in her gorgeous y/e/c eyes and that sight alone was enough to make the blood in his veins boil. 

“Something and nothing, I can assure you, it is all sorted now,” Y/n answered.

But her words only confused Benedict. The voice saying those words was hers, but the words themselves seemed so foreign to anything Y/n would normally say, especially to him. 

She was lying to him. 

He knew that; having known her for so many years, it was obvious to him. 

What he could not figure out was why. 

Of course her and John had been courting for around a month, but she did not owe him anything and yet Benedict had a feeling that she was lying to him to protect John. 

“He hurt you.” 

It was not a question. No. Benedict was stating a fact. And thought his tone was gentle, he could already feel his anger increasing. 

Y/n did not say anything; but her silence spoke volumes. 

Carefully, Benedict reached out to her, his hands connecting with the sleeves of her dress. He half expected Y/n to pull away , but she did not, so he continued. He gently lifted up her sleeve, exposing a bright red mark around his wrist. 

“I’ll kill him,” he whispered under his breath, letting go of Y/n's arm; but his words were loud enough for her to hear. 

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. 

“He hurt you, so yes I can,” 

“If you go inside there and make a scene, it will make both of our situations worse,” she countered, pulling him backwards towards a slightly darker area, a few trees shielding them from prying eyes. 

Benedict's eyes narrowed, his confusion at her words evident. 

“We were arguing about you,” Y/n began, pausing for a few moments to take a deep breath in and collect herself, “About how close we are.”

“We’re friends, we have been since we were children,” Benedict stated, feeling his heart ache a little as the words left his lips. 

Friends…that’s what they were and no matter how much he yearned for something more he knew it could never be. 

Before he could continue with what he was saying; he heard a small scoff leave Y/n's lips as she rolled her eyes. 

“I’ve loved you since I was old enough to know what love meant,” she snapped, catching not only Benedict off guard but herself also. 

It was the first time she had ever said those words aloud. 

“What?” Benedict stuttered out, a tidal wave of emotions washing over him as his eyes met hers.

Y/n loved him? She had always loved him..? 

“I love you,” Y/n repeated her voice softer now. 

“John knows…not that I have told him…but he saw how I looked at you when you proposed to Alina,” she explained.

Jealousy. Y/n Y/l/ was jealous, now that was a first. 

“Why did you not tell me?” 

The pain was evident in Benedict's voice. Had Y/n been honest about her feelings, they could have been married by now. 

“Because you never showed any interest, I assumed you did not feel the same. I knew that you would reject me..and losing you from my life…” 

It was true. 

All those years of growing up with one another, and Benedict only ever treated her as a friend, with no hint of ever wanting to be anything more. He was her best friend; he had seen her at her best and at her worst and stuck by her through all of it; she trusted him more than she did her own family; and losing him as her friend scared her more than rejection ever could. 

Part of her wanted to wait for him; to see if he could ever love her the way she loved him.

But it was all just a pipe dream, a wish fantasful wish of a young girl in love. 

She was older now; and she had waited for him for so long she finally realised that he did not feel that way about her. 

So she did the hardest thing she had ever had to, she moved on. 

She tried to move on with John; but he was not Benedict. 

“You would never lose me,” he breathed; his hand reaching out to hers; before intertwining his fingers with hers. 

“It’s you, it’s always been you,” he continued, pulling her ever so closer.

“I am sorry I have only had the courage to tell you now,” he glanced down at her lips before meeting her eyes once again; slowly leaning forward, until their foreheads were touching. 

“Ben-” Y/n whispered; their only lips inches apart.  She should have pulled away, she knew she should have. But she did not. She could not. She wanted this. She wanted him. Regardless of what it would do to her reputation in the ton. 

“Shhh,” he cooed, hooking a finger under her chin, tilting her head up slightly while his thumb ghosted over her lips.

“Just once,” she quietly said; her eyes flickering between his lips and his gorgeous eyes. 

She did not know who she was trying to convince.

“Just once,” he agreed, before leaning down, crashing his lips against hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist. 

‘Just once’ Benedict thought to himself as his lips molded against hers; but how? How could this be the only time he felt Y/ns soft lips against his? How could this be the only time he felt her this close to him? 

How? 

He could not let this be the only time he held her like this, kissed her like this…

‘Just once’ Y/n thought also to herself, standing on the tips of her toes as she wrapped her arms around the back of Benedict’s neck, pulling him closer, wishing that this moment could last forever.  

But it could not. 

And they both knew that. 

“We should get back,” Y/n mumbled, pulling away from Benedict’s embrace. 

“Y/n-”

“We agreed, just once, Mr Bridgerton,” she stated, her tone cold; even though she could already feel her heart break as she said those words. 

She could feel the tears brimming in her eyes so she quickly walked back to the party,despite the fact she wanted nothing more than to stay with him. But this was not a dream. This was real life…they had both made choices, choices that have now changed their lives. Their future.

They could never be together.

But for those few moments, they had a glimpse of what their future could have been…and that made walking away hurt all the more. 

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @rexit-mo @lawstudentbydayfangirlbynight @lucyysthings @whoreforpsychopaths @ifilwtmfc @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @drabby-abby @freyathehuntress @flourishandblotts-inc @tubble-wubble @yogiikyun @ssprayberrythings @livstilinski @fangirling-galore @wild-rose-35 @samanthaofanarchy @choochoo284 @jeyramarie @awesomebooklover17 @juliejulesblog @alexa-myr @jessyballet @londonalozzy @mrsamerica @poisxnedmind @qualitywitchchaos @werewolfbansheelove @navs-bhat @tinystudentmiracle @tinglingspideysenses @maddog @strawberrybitch3 @lantsovcolors @kianifan @poguestyleskye @qualitybelieverflower @livy26600 @mosthatedrenyjia @benedictscanvas @alcottsangel @bookworm1767 @book-dragon03 @yn-ymn-yln

[sunflawyer]

HI MAYO!!! I dunno why ppl have been sending you negative messages lately you have literally done nothing wrong 😭 you’re literally so nice and caring like what 💀. PLEASE DO NOT LET THOSE PPL GET TO YOUR HEAD. I dunno why these ppl feel to let you know that when they could just block and move on it just feels like they’re being dramatic or trying to stir up drama 😭 trust me Mayo you literally didn’t do anything wrong pook

thank you •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀ 🧡

i use these anon messages as a way to reflect and to correct my wrongs so even though it hurts, it doesn't get to me anymore. i just hope we all can move past this and make this community a better place once again. (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

also - im so so sorry for posting these lately. i dont want to make people feel unwelcomed/feel like they should avoid me because i get hate like this. i only posted 2 of them because it was necessary to explain, but truthfully i got lots of unnecessary ones, but i ignored them all because like i said - theyre not worth it.

but im so grateful for everyone who supported me and reassured me!🥹🧡🫶 thank you so much for being there for me! i love you all to bits. 💛

[theluminoussunflower]

very random question incoming but since you know a lot about dps maybe you can finally help me find peace. it doesn't hurt to ask right..? (this turned out longer than anticipated sorry about that..)

do you have any clue how people pinpoint the exact birthdays (in neils case also death day) of dead poets society characters? i know they're in the wiki but like.. where did we get them? am i an idot? do they talk about that somewhere? in the script maybe? is it just a very popular headcanon that everyone decided is real?

people claim december 15th is the day Neil died. i looked at the document todd has to sign looking for a date and i can see 12-5-59 at the bottom right. that means december 5th is the day everyone had to sign, right?

that would make neils death day maybe (!) the 4th. which could make sense because that day was a friday (the play wouldnt be on a weekday right? december 15th 1959 was a tuesday..)

but then again they are most likely signing a week or so after neil died, which would put his death day in late november??

where does december 15th come from? is there some random interview? is it really really obvious? is it all fake? please help an idiot out..!

thank you so much and have a nice day 💛

hello anon! hopefully i can provide a bit of clarity.

in terms of birthdays, they're all made up. the only birthday we're vaguely made aware of is todd's but we're not given an exact day. it's about mid-way through the movie, so i personally place it at the beginning of november, which is about halfway between the start and end of an autumn semester in the states. (i go with november third since that's ethan hawke's birthday, but to each their own).

the wiki isn't really the right place to look for like actual information about the movie because people just make shit up on it all the time. kind of annoying if you're actually trying to find out canon, but it's fandom wiki so we can't really stop it lol i personally disagree with most of the birthdays provided on the wiki (someone on there thinks pitts is a taurus when he's CLEARLY a capricorn /lh)

in terms of neil's death day, december fifteenth comes from neil's dad's calendar on his desk in the scene before his suicide. it's reeeaaallly grainy so it could be anything, but it looks like a teen number, and there aren't that many pages left on it. i had never seen the 12-5-59 date on the contract until this ask, so that definitely puts a hole in the december fifteenth thing, and i agree that a tuesday is a weird day to have the opening night of a play on. so it's two contradicting props.

but i think the suicide happening with snowfall and just before finals puts it more towards mid-december, though you could be right about it being more around thanksgiving (vermont gets snow starting in november)

to my knowledge that is the extent of the december fifteenth stuff. if there's any more, someone can reblog and add, but in short, it's basically fanon looking really deeply into props lol there's no interview, it's not in the script, it's really not that deep. if you think his suicide was late november, there's nothing that concrete to disprove it.

let me know what birthdays you think the boys have, because i basically just give them their actors birthdays lol

anyway happy neil dies day <3

[the-traveling-poet]

Hey, Lynn!

I saw ur little rant about not feeling good enough and honestly? No, just no. Don't let these thoughts get into your head. They're not right, I'm sure. If you'd like, take the opinion of another person or read what you're writing from another perspective. And don't dwell on anything too much. Whatever will be, will be. I know it's hard, but don't let these thoughts (that are so not true, I adore your writing and so do all of us as your followers. You're one of the few blogs I follow and have notifs on for, I literally wait for you to post and eat that shit up and read it a million times when you do) get to you and drag you down, and make you believe that what you're writing is not nearly good enough. Don't read too much into it, alright? That's just you overthinking, I promise. I'm sure it's more than good enough – you're more than good enough. So please, don't think too much about it, and POST your writing, whoever enjoys it will do just that. It's not your job to be perfect (I swear your writing is. And I'm not just saying that to lift your spirits, I'm not the type to) or your job to have everyone love your writing. All of your followers wouldn't be here if it weren't for your incredible writing. So thank you, for everything. And just post whatever the hell it is that you're writing. It'll be incredible, I'm sure.

I’m so sorry I didn’t see this notif sooner anon! I hadn’t checked my inbox in awhile for any asks besides the ones I saw in the notif center that were on top.

Lemme just say, reading this ask this afternoon was something I needed reminded of. As good as it is to be empathetic and selfless when the time calls for it, I can’t be a people pleaser 24/7 like I was raised to be. It so draining and makes me stress over every breath I take and I just can’t do that. I’m not gonna let someone else’s opinions rule over what I find joy in. I’ll be 22 soon and I think it’s abt time to focus on me and my passions, like writing fanfiction for all my lovelies and my own eventual novel :)

So thank you ml for such kind and grounding words, I needed that more than I’d thought. And thank you for just being here! I’m really glad you’ve enjoyed what I’ve wrote so far, it means the world to me that people enjoy my Levi fics as much as I enjoy writing them! Seriously, y’all are more supportive than my own family 90% of the time and that means more to me than I could ever fully express.

Especially with this ask anon, you’ve helped me a lot just by taking the time to write this to me which helps boost the ole self esteem. I hope that when/if you see my (late, again i’m sorry!) response you’re having a wonderful day and if you ever wanna chat my DMs are open to everyone💛

Btw I’ve screenshot this entire ask to look back at every time I sit down to write cause it means a lot to me :)