.
The low hum of conversation from the living room was a constant, almost comforting, backdrop to the evening. My parents were there, of course, hosting what was supposed to be a casual dinner. But it wasn’t just them. Souya, Nahoya’s twin, was sprawled on the sofa, looking perpetually annoyed even as he chuckled at something Chifuyu said. And Chifuyu, bless his earnest soul, was trying his best to engage my dad in a discussion about vintage motorcycles, a topic Dad could drone on about for hours.
Nahoya, on the other hand, was a silent, simmering presence beside me. His usual wide, cheerful grin was stretched thin, almost predatory. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers, usually so gentle, were digging into my thigh under the table.
It had started subtly. A laugh shared with Chifuyu over a silly joke. A quick, empathetic nod towards Souya when he complained about a recent fight. Harmless, I thought. Just being a good host, engaging with our guests. But Nahoya’s smile had tightened with each interaction, his eyes, usually so bright, glinting with something I knew all too well: possessiveness.
“You’re awfully chatty tonight, aren’t you, princess?” he murmured, his voice a low growl that only I could hear, hidden beneath the clatter of forks and the drone of conversation. His thumb, rough against my skin, traced a slow, deliberate path up my inner thigh, sending a sh shiver through me.
I tried to play it off, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. “Just being polite, Smiley. They’re our guests.”
His smile didn’t waver, but the pressure of his fingers intensified. “Polite, huh? Or maybe you just like their company more than mine.”
My breath hitched. This was it. The prelude to one of his infamous jealousy fits. And when Nahoya got jealous, he got… intense.
Dinner wound down, and everyone migrated back to the living room for coffee and dessert. I tried to steer clear of another extended conversation with Chifuyu, but he was just so easy to talk to, so genuine. Souya, ever the grumpy one, even cracked a small smile at one of my anecdotes.
That was the last straw for Nahoya.
He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the polished floor, making everyone jump. All eyes turned to him. His smile was still plastered on his face, but it was a terrifying thing now, devoid of warmth.
“I think,” he announced, his voice carrying just enough to cut through the casual chatter, “my girlfriend and I need to have a little… talk.” His gaze locked onto mine, a promise and a threat rolled into one.
My heart hammered against my ribs. My parents looked bewildered, Chifuyu a little uncomfortable, and Souya, for once, just stared blankly.
Before I could object or even form a coherent thought, Nahoya was pulling me up from my seat, his grip firm on my wrist. “Excuse us,” he added, his smile somehow widening, making it even more menacing.
He didn’t wait for a reply, practically dragging me out of the living room and up the stairs. My mind raced, trying to figure out how to de-escalate this. But I knew it was futile. When Nahoya decided something, there was no stopping him.
He pushed open my bedroom door and shoved me inside, following quickly and slamming it shut behind him with a resounding thud that echoed through the otherwise quiet house. I winced, wondering if they’d heard it downstairs.
“What was that, Nahoya? You can’t just—”
He cut me off, his hand gripping my chin, tilting my head up so I had to look him in the eye. His smile was gone now, replaced by a dark, dangerous glint. “You really think you can just flirt with my brother and our friend right in front of me, huh?”
“I wasn’t flirting!” I protested, my voice barely a whisper. “I was just talking to them!”
His grip tightened, his thumb stroking roughly over my lower lip. “Talking? Is that what you call it? The way you laughed at Chifuyu’s stupid jokes? The way you practically melted when Souya gave you that rare smile?” His voice was low, laced with a venomous sweetness. “You think I don’t see it?”
A shiver, not entirely of fear, ran down my spine. This was the part where he punished me for making him feel like this. And deep down, a part of me, the part that craved his intense attention, was thrilling at the prospect.
He pushed me back against the wall, his body pressing flush against mine. I could feel the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin through our clothes. His hands moved, not gently, but with a possessive urgency, tearing at the buttons of my blouse. Fabric ripped, a soft sound swallowed by the thick tension in the room.
“You’re mine,” he growled, his lips brushing against my ear, sending goosebumps across my skin. “Only mine. And I’m going to make sure everyone in this house knows it.”
My breath hitched. “Nahoya, no… my parents are downstairs…”
He chuckled, a dark, throaty sound that vibrated through my chest. “Exactly.”
His mouth descended on mine, a brutal, hungry kiss that stole my breath. It wasn’t soft or tender; it was a punishment, a claim. His tongue plunged past my lips, demanding, conquering. I tasted him—coffee, a hint of something spicy, and the metallic tang of desire.
He pulled back just enough to tear his eyes away from mine, his gaze raking over my exposed skin as he ripped open my bra, letting it fall to the floor. My nipples hardened instantly, aching for his touch.
“You like getting attention, don’t you?” he whispered, his eyes dark with lust. “Let’s see how much attention you can handle from me.”
His hands were everywhere, rough and demanding. He shoved my skirt up, bunching the fabric around my waist, then tore at my underwear, snapping the elastic. The cool air hit my suddenly exposed skin, making me gasp.
He didn’t waste a second. With one swift, powerful thrust, he drove into me, hard and deep.
A gasp tore from my throat, raw and involuntary. My back arched against the wall, my head hitting the plaster with a soft thud. The sudden invasion was overwhelming, stretching me to my limit.
“Nahoya!” I cried out, a strangled sound that was half pain, half pleasure.
He didn’t stop, didn’t even pause. His hips slammed against mine, a relentless, primal rhythm. Each thrust was harder, deeper than the last, pushing me further and further, grinding my pelvis against the wall.
“Scream for me, princess,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with exertion. “Let them hear you. Let them know who you belong to.”
The sheer audacity of it, the danger of being heard, only amplified the intensity of the moment. My body was on fire, a delicious agony spreading through my core. The friction of his cock inside me was exquisite, building a pressure that was almost unbearable.
“Nahoya… oh, God…” My voice was a broken whisper, but he heard it.
He leaned in, his mouth close to my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Louder. I want them to hear every single moan, every whimper. I want them to know you’re mine.”
He pulled out almost completely, then plunged back in with brutal force, hitting my cervix with a jolt that sent a white-hot wave of pleasure through me. My legs, already weak, threatened to give out. I wrapped them instinctively around his waist, clinging to him like a lifeline.
“Ah! Nahoya!” The sound ripped from my throat, a choked cry that I tried to stifle, but couldn’t. It was too much. The pleasure was too sharp, too intense.
He grinned, a flash of his usual cheerful smile, but it was twisted with dark satisfaction. “That’s it. Good girl.”
He continued his assault, his hips pounding into me with a relentless, animalistic drive. My mind was blurring, consumed by the sensations. Each thrust sent sparks through my nerves, making my muscles clench and release. The sound of our skin slapping together, the creak of the bed frame, the ragged gasps that tore from my throat – it was all a symphony of forbidden pleasure.
I felt myself teetering on the edge, the pressure building, building, until it was unbearable. My senses were overloaded. The scent of his sweat, the feel of his rough hands gripping my hips, the insistent rhythm of his body against mine.
“Nahoya, I… I can’t… oh, God!” My voice was thin, reedy, barely recognizable.
He slammed into me one last time, deep and hard, and the world exploded. A scream, long and drawn out, tore from the depths of my lungs. It was raw, uninhibited, echoing through the room, surely audible downstairs. My back arched violently, my head thrown back, eyes rolling into the back of my head. A thin stream of saliva escaped the corner of my mouth, glistening on my chin. My body convulsed around him, muscles seizing in a desperate, shattering climax.
He held me tight, still inside me, his own body trembling as he followed me over the edge, groaning into my shoulder. The room spun, the sounds from downstairs fading into a distant murmur. All that mattered was the aftermath, the heavy weight of his body against mine, the throbbing ache between my legs, and the lingering taste of his triumph on my lips.
When he finally pulled out, the sudden emptiness was almost painful. He lowered me gently to the floor, my legs shaking so badly I could barely stand. He knelt before me, his eyes still dark with desire, but a satisfied smirk now played on his lips.
“See?” he whispered, his voice husky. “You’re mine. And now everyone knows it.”
I could only nod, breathless and utterly spent, my cheeks flushed, my body still tingling from the overwhelming release. The faint sound of my parents’ confused murmurs and Chifuyu’s awkward coughs drifting up from downstairs was a testament to his success. Nahoya had made his point. And in my current state, utterly ravaged and completely his, I couldn’t even be mad.
The night Rindo Haitani decided to break his own rule about bringing strangers home, the rain had been falling hard enough to drown the city. You were soaked through by the time he pulled you into his penthouse, water dripping from your hair onto the marble floor. He didn’t ask questions. He just locked the door and looked at you like he already knew exactly how the night would end.
“Strip,” he said, voice low, almost bored. But the way his eyes tracked every movement of your hands told a different story.
You peeled off your wet clothes slowly, letting each piece fall. Rindo stayed where he was, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching. When you were bare, he pushed off the wall and circled you once, close enough that you could feel the heat of him through his clothes.
“On the bed.”
You climbed onto the massive mattress. He followed, shedding his jacket and shirt but leaving his pants on for now. The first thing he did was grab your wrists and pin them above your head with one hand. The other slid down your body, rough palm dragging over your breasts, your stomach, until his fingers found your pussy. He didn’t tease. Two fingers pushed inside you immediately, curling hard, testing how wet you already were.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “You got this wet just from me watching you?”
You tried to answer but he curled his fingers again and your words dissolved into a moan. He worked you open fast, thumb rubbing your clit in tight circles until your hips were jerking up to meet his hand. When your thighs started to shake he pulled his fingers out and shoved them into your mouth.
“Taste yourself.”
You sucked them clean while he watched, eyes dark. Then he was between your legs, pushing your knees apart and settling his weight over you. He freed his cock, thick and already leaking, and dragged the head through your folds once before pushing in. He didn’t go slow. One hard thrust buried him to the hilt and you gasped at the stretch.
Rindo fucked like he fought—controlled, brutal, precise. He set a punishing rhythm from the start, hips snapping against yours, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room. Every time you tried to reach for him he grabbed your wrists again and pinned them down. He liked you helpless under him. Liked the way your tits bounced with every thrust. Liked the broken sounds you made when he angled his cock to hit that spot inside you over and over.
He leaned down and bit your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. “You’re gonna come on my cock,” he growled against your skin. “And then I’m gonna flip you over and do it again.”
You came the first time with his hand around your throat and his cock buried deep, clenching around him so hard he cursed. He didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, pace never faltering, until you were oversensitive and shaking. Only then did he pull out, flip you onto your stomach, and drag your hips up.
This time he took his time. He ran his hands over your ass, spreading you open, thumbs brushing your pussy before he lined up and sank back in. The new angle made you cry out. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to arch as he fucked you deeper, slower, each thrust deliberate.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered.
You reached between your legs and rubbed your clit while he pounded into you from behind. The second orgasm hit harder than the first, your whole body locking up around him. Rindo groaned, hips stuttering, and came with his teeth sunk into your shoulder, filling you until it leaked out around his cock.
He didn’t pull out right away. He stayed buried inside you, breathing hard against your back, one hand stroking your side almost gently. When he finally slipped free he watched his cum drip out of you for a moment before flipping you onto your back again.
“We’re not done,” he said, already half-hard again. “I want to see your face when you come this time.”
He pushed back inside you, slower now, almost lazy, rolling his hips in deep, grinding circles that made your eyes roll back. His hand found your throat again, not squeezing, just resting there, a reminder. He kissed you for the first time then—messy, biting, all tongue and teeth. You tasted blood and didn’t care.
Rindo made you come twice more before he let himself finish again, this time with your legs wrapped around his waist and his forehead pressed to yours. When he finally pulled out he didn’t move away. He just lay beside you, one arm thrown over your stomach, breathing steady.
Outside the rain kept falling. Inside, the only sound was your breathing slowly syncing with his. Rindo didn’t say anything sweet. He didn’t need to. The way his thumb kept stroking your hip, slow and absent, said enough.
You fell asleep like that—marked, sore, and exactly where you wanted to be.
κεραυνοβόλος έρωτας (keravnovólos érotas), which literally translates to "lightning-struck love".
The cool evening air did little to soothe the frustration tight in your chest as you walked down the brightly lit Shibuya streets. After a long, overwhelming day where everything seemed to go wrong, you just needed to clear your head. Seeking a brief sanctuary from the bustling crowds, you stepped into the warm, familiar glow of a 24-hour convenience store.
You wandered aimlessly down the quiet aisles, finally stopping in front of the drink coolers. Reaching into the chilled glass fridge for a tea, your fingers accidentally brushed against another hand that felt surprisingly warm against the store's ambient chill.
"My bad," a rough, energetic voice muttered.
You looked up, fully intending to offer a quick, polite apology and step back, but the words completely stalled in your throat.
Standing right beside you was a guy who seemed to radiate a wild, kinetic energy. Long, messy jet-black hair fell in loose waves over his shoulders, framing a sharp jawline. He wore a heavy black jacket draped casually over a simple white shirt, giving him an unstudied, effortless edge. But it was his eyes that instantly held you captive—sharp, dark, and brimming with a fierce, unmistakable intensity as he looked down at you.
For a long, quiet second, the hum of the fluorescent lights and the background noise of the street outside vanished entirely. A sudden, magnetic spark seemed to snap through the air between you, unexpected and impossible to ignore.
As he registered your stunned expression, a slow, confident grin spread across his face, exposing a pair of prominent, sharp fangs that gave him an untamed, mischievous look.
"Guess we've got the same taste," he said, his toothy smile widening. He didn't pull his hand away immediately, nor did he back up. Instead, he leaned in just a fraction, his dark eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. "I'm Baji, by the way."
Your heart hit against your ribs with a sudden, dizzying thump—a sharp contrast to the dull exhaustion you'd been carrying all evening. A warm flush crept up your neck, but you managed to hold his gaze.
"Y/N," you replied, your voice remarkably steady despite the rush fluttering in your chest.
"Y/N," Baji repeated, testing the name out with a rough chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. He reached into the cooler without breaking eye contact, grabbing two drinks from the shelf instead of one. "Well, Y/N, you've got this look like you're carrying the weight of the whole city on your shoulders tonight."
He turned fully toward you, popping the top off one of the cans and holding the other out to you with total, unhesitating warmth.
"How about this?" he continued, his grin softening into something surprisingly sweet beneath all that fierce attitude. "We buy a pack of peyoung yakisoba, sit out on the curb under the streetlights, and you tell me whatever's bothering you. Or we don't talk about it at all. Your call."
Standing there under the artificial lights, looking into the eyes of a complete stranger who seemed entirely alive, genuine, and present, you felt the heavy weight in your chest simply evaporate. There were no games, no pretense—just Baji, offering a bit of simple comfort with a toothy, infectious smile.
You took the cold drink from his hand, your fingers brushing his once more, and a genuine smile finally broke across your face.
"Yakisoba sounds amazing, Baji," you said. "Lead the way."
χωρισμός (horismós) as a noun, or the verb χωρίζω (chorízo) meaning "to separate" or "to break up"
"So you're telling me you're breaking up with me... over text?" Y/N asked, her tone laced with sheer disbelief.
She stared at her phone screen, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was sitting on her bed, fully dressed to go see him, holding the receiver tightly against her ear. "You haven't shown up for days, Izana, and now you're just cutting me off?"
On the other end of the line, Izana remained silent for a long beat, the muffled hum of rain tapping against his window filling the space between them.
"I told you from the start," Izana's voice finally came through, smooth, cold, and utterly detached. "I don't have room for distractions. Tenjiku needs my full attention, and you're asking for things I have no interest in giving you."
"A distraction?" Y/N let out a bitter laugh, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "I gave you months, Izana! I stood by you while you built your little empire, waiting for you to actually let me in!"
"And that was your mistake," he replied smoothly, completely unfazed by her outburst. "I never asked you to wait."
Before she could spit out another word, the line went dead.
---
**At the Tenjiku Hideout**
The hideout was cool and quiet, illuminated only by the harsh overhead lights reflecting off the concrete floor. Kakucho stood a few paces back, watching silently as Izana slid his phone back into his red uniform jacket.
Izana's expression was an unreadable mask, his orchid-colored eyes staring blankly at the wall ahead. He knew what he was doing. In his mind, warmth and attachments were weaknesses—vulnerabilities he couldn't afford when he had a kingdom to conquer.
"Is it done?" Kakucho asked quietly.
"It's done," Izana said, turning around with a sharp, casual tilt of his head, his silver earrings jingling softly in the quiet hall. "They were holding me back anyway."
Yet, as he walked toward the exit, a strange, hollow weight settled in his chest. He brushed it off, pulling his collar up against the chill. He had chosen his path, and there was no turning back.
---
**An Hour Later**
Back at her apartment, Y/N was aggressively packing a small box with the few things Izana had left behind over the months—an old oversized hoodie, a spare hair tie, a silver ring he'd forgotten on her nightstand.
She jumped when three sharp knocks echoed against her front door.
Wiping her cheeks, she marched over and pulled it open, expecting a delivery or a neighbor. Instead, Kakucho stood on her welcome mat, holding an envelope in his hand.
"He sent you?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with venom as she gripped the doorframe.
Kakucho looked down, genuinely sympathetic, but loyal to a fault. "He wanted me to make sure you got this. It's... to make sure you're taken care of. Rent, expenses. A clean break."
Y/N looked at the thick envelope, then up at Kakucho. A slow, cold realization washed over her. Izana couldn't even face her himself. He was treating her like a business transaction to clear his own conscience.
She took the envelope, didn't even open it, and shoved it right back into Kakucho's chest.
"Tell your King," Y/N said, her voice dropping to a steady, icy calm, "that he can keep his money. He wanted his empty throne—now he can sit on it alone."
She shut the door firmly in his face.
---
**The Aftermath**
Across town, perched high on the railing of a deserted pier overlooking the dark ocean, Izana sat alone. The wind whipped his white hair around his face as he stared out at the endless horizon.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A quick text from Kakucho:
> **Kakucho:** *She didn't take the money. She said she doesn't want anything from you.*
Izana stared at the screen for a long moment. A bitter, faint smirk touched his lips, though his eyes remained entirely empty. He pocketed the phone and looked back out at the ocean waves crashing against the rocks below.
He had won his complete freedom, stripped away every distraction, and built his walls high enough that no one could ever reach him again. But as the cold night air bit into his skin, the King of Tenjiku sat in total, absolute silence.
μαραίνω translates to "to wither," "to wilt," or "to fade."
1. The Shift in Small Details
Fewer Little Habits: She stops bringing his favorite sweet treats (like dorayaki or taiyaki) when she visits. When he notices and asks, she simply says she forgot or didn't have time.
Lack of Worry: In the beginning, any new bruise on his face would prompt a scolding and an immediate hunt for bandages. Eventually, she barely glances at his injuries, offering a passive "Take care of that" before changing the subject.
Physical Distance: She stops leaning against his back during motorcycle rides. Instead of wrapping her arms securely around his waist, she holds onto the bar behind her or just loosely grips his jacket for balance.
2. Mikey's Internal Reaction
Initial Confusion: At first, Mikey assumes she's just tired, busy with school, or stressed. He continues his usual playful behavior, expecting her to snap back to normal eventually.
Unspoken Anxiety: As weeks turn into months, the shift becomes too obvious to ignore. Mikey, who is used to being in control of his environment, feels completely helpless. He doesn't know how to "fight" a feeling that is simply evaporating.
Trying Harder: He quietly tries to fix it by offering to hang out more, inviting her to Toman gatherings, or showing up at her house unannounced—only to realize the warmth in her eyes just isn't coming back.
3. The Atmosphere Between Them
Heavy Silence: The comfortable silences they used to share turn into awkward, tense quiet.
Surface-Level Conversations: She stops sharing her personal thoughts, dreams, or frustrations. Her responses become polite, short, and agreeable, treating him more like a distant acquaintance than a partner.
The Realization: The hardest part for Mikey isn't anger or fighting; it's the complete lack of emotion from her. He realizes that she hasn't grown to hate him—she has simply stopped caring.
ἀγάπη (pronounced ah-GAH-pay) is an ancient Greek word that translates to love. In contrast to other Greek words for love, it most commonly refers to an unconditional, selfless, and sacrificial love.
"So you're telling me you're cancelling our date *again* because of some stupid Valhalla meeting?" Y/N asked, her tone laced with pure irritation.
She held her phone to her ear with her shoulder, trying to put the finishing touches on her outfit in the mirror. "This is complete bullshit, Kazutora! I'm literally five minutes from stepping out the door, and you're telling me you're backing out now?"
On the other end of the line, Kazutora sighed, the sound muffled as he pulled his white Valhalla jacket over his shoulders.
"Look, I'm sorry... I promise I'll make it up to you," he insisted softly. "I just *have* to be there to welcome Baji tonight. I'll buy you a whole basket of your favorite snacks afterward, okay? Just give me a little time."
Before she could argue further, the line went dead.
---
**At the Valhalla Hideout**
The atmosphere inside the hideout was loud and chaotic. Hanma leaned back with a sinister grin, casually watching as Baji beat Chifuyu to prove his loyalty.
Kazutora stood off to the side, his expression completely blank. While the rest of the gang cheered and watched the violence unfold, his mind was miles away. All he could picture was Y/N's angry face. He had made a promise, and he hated that he'd disappointed her again.
Deciding he couldn't just leave things like this, he pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text:
> **Kazutora:** *I'm on my way to pick you up. Look pretty for me, okay?*
Back at her apartment, Y/N was lying on her bed, distracted by a TV show, when her phone screen lit up. Reading the message, a slow smile broke across her face despite her annoyance.
> **Y/N:** *So you are taking me out, you complete asshole.*
Kazutora caught the reply as he walked toward his motorcycle. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips as he slid his phone into his pocket and kicked his bike into gear.
---
**An Hour Later**
The soft sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the hallway. Kazutora unlocked Y/N's apartment door and stepped inside, calling out toward her bedroom.
"So, are you actually ready, or are you still working on your hair?" He tilted his head with a smirk, making his signature bell earring jingle in the quiet room.
Y/N stepped out, giving him a playful glare. "Be patient! You're the one who texted me to look pretty!"
Kazutora's eyes softened as he took her in. "Well, you look amazing. Come on, let's go."
"Fine," she sighed, rolling her eyes, though she couldn't hide her excitement. "Where are we even going?"
"It's a surprise," he laughed softly, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the door.
---
**The Surprise**
After a cool night ride on his motorcycle, Kazutora cut the engine near the coastline. He helped Y/N dismount, and before she could take in her surroundings, his warm hands gently covered her eyes.
"Hey! What are you doing?" she giggled.
"Trust me," he murmured near her ear.
He slowly guided her forward. The distant sound of crashing ocean waves gave away their location, but she let him lead her through the soft sand for a few minutes until they were far away from the main pier. Finally, he stopped and guided her down to sit on a plush surface.
When he slowly lifted his hands, Y/N blinked against the faint dim light, and her breath caught in her throat.
Stretched out on the sand was a large, fluffy white blanket piled high with pillows and all of her favorite snacks. Positioned right in front of them was a compact portable projector, beaming a movie onto a stretched-out white sheet held up by bamboo stakes. String lights glowed softly around the edges of the setup, casting a warm light over the tide.
"Kazu... this is incredible," Y/N whispered, turning to look at him in disbelief. "How did you even pull all of this together?"
Kazutora rubbed the back of his neck, a slight flush rising to his cheeks as he avoided eye contact. "Don't worry about the details... I just wanted to make things right with you."
He settled onto the blanket beside her, pulling her close into his chest. Y/N leaned into his warmth, wrapping a blanket over both of them as the movie started. For the rest of the night, the gang, the fights, and the chaotic world outside completely faded away.
────୨ৎ──── NARRATOR CREDITS ────୨ৎ────
Cast
Kazutora
Hamma
Baji
Chifuyu (I feel bad for him bro)😭
Y/N
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Directed by Mykeia
Edited by Narrator
Story told by Narrator
Owner of the story Mykeia
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*wait a damn minute why the fuck is my pantry empty and where the hell is my projector that was on my top shelf! KAZUTORA!!!*
⌗ keisuke baji/f!reader ⌗ 5.6k words ⌗ smut, fluff, public sex, quickie, creampie
⌗ baji was hoping he would find you after work, if anything just to give you a ride home and maybe, possibly, hopefully kiss you. he didn't expect you to give him a ride as well.
⌗ dividers by @/cursed carmine
‹𝟹 more tokyo revengers fics ‹𝟹 read it on ao3
the sound of baji's motorbike is ruining the steady thread of thoughts you were nurturing to keep yourself sane as you're closing at work. at this point, having seen him around here so many times, you notice that you can tell it's him by the sound of his engine. not ideal, but at least now you're convinced that he's following you.
he always looked away when you approached, of course, though when you walked past him there was an unmistakable feeling of his eyes on the back of your head. every single time. a shame, really, because there were plenty of times when you wished you could just go up to him and strike up a conversation unheard by the gaggle of his friends, something just for the two of you.
when you finally close, incredibly done with the general public for the day, you lock the door, check if it's stuck, and tuck the lock through the latch. clouds overhead gather, thick and dark, suffocating any sign of moonlight reaching through.
baji's still there, though this time not even pretending to just stop for a minute, leaning against his motorbike, looking almost nonchalant.
"waiting for someone?" you approach, hoping this time will be different as you're tucking the key into a pocket of your bag before you forget to secure it in place. the last thing you need is being bitched at by your manager for losing one of the keys to the store.
baji nods, not looking away. maybe it's because you don't have your coworkers near—they went the other way, leaving you to your own devices—or because he's finally decided he won't tiptoe around you anymore, he finally looks more determined to actually speak to you alone. properly this time, none of that looking over to his friends that were used to keeping the conversation going bullshit. you were not sure he's always been that quiet or if he just didn't feel like talking around you. for a while there, you had been certain he didn't even like you at all, until chifuyu spilled the beans and you found out that, in fact, the reason for his silence is that he likes you. a lot. and somehow he's got it in his head that he will sound dumb if he speaks to you. that you'll think he's stupid.
chifuyu wouldn't lie about something like that, lest he get his ass kicked if baji found out.
baji fidgets with the zipper on his jacket. it's actually cute to see, because he's keeping his eyes on you as you stop a few steps away from him and his bike. he must be a little nervous, but then again, he is the one who decided to come by your work and wait for you. he is waiting for you, right?
"sure." he finally says, looking you up and down. you shift on your feet, pulling up the strap of the bag higher on your shoulder.
"been here long?"
he shakes his head. a lie, he must not think you can actually hear his engine all the way in the store. definitely doesn't know, then, that you heard it and that your lips quirked into a little smile, just because he's out there and there's a chance you'll see him.
awkwardly, you try to lean on the brick wall beside you, but it's just too far to comfortably stay on your feet. really smooth, real nice. luckily, he seems to be distracted by your closeness and the fact that this is the time to actually ask you what he's been clearly meaning to ask—
"want a ride home?" baji all but tumbles over the words, getting them out as soon as he can before he thinks better of it and just gives up completely.
your nod seems to throw him off a little. not sure if he was hoping you'd decline or not, if he even thought this far into his scheme, you push off that wall and swing a leg over his bike, grunting as your knee hits the same brick wall that just insists on making you look foolish tonight.
"not like that," he breaks into a small laugh, way quieter than how you're used to hearing him across the road when he's alone with his friends, "here." he helps you off the bike, and you can't help but feel a little spark of static between your fingers when he holds your hand. for balance, of course. your shoulder feels lighter as he takes your bag and hangs it on the handlebar.
"oh you were serious." it kind of takes you by surprise a little bit, you were half-expecting him to just let you sit on his bike a little bit and call it a night. but then he pulls out a helmet—though you've never really seen one of them wear one. probably didn't wanna mess up their hair, or they're too cool for them.
"what was that?" you realise you said that part out loud, and instead of slinking back in embarrassment you grin and put the helmet on squashing your hair underneath it.
"nothing. how's this?" he leans down a little to get eye-level with you before he fixes the helmet on your head, pulling your hair to the side so it's not obstructing your vision. your nose alerts you with a tiny sniff that you can smell him, something that has to be a cologne he's decided to try out, leather, a little bit of motor oil, and a tinge of sweat. something you've sensed before, having been near him many times, but this time it matters more because now there's no hand clapping him on the shoulder to pull him away and he's not turning around to throw a punch just for the hell of it and you're not surrounded with several other people all jumping into the same sentence.
there's just him. and you. and the night's embrace.
"should be fine." he flexes his hand as if he was about to smack the top of the helmet but changed his mind.
"you know, 'should be fine' doesn't really make me feel all that secure." you tease, turning to get on the bike again.
"wait a fucking minute, goddamn." he laughs. "why are you so eager to ride?"
you pause when he grabs your shoulders to steady you before he shrugs his leather jacket off his shoulders and makes you put it on. it's warm from his body heat, but you still shiver unrelated to the temperature, his scent envelops you like a hug, and baji is just standing there, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt.
"i just wanna not be here anymore, had enough of this place." he nods and sits on the motorbike, patting the seat behind him finally letting you get on.
"i get it, come on then."
"you do?" you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist, and in that moment it feels like he's the one holding you, and not the other way around, because his jacket is weighty on your shoulders, making you feel like he's keeping you safe even when he starts the engine and the motorbike roars to life between your legs.
"no. but i hear my mum complain about working with idiots all the time." with that, he kicks the kickstand back and takes off as the sky rumbles with thunder.
in an instant, as soon as you two started cruising along the roads, you have to remind yourself not to get distracted, because his hair is whipping just above your face, and the way you're pressed against his back makes you feel the warmth of his body. you could truly lose yourself within it, encapsulated in his scent and warmth, never having been this damn close to him before. all caution goes out the window when he speeds up, weaving past cars on the road like smoke, making your fists clench around the fabric of his shirt. a gasp echoes in his body and you feel it against your cheek through his back.
"okay back there?" he shouts over his shoulder, catching your gaze from the corner of his eye.
you nod pressed against his shoulder blade, shouting back a reply you're not sure if he can hear. he gets off the main road, swerving past parked cars on residential streets. you don't ask how he knows where to go, you've heard his motorbike plenty of times before following you and whoever gave you a ride home after a hang-out. he must have remembered the way.
but he doesn't stop and park in front of your building.
he turns into the alley next to it, rolling the motorbike slowly all the way under the covered bicycle shed. an odd place to park, but you don't question it, because at least you get an excuse to spend a little more time with him.
reluctantly, you pull your arms from his waist and instead unclasp the helmet, fixing your hair when you take it off. he's emboldened by the way you were clinging to him, you can see that much, clearly getting over the whole insecurity he's been suffocating under for so long, or maybe acting in spite of it. he looks over his shoulder and beckons you forward with a tilt of his chin.
at first it takes you a little moment to slide off the seat of the bike, not very graceful, but he's not looking back at you anymore, so you're lucky in that regard. he immediately slides back a little bit, making room for you in front of him.
"one day i'll learn how to get on properly. today is not that day, though." you complain, grunting as you swing one leg over and nearly kick baji in the knee. he helps you settle facing him, but his hands linger on your waist a little longer, like he's debating whether to pull you closer or leave you where you are. not that you'd mind. in fact, sitting right on his lap sounds very comfortable right now, though one look at his eyes tells you he may be thinking about a little more than just sitting on his lap. your face flushes with warmth, hopefully he can't see it much from the darkness.
"you have time." he says simply, removing his hands from your hips and instead starts tracing the stitching on his leather jacket still weighing on your shoulders. "how did it go today?"
it takes you a moment to realise he means work, and you roll your eyes remembering the bullshit you had to deal with. his lips stretch into a grin, because if there's anything you've learned from spending time in his general company around other people, he loves hearing about someone getting rage baited. especially when they can't swing and punch the person bothering them.
"oh…" he says through a smile. "i'm aaaall ears."
"i never knew so many people didn't understand the concept of an elevator…" you begin, and soon you lose your thread. several times. through multiple different grievances with coworkers, customers, manager, and each time you swerve onto another story he locks in with you, laughing at the dumbassery.
he listens with a smirk on his face, lifting his eyebrow whenever you point at a behaviour that truly baffled you at some point of your shift. you've lost count of how many times you rolled your eyes so far back you could see your brain and how many times you called someone clueless, and every single time you make up an insult or a curse he laughs briefly. as time passes, as you let out the frustration and the stress, your body feels less taut, more slumped forward as you motion with your hands while retelling some of the better moments of today.
catching your breath, you realise you've been talking for a long time, and he hasn't interrupted you once other than to laugh with you or to ask for explanations. he's leaning back on his palms, his chest is slightly pushed out and you find yourself staring. there are several necklaces between his collar bones, one with a cross that you remember him saying he took from his mum years ago. he suits all of them, and the rips on the knitted top he's wearing make him look both dangerous and fashionable. suddenly, your comfortable but basic shirt that's under his leather jacket makes you feel a bit stupid.
"i'd laugh at those idiots. what the fuck do you mean your manager can't attach a picture to an e-mail?!" he shakes his head, his long black hair swishes around his shoulders, making you feel that urge you've felt before—to run your fingers through it. but it would not be very appropriate, right? at least it wouldn't… if you weren't sat on his motorbike, facing him, with your knees brushing against his, with his laughter tickling your neck.
"i swear, it took everything in me not to laugh into her face…" you sigh, fidgeting with your own thumbs. "and how the hell am i supposed to reply to 'how do i get upstairs'? like… jump, i don't know? there's a staircase right in front of you, ma'am!"
baji laughs, flashing those sharp canines at you. "shoulda grown wings, the dumbass!"
you absentmindedly smack his thigh as you chuckle, leaning forward instinctively. his hand closes around your forearm, holding you probably so you don't fall over. just for that reason, surely. you look up into his eyes, bearing down on you as that warmth in your cheeks spreads down to your neck, down your back, tingling your spine. a shiver. you'd tell yourself it's from the cold, but it's pleasantly warm, especially under his leather jacket. especially with him so damn close to you.
"yeah." you chuckle. weakly. "wings. fly, you fools, shoulda said that."
"you got that one for next time," baji says quietly, "you're welcome."
it's mostly quiet at the end of the alley, barely a sound to be heard of the passing cars all the way at the beginning of it. the wind picks up a little, and there's an occasional drop of rain echoing under the bicycle shed as it drops on the roof of it. some cats are having a particularly loud argument a few streets over and baji tilts his head as if to listen in for a moment before his attention is back on you.
"well, thank you." you clear your throat. "for the ride. for the joke… for listening, honestly, it felt nice getting it all out."
"don't go yet." he leans in a little, almost sitting up straight.
"no?" you stumble like an idiot, already preparing to swing your leg over and get off the bike. not that you wanted to go. but surely, surely he's been waiting for you to finish talking so you could go back inside and he could go home or wherever the rest of the toman guys were meeting tonight.
"no." he shakes his head and slowly reaches behind your thighs to grab hold of them and, looking at you for silent permission, pull you a little closer. you let him drag you across the seat and put your legs over his thighs, causing your breath to catch in your throat.
though it's getting warm, you're not in a hurry to take his jacket off. it feels good if a little heavy on your shoulders, encapsulates you in his scent as his body presses closer to yours. are you feeling brave tonight? you have to ask yourself how badly you've wanted this, how likely it is that your want will bloom here, how smart a decision does it have to be to kiss him right here. your hand finds his, gently closing around his fingers and bringing them up to your face.
his palm is rough, that much you expected already, but the touch is gentle enough and his tentative fingers slowly reach and brush over your cheek.
"okay." you finally answer. you don't have anywhere else to be. breaking this moment might break the progress you've made with each other, so you just let it linger on between you.
wordlessly, he tilts his head to the side, and though the movement looks smooth and confident, you can feel the shakiness of his breath on your lips as he gets closer. one look upwards tells you he's closed his eyes already, whether because he knows you'll lean in as well or because he doesn't want to witness your rejection, it doesn't matter. a smile flashes across your lips and you close the distance, inhaling the last breath before you can finally kiss him.
the fireworks don't go off, though under your skin it feels like they do. the press of his lips on yours is warm, a little unsteady, but he's not pushy. a gentle give and take, soft kisses almost cowardly pulling back before leaning in again for another, never having enough, never letting the moment fully disperse.
you need to pull away to make sure it's still you and him. the moment is too unreal, the scent of him around you almost hypnotic. baji's eyes flutter open, his lips are parted just enough for you to see how shiny they are, how blushed from kissing you. he doesn't remove his hand from your cheek, though, ready to dive in again and taste you with no fear or insecurity this time as you lick your bottom lip.
"kei…" you whisper, mirroring his hand placement and finally… finally… carding your fingers through his long hair, feeling the soft strands tickle your palm. he hums in response, probably the most he trusts himself to do right now. you can practically feel his brain overheating from victory and adrenaline, he pulls away just to see the blush over your cheeks deepen.
"say it again. just like you did…" he murmurs, growing bolder still, lowering his head to kiss not your lips, but your jaw this time.
"hm?" you're shivering even under the warmth of his jacket, he pulls it closer around you just in case. "kei," you repeat, earning a hum of appreciation from his throat as his lips trail your jaw, "again, please."
as if he was waiting to hear that, he kisses you again. this time less tentative, parting your soft lips to feel your teeth on his bottom lip. you indulge him, grazing gently before shifting yourself a little closer to him if that's even possible, but this evening feels right for impossible things.
you manage to keep your wits about you, mostly, and take both your hands up to the back of his head, grabbing onto his hair right at the scalp, making sure neither of you can pull away until you've both had your fill of kisses. the rain continues, now coming in steady taps of drops against the shed and the asphalt outside. it lifts the scent of warmth from the ground, making it feel like the middle of summer again.
"wait." he murmurs against your lips, holding your hips and slightly pushing you away from his lap. it's only a small distance, but it feels dizzying, you try to scramble away, letting go of his hair desperate to prove to him that this wasn't a mistake. he sees you move and only holds you tighter. "no… not like that i—" he closes his eyes, shutting them firmly as if he's trying to shake something out of his head. "i wanted to kiss you for so fucking long and now i… shit." he groans, lowering his head.
you follow his gaze, and surely enough, he's moved you away from his crotch so you wouldn't feel the bulge he's hiding.
almost ashamed, he looks up and tilts your chin up so you don't linger on it.
"oh." you smile shyly, caught looking at him and already imagining what you shouldn't…
"just ignore it." he pulls you closer to kiss your smiling lips again, stopping any kind of protest rising in your throat.
you're all too happy to be kissed by him, melting as his fingers tighten on your hips, but your mind can't seem to get past the elephant in the room, or the erection in the alley. ignore it… you should, you shouldn't be thinking about it like you are, because he's kissing you with all his might now, and it turns messy, open-mouthed, and his lips turn again to kiss down your jaw and onto your neck, leaving you to sigh as you throw your head back, encouraging him to keep going.
"maybe…" you swallow as his teeth graze your throat, "maybe we don't have to ignore it."
baji pauses, but doesn't remove his lips from your neck. his fingers tighten on your hips and you feel his breath coming in quick little pulses as he chuckles against your skin.
"you're insane." he pulls away finally, but at the same time he pulls your hips closer again, losing that anxiety that made him push you away.
"you're not the only one who's been wanting this." as if to prove your point, you shift your hips to rub against his bulge, feeling the exact moment when his body reacts to you. baji's feet are firmly planted on the ground, keeping you upright while you, mischievously, lock your hands behind his neck and hike yourself up until you're straddling his lap.
"don't tell me that," he shakes his head before tilting his head up and catching your lips into another kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, "don't… because i feel like such a fuckin' loser."
"yeah… me too." you're grinding against his crotch, listening to his breaths get rougher, feeling his kisses get harder, his hands dig into you, helping you move like the fact that he was embarrassed of his desperation didn't happen. like he's meant to get to this point the whole time, and the feral growl in his throat when you bite his bottom lip tells you that, really, he's been imagining this moment since he realised he wanted to kiss you.
"no fuckin' way." he breathes out against your jaw and kisses it, pulling you against him as he bucks his hips up into you. "this has to be a joke."
"does a joke feel like this?" you take one of his hands and gently place it against your breast, sighing when his palm cups it, slowly, almost in disbelief that he gets to touch you like this. everything is moving fast, you know it's batshit thinking that this is a normal progression of things, but kissing him just feels so right, and you have to be honest with yourself, you've wanted this for too long not to let yourself enjoy it now. at least a little bit.
baji swallows. hard. he leans his head down and presses a kiss to the clothed flesh of your breast while he kneads it, his hand still covered with yours.
"killing me… you're fucking killing me." murmured against your breast, those words sound soft, languid, and you can't stop your lips from pulling into a smile at that. amazing, you've got him melting under you while his hips are trying to get some friction from your crotch, any at all, because all you've managed to do tonight is get him to the very edge of reason.
"i wanna do some things before that, kei."
you grin, rolling your hips harder. it's becoming unbearable just feeling the hardness of his cock through both your jeans, especially as you've been rushing forward in your mind, trying to uncover what he looks like naked, and now you're so close to him you can't see anything past the thick fog of desire. his fingers rush against his zipper as soon as you shift your hips, desperate to free himself from the suffocating jeans only tantalising him with the image of what he could be feeling instead.
and you've got the hint, lifting yourself up slightly until he fumbles with your zipper as well, cursing when he has to tug it down harshly and roll your jeans down just enough.
baji looks up at you, flushed, pretty, your lip caught between your teeth. he looks a little nervous, even as his hands hold you securely and start lowering you back down and you can feel his tip nudge at your soft folds.
you're so close to feeling him inside you, but you haven't got a way to look at it happen. so you focus on his face. on his warm eyes, framed with thick, black lashes. on his permanently furrowed brows, pinched towards his nose that's just perky enough that you want to leave little soft kisses on it. on his mouth, his pink lips parted as he tries to breathe, a flash of a sharp canine hiding in his mouth.
you angle your hips and sink.
"fuck…"
"fuck…"
you push aside the disbelief that this is happening and the speed at which you're descending—too fast to truly appreciate the pretty curve of his cock— until you're wrapped around him like a glove, catching his mouth into a searing kiss as the rain around the shelter rages. the pleasant pain around your cunt as you accommodate his thickness reminds you that this is not another one of your daydreams where the only thickness entering you is your two inadequate fingers, this is real, and baji's groan against your lips shakes you into the moment.
"holds till." he pleads, lowering his head again, pressing his forehead against your chest and exhaling a broken laugh. "fuck… what the fuck… i can't believe you."
you shake your head, shoulders shaking with a silent laugh before he looks up and locks eyes with you again. "didn't think this would be in the cards tonight, but damn… i'm so glad."
"okay… okay…" he sounds like he's trying to convince himself, much like you a few moments ago, that this is real and now he needs to move you, or you need to move, or… well someone needs to move, because neither of you is settling for mere cock warming tonight. "let me—"
his hands curve underneath your ass and he slowly starts lifting you as you roll your hips. both of you are stuttering in moans and shallow breaths, surrounded with the curtain of rain pattering overhead. soon enough, you set a rhythm of your hips rolling against him, and he helps you move with his large hands supporting your ass.
the squeeze of your soft walls around his cock makes his eyes close shut when you exhale a moan into his mouth, because neither of you is catching up with how far you're pushing yourselves. maybe this will be a mistake you look back on fondly, but you choose to believe it's just the beginning of a vibrant adventure.
"kei…" you keep murmuring against his lips, refusing to leave them kissless while he pulls you by the hips, impaling you on his ready cock.
repeated, deep thrusts of his cock head against your sweetest spots make your breaths come harder, they make his throat rumble with groans, the suzuki underneath you stands as still as baji's feet are planted on the ground, using his strong arms to keep fucking you on his length.
"mhm… more…" he returns, demanding you keep saying his name so prettily, with a moan on the tip of your tongue as he takes it from your lips.
"close…" you whisper, angling your hips a little so your clit rubs against his pubic bone, and hearing that makes baji go a little more feral, dropping your squishy cunt on his greedy cock a little faster just to feel you squeeze around him a little more.
"come on." he grunts, snapping you onto him a little harder, desperate for more of your honeyed moans dripping onto his restless lips, more of your eager fingers running through his hair and tugging on it. "this is crazy," he groans, panting against your neck as he grits his teeth, "seriously crazy… come on, need you to cum."
you smile despite the intense coiling in your belly, the tension about to dissolve you on baji's lap while he looks up at you almost like he sees a goddess bounce on his cock under a bicycle shed. rain only intensifies, pelting the asphalt and the roof of the shed almost drowning out your voice inside your head.
baji's groans, though, you feel them against your skin, slick with a thin layer of sweat, you pull on his hair as you look down and desperately kiss him hard as your squishy walls hug him tighter, making both of you moan as you cum.
"don't stop," he begs, his voice rough against your lips, his breath ragged, and as he pulls you down onto his cock harder than before, faster, hitting those sweet spots inside you as his thickness twitches in your cunt and fucks you until he exhales deeply into your mouth.
fucking you through both your orgasms, slowing down as he drags out the twitches of his leaking cock inside you, baji barely moves his lips, leaving them parted against your skin while you take gulps of fresh air. you're holding onto his shoulders now, feeling like you could tip over at any moment and collapse off his bike, but he's got you tightly, holding onto your ass while he steadies you.
his cock is warm inside you even as he's getting soft. both clinging to each other for stability, safe from the shower outside of the shed, you come down embraced by his warmth and his scent. something has drastically changed now and while you might have wanted to take your time with exploring his body until you've learned every line and scar, the need in your abdomen required to be dealt with at that very instant. you look at his blissed out face, the smooth line of his mouth curves upwards and reveals his pointy canines and in that moment you can't even dwell on wanting to have done this differently.
he helps you slide off his cock, cursing only a little when he sees that his cum is dripping onto the seat of his motorbike.
"your fault, this."
"your fluids, not mine." you scoff, grinning. baji snaps his teeth at you playfully, and you giggle at his attempt to bite. "i'm… that was really—"
"i think the proof of how much i liked it is staining my bike. and for the record, that's both of ours." his arm tightens around your waist. "and… i wanna do more. i wanna kiss you again. i wanna fuck again. next time maybe do it longer though." you have to laugh with him, because he's voicing your thoughts perfectly, all you add is a confident nod as you press another few kisses to his lips.
"yeah next time maybe i can see you naked." letting yourself be so bold, so cheeky, earns you another chuckle before he comes back into the reality of the moment and decides to pull up your jeans, letting you scoot back slightly so he can do the same to himself.
"and next time maybe i can eat you out." you start to take off his jacket from your shoulders, feeling warm enough, maybe even too warm with how heated your cheeks are getting. "maybe i can make you cum on my face, and then my fingers, and then my dick… several times."
"bold claims. like, very bold." you counter, taking his hands in yours as he goes to pull the jacket back onto your shoulders. "why don't you text me when you get home, hm?"
you make him chase your lips with a smile for another kiss, slowly sliding off the seat until he stumbles and nearly tips over himself.
"cruel. didn't think your heart was so cold." baji acts hurt, covering his heart with his hands dramatically.
rolling your eyes dramatically only makes him smile wider, though that's when you grab your bag off the handle of the bike. you're shrugging his jacket off again, but this time he knows better than to stop you. the rain has become more bearable now, most of the noise coming from the steady stream dripping off the corner of the shed. you're sending him home, but only for now, with mischief in your clever eyes and a smart mouth that smirks as you peck him on the lips. you're vibrating with the rapid changes that tonight brought, inhaling the scent of your joy in the air.
it feels almost domestic, fixing baji's hair, pulling it out from under the collar of his jacket that now fits properly over its owner's muscular body. it probably smells a little of you now, too, and that fact makes your heart speed up a little.
"seriously. text me when you're home." a little shiver goes through your spine when he rests his chin in your hands as you cup his face. "or even better, call me." with a wink, you let him go, and pull a tissue out of your bag, wiping off the pearlescent drops of your mixed release on the seat.
nothing happens slowly with baji, so you really shouldn't have expected the first kiss not to be followed by a first fuck. nothing is done half-assed, nothing casual. he's intense, and that's part of what has your heart jump, what has had your cheeks blush every time you'd be around him before. so of course… there will be tenderness with him, but tonight was full to the brim of excitement and want.
you watch as he salutes playfully and pulls out of the shed, wincing when a drop of rain from the roof hits the top of his head. after a look over his shoulder to make sure you're entering the building and not standing there in the open, he finally starts the engine, pulling off as the breeze lifts his hair away from his grinning face.
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