dear keisuke ੈ✩‧₊˚ @kuronekobaji - Tumblr Blog

i request your take on bully!baji thank u <3

MINORS DNI !!!

!! ~ warnings: NSFW , filthy shit, baji’s real mean in this (but i swear he likes us) , degradation, primal pray if you squint, lowkey dubcon (??) bits of voyeurism maybeee (he shows u off in the rudest way), you’re just a ray of sunshine and he wants to snap you in half. something something cuteness aggression but taken to a slightly different level

ᡣ𐭩 ~ synopsis : you attend the same school/college as a well-known delinquent, the notorious captain of toman’s first division. you’re not someone who’s too uptight or snooty, but you steer away from violence and things of the like. to everyone, you’re an angel and a dream come true. to keisuke baji… well — he’s having trouble accepting the existence of someone so perfect. so of course, he needs to break you.

ᡣ𐭩 ~ genre : smut, kind of angst ??

note : this isn’t reaaalllyyy a well-put fic, it’s just uh. a drabble of my thoughts on bully!baji .. giggling …. not proof-read sawry :(( testing some new dividers n stuff with this … i hope it’s okay!

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

keisuke baji — a regular student at your building, in the same class as you. he’s not too popular, usually keeping to himself unless a student requests his help or something of the like. he wasn’t some no-life tormentor, per se, but… that changed a little when you strolled into his life, with those cute shoes of yours and the cheerful swagger you always sported.

he’s been raised to be a gentleman. someone respectful, especially toward women. he never had urges to torture or toy with another person, so he’d never even leaned into that kind of thing. he never saw the point in it.

all of the lessons beaten into him seemed to fade into nothing the instant his intense bronze eyes laid upon you.

keisuke is used to good people and bad, annoying ones and less annoying ones, people who push his buttons and people who provide him calm. hell, his closest friend group can explain the people he’s dealt with in his lifetime. there’s not much that can faze him. not a mentally ill teen who knows how to peel off people’s fingernails, not a gentle caregiver whose goal is to become a designer, not a freakishly strong blond gremlin who has far too much of a sweet tooth — not a broken arm, not a goddamn stab wound.

so how come you of all people, have caught his attention?

was it the way you carry yourself? confident, but not arrogant? that friendly smile you give to just anyone whose way you look? the gorgeous clothes you always seemed to sport, or the fact you’d still be beautiful wearing a trash-bag? how people seem to light up at the very sight of you? no, no. it couldn’t be that. keisuke’s never been one to care for people’s opinions. rumours were nothing short of bullshit to him, and the same went for how his schoolmates would describe each other. he’d always have to see for himself.

and when he did, oh, god help him — he was pissed.

he couldn’t stand it. couldn’t stand you. just that adorable laugh of yours sent his blood boiling, and stars, how you looked up at him with those pretty eyes? how your voice sounded, speaking to him in that gratingly cheery tone? he wanted to wipe that innocent look off your pretty face and show you just who the fuck you were talking to. he’d never felt this much conflict in his life.

your mouth hadn’t shut up once during his time around you, and it made him want nothing more than to force his length down your throat until you couldn’t speak. you were like a goddamn mosquito to him, except you had a sweet personality and devastating hips. that stupidly gleeful voice of yours… he’d sometimes stay awake wondering what your moans would sound like. or how you’d sound begging him not to fuck you in the middle of a lecture.

the first time you spoke to him, the conversation was short. curt, strained. he’d walked off almost as soon as he approached you, practically fuming at that. it left you confused, but you’d just assumed he was having a bad day. he seemed rather unapproachable, but that didn’t stop you. it never did. after all, how could one make friends if they’re so quick to judge? so, to be his friend, you attempted to casually approach him, help him out in class or offer him your lunch. who knows, he could’ve been a softie underneath all that tough exterior!

poor, poor, naïve you.

that was your personal gateway to hell.

now you were desperately trying to avoid him. from seeking him out nearly every chance you get, to running away the instant you hear he’s within your vicinity. for some unholy reason, you never succeeded. you’d think he was hunting you down with how conveniently he always seemed to be around the corner.

loser, slut, whore, idiot, stupid girl, dumb bitch. those were his favourite nicknames for you. especially when he’d give you twisted praise for obeying his fucked up demands. laughing at how your shirt would drench when he pours water on it, pretty pink bra peeking through the transparent fabric. you’d throb at the animalistic sneer he’d bare when you’re in misery caused by him.

randomly flipping up your skirt, slamming you against the lockers. there were times even his friends — more like minions — would assist him. he’d even go so far as to snatch you away from your own friends to pull you into the janitor’s closet or the bathroom. bending you over the bathroom counter and spreading you apart, recording the entire thing. he’s never been so immature with anyone before. not enough to take their lunch or even give them shit about the food they brought, but he was hellbent on harassing you.

you’d try complaining to the teachers, to the principal, but none of them would believe you. even if they did, they were terrified of actually dealing with keisuke. every time you were in the principal’s office with him, he’d just smirk and keep silent. not even make an attempt to deny your claims or shut you down, because he knew all of it was true — and he knew that the principal wouldn’t do shit. he didn’t have a black belt in multiple forms of martial arts just for show, after all. sometimes you’d beg your fellow students to back you up, or to atleast help you, but they’d just shuffle their feet and pray the raven-haired man wasn’t around.

“sorry, [name].”

“i… i can’t right now. i’ve got, um, homework to do.”

“can’t you just tell the teachers about this?”

“baji? you want me to save you from baji?”

“[name], i— oh, fuck! i-i have to go, sorry!”

all a bunch of pathetic excuses. he might as well have been a tyrant, and you the unfortunate object of his ‘favour’.

there were times he’d just throw all of your things onto the ground and watch you helplessly pick them up. drop his own pencil and flatly say to you, “whoops. better pick that up for me, loser.”

loser. you couldn’t believe he had the audacity to call you such a name. he was the one obsessed with you, not the other way round!

but the way your underwear would soak at just the sound of his deep voice and how your thighs would tense when his muscular forearms or those stupidly obnoxious metal rings of his come into sight say otherwise. how you’d wear shorter skirts and cuter panties around him, even if by just an inch. he’d notice. he notices everything, that stupidly perceptive bastard.

for the first time, he was totally gratified that his grades weren’t the best. he’d always had trouble in school, but over time, he got better. still… they weren’t 80’s and over, or a’s. so that gave him the perfect opportunity to choose you to become his tutor.

it was the most torturous time of the school week for you.

bent over his desk, cock stuffed in your cunt, he’d order you to recite every line of the page in your textbook. and when you’d stutter, you’d earn a harsh smack to your ass.

and in the library? he obviously didn’t care about privacy when it came to you. he’d only get pissed if others were ogling you, but the fact that it would always be his dick inside you and never theirs calmed him down a little. even if they’d try… he’d break their bones. laugh at how they could never — no one ever — be able to fuck you the way he could.

you couldn’t even call them tutoring sessions. he’d act difficult on purpose and lie with that poker face of his, tell you that he doesn’t quite get the material and if you let him eat you out he might understand. the only things he’d learn during your own classes for him are your sweet spots. areas he could abuse over and over until you’re just a crying mess with his cum in between and on your soft thighs.

he was utterly obscene and obsessed with you. as much as he’d hate to admit it, deny that what he feels for you is real. how your beautiful eyes would fill with tears, stirring a sadistic side of him that he never even thought he’d comprehend. how tightly your weeping pussy would clamp on his girth, how your pretty little hands would grab onto his broad shoulders or his sift through and tug at his silky jet-black hair. it sent him reeling.

“well? get to it, slut,” he’d snarl, yanking your head toward his cock you’d often have difficulty taking. one hand fisted in your locks, the other recording this absolutely vile scene. your glossy lips would quiver, and he wouldn’t even bother hiding a cruel scoff at the sight. you were so adorable. the perfect girl. “maybe i should send this to all those boyfriends of yours.”

“no, baji, pl—!”

“aht! what the fuck did i say?”

“keisuke, please, please don’t send them—“

“tch... jus’ shut up and put your mouth to use already. tired of your yapping— aaah, fuck. that’s it. attagirl.”

by the end of every interaction with him — every single one — your heart would be broken. cheeks stained with tears, shame settling in your gut. even more shame due to the fact you know he thinks you’re even more stunning when you cry. the worst, soul-eating kind of shame when you realise your cunt is aching and you want him all over again.

oh, keisuke baji — what a cruel, cruel man, only relentless and resentful towards you. relentlessly and resentfully in love with you.

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dear keisuke ੈ✩‧₊˚