#there are points where i do disagree with how he approaches it but like i said a sign of the times | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theoldsports · 7 months ago

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SHITHEAD.

Art Donaldson x Reader.

warnings: a lot of them. 18+, slapping, begging, major angst, brat!Art, an argument with make up sex. Art is really manipulative because… he is a bit and we all know it. [Y/N] is very ill-tempered too. it’s dirty.

can be a part ii to SPONTANEOUS, or read as a standalone. this is my favorite piece of writing i have published on this account.

The bed was empty beside [Y/N]. She stared at Art’s empty side of the bed. The soft green sheets and mix-matched pillowcases went unoccupied. Not because he wasn’t home, but because [Y/N] hated Art so he had to sleep downstairs on the couch.

It wasn’t that she really hated Art. She did hate him right now. Not in a funny way. Their drive home had been silent. Poor Art didn’t know how to facilitate conversation that wouldn’t worsen the situation. His sorrowful eyes, but honest eyes kept glancing from the road to where [Y/N] sat in the passenger seat. The real showdown had started between them something awful when the door to their house slammed shut.

See, Art cried when he got mad. Or sad. Or profoundly excited. Their wedding photos were two-thirds Art crying and trying not to show that he was crying.

Art hadn’t cried tonight yet. That pissed [Y/N] off. She was furious and he seemed to feel absolutely zero discernible feelings about that.

They argued all the time. It rarely lasted all too long.

It was different this time. When [Y/N] started to say something cruel or shout or weep, Art got a little smaller, but he alarmingly stood his ground. He averted his gaze and said “I respectfully disagree,” or “What the fuck do you know about how I feel?” in a dangerously level tone.

Fighting with Art about this wasn’t fun. He was too cool about. He knew he was right. [Y/N] wanted to yell and scream because Art was so relaxed and condescending in his tone. When the man who had spent his teenage years getting referred at competition after competition as literally Ice tonelessly said: “Jesus Christ, aren’t you bored yet? What, going to over-explain the same information to me again, or…?” Finally, that had made [Y/N] drag herself to bed and yank the door closed violently enough that she felt the metallic vibration run all the way up to her shoulder.

And she was still laying there, staring at Art’s side of the bed.

At the Zweig’s party that night, there were a few hot topics in the Donaldsons’ sphere:

1) Lots of congratulations from people that had known them grow up, but hadn’t seen them since the wedding or prior.

This was mostly very kind. It dragged that smirk up Art’s face and caused his fingers to dig tighter into [Y/N]’s waist. That look of pride and tenderness on his face was more than welcome.

2) Lots of questions about Patrick. His lack of attendance was felt.

Both Donaldsons dodged these question as much as they could. Art kept an eye on [Y/N]’s liquor consumption. He knew how embarrassed she would be if she said something she regretted in front of Patrick’s family. Patrick had hurt them both, but Art’s heart went out to [Y/N]. Her world had been built around Patrick’s from a young age. Art was trying to engineer his own world higher around her so she wouldn’t be able to see the old place and people that had burned her over the walls.

3) “You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

With Art keeping an eye on [Y/N]’s drinking, she hadn’t really been keeping an eye on him. She just assumed he would keep his shit together. Art drinking in public was never really a concern. He wasn’t a big drinker anyway. At this point, his career mattered more and he was approaching his mid-twenties which made him feel surely less young than he had once. He wasn’t a casual beer guy either. It was Patrick who liked beer and Art who would have a moledo or something sometimes. Art did like white girl drinks, though. Tequila and fruity stuff. He had been able to shoot shot after shot of vodka like a pro in college at a season-end celebration.

Art was a tight-lipped man, but he was a giggly drunk who he got pretty comfortable talking out of his ass from behind a glass with an umbrella in it. Art was rarely comfortable with anything, so a drink or two at a party was welcome to him.

Another important point of context is that the largest point of tension between Art and [Y/N] was starting a family. They desperately wanted a child together, but they disagree on when. [Y/N] felt like she was fresh out of college, so she figured they had plenty of time. Art felt that he was fresh out of college, so he figured they may as well get to it.

Their arguments about this were once semi-regular. In the last four months or so, Art timidly bowed out and hoped [Y/N] would tell him when she was ready (sooner rather than later). He got tired of the low-tier shouting matches. Instead, he would pick fights about things that were decidedly lower stakes when he was bored.

Art had let [Y/N] field comments about family planning throughout the night. Unfortunately, when Art was polishing off a second drink, he ran his mouth a little bit.

Knowing he was the designated driver that night, Art did go easy. Art was also, like, five pounds. While he could hold his liquor with grace, he always got giggly. He watched with heavy eyelids as [Y/N] walked away to collect another drink following the dinner portion of the evening. The paper placecards with their shared last name emblazoned on them rested comfortably in Art’s inner jacket pocket to be kept as a memory.

Some guy who sold boat insurance and liked to rub elbows with talent was talking Art’s ear off. Art couldn’t remember his name, but [Y/N] would know it.

This was the precise moment that got Art in trouble.

Because when the guy whose name Art was sure started with an R said: “So! You’re married. When are we going to be seeing a little Donaldson running around?”

Art said:

“Any day now, I hope. Tomorrow. I’m good to go. [Y/N] thinks now’s not a great time for her.”

He had said it with a smirk and a stupid little laugh. It was basically locker room talk. Big deal. He would’ve said it to Patrick with [Y/N] present in the room. This guy wasn’t Patrick and he was technically speaking behind her back.

Art had forgotten how close they were standing to the bar. He had forgotten that the frequency of his pitchy tenor was known to carry. He had forgotten that he was well known to be an instigator of fights even though he never actually threw the first punch. He had forgotten that he hadn’t been whispering. He had forgotten that this guy… Richy? Ronnie? was pretty much a stranger who had no business knowing their business.

Now, Art was sleeping on the couch and his side of the bed was empty.

Jackass.

[Y/N] stared still at the empty bed and didn’t know how to articulate her upset to an Art who had seemingly yet to feel ashamed.

She had a headache and was tired. But sleep wasn’t going to come easy and all she had to look forward to was a hangover.

Art didn’t really snore, but he was a heavy breather when he slept. The lack of his white noise made the A/C blowing and the stairs creaking too loud. Maybe all of this was on [Y/N] for making Art uncomfortable, she dared to think.

Then she reminded herself that it was Art’s fault for talking too much and for drinking when he knew he was supposed to drive home.

[Y/N] rolled over to face away from Art’s spot. All she could think about is how his hands always sleepily pawed at her to pull her back when she got too far away from him before he fell asleep.

“So, what’d you do?” Patrick asked.

“She hates me.” Art replied. It was almost a question.

“I asked what you did, not what she feels. She already told us what she feels and it’s that she hates you.” Patrick stated. When Patrick had stopped through town for a match, he had come by for dinner with, well, his best friends. This had been right after they’d gotten engaged.

Art sniffled. He didn’t want to cry in front of Patrick. Art would sooner cry in front of his own father. Both men would have laughed in his face, but it would have stung more from Patrick. “We got into a fight yesterday. A big one. Like, the first, uh, big one. She’s worried about the f—“

“The future? Please,” Patrick said bitterly. He frowned and his jaw tightened, but he combatted it by tossing Art a smile before the other man noticed the tension. “Stupid. You’re gonna marry her. You’ll play tennis. She’ll do her… columns? Articles. I don’t get what it is that she does—“

“She writes for—“

“Sure, yeah. You’re gonna have two kids so you can each pick a favorite one. And she’s gonna be a pain in your ass forever. Don’t be a pussy.”

Art sniffled again and stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I didn’t think I did,” Art said meekly. “I don’t get it. She gets so mad sometimes. At me.” Patrick stared at him blankly. Art had to know that he was usually at least a little bit the problem.

“Did she do the thing where she calls you a—“

“Shithead bastard?”

“Shithead bastard.” Both boys said at the same time. Art dragged his hands through his hair and looked up at Patrick. Both of them quirked a smirk at the other.

“See,” Patrick started. “You’ll be fine. Fuckin’ go after her.”

“And say what!”

“Uh… ‘I’m sorry?’ You do that kinda shit. She’ll like that.”

It was impossible to know how long [Y/N] laid there. The clock was on Art’s side and she would get spitting mad if she rolled back over.

She could just go downstairs and tell Art to come back to bed. He was probably sleeping just fine.

“Hey, hon, you don’t hate me, right?” Art’s voice whispered in the darkness.

[Y/N] was fairly certain she had imagined it. She had not heard his sweaty feet on the stairs or his fingers against the doorknob. Quickly, [Y/N] whipped over to face the door behind her.

There was Art. His sweatpants sat low on his hips and his shirt was long gone. Clothing didn’t often survive the night on Art’s back.

Really, she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had taken Art to work through coming upstairs so quietly. “Mm?” [Y/N] groaned in question.

Art rocked his right shoulder into the doorway to lean. His arms were crossed and his eyes straight ahead on her from what [Y/N] could tell in the glow of the hallway’s thermostat. “Please just tell me you don’t hate me and I’ll let you go back to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

With a sigh, [Y/N] sat up and rolled her cracking shoulders back. “I don’t hate you, Art.” Her heart melted a little bit. [Y/N] knew it was immature, but her special attack in arguments since childhood was to bandy around the word hate a lot. Not that she had said it to Art tonight, but she had no doubt said it before. More than once. More times than she could count, maybe.

She was surprised Art had never asked this before. That surprise hurt in an a way that was too complex to describe. “I could never hate you.” [Y/N] continued, voice hushed only because it was dark out.

Art’s posture relaxed slightly. “You promise you don’t?” Said Art’s evermore crippling lack of self-confidence.

“I promise.” [Y/N] replied calmly.

“Okay. Thank you.” Art said in a small voice.

“I love you, baby. I don’t hate you. You shouldn’t have to ask that. I’m sorry I made you feel like you even have to ask that.”

Art frowned sharply. “No, I’m the one that should be sorry. You told me nicely not to talk about—“

“Don’t play that. You have to know you don’t feel like you did anything wrong, so you don’t have to invent a situation where you’re some horrible person.”

Art was silent.

[Y/N] continued. “I’m pissed because you told Randy,” RANDY. His name was RANDY. That’s it. “Our business. My business, really. He’s an asshole. It’s fine. Well, not now, but eventually. But you kinda martyred yourself on it. You don’t have to do that and I don’t hate you. You know I don’t… Right?”

“I’m sorry.” Art said quickly. He was gifted at making every single minor problem his own fault. He knew he was a little bit of an awful person for that, but he would die before admitting it. Art would hide behind his martyring habit as long as his cross could hold him, though. [Y/N] hadn’t noticed before this moment, but she could see the shining of his eyes in the digital blue-green glow. Tears. This time, less than obvious waterworks. Aw.

“I’m sorry. I’m still pissed at you for running your mouth, but I’m sorry too.”

Art nodded, said nothing else and reached for the doorknob.

Here is a frustrating thing about Art.

He said he was going to leave for downstairs once [Y/N] said she didn’t hate him. He started to make good on that vow. If he says something, he’s going to do it, even though he doesn’t have to do it.

“Come on,” [Y/N] called louder than she’d been whispering. “Come here, pretty baby.”

Pretty Baby by Blondie had been their wedding song. She had been calling him that for almost as long as she had known him. Saying it, or hearing the song always made that stunning, small crooked smile stretch up beyond his sad puppy eyes all the way to his ears.

Art’s kryptonite was pretty baby. They both knew it.

He turned to look at her with a slight blush on his cheeks, almost visible in the dark. Art shifted one of his feet childishly over the other in apprehension.. “Don’t make me say it again. I don’t like to ask twice.” [Y/N] reminded him.

After a hasty nod, Art was in bed before he [Y/N] blinked. The blonde sat bolt upright beside [Y/N] with his eyes wide. Hesitant, but coyly so. He knew this pattern. The agony and shame from her brutality would only last so long. Housepets loved to cause trouble for treat.

Not to say that Art liked to start fights so he could play some low-status lapdog that got to feel his wife’s fingers comb through his hair the way he liked as a reward for an apology. The man bit his cheek to avoid a devious smirk. A part of him did like to do that sometimes, though.

He always got away with it. He was such a nice boy.

[Y/N] rolled her eyes and leaned back into the threadbare pillows. With a finger, she beckoned Art nearer. Hesitation eliminated, Art flopped slowly down beside [Y/N]; she on her back, he on his side, facing her. Delicately, Art’s fingers dragged down [Y/N]’s arm to curl in her fingers.

Not long after that, his plush mouth climbed down from her neck. Then shoulders and collarbones. Then bicep. Elbow. Forearm and wrist. Down her hand to her silver-studded ring finger. Each kiss with accompanied with an honest and dutiful I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He was sorry. Genuinely. Sorry for the upset he brought his wife, but not the cause. Art’s beautiful duel-colored eyes glanced up at [Y/N]’s blown pupils through her own fingers.

“I didn’t mean to talk about you like that… I just… I love you so much that I want more of you. That’s all, honey,” Art laid his head on [Y/N]’s upper chest and his mouth moved against the front of her throat. “I’m just a little stupid, huh…”

Under his lips, Art could feel the rumble of a laugh rip through [Y/N]’s throat. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair to hold him in place. “Do-don’t talk about yourself like that,” she mumbled and gave his hair a lovely tug with both hands. He whimpered. [Y/N] wanted to bottle that sound. Art would always remember what she said next and how she said it: “Only I get to talk about you like that… St-stupid.”

This was the version of [Y/N] he was going to remember when he thought of her every day for the rest of his life. That sentence, the way her hair hung from where he had pushed it away from her neck. The sting of the cold metal from her wedding ring on the back of his neck and the stone of her engagement ring pressing into where he reached his palm to place his hand over hers. There was just the wrong amount of clothes between them. Her eyes ringed smoky from the makeup smudges and the exhaustion.

“Say it again.” Art whispered, swinging a knee over [Y/N]’s thighs so he could stare down at her. His forehead pressed softly against [Y/N]’s.

[Y/N]’s mouth fell open slightly with a breathy exhalation. Holy shit. “What, pretty baby, you want me to tell you how stupid you are? You like that?” [Y/N] almost whispered into Art’s still lips. He was too shocked to kiss her back, but too turned on to pull away. Art whimpered louder than before. [Y/N] felt him nod.

So she didn’t hold back. “You think I need to punish you after you behaved like that today or something? You need to atone for what a moron you were, shithead?” [Y/N] kept her tone light enough to just about tease as her nose trailed along the side of his. Her objective was to belittle. Her nails slid down Art’s muscular, sturdy back.

They both knew Art was a masochist on his worst days. Did he get off on being degraded sometimes? Sure. But this series of events was ridiculously new and exciting for [Y/N]. And shockingly obviously for Art too.

His hips pressed into her pathetically. “What? Did you need help with something?” She asked innocently when she felt Art’s hard-on against her thigh. [Y/N] kissed him distractingly warmly for how she was treating him. Art’s head spun and he couldn’t seem to make sense of anything anymore. He had backed himself into the best kind of corner.

Across Art’s hips and side went [Y/N]’s left hand, to the front of his sweatpants. Humiliatingly, Art blinked tears out of his eyes and screwed them shut. His mouth opened and closed, but no intelligent sound came out. [Y/N] planted a kiss at the corner of his parted lips. His strong arms boxed [Y/N] protectively in from above, but she had him locked into place, really. “Baby, if you want something, you know you have to ask for it.”

“Nnh,” Art tried, eyes stuck shut. His attention was mostly spent hold himself up over his wife. His insanely gorgeous wife. [Y/N]’s other hand grabbed his jaw tenderly. He still didn’t look at her. Art was gathering his courage. “Yo-you already told me I couldn’t have what I wanted.”

With a sharp inhale, [Y/N] grip went from gentle to nonexistent. At the lack of contact, Art’s damp eyes crept open one at a time to see if his brattiness had overstepped the situation. His frightened eyes caught [Y/N]’s. She popped the side of his face sharply with an open palm. Art blinked and tipped his head to the side like a dog.

That was big trouble, huh?

“Fuck,” he said. Both of them panted in sync. “I’m sorry.” He meant it.

[Y/N] pulled Art’s face to hers and kissed him hard. “I love… you.” She said.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson #challengers movie

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arieslost · 7 months ago

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getting into a silly argument with lando just for him to pull the “oooh you wanna kiss me so bad right now it’s embarrassing” card and blah blah blah you can go where you want from there 😙

this was so cute, thank you for sending this in! i hope you like it <3

kiss me | ln4

you’re sure you’re seeing things.

you’re used to seeing fancy cars all the time now, what with having lived with your boyfriend in monaco for the better part of a year, but you’ve been able to keep track of said fancy cars. so you know when there’s a new one.

a new one in your parking garage, right next to lando’s 765lt. meaning it’s in your parking spot that had never once harbored a car until this morning. and now there’s another 765lt there. in your favorite color, no less.

“lando norris!” you yell out the moment you’re through the doorway to your shared apartment.

the deer in the headlights look on his face is priceless. you can practically see the cogs turning in his head as he tries to figure out what he could’ve possibly done to upset you.

“hi baby,” he says carefully, starting to step towards you when he’s stopped by you holding a hand up.

“no, you’re not going to sweet talk your way out of this one.”

he blinks at you a few times, watching as you take off your shoes and start pacing back and forth.

“did i forget something?” he chances, taking another step in your direction like he’s approaching a wild animal.

you glare at him. “forget something? like the car in the parking garage?”

“ohhhh,” it clicks then, and you watch, infuriated, as a smirk grows on his face.

“i don’t know why you’re smiling. how dare you?”

“how dare i?” he laughs, clearly entertained. “you’re always complementing my car. i figured you’d like one of your own.”

“so you just buy me a car?!”

he starts to admonish you, to try and sweet talk his way out of this, when he pauses. “you’re happy about this.”

“i most certainly am not,” you disagree instantly, immediately getting flashbacks to when you saw the car and became giddy at the mere possibility of it being yours.

“you most certainly are,” he argues, now approaching you with ease.

“get away from me, norris,” you threaten weakly, stepping back with every step he takes towards you.

“i don’t think i will,” he shrugs, grabbing your wrist gently and tugging you into his body, and you can’t resist his embrace. “i think you’re so overcome with excitement that it’s manifesting as something else entirely.”

“it’s a car, lando. how many times have i told you that i don’t need these kinds of things?” you narrow your eyes at him, resting your chin against his chest.

“i know you don’t need them, pretty,” he sighs, kissing your forehead. “but i really wanted to get it for you. you’ll look so sexy driving it.”

you roll your eyes, pushing away from him. “i hate you so much.”

“you looove me,” he coos, following you as you walk into your bedroom.

“go away. i’m mad at you.”

“are you?” he asks, leaning against the doorway as you pull out loungewear to change into.

you glare at him again, hating how good he looks just standing there looking at you.

“i knew it. you wanna kiss me,” he states, like it’s obvious.

“what? i don’t think so,” you respond, turning your back on him as you change.

“i do. you gave me that look. you know the one.”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.” you pull your shirt over your head and reach for a hair tie on your nightstand, just to give yourself something extra to do so you don’t have to look at him a little longer, otherwise your indignant mindset will crack.

“you wanna kiss me so bad,” he teases.

“no thanks.”

“you wanna kiss me so bad it’s embarrassing. you can’t even look at me.” he points out, and damn him for it.

you look at him. and promptly blush the moment you meet his eyes.

“i knew it,” he sings triumphantly, waltzing over to where you stand fiddling with your hair tie.

“i’m mad at you,” you reiterate.

“fine. you’re mad. i’m sorry, but i can’t return the car. well, i could. but i’m not going to. kiss me.”

“you’re insufferable,” you whine, once again relenting when he gets his arms around your waist.

“and you want to kiss me, so just do it.” he squeezes his eyes shut and puckers his lips cutely, and, well, what else are you supposed to do but kiss him?

he hums happily against your lips, gently stroking your hair even when you part. “can i braid it for you?”

you want to argue with him and tell him to stop being cute, but you’ve never be able to resist him.

“thank you for the car, lan,” you mumble as he sets to his task. “i love it.”

“what do you love more, me or the car?”

“the car, obviously.”

he gives your hair a playful tug, and you giggle, reaching back to pinch his hip.

“i’ll keep this in mind for next time.”

“next time?!” you make eye contact with him in the mirror next to your nightstand, and he just smiles innocently in the way that never fails to make you melt.

damn him.

word count: 860

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: wishing my f1 driver boyfriend buying me a mclaren 765lt was my biggest life problem rn. also i finished writing this like 20 mins before posting so if there’s anything wrong pls tell me

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

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hiraethwrote · 2 months ago

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cw gn!reader but written with f!reader in mind, angst, no comfort, breakup, pining, minor clubbing wc: <1k an i'm on my period which is making me a little emotional, which resulted in this

ex!suguru will never truly be over you, convinced you’re the one that got away.

the breakup was “mutual”, emphasis on the quotation marks — it only meant you guys ended on good terms. it was a very quiet and tender scene. he holds your hands in his, slowly his thumb strokes across your knuckles, never letting his eyes leave your tear stained face.

ex!suguru who, despite disagreeing wholeheartedly with the decision, sees it’s for the best. he will forever hate himself for being unable to see it coming, unable to stop it — one day he suddenly notices how staying in the relationship brought you more turmoil than joy, and he didn't have the heart to hold onto you even though he so desperately wanted to. but he would ruin himself million times over for you

“it’ll be okay,” he says softly, letting himself indulge in the small acts that come so naturally to him one last time before he has to let go, hand reaching up to dry your tears and cupping your cheek. “i’ll be okay.”

with the quiet promise, he feels the stress leave your body and you rest against his touch, a sad smile painting your lips — you’re so beautiful, he thinks.

ex!suguru who lies because he knows it's what you need to hear. you had already stayed longer than you wanted because you didn’t want to hurt him. he wasn’t surprised. you were just so considerate, through and through. he had always thought the relationship was too good to be true anyways, never truly feeling worthy of you

ex!suguru who doesn’t cry, but that is because he feels numb. he can’t remember feeling a pain as intense as this one.

when your tears have stopped, only shy sniffles escaping you, he comes with one last confession. “i’m always going to love you.” he waits, hoping you would say it in return. it isn’t because you don’t love him anymore that you can’t keep going, it’s just because it isn’t working.

“i know,” you say quietly and his heart shatters.

ex!suguru who has his friends fooled because they think he is over the relationship already. he acts the same, eats the same and goes about his business the same — but that’s because it doesn’t concern anyone other than the two of you.

first weekend as a single man, gojo forces him to go out clubbing with him. he really doesn’t want to, but he can’t give his friend any excuses he will accept.

he hates every moment of it, rudely shutting down anyone that approaches him. no matter how attractive, no matter how charismatic, no matter how willing — they’re not you so what’s the point?

ex!suguru who hates the universe a little more than usual. despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to escape you entirely. and he swears he tries, but you somehow just appear every now and then.

he spots you in the grocery store, doing your daily shopping. he spots you in the line of the coffeehouse, ordering your usual drink (one he knows by heart). he sees you on every feed, posting pictures and updates of your life — you seem happy.

his heart screams for him to surrender to his desires, to approach you and hear your voice again. but he knows better, so after torturing himself by admiring you for a few seconds, he simply turns on his heel and leaves.

ex!suguru who after years still thinks about you as much as the day you left. he has tried to move on, but it feels like a betrayal, even after all this time.

has he healed? sure, a little. life goes on after all. with time he has been reunited with some sense of happiness. however it could never compare to the period of his life where he was so fortunate to be with you.

ex!suguru runs into you after nine years. and not like all the times he has simply noticed you down the street — no, you fully crash into his chest one day while walking out of a bakery.

to say he is surprised is an understatement. he has memorised all the places you used to visit so this exact scenario wouldn’t happen, and this had never been a chain you had set foot in before. but a lot changes in nine years.

“suguru, hi.” your voice is light, a rhythm in it that was not present at the end of your relationship. “wow, crazy running into you. how have you been?”

“good,” he croaks, eyes glued to your face. he still finds you as ethereal as the day you left. he wants to say more, but he is a little unsettled by how at peace you seem to be despite not being with him. “and you?”

it doesn’t go unnoticed how you present yourself as genuinely content with where you are in life. however, suguru goes through the entire heartbreak all over again — he has missed so much of your life. he used to think he would be along side you for every single moment of it. instead he is stood in front of you and feeling as if the walls are closing in on him.

his breath catches when you stretch out your hand to grab his forearm. “it was really great seeing you again,” you muse. it’s probably just wishful thinking, but he believes he hears a sadness in your voice that comes from missing him.

“you too,” he whispers, and you’re gone again.

ex!suguru who eventually comes to terms with just being alone again. before you, he always imagined this was how it would end, not the person made to share his life with someone.

you had obviously made him believe otherwise. with you by his side, waking up next to someone and sharing your meals didn’t seem so silly anymore.

but it turns out he only wanted those things if it was with you.

tags @sad-darksoul ﾉ @madaqueue ﾉ @toadtoru ﾉ @hiraethwa ﾉ @harperluvgojo

#— ଓ my creative corner #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto #suguru geto oneshot #jjk suguru geto #jjk suguru #geto #suguru #suguru x reader #geto suguru

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dilfl0v3rss · 1 year ago

Text

mirror

“cmon mama, you got it” choso whispered, his thick fingers digging into you in a way that brought salty, wet tears down your cheeks. you’ve been a little stressed lately. not eating like you were supposed to, tossing and turning in bed all night, and sensitive to the point where you were almost always on the verge of tears every time he disagreed with anything you had to say no matter how small it was. choso noticed this change in behavior and knew exactly what it was that you needed, him.

now you were here, sat between his thick thighs as he fed you delicious strokes with his fingers. your small whimpers and moans ringing in the air as he tried to bring you to a much needed orgasm. on other nights it would only take him about ten minutes for him to make you cum, but tonight your body was being stubborn. tears of frustration flooded your cheeks as you tried your best to focus on the voice of your helpful boyfriend.

“i…i can’t pa s’not workinggg” you whined, your body tensing up as you tried to force an orgasm out. choso didn’t like that one bit, his strong, inked hand lightly wrapping around your throat as he spoke deeply in your ear. “sh sh shh, relax pretty. y’gotta calm down or you won’t be able to cum. you wanna cum, don’t you?” instant cries if “please” and “i do” flowed from your lips. “then look in the mirror and watch me work kay? ima get you there don’t worry….jus breathe and watch me”

your watery, brown eyes moved towards the mirror. an instant wave of relaxation running through you as you locked eyes with him. choso gave you a soft smile before sliding his digits back inside of you, curling the tips of his middle fingers in a “come hither” motion as he watched your face contort into one of pleasure. he was everywhere from the top of your head to the soles of your feet, you were completely engulfed in his presence. his thick fingers continued their ministrations as he slid his other hand from your neck all the way down your body to your clit where he gave it light, circular rubs.

your eyes rolled at the extra stimulation, bare back arching off of his hard chest as you felt your long lost release begin to approach again. “oh-…oh my god!” you moaned, your body tensing up again in excitement. the more you tightened up, the farther your orgasm was being pushed away again, a drawn out whine leaving your lips as you felt the coil in your stomach begin to fade. “no no nooo papa s’happening againnn” “cause you’re not relaxing like i said. y’gotta breathe for me mama, let all that shit go” his fingers moved faster and deeper as you tried your best to calm down like he said.

you kept your eyes open, staring deep into his through the mirror as you took notice of his steady moving chest behind you. instantly, you tried to match his breathing, your bodies moving in tune with one another as you slowly began to relax. “uhh huh, there you go. jus follow me princess” his deep voice went straight to your pussy as you felt the coil in your stomach come back, but not like the other times. you felt it build up higher than every before, your legs beginning to get a slight shake to them as you watching his hands work you. “m’gonna cum…pa m’gonna cum!”

choso softly smiled at the sound of your pretty voice, his fingers rubbing a little rougher on your clit as he felt your breathing match his. “give it t’me mama, let papa take care of you” your eyes began to roll from the pleasure, legs spreading wider as your hot orgasm rushed through you. “auughh godd” you whined as your sweet essence flowed out of you like a stream. choso didn’t stop, his fingers dug deeper inside you, making your body shake in overstimulation as you screamed his name. “choso!….please choso right there!” his pink lips connected with your cheek as he watched your orgasm grow to a higher peak.

“m’here mama, jus let it all go” your vision began to go white, lips parting into a silent scream as your release flew through you. your juices began to fly, wetting the floor along with the mirror before you slumped back into him. eyelids growing heavy and your body becoming weak as you tried your best to preserve energy so you can get up, but you were stoped by a wide hand on your stomach.

“rest mama, i got you. papa always gon have you” and with that you let your fatigue win. your body falling into a deep slumber right in front of the mirror. the both of your hearts beating together in the same rhythm.

#jjk choso smut #jjk choso x black fem!reader #jjk choso x black y/n #jjk choso x black reader #choso x black!reader #choso x black reader #choso smut #choso x black fem!reader #choso x black y/n #jjk choso x black!reader #jjk smut #jjk x black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x black y/n #choso x black!fem reader #jjk choso x black!fem reader #jjk x black!fem reader

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once-upon-an-imagine · 10 months ago

Text

Man On a Wire

A/N: somehow this worked again I really hope you loves like this!

Request - Anonymous asked: For a dialogue, how about Remus thinking you like Sirius so when you ask him to a library date he thinks it's a prank or to make Sirius jealous and he says no. Remus then finds out you were talking with Sirius about him and apologizes.

Warnings: insecurities on Remus' part, making him be a biiit of an asshole, but I think that's it! let me know if I missed anything, also is like 2am here and this is not proofread

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :) gif isn’t mine :D

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Man On a Wire

I feel like I'm walkin' on a tight rope My heart is in my throat, I'm counting on high hopes to get me over you

You kept walking back and forth in front of the Quidditch Pitch.

“You need to calm down, love. It’s only a question” Alice tried to reassure you.

“B-but what if he says no?” you asked, feeling anxious.

“He’s not gonna say no” she insisted.

“You don’t know that. There might be a million reasons why he would say no” you said, making your best friend glare at you. “O-okay maybe not a million but… a f-few” you shrugged.

“Hey, ladies” you heard Sirius approaching and landing next to the two of you. “What are you still doing here? We’re gonna be done in a few minutes” he said looking at you.

“She’s second-guessing herself” Alice told him.

“C’mon, love. We’ve been through this. I’ve told you a million times. I know first-hand, Remus is basically in love with you-” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

“L-love? You never said anything about love, Black!”

“I didn’t think I needed to. He looks at you worse than Prongs looks at Lily or Frank looks at this one” he said, pointing at Alice.

“Hey, don’t drag Frank into this” Alice glared at him.

“My point is, it’s time you both just stop being stupid and get together” he simply said.

“But what if he says no?”

“Why would he say no?”

“I don’t know!”

“He’s not gonna say no, okay? So, just, go up there and we’ll be out here waiting for you two idiots to come out holding hands and we can go to dinner” Sirius said before he started pushing you towards the bleachers, where Remus was sitting.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” you said, looking at your best friends one last time and taking a deep breath.

You started climbing up the empty stairs and walked over to one of the highest bleachers where you knew Remus always read while he waited for his friends to be done with practice. Not that you knew his every move you just… noticed. You felt your heart beating faster when you spotted him. He was so enthrallingly handsome, it was ridiculous. You always heard girls talking about how stunning Sirius was and, you didn’t disagree, Sirius was very attractive. But Remus’ beauty was completely different. It was hypnotizing. Which is why you were extremely worried about asking him out.

You gripped your books to your chest a bit tighter and made your way over to his spot. He was so concentrated on his book that his tongue was sticking out a little and he was resting his head on his right hand as he read. You cleared your throat a little, getting his attention and making him look up at you.

“Um… h-hello, Remus” you smiled, nervously.

“Hi” he smiled back at you.

“I am sorry to um b-bother you” you started. “Uh, is it okay if I join you?”

“Oh, yeah, sure” he said, getting up and scootching a little to make room for you. How were you not supposed to fall in love with this man?

“Um, th-thank you” you said, placing your bag on the floor and taking your books out. “So, um… what are you reading?”

“Oh” he said, marking the page on his book. “Um, I’m reading A Murder is Announced” he said, showing it to you. “Have you read it?”

“Oh, yes, I read this last year. It’s a really good book. Are you enjoying it?”

“I am” he nodded. “So, what brings you to the Quidditch Pitch today?” he asked, all of the sudden.

“Oh, w-well, there’s a match on Friday” you said. “... right?”

“Right” he smiled. “Are you planning on coming to the match?”

“W-well, I don’t know. I’m not much of a Quidditch fan, as you know” you said, feeling your cheeks burn. “S-so, I thought maybe if I watch them practice I might understand it a little bit better?” you said, nervously.

“Why the sudden interest?” he asked, curiously.

“Um, I don’t know” you said, nervously running a hand through your hair. “It’s our last year, so… I promised myself to try new things” you smiled wearily. “So, um… do you think you can explain some of it for me?”

“Um… sure” he said, putting his book down. “I mean, I’m not the best myself but I did read Quidditch Through the Ages” he said, making you laugh a little. “So, Prongs is the captain” he said, pointing at his friend. “He, Sirius, and Kurt are Chasers. So, they have to get the Quaffle through the hoops” he instructed.

“Okay, that doesn’t seem that complicated” you said.

“Right, but it’s the Beater’s job to throw the Bludgers at them and prevent them to do so” he told you. “Fabian and Gideon are really good. But, we’re playing Ravenclaw on Friday and their Beaters are quite ruthless” he explained.

“So, I take it you’re coming to the match on Friday?”

“I am” he nodded. “I never miss a Gryffindor match” he smiled.

“Oh, Merlin! Look at him! He looks even better with his hair like that” you heard a group of girls a few steps down and to your right. They were ogling and sighing over Sirius, who wasn’t as far, brushing his sweaty hair with his hand.

“Ugh, I know! He’s stupidly handsome” another one giggled.

“So… Sirius has his own cheerleading section?” you chuckled.

“Yeah, he kind of does” Remus told you as Sirius made his way over to the group of girls in his broom.

“Hello, ladies” he said, flashing his signature handsome smirk at them, making them giggle and they all started complimenting him.

When he spotted you, he quickly sent a wink your way. You failed to see Remus rolling his eyes as he started putting his stuff in his bag, which is why he failed to see Sirius widening his eyes at you before pointing at Remus hinting that you needed to ask him. You sighed, rolling your eyes, and took a deep breath one more time.

“Um, R-Remus?”

“Yes?” he asked, looking back at you.

“Um, w-well, I was um…” you stuttered nervously. “C-could I ask you something?”

“Sure” he said, turning to look at you.

He noticed you were nervously playing with your hands before you looked at Sirius one last time and then you finally faced him. He prepared himself to hear you ramble on about how much in love with Sirius you were and if he could help you fix a date with him or something.

“W-well, I was w-wondering if, uh-” you said, again. “If you’re not busy on F-Friday, um… m-maybe you’d like to um…” you stammered. “G-go with me to the Library to study, b-before the match?” you managed to finally spit out. You felt your heartbeat increase as you waited for your answer.

“What?” Remus frowned.

“O-or if you’re busy we can c-come to the match?” you tried, smiling nervously. “O-or I b-believe it’s a Hogsmeade weekend-”

“What’s your angle?” he asked you all of the sudden, taking you by surprise.

“Um… a-angle?”

“Honestly, if you want to go out with Sirius, just ask him” he said, standing up and grabbing his bag.

“Sirius? W-what are you talking about-?”

“You know, a lot of girls have asked me what’s the best way to ask him out but none of them have sunk so low to the point of pretending that you would like to spend with me to get closer to him-”

“That’s not what I was-” you tried to explain, getting up yourself.

“What is it then? Are you trying to make him jealous or something?”

“What? No! Remus, I don’t-”

“You know what? No, thank you. I honestly have better things to do than to spend a day with you talking about Sirius” he said before walking away, leaving you standing there, mouth opened, dumbfounded. You didn’t even hear the last things he said. The only words ringing in your ears were ‘No, thank you. I honestly have better things to do than to spend a day with you.’

Your eyes kept looking at him as he climbed down the stairs and you saw the group of girls that were looking at Sirius. They all looked at you with sorrow in their eyes. They felt sorry for you. You had just been rejected in front of them. You felt your eyes starting to water as you saw Alice running towards you.

“Hey, what happened? I just saw Remus leaving-”

“He said no” you silently said as a few tears ran down your cheeks.

“What? Why?”

“He said he- um” you tried to explain to your friend as she sat you down. ��He thought I was asking him out b-because I wanted to get closer to Sirius” you said.

“What? That’s ridiculous! Why would he think that?”

“I don’t know” you said. “I tried to tell him that wasn’t the case b-but he didn’t let me explain and he left” you finished, crying a little harder.

“Hey” Sirius said, flying over to the two of you. “What happened? Why are you crying?”

“Remus said no” Alice informed him as she hugged you.

“What? Why?”

“He thought she was only asking him because she wanted to ask you out” Alice explained.

“He said that?” Sirius asked you and you slowly nodded. “I’m gonna bloody kill him” he muttered under his breath. “Look, love, I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“N-no, it’s okay” you said, trying to stop more tears from falling. “I d-don’t think Remus likes me that way anyways” you said, sadly.

“Don’t say that, love” Alice insisted. “Let’s just go to dinner and we can talk things through” she suggested.

“I’m not hungry” you said, pulling away and grabbing your things. “You guys should go” you smiled sadly at them. “I think I’m just gonna go to my dorm” you told them, eying the group of girls who were now leaving.

“No, we can talk to Remus-”

“Go and rest, okay? I’ll bring you something” Alice interrupted Sirius.

“Thanks guys” you smiled weakly at them. “I’ll see you tomorrow” you said before making your way out.

“Bye, love” Sirius said before turning to Alice. “I’m going to kill Remus” he repeated.

“If you don’t, I will” she replied.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“What the bloody hell is your problem?” Sirius asked when he burst into his dorm.

Remus was reading a book, James was coming out of the shower, and Peter was just sitting there waiting for everyone to get ready so they could go to dinner.

“Which one of us are you talking to, Pads?” James asked, confused.

“Why don’t you ask your stupid friend Moony” Sirius said, glaring at him.

“What are you talking about?” Remus frowned confused.

“Oh, you’re going to play dumb? So we’re just going to pretend that nothing happened back in the Quidditch Pitch and you didn’t make anyone cry?”

“What?” James and Peter asked at the same time.

“Again, what are you talking about? Nobody cried” Remus said, closing his book and getting up.

“Really? Are you sure about that, Moony? Are you really sure?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Padfoot. You have no idea what happened!”

“Oh, really? So, you didn’t reject her when she asked you out?”

“What? Who asked you out?” James asked, interested.

“Nobody-”

“Nobody? Really? The girl that you have practically been in love with for years is now nobody?”

“What? She asked you out?” Peter asked.

“You said no?” James asked, extremely confused.

“She didn’t ask me out, okay? She was only asking to spend time with me to get closer to you!”

“What?” James and Peter asked again. “That doesn’t make any sense!” James said.

“Yeah, what are you talking about, mate?” Peter asked.

“Why the fuck would she want to get closer to me? We’re friends!”

“Because she’s in love with you, just like every other girl in this stupid school is, apparently!” Remus snapped.

“You see? You see how stupid your friend is?” Sirius told James.

“Stop talking to me as if I’m not here! And stop calling me stupid!”

“Mate, you are stupid! You truly are if you think she was only asking you out to get closer to Sirius!” James told him.

“Shut up! I saw the way that she was looking at him! You winked at her, and all of the sudden she’s interested in Quidditch and she wants to go to the match on Friday, and I’m supposed to believe she doesn’t fancy you?”

“Mate, I highly doubt she’s interested in Quidditch” Peter laughed.

“Yeah, she’s as interested in Quidditch as she is in Padfoot” James added.

“Moons, I winked at her because I knew she was nervous about asking you out. See, it was actually the other way around. She came to me and asked me how she could ask you out” he explained.

“W-what?” Remus asked, feeling terrible.

“Do you honestly not know how much in love with you she is?” Peter asked, confused.

“Yeah, she’s always looking at you, mate” James told him.

“She’s n-not” he insisted, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t just turned you down and that you were not in love with him. “She likes Padfoot. She’s always with him-!”

“Yeah, talking about you, you idiot!” Sirius told him. “She’s always asking what your favorite books are, what movies do you like, and what would be the best way to ask you out! And when she finally got the courage to do it, you said no” he explained.

“Holy shit” Remus muttered to himself, plopping on his bed again. “I am so stupid” he stated.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, mate” Sirius said, sitting next to him. “So, what are you going to do?”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Throughout the next few days, Remus tried endlessly to find you so he could apologize but it was useless. You were avoiding him like the plague. Even when he tried using the Map, it was as if you were one step ahead of him. He looked for you in the Library, where he thought you’d be even if he said no, but you were nowhere to be found. He hoped you would make it to the match on Friday, but again, you were a no-show.

It wasn’t until Saturday when he begged Alice to drag you to Hogsmeade so he could just ‘casually’ run into you. It took him and Sirius to convince her since she was still mad at Remus for rejecting you, but she caved.

So, here you were, on your way to Hogsmeade as a third wheel on Alice and Frank’s date, although they insisted it wasn’t a date, so Marlene and Dorcas were here too. So, all in all, you were fifth-wheeling.

“Come on, love. It’s gonna be fun!” Marlene said, linking her arm with yours. “We can do whatever you’d like!”

“Yeah, we can go to the Three Broomsticks, or Tomes and Scrolls, or the music shop” Dorcas suggested.

“To be honest with you, girls, I kind of just want to go to Honeydukes to get as much candy as I can carry and then go back” you said with a sad sigh.

“What? No, love, it’s a beautiful day!” Marlene insisted.

“Look, we have some errands to run, why don’t you go to Honeydukes to get some candy, and then we can meet at the Three Broomsticks?” Alice suggested as you entered the village.

“Um… can’t I just by my candy and go-”

“No!” Dorcas and Marlene said in unison. “We’re gonna head to the Three Broomsticks to get a booth, so you better come there after buying your candy” Dorcas added.

“Ugh, fine!” you said, frustrated.

In all honesty, all you wanted to do was buy an endless amount of candy and go back to your dorm. Ever since Remus rejected you, you felt people watching you everywhere you went. You could hear them talking about you and you were certain that the girls that witnessed the entire thing had already spread around your very much public rejection. Which is why you had been avoiding going out of your dorm as much as you could.

You turned around to make your way to Honeydukes, completely missing that your friends joined James, Peter, Lily, Remus, and Sirius at the Three Broomsticks.

“You’re up, Lupin” Alice said, still glaring at him as the rest made their way inside the pub.

Remus took a deep breath before he followed you into the sweetshop. He spotted you on one of the furthest shelves, holding, or trying to, as many sweets as you could in your hands. He felt a sweet smile forming on his face as he watched you. A small part of him still thought that Sirius was wrong. That there was no way that you could ever be interested in someone like him.

But his heart fluttered more intensely with each step he took towards you, and he knew that whether Sirius was right or wrong, he still needed to apologize to you for the way he spoke. When one of the many chocolate frogs you had fell on the floor, he quickly made his way over to you and picked it up.

“Um, here, I think you dropped this” he said, making you turn around to face him. His heart ached a little when the smile dropped off your face when you saw it was him.

“Oh… um” you said, grabbing the treat from his hand. “Thanks” you smiled nervously.

“How have you been?” he asked, cursing himself silently. “I uh… didn’t see you at the match yesterday” he added.

“Right… I wasn’t really in the mood to go” you smiled firmly.

“Oh” Remus said, feeling even worse. “W-well, you missed a good match” he chuckled. “Gryffindor won” he said.

“I heard” you replied noticing a few people looking your way. “Um, I should uh- probably get going” you said, as you were going to start making your way out, but you felt Remus gently grab your arm and turn you around.

“Wait!” he said, getting even more attention from the students around you. “Um, I…” he felt his heart beating a little faster. He didn’t like dragging this much attention to himself and he wanted to ask you to go somewhere a bit more private. But, firstly, he didn’t think you’d like to go anywhere with him until you apologized and secondly, he very much publicly rejected you, so maybe he had to do the same thing. “I wanted to apologize to you” he blurted out.

“Oh, R-Remus, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do” he said, getting closer to you and pulling you a little away. “I’m really sorry about the way that I spoke to you” he said. “I’m sorry for assuming that you were just talking to me to get closer to Sirius-”

“Why did you think that?” you asked all of the sudden.

“E-excuse me?”

“Why would you think that the only reason I would talk to you or wanted to spend time with you would be to get closer to someone else?” you asked. “I mean, I thought- I thought we were friends… Is that… um… is that what you think of me?” you asked, sadly.

“What? No!” he assured you. “I don’t- we are friends” he insisted. “I just…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, here it goes” he said, taking a deep breath. “I like you, love” he started. “I really like you. I’ve liked you so much for so long, I’m pretty sure that I’m very much in love with you” he confessed. “But, I never in a million years thought that y-you could like me like that” he said. “I thought that you were only interested in Quidditch because you wanted to see Sirius and I saw him wink at you, so my reasoning was that you liked him because, for some reason every girl in school does, and that would be the logical thing-”

“The logical thing would be for me to like Sirius?”

“Well, yes” he said as if it was obvious.

“Why?”

“Why would you have any interest in spending time with me then?”

“Because I like you, you big idiot!” you blurted out, frustrated.

“Y-you do?”

“Yes! I figured Sirius might have told you by now, or you might have heard it from the entire school who apparently knows and you’re the only one who’s still oblivious to it!”

“Well, to be honest, Sirius did say something but, I still wasn’t entirely sure that it was true-”

“Why, Remus? Why do you think it’s so impossible for me to be in love with you?”

“L-love? Did you just say love?” he asked, smiling.

“I uh-” you said, realizing you just let it slip. “Well, you said it first!”

“Well, yes, because it makes sense for me to be in love with you, but it doesn’t make sense for you to be in love with me!”

“What? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! Why?”

“Why? Oh, I don’t know, maybe we should discuss this on the next lunar phase” he said, muttering the last words.

“Oh, Merlin! Really? Is that what this is about?”

“For starters!” he argued. “Trust me, it would make a lot more sense if you liked Sirius! He’s handsome and always laughing, he’s funny and witty-”

“Remus, are you trying to tell me that I should be in love with Sirius? Or that you are in love with Sirius?” you smirked a little.

“That’s not what I meant!” he glared at you. “Look, I just… I never thought that someone like you would ever want to be with… someone like me” he muttered the last part.

“Wow, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?” you chuckled as Remus rolled his eyes.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Who called you an idiot?”

“Sirius!” he complained.

“Aw” you smiled. “Well, we can be two idiots in love, or you can just reject me again. It’s your move, Lupin” you told him.

Remus bit his bottom lip, trying to prevent his smirk from getting bigger. He walked closer to you and gently pulled you closer to him by your waist before he leaned down to press his lips against yours. You suddenly dropped all the candy you had in your hands and you quickly wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“I choose two idiots in love” he smiled before kissing you once more.

“Good answer, Lupin” you smiled.

“Oh, I also wanted to ask” he said, grabbing your sweets and placing them in a basket. “If you’re not too busy if you… wanted to go on a date with me?”

“Well, I told Dorcas and Marlene I would go to the Three Broomsticks-”

“Yes, they are all waiting for us to get there” he informed you.

“Oh, okay, so that’s a no on the Three Broomsticks then” you said, as you walked over to pay for your things.

“I think that’s for the best” he smiled.

“Well then, it looks like my day is free” you said, as Remus held your hand when you walked out of Honeydukes.

He pulled you back a little and kissed you once more. “I really am sorry, love” he smiled.

“I know you are, Rem” you smiled back at him.

“So, does this mean you’ll keep me company on Quidditch matches?”

“If you’re there, I guess I can be there” you smiled as he kissed you again, neither of you noticing your group of friends looking at the two of you from the window at the pub across the street.

“Fucking finally” Sirius muttered, bumping Alice’s fist.

The End

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A/N: hope you loves like it! Charlie's coming up next!

#marauders #marauders imagine #remus lupn #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin oneshot

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suja-janee · 1 month ago

Text

Oooh this might be a controversial take (for the bireena community maybe) but I feel like I need to get it off my chest

I don’t ship sekhan, I feel like that is completely obvious, but-

I didn’t want bireena in khaos reigns either (even before it came out and sekhan became canon)

At most, I wanted them to meet, try to kill each other maybe, have no choice but to team up, and then leave off on a cliffhanger on what the future could hold. LIKE that was it. No romance yet, maybe not even an official friendship, just obscurity to set up their future.

I feel like we’re still at a point where Bi-Han needs to make a lot of personal growth first. The last thing I want him doing is putting his nasty unredeemed hands anywhere near my precious SAREEEENNNAAAA!! If they were to interact at any point in future games or kombat packs, I want the focus to be on redeeming the two (mostly bi-han) cause at the end of the day, I am a Bi-Han fan first, bireena fan second. I will even take it if they just end up as friends if that means he can finally redeem himself and not go down the constant path of evil and being someone’s side-kick.

From my time on twitter I’ve noticed the constant need of some bireena fans to attack sekhan and complain that we didn’t get bireena, which is fair they’re allowed to do that, but I think that’s genuinely the wrong way to look at this whole situation. I mean, if you wanna think in context to how Bi-han acts/ presents himself in this timeline, I actually think he and sektor make perfect sense. He doesn’t like people disagreeing with him and sektor is basically the embodiment of an enabler/ loyalist. OF COURSE, he’d be down for that (which is not to say I like sektor’s writing either, I wanted her to betray Bi-Han and push her own image onto the Lin Kuei). But I think the point of putting him with her (though I don’t want to give NRS any writing credit yet) is to show how messed up his mind is and how he goes for the wrong methods to get what he wants (like liu kang said).

I know we shouldn’t exactly take the Johnny cage announcer voice as canon but I feel like everyone is missing the “future” part in “bi-Han’s future bestie”. They still haven’t even officially met if you don’t count him kicking nitara’s ass at the Ying fortress. If they had gotten together in khaos reigns it would’ve been just as bad and poorly written as sekhan. If you wanna attack sekhan and call it forced because her entire story revolves around a man then you need to also keep in mind that if Sareena had been written as a romantic interest to Bi-Han in khaos reigns it would be the exact same thing. Sareena still has her own soul to redeem and her own past to confront. The last thing she needs is to be with a man that has all the mental maturity of a group of middle schoolers who frequent Hot Topic.

(This portion is my own headcanoning and how I want them to meet, I’ll mark where it ends)

As stated before, I think the main priority should be Bi-Han and Sareena focusing on their redemption arcs if they are to interact with each other in the future. Bi-Han needs to see the error in his ways of thinking and let go of his pride. Sareena needs to see she’s more than just an underling to Quan Chi and break free from his control. If anything, I think the best way to approach this is to maybe bring up MK Mythologies again and have them meet through that. Maybe Bi-Han gets betrayed and gets stuck in the netherrealm and has no choice but to spare a life (Sareena’s) and relies on her to help him get out. That way it would teach him the value of mercy that he didn’t understand in Khaos Reigns. And from there I think in terms of Sareena’s story she sees someone with a tainted soul and feels some empathy about that. Helping him to redeem himself- to her- would be like a way of helping her understand that no soul is too far gone and she herself can be redeemed and help others.

As far as how he would act after being “redeemed” I can’t exactly tell you how I think he would act, especially since he’s not really the apologetic type. But maybe an interesting route he can take is Kuai Liang’s old role in the previous timelines. He’s seen how fa pride can take you and how destructive it is. That way he’s the perfect perspective to redo/ remodel the Lin Kuei. Kuai Liang seems too focused with the Shirai Ryu this time around so if anyone should be redeeming the Lin Kuei it should be the guy who has taken the most mental and physical damage from being a part of it. And from that little plot line, the Shirai Ryu and the Lin Kuei can make peace with each other.

Again, THIS DOESN’T HAVE TO BE ROMANTIC FOR BIREENA. I’m more than happy if they’re just friends in the end. I just want some sort of redemption and closure for them for ONCE! They’ve been subject to so much heartbreak and evil in previous timelines, they deserve better than this one dimensional writing.

(End headcanon here)

I know this may all come off as hypocritical coming from me, the most frequent poster in the bireena tag 😂, but keep in mind the type of content I post. I VERY CLEARLY do not take myself or my art very seriously and most of my art is comedy based. So before you sharpen your pitchforks and sum me up as just another bireena artist, just know I draw what entertains me the most and I’m usually not serious about it.

Do I still want bireena? Or course I do. I just don’t want it NOW. I’m willing to wait- I don’t want forced/ rushed writing on a ship I’ve devoted myself to for the past year.

#hot take #mortal kombat 1 #khaos reigns #bireena #bi han #sub zero #sareena #sektor #THIS IS KINDA A ROUGH DRAFT #I have more thoughts on the manner but I’m not a super eloquent writer #plus I need to outline it since again- I struggle with writing #THIS IS EXACTLY WHY IM AN ARTIST AND NOT A WRITER LOOOL #I feel like if I could properly write I would have an actual bireena comic planned out by now #but I lack the proper skills and consistent writing for it #but hey that’s what practice is for #so I guess take this post as me practicing putting my thoughts into words instead of making dumb doodles #HOLY YAPP I SHUT UP NOW

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pupkashi · 2 years ago

Text

the jjk men flirting

including gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuji, inumaki toge, okkotsu yuta, fushiguro toji

a/n: hi hi ! back after a while with these flirting hcs :] i hope they aren’t too ooc i tried to make them fit but i do not know the first thing about flirting I’m sorry I’m not a player </3

masterlist

— gojo satoru !

everyone says he’s so flirty and so smooth w it and I’m not saying i disagree but i am saying when he realizes he has actual real feelings for someone his rizz goes out the window

he starts second guessing all his pick up lines and all his flirting tactics

does not know how to act around you anymore because you don’t want someone who never takes things seriously so he has to be more serious, right?

where he would usually make a joke he tries to be more serious

when he doesn’t laugh at your “that’s what she said” joke you get a little suspicious, worried that something was wrong with him

gojo only grew more flustered when you looked at him with concerned eyes and voice as sweet as honey

starts to go back to normal when you tell him you miss his usual self, back making jokes and flirty remarks your way

“y/n have you always looked so beautiful during sunset?” “you like coffee? that’s crazy i do too! how about we go on a coffee date”

when you don’t pick up the hint he grows a bit frustrated, trying to hang out with you alone more, his flirty remarks are out the window and he’s just telling you how he feels at that point

“if you wear that outfit again i might just ask you to be mine” “very funny satoru” (he wants to rip his hair out)

— nanami kento !

makes you swoon so fucking easily it’s embarrassing

absolute dream of a man everyone wants him but he wants you so bad he’s running around town finding the best florist to buy you a bouquet of your favorite flowers only to hand them to you later and say “i saw them on my way here so i thought why not”

will start getting you small things, picks you flowers from the side of the road or sidewalk, if you guys walk together he’ll give them to you then and there

constantly compliments you, “you looks so pretty like that,” “your hair looks nice styled this way”

notices small things about you and points them out, knows when you get your eyebrows done or a small haircut

it’s pretty obvious when he flirts because he is just straight up smiling at you calling you pretty and asking you on a date but in the most subtle charming way possible

finds himself staring at you an unhealthy amount of times, finds your mannerisms so heart warming

will pick up your hobbies so you could spend time together or have someone to talk about it to

he’ll offer to cook for you and invites you to his apartment often for any small thing,,, “i lost my tv remote and i can’t find it, do you wanna come help? I’ll buy you dinner”

he is just so fucking charming and such a gentleman because he wants you so bad and he’s determined to win your heart over no matter how long it take

— fushiguro mergumi !

so awkward and endearing it hurts your heart

he’ll scowl less around you, smiling at any small comments you make and occasionally chuckling at your bad jokes

does not know how to approach you at all, he’ll opt to just trying to be around you in hopes of getting you alone to talk to just you and not the others

“so i was thinking maybe we could go eat somewhere, together?” his smile was small and his cheeks were pink as you smiled back at him, “I’d love that!” you replied, about to speak up again but you were interrupted by yuji’s arm wrapping around your shoulder

“we’re gonna go out to eat? I’ll tell kugasaki!” neither of you could stop your pink haired friend before he was off to tell nobara, megumi would frown but you’d nudge him, offering a sympathetic smile and squeezing his arm

will make you a playlist with his music ke ‘songs that remind me of u’ or music he thinks you’d like (makes sure to put a good amount of love songs so that maybe you’d get the hint)

he’ll watch your favorite shows or movies without you knowing so next time you bring it up he can talk to you about it

memorizes all your favorite things you say in passing, when the opportunity arises he’ll make it known that yeah, he remembered what your favorite starburst flavor was and yeah he bought a pack and saved all of your favorites to give to you the next day

will probably harbor a crush for a while before he gives up on his own methods and begrudgingly asks gojo how to flirt

gojo will smile at him, tell him he’s doing fine and send him on his merry way because although megumi doesn’t notice the way you check yourself in your camera when megumi walks over, or the way you giggle at his every word, gojo certainly does

— itadori yuji !

absolute angel of a boy

will do absolutely every cliche thing when he has a crush on someone

buys you lunch, shares headphones with you, walks you home, texts you late at night funny videos or memes, calls you for hours on end, tells you terrible jokes

he’d probably blush a bit anytime you’re sitting next to him because he can almost feel the heat radiating off you and it’s driving him insane

he’ll try his best to flirt but just comes off as a little insane, so he sticks to being himself and hoping making you laugh is enough to win your heart

when he compliments you his cheeks get soooo rosy and he fumbles over his words, sometimes he’ll fidget with his fingers and he just looks so cute how can you not graciously accept the compliment

always includes you in activities even in times where you have no reason to be there

“fushiguro and i were gonna go play some volleyball with the other guys you wanna come?” “i have never touched a volleyball in my life” “great! I’ll save you a spot on the team”

he just wants to spend time with you !! how can you say no to him ?? (his team won solely because his athletic prowess overshadowed your terrible serves)

won’t brush his feelings off, he knows he likes you and he’s not gonna try and hide it (to an extent) especially not when he wants you to know he likes you so that you can make a move if you’re comfortable with it

in the meantime he’ll continue to spend his nights on FaceTime with you, making you giggle, buying you lunch and sharing headphones (wired ones he bought after he ‘lost’ his Bluetooth ones) with you on late night walks together, blushing and grinning when your hands brushed against one another

— inumaki toge !

the fucking cutest little menace

at first is a little shy, grins so much when you talk to him and is always keeping an eye out for you wherever he is

is so so so sweet but also such a little shit about it 😭😭😭😭

the kind to tell you he knows a really nice place where they make you’re favorite meal but the only way he’ll tell you where it’s at is if you go with him

finds anyway possible to make you blush !!!!!!

“i really like your sweater inumaki” “salmon?” you nod with a small smile, there’s a small smirk on his face before he’s taking it off, the white t shirt underneath riding up along with it, his toned abdomen flashing before your eyes and your cheeks are burning

it doesn’t go unnoticed by the cursed speech user, a smirk on his face, he places the sweater if your hand, before promptly signing “it’ll look better on you anyway”

if you keep denying it despite very obviously wanting to take it he’ll lean in a little, press the sweater a little more into your hands and mumble “take the sweater” his eyes glimmering and you can’t even be upset that he used his cursed speech on you

likes being close to you as much as he can, will spend hours on end listening to you talk, pays so much attention to every word that leaves your mouth, he hangs on your every word

he isnt beyond using his cursed speech to get people to move just so he can sit next to you, even his poor yuta isn’t safe from his friend when it comes to you (he’s too enamored by you, can he really be blamed :(()

shows his feelings in every possible way: getting you things you like, spending time with you, enjoying your hobbies/interests, cheesy pickup lines, teasing you relentlessly

the kind of flirt that makes you blush and squeak telling him to stop but you secretly hope he doesn’t because it’s making you fall more and more for him

“toge are wearing shorts underneath your shorts?” “you’re checking me out a little too hard y/n, why are you noticing that” your face would flush as you tried to scramble for an excuse and the sorcerer will only sit back and have a lazy grin on his face

such a menace but he’s sure to balance the teasing out with endless showers of compliments to make you blush and hours on end of time spent together hoping that you’ll fall as hard as he is <3

— okkotsu yuta !

so sweet and shy and has no idea how to flirt so he immediately googles it

reads something about longing stares and thoughtful questions so he rolls with it, locking his phone and walking up to you

“hi y/n” he smiles, you grin back and return the greeting, “are there more doors or wheels in the world?” he looks at you, trying his best to imitate the guy in the picture he saw but is only met with a confused expression on your face, “are you gonna throw up on me or something?”

yuta never trusted google again

sticks to what toge and the others have told him about just being himself and trying to spend time with you

would walk you home or go with you places you didn’t wanna go alone (that’s how he got roped into going to the mall an entire day)

will help you with tasks you struggle with, let’s you know of things he thinks you might like, texts you often and loves to FaceTime you !!!

will absolutely hit you with the “i didn’t really understand this thing, do you think you could help me with it?”

laughs at all your jokes no matter how terrible and blushes when you talk to him

isn’t very straightforward with his flirting, everything is very subtle because he isn’t sure how to approach you about something this serious so he decides to just let you figure it out on your own

will compliment you but not too often because he doesn’t wanna seem weird, tells you he loves being around you and spending time with you

just a shy boy who is so tooth achingly sweet and wants to do his best to flirt and try to gain your affection (spoiler he’s had it since the first day you spoke to each other)

— fushiguro toji !

so crass it almost hurts

doesn’t flirt as much as he just smirks at you says suggestive things accompanied by a wink

“you look great in that dress, can’t help but wonder how it’d look on my floor” your face burns and the intensity of his stare is too much and you can only giggle and look away, toji towers over you and he loves using that to his advantage

will lean against the wall when listening to you talk, his head cocked to the side and a small smile on his face, his arms are crossed and his biceps and slightly flexed

flirting comes very easy to him, and he loves making you blush with the terrible pickup lines that work because of how attractive he is, always smiling when you look down because you can’t bear to look him in the eyes

calls you nicknames like “sweet thing” or “doll face” and he loves how you react each and every time

makes an effort to actually get to know you, asks about what you like and pays attention, bringing it up again after a while

will absolutely try to hide any softness behind his compliments and actions, covering it up with a crude joke or a sexually suggestive comment

will drive you around to wherever it is you wanna go and secretly hopes you’ll ask him to tag along so he can spend time with you (he will never admit to this even if you date)

is more touchy with you when hes flirting, will place a hand on your wait or back when you’re walking together, grabs your hand/wrist to follow him even when there’s not a crowd around

he’s just so hot and sexy he doesn’t really have to flirt let’s be real here yall

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superbbirdofparadise · 6 days ago

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Are y'all ready for a mildly unhinged character comparison?

(It makes sense when you think about it, trust me)

William Afton and Doctor Morocco. One is an undead serial killer from a mascot horror game. The other is a villain from a cartoon targeted to preschool-age children who doesn't even have a body count (at least, not one that's mentioned on-screen). On the surface, all they have in common are their British accents and general disregard for public welfare. But, these two are actually far more similar than you might think.

First, they are both inventors, and experts in robotics. While it is unclear exactly how many animatronics Afton himself built, we know from Sister Location that he designed the Funtimes by himself, and he worked very closely with Henry Emily for earlier animatronics (not even gonna try researching specific numbers because FNAF). Morocco is shown working on many projects, from submarines to a machine that controls ants, but his most famous invention is the MorBot, a non-sentient transforming robot.

Early in their careers, they both met fellow genius inventors; Afton with Henry Emily, and Morocco with Jules Verne. They became best friends, and began working together on projects. Unfortunately, both of these friendships were more one-sided than they seemed.

Admiration of Emily and Verne soon turned to jealousy, leading Afton and Morocco to betray them. Afton, either grieving the loss of his own child(ren), or just at his breaking point depending on what timeline you use, killed Henry's daughter, Charlie. After being gifted a prototype Verne device, Morocco disagreed with Verne on how the technology should be used, and disappeared to develop inventions which fulfilled his own selfish desires. Although they are not equal in magnitude, both betrayals hurt the recipients deeply.

At some point, both became obsessed with the pursuit of eternal life. This led Afton to continue killing children to harvest remnant from them, even creating the S.C.U.P., better known as the Scooper, to aid remnant extraction. Morocco used his Verne device prototype to create his Chamber of Youth, a glass pod with anti-aging properties. (Picture of Burntrap's charging pod included for comparison with the Chamber of Youth, and because I couldn't find a better place to put it.)

However, time waits for no man. Although Afton "survives" injuries that should be fatal, and Morocco barely looks a day over 40 at 200, neither of their situations are perfect. What's left of Afton is trapped inside an old Spring Bonnie suit, and Morocco must make frequent trips to his Chamber of Youth to avoid aging rapidly and dying.

Eventually, Emily and Verne decide to end their former best friends' reigns of terror. Emily builds a fake pizzeria to trap Afton, and all of the haunted and/or sentient animatronics, and burns them to the ground. Verne takes a (relatively) pacifist approach, erasing Morocco's memories of being evil and bringing him to future Paris, where he will hopefully live out the rest of his days in peace. So goes the ends of two great villains…

…until SOMEONE decides that the characters are too popular to die, so they're brought back, but it's not really them, it's just viruses that look and talk and act and think like them that were created by the real Afton and Morocco at an undisclosed point in time because why wouldn't they do that? These viruses appear in experimental VR games, Glitchtrap in the Freddy Fazbear Virtual Experience, and the Morocco virus in Griffin Rock Element Quest 2.0. They both have the ability to alter the games they originated in, Glitchtrap adding the tapes and Bonnie plush, and Morocco virus creating entirely new levels. They also have the ability to control other machines, and even humans, under the right circumstances.

Both viruses manage to transfer themselves into physical bodies, and continue to cause chaos. (For this example, we are assuming that Burntrap is the Mimic infected with the Glitchtrap virus and pretending to be William Afton, NOT Afton himself.)

Vanessa and Gregory trap the Mimic in an even lower level of the basement, and the rescue team traps Morocco virus in a block of ice. After they are captured and imprisoned, they decide that they should update their character designs at the earliest convenience to be more easily distinguishable from their human designers, sell more merch, and, in Morocco virus' case at least, grow more powerful. Mimic basically just stops cosplaying as Ourple Guy (and starts cosplaying as a circus creature amalgam depending on the ending), but Morocco upgrades to a MorBot, rivaling the Rescue Bots in every physical aspect.

It is unknown whether or not either of these viruses, or their creators, will be threats in the future. With the Morocco virus stuck at the bottom of the ocean, and the doctor himself nowhere to be seen in Rescue Bots Academy, the reign of Morocco has likely come to an end. It seems as though William Afton has finally died, too, being replaced by the Mimic as FNAF's main antagonist. To know the Mimic's fate, we'll have to wait until Secret of the Mimic, or maybe even a game farther in the future.

Aaaaand I think that's it! There are a few smaller details that I didn't mention (i.e. Morocco's shirt button/brooch thing is ourple?!?😱😱😱), but these are all of the big connections between these guys that I saw. I haven't seen anyone else make this comparison (for good reason lol), so I thought it would be nice to share my thoughts. Let me know what y'all think, and feel free to mention things that I missed, or let me know your own mildly unhinged character comparisons. So, uh… yeah. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Edit: I fixed the typo in the image description for the picture of Morocco and Verne meeting.

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eff-plays · 9 days ago

Note

What are your thoughts on some of the wording that is used to describe Taash's gender dysphoria in Veilguard?

Anytime their gender identity crisis is discussed, it's always called "non-binary stuff." There is also one character in the wetlands who is non-binary and they say that another character helped them with their "non-binary" stuff.

Surely, the terms gender dysphoria, gender identity crisis, or even just saying "helped me figure out that I was non-binary" would have been better writing.

It feels like they didn't have faith in people to understand other terms or context clues.

Please note that this ask is not meant to be in bad faith and there is no pressure to answer.

I am generally curious if this is an example of bad writing or if non-binary stuff is the correct term over gender dysphoria or gender identity crisis in this context.

I think it all goes back to just using "non-binary" in the game itself. And while I get how some enbies think it's important to use our language to describe us in fiction, and that's a justified opinion to hold, I'm going to disagree. Games with heavy and extensive lore and actual conlangs shouldn't just fall back on hyperspecific modern terms when we all know they're capable of delivering the same message in a way that doesn't lean on the fourth wall or break immersion. Krem, for all the clunkiness that surrounded him, got a whole in-universe explanation for how he fit into the Qun.

Now, to be clear, I'm not saying I value immersion over representation, or that nonbinary people are immersion-breaking. That's an insane opinion to hold. It's just that I, personally, feel more out-of-place and alienated when a fictional world's attempts at including me uses modern terminology. It doesn't tell me that I belong in that world and there is space for me in it, but that there isn't. This vast world, which has fantastical locations and magic and Blighted old gods and dragons, which has room for all of those things, but doesn't have room for language and identities unique to it that might reflect mine? It has to use language that doesn't belong there to explain people that supposedly do? Do you get my issue here? There is an inherent contradiction in this approach.

By not bothering to integrate nonbinary people into Thedas, by falling back on and insisting on modern terminology, BioWare isn't telling me "you're valid, you belong" it's telling me "your presence is so incongruous with our world that we couldn't do anything but use existing terminology to describe you." In their attempt to be inclusive, they just didn't bother to actually integrate nonbinary identities into its world. Then they keep highlighting their own failure by pointing at my identity and telling everyone in their world how valid it is. Imagine you're just existing in a crowd and some motherfucker points you out and goes "YOU. YOU'RE VALID! EVERYBODY LOOK AT HOW VALID THEY ARE!" That's what's bothering me the most. It makes me feel like a freak, not like I belong. And maybe that's a me problem, but given the responses I've seen to my Taash posts, I don't think it is.

Anyway, sorry for that tangent. I don't think gender dysphoria or gender identity crisis would've been better writing, personally. I was pretty confused for why this random NPC told me about their gender identity at all, to be frank. Especially when they, in the first conversation, gave us their pronouns in a very naturalistic way, and Rook + the companions repeated those pronouns later. Like, for me? That, combined with Flynn's very androgynous appearance, was enough to clue me in to who they were. We only have two interactions with this person (AFAIK, if they show up again then I haven't gotten to that point in the game yet), there really doesn't need to be a spot where they clarify their highly personal discovery of their gender identity.

However, if you're very desperate to include this as explicitly as BioWare intends, I have a solution: have them only mention the "non-binary stuff" to a trans and/or nonbinary Rook. My Rook is nonbinary and people know this about them, and since Rook is becoming well-known, people will know their pronouns and identity. So, have Flynn be like "Yeah, my mentor helped me figure myself out. You know how hard it can be to do on your own, Rook." Ya know? Suddenly, you get what they're talking about without having them to be like "ah yes, have I mentioned I am non-binary today?"

I get wanting to make things explicit, but it happens at the cost of believability and actually representing how enbies exist as people. I don't talk to friendly strangers like "I had a hard time figuring out I'm nonbinary, but I got there in the end!" Most of my classmates only know I'm nonbinary because it says so on my Discord profile, and the same goes for the ones I know are nonbinary. Most of it is just clocking each other across the room or hearing other people use our chosen pronouns.

As for Taash's dysphoria ... That's another long-ass can of worms type post that I might make once I'm finished with the game and have a complete image of their storyline. But rest assured, I have plenty of thoughts on that, as well.

#bioware critical #veilguard critical #veilguard spoilers

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overlyspecific · 5 months ago

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Part 10 of Merlin Hood

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 11, Part 12

Merlin didn’t have a lot of regrets in his life. Sure, he wished he could spend more time with his friends and do more with his magic than what he was doing, but he understood the constraints of his life. He accepted it through and through. What he did regret however was not eating back at the hideout when he got the chance.

Okay, maybe he was a little loopy from pain and blood loss, but that didn’t stop his stomach from rumbling. Merlin half excepted the noise to echo off the walls.

Merlin: *mumbling a little deliriously* Hey, Mr. Witchfinder, sir! You wouldn’t by chance have a sliver of bread or a sweet meat I can have? I would be forever grateful and I may even forgive you for the whole nasty torture business for a sausage.

Aredian: I have tortured hundreds of sorcerers to the point of madness. I have interrogated thousands of people for very important information. Never once have I ever wished for someone to be silent rather than be subjected the utter rubbish you have spewed to me and I still know absolutely nothing. You are either the most intelligent person in all of Albion or the craziest idiot I have ever met.

Merlin: Hey, I only allow one person to call me an idiot and he is currently busy retrieving a mythical sword from a lake.

Aredian: How do I even respond to something like that?

Merlin: *thinking with a determined look on his face* I mean you could ask me who the person is or why they are retrieving the sword.

Aredian: Who is the person and why are they retrieving this mythical sword?

Merlin: *smiling* The once and future king is retrieving the sword because a forest druid friend of mine told him he needed to in order to be able to follow a beacon of magic which is connected by the strings of destiny.

Aredian: *regretting every life decision he has made that brought him to this point* I really don’t know whether to let you go to put an end to your madness or kill you for wasting my time, but either way I would be going against the king’s orders.

Merlin: *sympathizing* King Uther is really picky about orders. Found that out the hard way when I ruined his favorite shirt but I couldn’t exactly offer to clean it with magic at the time. Do you think he would be mad if I broke in and fixed it now? No, don’t answer I know its too risky for something unimportant. Its still gonna bother me though.

Aredian: *storming out of the dark room* DO YOU EVER SHUT UP?!

Merlin: *alone now* I think that may have been rhetorical.

Merlin shrugs his shoulders and closes his eyes.

Meanwhile, Leon is pacing where he is stationed at the front of the castle. He helped Arthur sneak out hours ago when they returned and Arthur learned of his father’s plans. Uther expected Arthur to be thrilled that their problem would finally be put to an end and Arthur played the part well, but Leon knew Arthur. He had known him since they started training to be knights together. Leon would even go as far as to say he was the one who taught Arthur how to lie when they stayed out too late at the tavern or when he disagreed with his father.

Leon saw the signs in Arthur. He saw the tightening of his fist, the crinkle of his brow and the locked in focus of his gaze. He knew Arthur was going to leave the castle and warn Merlin. What Leon didn’t know was why.

Arthur was a very smart and talented warrior and hunter. He should have tracked Merlin down years ago, but he didn’t. Leon has never understood it. However, Leon came to the conclusion that when it comes time to pick sides between Arthur and the king, Leon will support his best friend. He’s seen the good in Arthur and he decided he doesn’t always need to understand his friend to support him. All of that doesn’t mean he is any less frustrated about being left in the dark.

A couple of shadows approaching pull Leon out of his thoughts.

Gwen: *smiling* Hi, Leon.

Leon: Hello, Gwen. What has you out so late? Surely, Morgana doesn’t keep you that busy to work dusk to dawn.

Lancelot: Sorry, that would be my fault. I offered to buy Gwen a drink at the tavern and we lost track of time.

Leon: *narrowing his eyes a little* Have we met before?

Gwen: Lance here is from a neighboring village so you might have seen him around.

Leon: *unsure* yeah, maybe…

Lancelot: Well, Gwen I’d better be on my way back home. *he leans down to kiss her hand*

Gwen: *embarrassed* That’s really not necessary!

Lancelot: For you, the world, Guinevere! *Lancelot takes off back through the courtyard to the forest*

Leon: *clears his throat*

Gwen: *blushes* Sorry about that, Leon. I’d better get inside to help the Lady Morgana to bed.

Leon clears the way for Gwen to pass through, thoughts going back to Arthur. Where was that friend of his?

In the woods, just outside the clearing with the lake, Arthur was trying to traverse very quietly. His companion didn’t seem to get the memo.

Arthur: Could you be any louder?

Gwaine: Depends, what kind of noise making tools you got?

Arthur: *turning around and approaching Gwaine angrily* I’m already worried about making it to my friend in time before something really bad happens to him which will most definitely happen if the person keeping him hears us coming. So quiet down before I make you!

Gwaine: *whistles sarcastically* hey you’re the one who threatened me for help. I’m the one trusting you to keep your word, your majesty.

Arthur: *under his breath* its actually your highness.

The two continue walking in silence until Gwaine steps on a loud branch.

Gwaine: Okay so that was actually on accident, I swear.

Arthur holds up a hand to silence Gwaine. Gwaine scrunches his face in disbelief but stays still. The wait for a minute and nothing happens

Arthur: Sorry, I thought I heard-

Arthur is cut off by five bandits emerging from the trees, weapons drawn. Gwaine and Arthur immediately close ranks and stand back to back like they have fought together many times.

Bandit 1: Gwaine, fancy seeing you here. If I remember correctly, you owe me and my friends here a round. Care to pay up?

Arthur: *whispering angrily* You know these guys?!

Gwaine: *to Arthur* Unfortunately *to the bandits* You apparently don’t remember correctly. I believe I was forced to empty you and your friends cups when I knocked your sorry behind over the table for insulting a lass. I’m happy to clear up the confusion for you though.

Bandit 2: Where’s your little crew, Gwaine? They get fed up with you yet? Word on the street is you mess up everything eventually and have to leave town.

Gwaine breaks rank to attack Bandit 2, leaving Arthur to deal with the others for a moment. Arthur being the advanced warrior he is, barely breaks a sweat incapacitating Bandit 1. Excalibur moves in fast graceful arcs as he works through the bandits.

Gwaine, similarly dispatches his bandit easily and closes back in with Arthur to watch his back. They fight like a well-oiled machine and make quick work of the remaining bandits.

Arthur: *laughing and pushing Gwaine’s arm in familiarity* Where did you learn to fight? I wish some of my men were have as good as you.

Gwaine: *laughing with Arthur* Oh, here and there. You aren’t so bad yourself. Wait, what do you mean your men?

Arthur: My knights.

Gwaine: *smile dropping* Your knights as in they serve you.

Arthur: *realizing that Gwaine is peicing together that he is the prince and getting serious* Yes.

Gwaine: The person you care greatly about, it’s Merlin.

Arthur: *drawing his sword suddenly* How do you know, Merlin? Where is he?

Gwaine: Well, princess, I have good news and bad news.

#merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #arthur #merlin is robin hood #arthur pendragon #gwaine #lancelot #gwen #morgana #leon #excalibur #bandits #gwaine and arthur being dumb

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tls12lessthan3 · 3 months ago

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one of the most compelling things about dokee to me is that out of 1865 rounds she exists in two of them - one where she is saved by kim dokja, and one created to save kim dokja. this isn't especially unique when it comes to kimcom, but they both approach it differently to the others.

i think its clear kim dokja feels a unique sense of responsibility for her. he repeatedly refers to her as 'his character', her skills as something 'he raised', and her as 'his sword'. heewon occupies a strange space as an extra saved by him - not quite twsa character, not quite 'real person', and he seems to deal with that by sorting her into this role as a proto-character that needs to be guided. at the same time he clearly respects her, and even confides in her things he doesn't feel he can tell anyone else.

jung heewon has her own feelings of responsibility towards kim dokja, as clearly seen in her whole - well, everything. again, feeling indebted to kim dokja and wanting to save him because he saved her - not new feelings in kimcom. but her being referred to and used as 'his sword', is i think a unique way this manifests. its an overwhelming desire to be used. or maybe more accurately to be useful to the man who saved her. lee hyunsung as kimcom's shield comes closest, but the same emphasis isn't really placed on it. instead we really get to zoom in on jung heewon and how she feels about being the sword that swings wherever kim dokja points, even when he points it at himself.

this is sort of an aside, but one of jung heewon's defining character traits is her stubborness. she hardly seems like the type of character that would become someone else's sword, or do something she disagreed with because she was told to. we see this when she goes against eden. we also see this doesn't exactly disappear when she's talking to or fighting with kim dokja. she's still always the first to see through his bullshit and question him.

which i think is why im so fascinated by how willingly she becomes his sword, and how effectively he knows how to wield her. at no point do we get the feeling jung heewon is simply following orders - at no point do we get the feeling she would ever go against kim dokja, or that her actions aren't accounted for in his plan.

he loves her, and she loves him. he saved her, and she will save him. he guided her and raised her skills, made her strong while showing her when and where to use it, and now she will fight on whatever battlefield he puts her on. he knows how to wield her like no one else, and she's the sword he always relies on.

anyway this pretty much just became a nonsensical ramble on kim dokja and jung heewon's relationship but yeah, they really are something special

#orv #jung heewon #kim dokja #dokhee

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hwnglx · 4 months ago

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did jk and sana ever date?

jungkook + sana

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

did they date? hie, kioc yes, they did. however, there was a struggle of finding the necessary balance between both their careers and the emotional connection they had. this seemed to have happened during a time in which they both were at a very significant point in their careers, like a peak of some sort, so there was this dilemma of.. how do i make sure i nurture this connection i truly care about, without neglecting the importance of my work. there could've been several times where that caused a conflict between the two.

the hierophant for this question keeps rubbing me the wrong way though. it really doesn't read as romantic in this case (or rarely at all tbh). there's almost this vibe of; the connection we have, as sweet as it is, feels like it doesn't align with what we should be doing right now. i keep hearing external voices and opinions also playing an important factor in making them question their relationship.

how does jungkook feel towards sana? 7op, knop, 8oc, queop&acosw, cha, 9osw

oh boy. when i tell you, he definitely liked her a lot. see, jungkook is the type to feel with his head. (makes sense with that sun conjunct mercury in virgo) he's someone more practical who tends to internalize his feelings and really overthink every detail in his relationships. especially when he was younger, and this definitely happened when he was much more immature, there was this desperate thought of always wanting to do everything right in his romantic connections, which made him overly cautious and hesitant, being unable to open up and express his emotions in a clear manner. he was just in his head all the time. the knight of pentacles is effective and committed, but quite slow in his approach. very nice if you want more of a slow burn in love, however this clashed with sana's desires in this connection.

he didn't bring much passion into the relationship because he was worried to mess things up or turn her off. especially because he adored her, really put her on a pedestal. he thought sana was someone very nurturing, who put a lot of importance into taking care of the people she cherishes, huge potential to be an amazing wife and mother. he also saw her as a person who's witty and smart, but also very driven and determined in her goals, especially financially. i keep getting this feeling jungkook had a bit of an inferiority complex, like i just see him feeling kinda small next to her. i can tell he might hold on to some grudges and resentment to this day. he truly doesn't like the way things ended.

how does sana feel towards jungkook? paow, 4ow, 4oc, kiop, stre

not the awkward page of wands coming out immediately. honestly, sana saw him as a bit of a lost child. (i really can't express it in any other words, i just keep hearing manchild) although i can see them having a playful bond that was exciting and fun at first, she thought his insecurities stood in the way of them forming a stable and happy bond. she wanted a mature and headstrong guy, who knows exactly what he wants and brings fire into the relationship, yet instead dealt with a boyfriend who was very interested, but often walked on eggshells and tried too hard to please her.. like a yes-man. always saying the right thing at the right time, doing everything exactly the way she wants. (very venus in libra) for some people that can get boring after some time. like please disagree with me for once! she has her venus in sag and 🔥 venus' often desire drama in love. they can't stand when things get too boring and stale.

she definitely did like him and i can tell she truly cared (and cares) about him still but i can't lie, i don't see much of an emotional connection on her part. it was a young and cute but more dissatisfying relationship for her.

#kpop tarot #bts tarot #twice tarot #they're gorgeous together tho like damn

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ripplestitchskein · 5 months ago

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Thinking about this anti idea that the show switched gears on them. I don’t understand it. I’ve never understood it. I’ve already talked about how it’s pretty clear from the writing and show setup in the first few episodes what the focus would be but what baffles me is that it’s also just not true that the character’s issues are purely centered on and only expressed via the romance aspect. They are pretty good at applying the character’s issues to all aspects of their lives and interactions. Especially with Blitz because he is the main character.

Blitz, to put it simply hates himself, plain and simple. We all know this. He creates scenarios to force others to see him as he sees himself. He is a textbook case of someone who self sabotages due to extreme self loathing. He’s not sabotaging his work or his life in general though. We can see Blitz is hardworking, he is ambitious, he has his life together from a material perspective. He had a roof over his head, clothes on his back and food in his fridge. He provides these material things for a whole other person as well.

Where Blitz self sabotages is his relationships. It’s made clear from early on in the show it’s NOT just romantic relationships, it’s ALL of them. Blitz targets what he thinks will drive people away the fastest. I need it to be super clear that he does this to everyone and its ongoing even if sometimes it’s less prevalent. The show is about Blitz and Stolas, whether you like it or not they were the two characters who were focused on in the first few episodes. And the plot is driven by their issues and always has been, what gets disregarded in these arguments that the show is only about Stolitz now is how we see these issues manifest outside of the romance aspect of the show consistently and regularly just maybe not in entire episode long plots, it’s a through line.

With Moxxie Blitz insults him, he makes comments to make him uncomfortable. He targets little insecurities he has with himself. As we’ve gone along and they’ve developed he does this less, he compliments him more, he gives him responsibility. I think we see a good subtle example of Blitz’s influence in Moxxie on Full Moon. The Welcome to Hell, Bitch line was pure Blitz. His comfort with saying “So fuck him good sir”. These are the kinds of little things that slowly and carefully drive the changes in their relationship.

For Moxxie and Millie as a couple he inserts themselves into their relationship. He makes sexual jokes about them both. He mentions having a threesome with them. He follows and stalks them. It’s an odd and imo off putting behavior, one I think we’ve theorized about a lot and that’s lead to some interesting takes on his character and his view of monogamy in general. I don’t agree or disagree on the reasonings, I don’t have any info to make an informed decision on it but after Apology Tour it was kind of cemented for me that this behavior was also a pretty effective way to test them and drive them away. They are a very loving and committed couple, if I were a serial self sabotager faced with pushing away a couple to prevent them from getting too close, what is the best way to drive them away for good? Obviously, be the toxic third, have them join the Blitz Exes. He’s not going to admit that’s what he’s doing of course, so he approaches it in earnest like he does most things he is deluding himself about. Go all in on denial.

Blitz only ever tests the fence about them though, he never makes any serious moves on it, and he has largely stopped doing it at all after Chaz and Ozzie’s. I think that episode, how he felt after sleeping with Chaz, was the turning point for him when it came to them. It remains to be seen though.

I think GhostFuckers will be the place to explore it if there is anything left to explore about that. We seem to be getting a Millie based flashback and that might shed some additional light.

What also saves Moxxie and Millie from the full force of his self sabotaging behavior is that there is a built in buffer by them being his employees. He always has a way to keep them at arm’s length if there is a power dynamic he can fall back on.

With Loona she is a very closed off, anti-affection person. With her, the tact Blitzø takes is give her too much attention and show too much love. Smother her in affection no matter how many boundaries she sets and how much she protests about it. In Queen Bee he’s too in his head over Stolas to bother with that, and it’s sadly probably the most in sync they’ve ever been until the end. I pointed it out before but in Full Moon Blitz treats Loona very differently. He imitates her and actually snaps back at her when she says Stolas is dropping him, it was a very different interaction than earlier episodes and I think another subtle sign that how he feels right now is changing him and he’s making efforts. He hasn’t simpered at her for awhile. And he obviously is giving her a more active role in the day to day.

These are ongoing threads and they are all part of of the larger picture of Blitz’s growth and change. Just because a romantic relationship is helping drive that change doesn’t meant other things aren’t, or that the only changes or growth we see are only about the romance.

The fact that that there are two episodes focused entirely on Fizz speaks for itself.

#Stolitz #helluva boss

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kingdumkum · 2 years ago

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WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing from Tadashi.

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

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

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

Again.

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

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

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

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

“Baji.”

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

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

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

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Asshole.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did it hurt?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s… wrong with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They don’t deserve you—”

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

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

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

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

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

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills.

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

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When your gazes meet, you wait.

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

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

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

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

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

“I stopped them.”

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

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

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

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

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

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

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

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

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such an asshole.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t need more encouragement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loudly.

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

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

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

“M’sorry…”

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

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—”

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

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

“Ididntmakeit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve never had sex before.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

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

“You’re… in love with me?”

Keisuke blinks.

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

You kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

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

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

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

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sends you over the edge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Kei.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer comes easily.

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

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

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

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

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then how—“

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

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

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

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

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

“Too much?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re big.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The world is only real for the two of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You never realized how empty you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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