Okay, so, I don't know much about Tokyo revengers ending and how it comes to be, but I know that somehow Michi pulls it off and everyone lives. So... is Baji alive in the final timeline?
I don't wanna get apoiled... but I am nosy. I need to know if this good boy lives.
summary :: You're an average student with a slight penchant for mathematics. A spark goes off in your casual day-to-day routine when, one day, at the beginning of the school semester, your teacher requests you to aid a certain student--one who's been rumoured to be a Toman Captain, whatever that means.
notes :: This AU takes place in school, the same timeline in A Letter From Keisuke Baji except he's aged up to nineteen. idfk what to title this.
TAGS :: fluff, slowburn
WC: 1.7k
୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧
School has just ended. You'd packed all your things and made a beeline for the exit with your friends, hundreds of other students either lingering in the corridors or practically sprinting out of the gates.
However, you're stopped in your tracks when a mature, masculine voice calls out your name from a distance behind you, maybe twenty feet away. Your friends halt their chattering to look inquisitively in the direction of the sound. With all the overlapping voices of the students, you could barely make out what the source was, or if you'd even actually heard it. Your doubts vanish when you spot a greying mop of light brown hair to match a rugged face in the center of the hallway. Mr. Nakamura, your mathematics teacher.
"[Name]," he calls out again. You share an expression of confusion with your girls before walking toward the teacher, your backpack clung to your shoulder.
"Yes, sir?"
"Can you stay behind and follow me?"
You blink, head cocking slightly. His vagueness is adding to your increasing bewilderment. "Sure," you reply, being polite, though there's an edge of hesitation. "Is something wrong?"
"No." He shakes his head. A couple of students shove past you, steering very clear of the head teacher of math in the school. You wait for any addition to his one-word answer, but you're left hanging as he turns on his heel, expecting you to follow. Your shoulders give a tiny shrug to yourself and you turn your head to frown at your friends, giving them a wave to say goodbye. They click their tongues, pouting back and striding out of the school, leaving you with Mr. Nakamura and the remnants of the students who either have detention or are begging their respective teachers to up their grades.
The halls feel quite sterile at the absence of liveliness. You continue behind Mr. Nakamura until he slides open the door to a classroom. He steps in. Curiously, you peek your head forward, coming inside and finding the only student sitting all by himself in the core of the classroom, surrounded by empty desks that have their designated chairs kept up.
"This is Keisuke Baji from 2B," Mr. Nakamura introduces, a weariness in his tone as his eyes harden with frustration upon the sight of the student. You're in class 3B, so you now realise why you don't recall the name. You ponder for a second if it's some tattooed thug or just an average, slightly deliquent-esque classmate who's really struggling based on the mixture of pity and irritation in your teacher's voice.
However, a wave of whiplash that is almost violent in its degree hits you as your eyes widen in genuine surprise, honing in on the student.
He looks like the poster child of nerdiness. Like, if someone asked you to draw a nerd, you'd draw him. Hell, your drawing would be less stereotypical than the male you're staring at. There's not a single strand of his ink black hair out of place, the shine on it impeccable, gelled so thickly that your fingers feel sticky by just looking at it - and his uniform is impeccable. You never really paid attention to how people tie their ties until today. His blazer sits so neatly on him, you'd think perhaps his grades were sinking because he was too busy ironing his outfit or because he was too busy slicking his hair back. You hardly notice that his hair is long enough to be tied into a low ponytail, a neat little bob sticking out from his hair tie. His gaze is obscured by a set of half-rimmed glasses that surprisingly suit his clean-shaven face⎯you're unable to look at his eyes due to the shine of the sunlight from the windows beaming inside.
How could this student, without so much as a loose thread of fabric on his white uniform shirt, possibly be disliked by a teacher?
"He's gotten himself a record of 13 0's in Mathematics and we are five weeks into the school year. I've never seen a student perform this horrendously in my fourteen years of teaching. Never."
The black-haired nerd gnashes his teeth, looking deeply resentful as he tilts his head subtly downward, readjusting his half-rimmed glasses with thick fingers, his ears reddening in genuine shame. You swear you spot a pair of fangs that look canine in their sharpness, but your gaze flits toward the teacher before you can tell.
"I see," you blandly say, implicitly urging Mr. Nakamura to stop beating around the bush.
"Can you tutor him, [Name]?" He bluntly questions.
Your features crease, a slight grimace forming. "Sir, respectfully, I'm not the top student in class. My grades are average. Why would I be suited to teach someone else?"
"Trust me, child, we've tried," Mr. Nakamura grunts. He folds his arms across his narrow chest. "Even the toppers can't handle him."
You gulp, now looking at the teacher in mild horror and mostly disbelief. "Then why would I..?"
Mr. Nakamura gently cuts you off, "I spoke to a few of Keisuke's friends. From my knowledge, I gather he needs someone with patience and a basic understanding of the concepts in my class." He's talking as if the student, Keisuke, isn't just a few feet away.
"Patience?"
"You know what I mean," he huffs, "Someone who's not going to yell at him after he fails a concept for the seventh time. Apparently your classmates know you to be a person who rarely loses her temper."
His expression toughens into something dire.
"You are the last resort. Already, every teacher has lost faith in him. He's failing in every subject as well; maths is the only one where I've been forced to mark his answer sheets with an absolute zero."
Your mouth parts slightly, eyes glancing to and fro from the teacher and the poindexter.
"So?" Mr. Nakamura urges. "Are you going to take him up or not?"
After barely a second of consideration, you nod, more curious and anticipatory to see how this plays out. "Yeah. I'll do it."
"Good. You can start today. I'm leaving now." His eyes narrow, a mature sneer changing his face as he scoffs at Keisuke, "And you⎯try not to kill this girl within the first fifteen minutes. Incorrigible."
Keisuke's already vicious scowl deepens. You're still not able to see his eyes but you can see his thick eyebrows furrowing deeply, a hard 'v' forming between them, the corner of his nose and mouth twitching as he visibly fights back a snarl. He looks like he's warring with himself not to lunge at the older man and rip him limb from limb. You nearly flinch as his fangs⎯which you can definitely see now⎯fully bare. There's an aura radiating from him, much like the vibration of thunder after lightning strikes, ozone, oppressive and stifling the previously sunny atmosphere of the room. You quickly glance at the window and suddenly wonder if the allegedly unassuming nerd's temper just triggered a darkening of the sky, because the sunlight itself seems to have scurried out of the room along with Mr. Nakamura, whom you weren't able to ask any more questions to.
Biting the inside of your cheek, you stalk carefully towards Keisuke's desk, as if afraid of touching the static permeating from him, worried you might trigger an explosion or something like that. You shrug your decorated backpack off your shoulder, controlling it while it slides onto the ground before retrieving one of the chairs that are neatly kept on a desk, pulling it to sit opposite to the black-haired nerd at his table.
"So--"
"You're the one I'm stuck with?" he interrupts and you jump at his voice, not expecting such a deep, resonant vibration that seems to originate from his gut.
"Uh… I suppose so," you awkwardly say, shifting in your seat. "My name is [Name]. You're Keisuke, right?"
He huffs through his nose, leaning backward, his long legs stretching out. "Yeah."
As the clouds begin to shield the city from the sun, the violent beams no longer bounce off of Keisuke's half-rimmed glasses, and you're able to look at his eyes. For a moment, you're stunned in pure awe. His eyes, currently a light, muted brown, are half-lidded, slanted upwards at the edges, and… for lack of a better word, intense. Very intense. To the point you think that the violent-seeming tension in his frame was due to his gaze alone. His pupils constrict with the abrupt change in lighting.
Jeez. He's only one year older than you yet he's so terrifying without even trying.
Your breath catches as he looks directly at you. It feels like your soul is being read, and despite having nothing to feel embarrassed for, you get the urge to tuck your blazer tighter around yourself. Or maybe slip under the desk and never crawl out again.
Only once he frowns⎯a line of his full lips that deepens the severity of his already rugged features⎯do you come back to reality. He veraciously says, "The hell're you lookin' at?"
Damn. Not very polite student-like. You usually only hear the wannabe delinquents in your class talk like that.
"Sorry," you blurt. "I…" You clear your throat and glance at the empty desk you're sharing with him. "We should⎯ Let's start."
You bend down to stabilise your backpack which is covered in charms and pins, an extension of your interests, and retrieve a notebook as well as your thoroughly decorated pencil case. Placing the notebook on the desk, you set your case down with it.
"I'll be honest, I'm not used to this," you confess. "So forgive me for any mistakes. Um…. We should figure out your level first, right?"
"How the hell 'm I supposed to know? I ain't the damn tutor here," he grumbles. He takes one of your less decorated pencils and spins it deftly between his fingers that you now notice are rough and way too weathered for an average student. You feel a spark of annoyance at his impoliteness, but you realise he must be equally annoyed at your fumbling.
"Let's just figure out your level and what you need help with. What do you struggle with most?"
"Everythin'."
You sharply inhale. He's very talkative.
But before you're able to probe more, he seems to pick up on that flash of frustration on your face, adding soberly whilst he taps your pencil upon the wood in a rhythm, "Algebra's a big problem, apparently. I don't fuckin' know. All of it's confusin' the shit outta me."
Although you can definitely understand where he's coming from, you can't help wondering, so you ask before you can think twice, "Why do you look so studious yet you're..?"
He scoffs, finishing your sentence for you. "Stupid? Damn, haven't heard that one before," he sarcastically utters, though his tone and his expression is so serious that you feel bad for a second. Finally, some softness enters his dire expression. He doesn't meet your eyes, his light brown hues fixing on a point at the wood on the desk, features troubled. His tone lowers, ashamed yet full of resolve, "I got held back in middle school. My ma cried. I ain't gonna make her do that again."
You nod sympathetically. Your movements slow just a bit.
When you return to your house, you're slightly disoriented. The session was, shockingly, not that much of a headache. Keisuke was a good listener and did everything you told him to; it was more like teaching a peer who never learnt the right concepts rather than an incorrigible delinquent. Though none of it was easy for him to grasp, he was definitely trying his best. You didn't want to inquire further into his personal details for fear of invading his privacy.
His hands really caught your eye. They looked bruised and were scarred all over his knuckles, both old and new scars. Now that you'd discovered he was a poindexter and a good actor, you couldn't help but be curious.
You open your front door and lock it before heading up to your room. Immediately, your first thought is to get on a call with Michiko⎯the girl you're closest to in your group--and give her all the details. She's pretty informed about the students in the school, from what you know.
Dressed in your pajamas, you haul all your weight onto your bed and grab your flip-phone from your nightstand, shuffling so that you're resting on one of your bigger plushies.
Your fingers move to dial her contact, your teeth gnawing at the inside of your cheek momentarily, listening to the line's trill. You kick your legs absentmindedly.
After a few seconds, you hear her pick up and say into the phone, "Hello?"
"Michiko?" you chime, "It's me."
"[Name]!" Michiko exclaims cheerfully, her tone now familiar. "Hey, girl. What happened today? Why'd you stay behind? Did you get in trouble or something?"
"No, no, don't worry about that." You giggle and shake your head though she can't see you. Your eyes drift to your nails as you outstretch your freehand, resting on your elbows and your belly while the flip-phone is held to your ear. "I was just wondering if you know about this guy called Keisuke Baji."
A pause elongates on the other line. You wait a few seconds, then several. You blink, holding out your flip-phone to see if the line cut off, only to see the seconds of your call continuing to tick.
"Michiko?"
"Hang on, I'm getting my files."
Your expression curdles. "What the fuck? Your files?"
"I can't store information on every damn student mentally, [Name]. Do I look like a fucking hard drive to you?!"
You just blink, sighing through your nose and flipping over so that you're on your back. You put your flip-phone down next to you, then you grab one of your bat plushies to clutch it to your chest.
"Okay, I got it," Michiko informs you. "Let's see, B… B… Baji Keisuke." Her tone becomes shocked, a shell-shocked yelp. "Wait. I think this guy is the Toman Captain in our school!"
"The what?"
Michiko groans exaggeratedly. You wince at how you can literally hear her eyes rolling skyward.
"Do you not know Tokyo Manji?"
"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you, would I?" you dryly retort.
"Gosh, you're annoying. It's this super crazy biker gang. I don't know much about them, but from what I've heard, Baji's a Division Captain. Why are you asking me about him anyway?"
"I'm tutoring him."
"WHAT?! Tutoring him?!"
"Yes, apparently," you huff, squeezing the ears of your bat plushie. "Mr. Nakamura told me to do it because I'm the most patient or whatever. Seems even the class toppers couldn't take him." You think of mentioning how he had to repeat a middle school year, then decide against it, not feeling the urge to actually gossip about this new, mysterious acquaintance of yours.
"You, tutoring somebody--and a gang captain at that. Who would've thought?" Michiko muses. "But seriously, be careful. I've only heard rumours. The guy seems like a total nerd, but he's got this look to him."
You suck air through your teeth and twirl a lock of your hair. "Yeah, he's actually pretty scary looking when you can see his eyes. But he seems harmless. He was decent to me. And now that you mention it…"
The hell're you lookin' at?
"He doesn't have the typical nerd lingo, either," you murmur, recalling his deep voice. It sounded more heavy than deep.
"Hmm. You've gotta confirm it for me, then," Michiko declares. "Also… I hear Baji is friends with Sato." Her eyelashes would be batting up at you if you were there with her. "And like, not to force you into anything, but I'd reaaallyyy appreciate Sato's number. You're a good friend, right? You'll do that for me, right?"
You groan, tilting your head back against a pillow. "Why do I have to be a damn wingwoman for you? I called you to ask about Baji but you haven't really told me shit."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise I had to get his exact birth date and time, the hex code of his tip, his mom's FaceBook account and his fucking wi-fi password," she snarks.
Your lips purse, you scowl. "Chill out. And what the hell do you mean his tip, you can't talk like that about some random ass guy!"
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, puritan," Michiko retorts. Her tone sobers. "Have you gotten any info on what time you'll tutor him and where?"
"No. I'm guessing Mr. Nakamura will give me a full run-down tomorrow."
"'kay. I'm gonna go now, [Name]. See ya. And good luck!"
"Bye, Michiko. Good night."
The line cuts off. You stare at the ceiling.
₊˚︶︶ꔫ︶︶｡˚
eoc yapping: i hope this is decent and in character so far. he'll warm up soon i promise. i'm not sure if tag lists still exist lol but if anyone's interested u can tell me. i'm also taking requestsss please goddd i have to write for tokyo revengers but i've got no ideas in my smooth ol noggin !!! tq for reading :3.
⌗ keisuke baji x f! reader ⌗ 6.5k words ⌗ smut, car sex, piv, mention of drug use, no y/n
⌗ chifuyu has some plans for xj land that he needs to secure funding for, and it's his, kazutora's, and baji's job to charm a rich cunt enough to agree to slap their name and money on the project. baji hates every minute of being around these stuck up annoying idiots, but he spots a ceo's daughter who hates it just as much.
⌗ dividers by @/cursed-carmine
‹𝟹 more tokyo revengers fics ‹𝟹 read it on ao3
a large, way too decorated fancy hall full of people in suits and dresses—keisuke baji's personal nightmare.
not for the first time tonight, baji wishes he'd been more stubborn, because then he wouldn't have had to be here pretending to care about whatever the fuck these snobs could want to ask of him while he's masquerading as a functional member of the society. the things he does for chifuyu…
he feels a sting on his hand when he tries to loosen his tie, a smack by none other than the very person who made him wear this stupid suit and this stupid tie and this stupid fake smile that makes his stupid cheeks hurt.
"stop fucking with it." chifuyu nearly hisses at him as he nods politely at some old fart walking past them with a glass of something amber in his hand. fuck, he really wants a drink, too.
"i'll strangle you and myself with it if you don't stop pissing me off, fuyu."
he grumbles something and goes off to wrangle kazutora, who's trying to stuff something off of one of the silver plates into the pocket of his suit jacket.
baji goes off to do another round around the room and try not to look like he's trying too hard to insert himself into a conversation or two. it would probably help if he knew any damn thing about the shit these snobs are talking about, but that's usually been chifuyu's point of interest, and he's been really good at securing the funding for the projects that he'd been planning out for xj land, and… well… he's basically been doing everything else while kazutora and he mostly fucked around. he supposes he should cut himself some slack because of all the university work he had to do. a lot of long nights cramming for exams, lab projects he needed to somehow put into words. something like this event would really be a good opportunity for the store if he manages not to fuck it up.
suddenly, the air turns a few degrees hotter. he really hopes he doesn't fuck it up…
he controls himself, refusing to punch something to let out some steam. but he needs something to do with his hands now, something that's not one of those incredibly crumbly little tarts that the staff keep distributing on large shiny platters. he got those crumbs in his shirt when he tried one, and he can still feel them against his chest.
a piss and a drink. that should get it sorted.
the toilets are surprisingly crowded, he expected majority of people to be fawning over some of the donors, debasing themselves and throwing their dignity away for a hand-out, but there's a couple smaller groups of men—about a few years older than him, he assumes—who keep smoking and laughing by the sinks. he pushes down the need to cough as his nose senses the stuffiness of the air in here, but he's mostly invisible to them as he walks past these gatherings to go for a piss.
there's a disgusting noise coming from the stall next to where he's trying to relax his bladder and get this over with before he loses the will to behave. he can hear the toilet seat lowering and rustling of pockets before the man next door leaves, moments before baji does. they nearly collide, and baji wrinkles his nose in disgust when he spots a faint dusting of white under the man's nose. rich cunt probably doesn't even think about how many lives that shit ruins every day, how many people he's seen fuck up their entire futures—
he balls his fits, but doesn't take it further than that. tearing himself away from the stale, smoky air, he can finally breathe once the door to the toilets are closed.
chifuyu better be fucking proud of him…
the moment that his hands touch the cold smooth surface of the bar, he knows he was seconds away from exploding. there's a crowd on the opposite side, ordering a bunch of drinks from the overworked bartender that's clearly hoping to get an extra fat tip if he does everything with a dazzling smile. baji would've spat in their drinks.
"you ordering or just standing here?" he hears a voice so unlike the stuck-up self-important ass-kissers he's been trying to tune out all evening.
he dares not turn his head too fast, out of an irrational fear that this voice will turn out to be a figment of his imagination, but he lets his peripheral vision and the corner of his eye construct an image of the dress you're wearing and the casual way you're leaning your elbow on the bar. you're swirling your drink with a straw, the ice clinking against the glass almost completely drowned out in the noise of the conversations that blur into one another.
"thinking." he simply responds, but the bartenders aren't paying attention to him. there are hands waving to grab their notice, orders being almost shouted at them, glasses pushed towards the edge to get refilled.
"think quickly, handsome, before they run out of the good stuff." this time he looks. maybe he shouldn't have.
immediately he's at a loss, despite thinking he's immune to the charms of those who think themselves better just because they have money to throw around and the power to get away with anything, one look at your grin disarms him of whatever clever comeback he thought he could come up with.
"what's the good stuff then?" he asks, sliding only slightly closer to where your crossed legs dangle off the edge of the high stool.
it doesn't escape him that your eyes trail down his entire height and back up again, your tongue darting slightly to keep the end of your straw against your lips. he feels warm all over, the back of his neck burning, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction of looking away and knowing you've flustered him successfully.
"depends on what you like…" you hum and put your glass down. there's a mint leaf stuck to the wall of it, he catches a faint scent of something light and fresh coming from your drink. "though you look like a beer kind of guy. no offence." you add it with such a cheeky giggle that it's hard not to smirk at least a little.
"none… taken?"
"you don't seem so sure, handsome. come on, drink with me." your insistence is endearing in a way, when he thinks about it. baji's instinct is to frown, scoff, and turn away, because who the fuck do you think you are, telling him what to do, as if you're his better. but the mischievous glint in your eye, the casual swish of your wrist, the way your lips teeth press that short straw flat, the effortless tone in which you're speaking to him… not like you're trying to tame him and prove something, but more like he's someone you've been waiting for. a promise of a better evening, a scent of a dazzling storm on the horizon.
he beckons the bartender, successfully this time, and orders a beer. ignoring your soft laugh at his order, he turns towards you and raises his glass, expecting you to toast with him since you're so fuckin' fancy.
"bad luck to toast with an empty glass." you shake your head.
"but it's not emp—" he shuts his mouth when you take out the straw and down your drink in one swoop, barely making a face. you signal the bartender for another, which is served to you so quickly his mouth is still slightly hanging open. "okay then."
"to the quick and painless end to this boring event." you lift your glass and look him in the eyes, and for a moment there baji can swear the rest of the room around you two blurred. he takes a sip and shifts on his feet, suddenly unsure how to act around you.
he may be a little scared, for all he knows. such an odd feeling spreads through his body and pours into his fingertips, something like electricity, warm and cold at the same time. he still wants to keep a shred of that defiance he's been pushing down around everyone out of fear he'll fuck this up. but your smile is shedding layer after layer of that anger inside him until he's once again feeling like a kid, a little giddy, a little nervous, magnetically attracted to the way you look at him through your lashes.
"the painless part is already a failure." he snorts before taking another sip. where only moments ago he was trying to find a way to down his drink and make the event go by a little easier, now he finds himself wanting to slow down time, if anything just to hear you talk.
"you too, huh?" you chuckle, making him look at the way your lips curl up. he shouldn't be noticing that. "i ran into someone getting down and dirty in the toilets. just wanted to pee in peace, but no, i suppose their happy ending was more important than my bladder."
"rich cunts really don't give a fuck, do they?" baji rolls his eyes.
"no, we really don't." you chuckle into your glass. we? he scoffs and shifts again, feeling the tie around his neck get a little too tight as he swallows. "oh don't look at me like that," you sound amused, like he didn't just indirectly call you a cunt, "it's just an unfortunate consequence of being born into my family."
baji doesn't feel like it's very unfortunate. in fact, he could think of at least ten different things he would be doing if he had been born into any rich family. none of which are complaining about being rich. or even wasting time with guys like himself.
"why are you here then?" he turns somewhat glum, feeling a little cheated, having thought that he found someone that he could commiserate with. but what was he expecting? camaraderie at a gala that's essentially just an opportunity for the already well-off to secure funding for whichever property they want to buy and claim it's for charity, write it off as a business expense or whatever the fuck they do… what a joke.
"being a little more than generous with my dad's money." you say it so casually, like it's no big deal flicking your wrist and spending however many figures you feel like. he's deeply jealous, he can feel that toxic feeling deep in his gut. suddenly, his beer tastes sour. he looks down at the foam like it personally offended him. "you? here for some good cause or just to sneer at everyone around? i have to say… i do enjoy sneering. one of my favourite hobbies."
baji tries not to laugh, not to give you the satisfaction of knowing he's considering you more human than the rest. but the way you talk to him, he wants to believe you're more down to earth, that you're actually genuine, not expecting him to dance like a monkey to make a case for himself. but… his shoulders give him away, and you smile wider as much as he can see from the corner of his eye. you're not letting him get away with it, determined to plunge the both of you into a silence until he answers you. he already hates this.
"uh… yeah." he clears his throat, trying to think of how to best say the basics and hopefully get you to spend some of that daddy's money on xj land. "i uh… work at a pet store. we're planning a few projects to reach out to animal shelters and try to secure funding for them. help with vet bills and stuff." he looks at you again, and you seem to be really listening, nodding along and pushing him to continue. "and a project to collaborate with a guide dog training facility."
he busies himself with drinking his beer, trying to push down the heat that's already rising to his cheeks and hoping that he's not blushing. those were the main talking points that chifuyu had been writing down on countless post-it notes around the store and even in the toilets, making it baji's most common literature to enjoy during breaks.
"that's very sweet." you nod, downing that drink. it turns out to be a mistake, because a couple of young looking, clean-shaven guys in expensive suits have been shifting closer to where baji's standing next to you, almost imperceptibly inserting themselves into the conversation seeing your empty glass as an opening and offering to buy you a refill.
he tries to ignore their blatant disrespect and disregard for his presence, instead just trying to remember if he needed to mention anything else about the planned projects. if chifuyu were here he would've known what to say, how to interrupt, how to make sure he's being heard. but all that intended brain work goes out the window when one of the assholes puts his hand on your leg.
blood rushes into his head. with fists balled up and squeezed tightly, he looks for your face between their bodies, a brief flash what he can only take to be panic glistening in your eyes before you let out an awkward chuckle. he's aware that he has known you for a very short time, but he'll be damned if he lets this behaviour slide.
"i don't think you should touch her like that." he murmurs loudly enough to be heard. they turn slowly, though that offending hand is still resting on your knee.
most of the following few minutes feel like a blur with how hard adrenaline hit him. he's aware now that he said some nasty stuff, used words he was forcing himself to swallow all evening, but they burst out of him at the sight of those disgusting self-important faces that were sneering at him. he felt those looks like a punch in the gut, but now, walking along the paved path away from the venue, he can finally breathe again.
"slow down!" the clicks of your heels on the stone shake him back into the moment, your breathless voice pulling him to a stop. "okay, you don't need to stop completely—" you chuckle, catching your breath.
you don't seem angry that he practically dragged you away from the event, doing his very best to avoid making a scene even though his knuckles were begging to connect with someone's jaw. they're lucky that he had promised to be on his best behaviour.
"sorry," he says through gritted teeth, "they just—"
"thank you, that was very kind." you smoothen the fabric of your dress and, now, standing up, your legs are no longer visible, having disappeared into the safety of the material. he curses himself for noticing, even more for mourning it.
"it's no big deal." he shakes his head, stuffing his hands into the suit jacket pockets.
"well… now that we're free…" you let the word hang in the air, smiling once you see his eyes widen slightly. "oh come on, don't tell me you want to go back."
"my uh… my friends are there." he feels childish just saying that, but the two idiots he came with have always been more or less a safety net. he wonders if any of them noticed his disappearance.
"and i'm right here. and you might need another drink, now that we've dealt with all… that."
he stands in front of the register at the corner shop feeling like an idiot in that stupid suit. he should really be making the moves you've already taken upon yourself, picking out a bottle to share between the two of you and paying for it. he was going to, but you were quicker with the elegant swoop of your hand that pulled a couple of rolled up bills from your bra—he was completely taken aback and fascinated by this. on the way out, you pull your arm through his, walking alongside him like you're old friends, carrying a bottle so precariously between your thumb and index finger, like breaking it wouldn't be much of a waste. baji feels an odd sense of calm now, like whatever had happened was over before the two of you left the corner shop and now the world is different. no rich cunts, no inappropriate touching, no violent thoughts. just a pretty girl, a seemingly out-of-place guy, and a darkening sky.
"so…" you begin once you've found a nearby bench, sitting with your knee folded on the seat so you can turn to face him, "keisuke." you repeat his name after he finally told you.
"something wrong with my name?" he challenges, raising one eyebrow.
"on the contrary. it's pretty. i like how it feels in my mouth." he tries not to think about that, tries not to imagine how it would feel to be in your mouth. damn it, it's like you don't even realise what your words could do to him. or maybe you do and you're just plain evil.
instead of teasing you for it, though, he takes the bottle from you and takes a swig, letting you rest your cheek on your hand as you unabashedly stare at him. if he plans on surviving this—you, so bold and interested; him, so flustered and still feeling the adrenaline from earlier mixing with some sick desire to protect you—he needs at least a little bit of alcohol in him.
"why don't you like being there?" he means, of course, at the gala. you seem to fit in enough, you're confident, you walk like you belong, you've got money to cover any possible mistake you could make. but the bored state he found you in at the bar, it made you look like you saw him as a saviour even before he dragged you away from those handsy bastards. almost like he's what you were waiting for all evening.
"that's not a life i want to be in."
he takes another swig before you take the bottle from him and indulge in it yourself. baji swallows, realising your lips are touching the mouth of the bottle where his lips were as well. he should stop noticing these things. your legs are crossed again, so he's finding it hard not to look down and appreciate the skin showing under that soft looking material.
"so why go? you're an adult, you can say no, can't you?" he doesn't ask why you don't want to be a part of it all. it seems miserable on a deeper level. yeah, having a disgusting amount of money would make life so much easier, but the brief run-in with the man in the toilets made him angrier than he should be. he understands that it corrupts something in a person, it must do, since they parade around in expensive cars, expensive suits, eating expensive food, drinking expensive alcohol, and all that to impress each other in a metaphorical circle jerk all the while people around the country—and world—are suffering and starving. baji takes that bottle again, purposely placing his lips right where yours were, this time thinking about what it would be like to kiss you directly.
you sigh, and a shiver catches his eye as your arms fold over your chest in an attempt to chase away the slight breeze. "i was hoping the evening would go okay… you know, it's not all bad all the time." you move a little closer, probably subconsciously looking for warmth, and baji feels like a furnace under his suit. "last year there was a really nice hospital representative. we got to talking, and i talked my dad into giving them a huge donation. she and i go out for a drink almost every month since."
"okay, but everyone else there looks like they're just pouring money from one bulging pocket to another." he scoffs and starts shrugging his jacket off.
"usually is. they make me sick. i sometimes go partly to remind myself how gross they are, how lucky i am to have a conscience. or something resembling one." you shiver again as he wraps his suit jacket around your shoulders. he can feel the smooth skin on your shoulders as he makes sure the jacket stays on and doesn't slip, but that smooth skin hits him with static, a shock of how good it feels to even touch you this lightly.
baji has spent most of his life—present day included—despising people who have money and don't do anything to help others, he's seen plenty of overcrowded animal shelters and overworked volunteers and veterinarians, too many to think anything more than the very least about the rich cunts who must feel like gods deciding on who's going to get a tiny particle of their wealth so they could feel good about their souls. but seeing you acting so… normal? he could've passed you on the street not knowing that he hates your family on principle. even worse, he wants to touch you again, he wants to taste your lips on his, and somehow it doesn't really matter that you're from completely different worlds because the only thing that concerns him right now is that you're here with him and safe.
how did he let himself get here…
"well… this seems to be a better party than whatever they're doing." he nudges your hand with the bottle and smirks when you wrap your fingers around it, accepting and tipping it back until it's nearly empty, saving him the last mouthful.
"this party could last forever." you wink, pulling his jacket tighter around your shoulders as he finishes the bottle.
"should've got another bottle then." he leans his elbow on the back of the bench, and maybe it's just his boldness getting released with some of the alcohol in his system or your charm rendering him completely useless against it, but he slides a little closer to you.
"no…" you follow his move, leaning in slightly until your knee touches his thigh. "i wanna feel all of this."
as your voice goes lower, his head tilts down. in a way, he knew this was bound to happen, it was clear in the sparkle in your eyes before he even knew how to read it. every action this evening, good or bad, led to him kissing you.
baji's eyes fluttered closed as soon as your lips touched, no matter how much he was trying to keep a sliver of vision to make sure you're actually doing this and not just messing with him. this close, he can smell the perfume you haven't applied since you left your home, making room for the natural scent of your skin to prevail and hypnotise him. he can smell the drink you've shared with him, he can taste it on your tongue as it brushes against his.
once his brain stops short-circuiting, once you pull away and lean in again and kiss his lips with a little more confidence, once you scoot closer to him on the bench, baji cradles the back of your head like he's afraid you'll disappear. he wants to keep kissing you, to drown in your lips, because as his good as his name must have felt in your mouth, he's sure his tongue feels even better.
the next time you pull away, he's still dazed a little, and opening his eyes to see your face flushed because of him makes his heart beat a little faster in his ears.
"hmmm," you rub your lips together, looking up at his parted lips, "can we do that again?"
he doesn't need to be asked twice. this time, he's the first one to take the plunge, to capture your pouted lips into a harder kiss, steamy in the way his skin is burning to be touched, his mouth trying to devour you whole. like the past few hours are the only hours that matter, his mind and body cling to the idea of having you as he pulls hums and moans from your lips.
you're so damn into it, he notices, and instantly regrets being outside in this moment. there's nothing he wants to do more right now than to hear more of the noises you could make for him, feel more of your body than the back of your head, taste more than the saliva in your mouth.
baji feels the uncomfortable tension in his crotch, the stiff fabric of his trousers restricting his erection as your hand reaches out and tucks a strand of his long hair behind his ear.
fuck, the tenderness in your touch will undo him. he shifts his hips on the bench, trying to figure out how not to go insane while his hard-on pushes against the zipper of his trousers. you notice, grinning against his mouth while you nip his bottom lip with your teasing teeth.
"you're so handsome," you repeat what you called him at the start of the evening and his eyes go wide, "been thinking about kissing you since i saw you."
a little bit of heat flows into his cheeks, pinching the very tops of them red while he imagines what must have gone through your head when he slid next to you at the bar and you looked at him with those dazzling eyes and smiled with that straw between your teeth.
"pretty sure i'd have kissed you back then if you tried… you're so damn gorgeous." he breathes, throwing out any sense of self-consciousness at what he's admitting.
"not at the bar." you chuckle and pull back ever so slightly, just so you can see this eyes, the colour of coffee and ten times warmer, his lips, slightly parted as if still anticipating a kiss, a shine of his sharp canines in the warmth of his mouth. "before that. you were so cute… frowning at every person that came near you. real guard dog energy around you."
normally, he would be offended, you were watching him before he was aware, taken in his behaviour and assessed him all while he hadn't even seen you. though, your hand still lingers on the back of his neck, your lips just out of reach until you bring them closer again, kissing him like it will fix every bad minute wasted at that stupid gala. somehow, it does.
he's breathing in your soft moans, tasting more than just the drinks on your tongue; desire, excitement, the energy that he wanted to see on you ever since you eagerly downed that first glass.
"my car." you simply breathe out once you pull away for air.
baji's stunned for a second, panic floods his mouth. you're not trying to leave, are you?
"are you good to dri—"
"not driving." you giggle, and he's slowly catching on as you look deep into his eyes. he gets it. he gets it so much that his cock begs for release behind the zipper of those stupid pants. baji smirks and takes your hand, swooping you off your feet until he's walking back towards the venue with so much more determination than before. you giggle and yelp as he carries you, your feet dangling while you hold onto his neck.
he doesn't even puff up his chest when the valet gives him an odd look and hands you the keys while you're still in his arms ("keisuke will be taking me and my car home, thanks."—he felt a surge of pride when you said his name like that.) like this is a common enough situation that nobody had to be alerted. following your navigation, the point of your finger and your mouth making beeping noises that get faster as he gets you nearer to your car which… well, he didn't expect something so cute.
"she's vicious on the road, trust me." you say through light giggles as he lowers you onto the back seat and crawls in after you.
"oh yeah i bet everyone around you is so afraid." the door barely closes behind him when you grab his tie and pull him on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist as you kiss him hungrily.
your dress bunches up around your thighs, revealing more of that smooth skin he's been wanting to touch—his hands trail up your thighs until the tips of his fingers reach the waistband of your panties. there's something addicting in the way your hips lift to meet his hard bulge just trying to exist. you're wasting no time, unbuttoning his shirt with such agility that he has to be at least a little bit impressed, all the while feeding your mellow sighs into his mouth as he tries to detach his hands from your soft thighs.
you tug his shirt off, humming in appreciation once he shrugs it down his arms and you touch along his forearms, trailing those clever fingers up his biceps in admiration.
"god if we had more space…" you murmur, kicking your heels off your feet so you can drag one foot down his back.
baji can't help the laugh that escapes him, shaking his head as he hikes your dress up a little higher until he can push your panties to the side and groan at the sight.
"ahhh fuck…" he mutters, with one hand reverently parting your slick folds, with the other unzipping his pants until he can tug them down his thighs along with the boxers just enough to free himself. his cock is painfully hard, twitching under the weight of your gaze as you lift your head just enough to see what's about to fill your needy cunt.
"you can't be real." you chuckle, leaning your head back against the seat barely giving you enough space to lie semi-comfortably. he leans over you, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock and pumping it slowly, the other tracing your slit like he's mapping you out until he's got the shape of your pussy memorised.
"very real." he whispers, parting his lips as his finger dips into your clenching cunt and he feels you tense under him. "that feel real?"
you nod, violently so, angling your hips until his finger curls upwards and you're rewarded with the feeling of his fingertip pressing your spongy, warm, most loving spot. "god… right there."
"there?" he hums, pulling his finger out and sliding it back in, surprised by how easy it is, how wet your pretty cunt got just waiting for him to fuck you. "feel good?"
"mhm…" your hums turn to little gasps, gasps to moans, and soon enough you're rolling your hips up fucking yourself on his agile finger. but it's not enough for baji.
"god that's so hot." he groans, pulling his finger out with a wet pop and a disappointed whine from your lips. "no, no, come on. no whining." he props himself up on one hand, digging into the seat beside your head, as he leans over you and kisses your pout. "i'll make it feel better, look."
his promise is quickly fulfilled as his other hand guides his cock to your opening, warm and slick and ready for something more than just his finger.
you're so pliant and needy under him. your hands grip his shoulder and back, your bare feet pushing into his lower back almost rushing him to fill you. but he needs to take a little bit of time, sinking inch by agonising inch is like a reward for him, feeling your walls accommodate his girth while your eyes roll back. as his balls press against your sopping cunt, he's already feeling accomplished.
"keisuke…" you moan, pecking his lips while he groans against your mouth. "kei… that good?"
he's not sure if you mean the nickname or the way in which your warm cunt takes him, so he just nods, resting his forehead against your shoulder before he can pull back, only slightly.
pushing back inside is a testament to how well-behaved he is being tonight. your car is not spacious enough to have him kneel on the seat comfortably, but he's trying to be as close to you as he can this time, his hips grinding against yours, the fabric of your panties rubbing against his pubic bone when he bottoms out.
"fuck… so… fucking… good." your eyes flutter when he grunts those words with every roll of his hips into you, his thick base is pushing apart your folds, stretching them to enter as your welcoming cunt takes him so perfectly.
whimpering, you're shushed by his lips attacking your mouth when his elbow digs into the seat next to your head. his body heat lingers between your panting bodies as he keeps driving the tip of his cock into your willing, tightening cunt that keeps sucking him in like it wants him to stay. baji's getting drunk off of the moans that fall from your lips onto his tongue, they keep him going, thrusting, speeding up until he's gritting his teeth trying to keep it together while his balls slap against your soaked folds.
and your devilish legs… you keep pulling him towards you because god forbid he pull out of you more than this, barely enough to keep you stuffed full of his cock at all times. you're insatiable and he loves your greed. your fingers tangle in his long hair, tugging on it as your hips lift up to meet his desperate thrusts.
"kei…" you moan, breathless after you bit his lip when your neglected little clit finally started getting some friction from his pubic bone rubbing against it. "hnnn fuck— i… need to—"
you sink your teeth into his bicep, turning your head to the side. his first instinct is to hiss, but the pain keeps him going, the pressure of your pearly whites in his muscle only has him snap his hips into your cunt harder, willing to push you over the edge that you warned him about.
"keep going, pretty girl." he rasps out, groaning into the side of your head while your mouth leaves wet patches on his arm. the hand in his hair tightens, and so do your soft walls, sucking in his relentless cock while he tries to at least let you ride out your orgasm before he bursts and leaks inside you.
with a loud cry you shudder and he feels your cunt pulsing around him, releasing your pleasure in waves while he glides in and out of you carrying you both over the threshold, because he can hardly keep going when you get so damn warm and wet and fucking tight, so his cock spills into you while he groans into your hair.
barely slowing down, he's pulled into you by your legs locked behind his back, your bare thighs squeeze his sides, and the most saccharine moans that he's ever heard in his damn life shimmer in the stuffy air in your small car.
finally… he slows down to a stop and your weeping cunt stops so viciously contracting around him. your breaths slow down, your chest stilling as he leans some of his weight against you, the fabric of your dress cold against his hot chest. you cradle him against yourself, like he did with the back of your head when you merely made out earlier on the bench. baji hears your heart beat loudly against his ear, and can't help but smile a little, because the gala is ongoing out there, but he's abandoned his mission in order to feel how well you could take his cock, how you could moan his name, how you could come undone under his warm body on the backseat of your own car.
"kei?" you ask, folding up a tissue after you've cleaned up the cum leaking from your sensitive and used cunt.
"mmh?" he's just finished buttoning up his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. it feels almost casual, like he didn't just empty his balls inside you while your sugary voice whined for him. putting on clothes after sex should feel more uncomfortable than this, but he can't help stealing glances at you as you pull your panties back and grin back at him.
"this project of yours, how much do you need for it?"
expecting his brain to think about anything other than how pretty you look in the afterglow of him fucking you is borderline cruel. your hair is still a little messy, so he reaches out to fix a few strand in place while he thinks about how to walk the line between wanting to make good for his job and not wanting you to think that he fucked you for money.
"don't worry about m—"
"no, don't do that." you shake your head, shifting on the squeaky leather seat until you're almost sitting on his lap. he doesn't think he has another round in him just yet. maybe another drink or at least something to eat first… "i was gonna do it before everything anyway… as soon as you mentioned it by the bar."
your hands cup his face and he, a sucker for it, leans into your touch like an overgrown cat. if he could, he's pretty sure he'd start purring.
"are you su—"
your finger across his lips stops that thought. you're cute, looking all stern. or at least attempting to do so. "don't piss me off." you straddle him now, preventing any potential escape. "i told you i wanted to spend an ungodly amount of money on good things. let me do that. come on, think of the animals."
he grins behind your finger and shakes it away before his hands trail up your back and pull you closer into a slow, languid kiss. it feels like more than after-sex kiss, more than a thank you kiss, more than an i-just-met-you-today-and-yet-i'm-addicted-to-you kiss. he has to give it to you, you're persuasive, because after all it's not about him or even chifuyu or xj land. it's about whom they can help with this project, and this money.
"okay." he takes your hands in his and kisses your knuckles, savouring your soft skin against his lips. "fine. god, so pushy." your forehead meets his in a gentle bonk.
"i promise…" you begin, your shoulders slightly shaking with laughter, "i didn't agree to it just because of your dick… but damn."
baji rolls his eyes, realising it's very easy to forget that you're on a completely different social level than him, especially when you're sitting on his lap like this, talking about his dick after you came on it. "don't push me, pretty, or i'll give it to you again right now."
"oh no no no…" you chuckle. "the next time i will need a little more space… got a feeling you could manhandle me really well."
a conspiratorial smile lifts his lips, and in turn yours as well.
"oh i'll show you just how well." he grabs your hips and pulls you closer until you're pressed up against his chest completely.
baji's so gone, lost in the kiss that cracks the air in this stuffy car. it smells of sex, of your perfume, of your body. how quickly he got addicted to all of those.
⋆˙⟡ burekforsatoru || do not modify, repost, or feed to AI. likes and reblogs appreciated, nice comments make your skin clear.
⌗ keisuke baji x f!reader ⌗ 2.4k words ⌗ smut, no use of y/n, workplace sex, eating out, fingering
⌗ work is going slow so baji comes over to distract you by eating you out
⌗ dividers by @/cursed-carmine
‹𝟹 more tokyo revengers fics ‹𝟹 read it on ao3
you tend to daydream during slow days at work. there's only so many times you can take your co-worker saying she's bored, because no kidding, you are, too. but it's really the only thing left that she can say without you wanting to strangle her. she's going around the store straightening out the already perfectly aligned piles of t-shirts, making sure the spaces between the hangers are even, that they're all facing the same way—yes, sonya, i made sure they are facing the same fucking direction when i made those rounds myself.
the air conditioning is too damn loud, blowing a stream of air towards the open front door—because an open door feels more welcoming, even if it is only really welcoming to hot air coming in from outside—and the radio station picked by the regional manager really only has two good songs. too bad they got so overplayed you can hardly stomach them now.
a familiar laugh gets louder and you spot your favourite menaces walking past the open (yes, sooo welcoming) door before they do a u turn and walk in. you don't even have to look at your co-worker to know that she's rolling her eyes, because if there's one thing worse than no customers—it's customers. especially ones that she's certain won't actually buy anything, but only loiter and mess up her perfectly arranged stacks of clothes.
"can we help you?" she asks in such a fake polite voice that you can't control your face as you cringe.
"we'll just look around, thanks!" chifuyu flashes her his best customer service smile, one you've seen so many times when he's trying to rein in his company.
"actually, miss?" you turn as the most familiar—your favourite—voice calls out, and you're met face to face with baji's sharp grin. "help me pick out something from here?"
you push yourself away from the cash desk and let out a pretend annoyed sigh as you walk past your co-worker, joining the guys somewhere between the racks of now unevenly hanging t-shirts. kazutora gives you a shy smile that almost screams "my bad" but honestly you can't even be that mad, at least you'll have something to do after they leave.
"had to bring your entire circus?" you murmur into baji's ear as soon as you join him in the corner of the store where the cameras don't reach. his hand finds its favourite purchase on your lower back, making it easy to pull you in for a quick kiss while the boys are distracting your co-worker.
"you'll see." he responds as he reluctantly pulls away and rifles through a bunch of hanging t-shirts and picks out a few, seemingly at random. you take a look at one of them, nodding appreciatively, it just might be something he would want to wear even though he picked it out as a scheme to spend a little more time with you during a miserably boring shift.
"they're gonna drive her crazy." you grin, pretending to help him find his size in a few items while a few of baji's division members ask stupid questions at the other end of the store.
he suddenly grabs your wrist and quickly drags you after him into a changing room. the curtain closes with a sense of finality, a security of being away from prying eyes so you can wrap your arms around his waist and lean into his chest, face-first, taking a big sniff.
"eh, you weirdo…" he ruffles your hair and hooks his finger under your chin to lift your head enough for a good, slow, deep kiss. "i hate that i can't do that all day."
you nod and keep your lips in a little pout before he kisses you again, this time pushing you towards the wall. as your back meets it, his hands trail down to your hips, kneading them while you hum against his mouth.
it's no surprise that he coaxes a small moan out of your mouth, after all, he knows your body like the back of his hand, all the tiny touches that have you bloom for him and unravel like a spool. his knee almost automatically slots between your thighs, at this point it's like a reflex whenever he has you caged in against the wall like this.
"kei—" you warn, pulling away from the kiss but he barely gives you a chance to say his name before he's kissing down your neck, rendering any protest dead in your throat.
all that your fingers do is run through his long hair while his hook under the waistband of your pants and slip into your panties, quickly slotting between your neglected folds and start rubbing your clit. your traitorous thighs slightly spread, allowing him to kiss down your chest even if it is over the store logo on your work uniform until he quietly gets on his knees.
the look in his eyes is nothing short of mischievous as he pulls his hand from your panties and instead lowers your pants until they pool at your feet. you're already breathing a little faster, and he's barely touched you.
"you called, i came." he explains it in such simple terms. you didn't even call him, you simply texted him saying you hated it today and couldn't wait to see him, but he's been good at reading between the lines for some time now, especially if it includes him or you getting off… or both of you, of course. "and now you're gonna come, too."
baji looks so happy with himself, down on his knees with his chin so conveniently leaning against your stomach while he lifts your leg up and rests your thigh on his shoulder.
he doesn't dive in head-first though you know he wants to. so badly. but he'll be damned if he wastes this prime opportunity to get you even more wet, even more gasping so that when he finally puts his mouth on you, your cunt will be so grateful and slick that you'll be moaning his name in that voice he likes to hear. you know his little games—you've played with him many times before.
baji doesn't take his eyes off of you when he returns to touch you, when he rolls your soft, sensitive little clit under the pad of his thumb. you can try not to bite your lip as much as you want, but you have to keep the noise down somehow. a shame. he's sliding that same thumb up and down your slick slit as he turns his head just to give your inner thigh a kiss or two.
as soon as his thumb starts gliding faster, easier, he starts rubbing soft circles around your clit. your slick cunt tries to clench, but there's nothing to keep inside, nothing to wrap around, so he slowly slides a finger into you. a barely-there gasp leaves your lips, you can see the flash of a smirk on his face, though, because he's looking down to where his deft digit slips into your pussy, watching as your needy walls close around his knuckles.
"been missing this," he whispers, leaning in to press his pouted lips against your inner thigh, "should be allowed to come fuck you every day on your shift."
you doubt that would fly with your manager, but you don't want to sass him back just yet. your leg tenses against his back as he trails slow kisses up your soft thigh until he stops at your soaked pussy. slowly, he pulls his finger out, causing a whine to stop right as you smack your mouth with your hand. you close around nothing again, feeling the wetness coat your folds. baji admires the view for a moment, but then finally… finally… brings his face closer and kisses your clit.
your other hand finds its place in his hair. you're not bringing him closer yet, letting him savour you as his tongue darts out and spreads your folds.his arms wrap around your thighs, keeping you still while open-mouthed kisses rain on your wet, slippery cunt.
you so desperately want to roll your hips, to feel his nose rub against your clit while his tongue fucks you, but he's holding you tightly. moans crash against your palm, eyes rolling back, baji's tongue trails the same path that his thumb was doing just a little earlier. he's well aware of how your body reacts to his every move. he's been studying the movements that have you come undone. the best feeling, though, is the tingling in your toes as you feel his tongue tracing letters on your pussy.
k, the tip of his tongue flicks your clit and makes you whimper softly.
e, he hums against your folds, making your heel dig into his back.
i, the dot at the top is his lips wrapped around your sensitive nub, sucking on it until you tug on his hair a little harder.
s, the wide swirls around your freshly released clit turn into the flat of his tongue running down your slit, tip of his tongue dipping briefly into your cunt as it tries to clench around it.
u, you whimper quietly, feeling your hand vibrate against your parted lips as baji avoids your very impatient pussy, making you try to angle your hips better until his nose nudges your clit.
k, a repeat of the beginning, you're trembling against the wall now, doing everything you can not to cry out like your nerve endings are urging you to, because he knows exactly how to play your body and make you dissolve for him.
e, that final press of his sweetened tongue, the hum of his vibrating lips sends you over the edge and you pull on the long strands of his hair, making him only bury his face deeper between your pretty folds so soaked with his saliva and your arousal that he's drinking you in.
you can feel him grin. his mouth shapes infinity signs across your weeping cunt to get you down the same way he lifted you up to that high, and he murmurs something, he's always praising you when you cum like this for him, always grateful that he can taste you on his tongue.
it's an exercise in self-control, the fact that he's been eating you out and wasted any time he could've used to sink his cock into that warm precious cunt of yours. but this is about you, not him. you confided in him, so he came to save you from a full shift without his usual shenanigans, a full day of the boring old crone that tests your patience and the sheer stupidity of the few people that do come in on slow days like this one. this is about you and how much he loves to make you gasp like that. moan like that. melt on the tip of his tongue like that.
he's not finished. as your shudders get fewer and further between, his licks turn to sweet tender kisses. your folds tingle with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and his lips press against them and especially against your tender clit, almost as if thanking it for giving him a perfect dessert.
once he's on his feet, your leg lowered off his shoulder and your pants pulled up with slow tugs of the waistband over your trembling thighs, he's pressing you against that wall again, holding you by the waist and sinking his lips into a deep kiss on your mouth so you can taste how he felt being on his knees for you.
one hand glides up your side to cup your flushed face, gently brushing the apple of your cheek as if he can remove the pink tint covering your skin.
"how's that for a distraction?" he grins, dipping down to nibble on your bottom lip as you groan and playfully push his shoulder.
"a damn good one, but we've been a while. need to go back out." you try to escape but he steps a little closer, pressing his crotch against your abdomen so you can feel just how good tasting you made him feel.
"tease… but fine. we'll do it again later, hm?" one more kiss lands on your pout before he releases you and lets you wobble for a second before you regain your balance.
"i need to check what those idiots are doing." you mumble and pull back the curtain just enough to get past it.
in the mirror, you fix your hair and pull the hem of your shirt down, making sure you can't be found out. it's enough that you walk funny and your legs feel a little like jelly.
chifuyu is trying on a denim jacket in the other end of the store when you spot him, with your co-worker standing nearby with her arms folded. she's giving him fashion advice, you can tell that much from the self-important look on her face and the expression on his, all the while kazutora is throwing a flannel shirt over another guy's head—from his reaction this isn't the first time it's happened.
"where have you been?" she turns to you, eyebrow raised as chifuyu shrugs that jacket off and starts putting it back on the hanger.
"putting a bunch of clothes on the hangers, someone left a real mess in the changing room."
"hmph," she lifts her nose, "bet they won't even buy anything."
only, it's a little too loud not to be overheard, so you roll your eyes at her and shoot an apologetic smile at chifuyu. baji emerges from the changing room carrying that one t-shirt that you nodded at when he pulled it from the hanger. he walks to the register and you follow, ringing him up for it while your co-worker keeps an eye on the rest of them.
"you didn't have to get it." you murmur as he presses his phone against the card reader and takes the bag from your hands.
"no, but you thought i'd look good in it, didn't you?"
you blush a little, smiling as you rip the slip from the card reader and shove it into the bag as well. "i think you look good in anything… or nothing. especially nothing."
he laughs and the boys gather around him, ready to leave the store as soon as he's done. "you've been very helpful, miss." he says loudly enough that the co-worker can hear, and winks at you as he turns towards the door.
they leave and the store is once again plunged into a boring silence, broken only by the faint sounds of the radio rotating those same songs over and over all day long.
"all that mess for one t-shirt?" she rolls her eyes, leaning her elbows on the cash desk ready for another few hours of bullshit complaints about absolutely nothing.
⋆˙⟡ burekforsatoru || do not modify, repost, or feed to AI. likes and reblogs appreciated, nice comments make your skin clear.
"baji looks so happy with himself, down on his knees with his chin so conveniently leaning against your stomach while he lifts your leg up and rests your thigh on his shoulder."
covering my face and giggling so loud that the dogs are upset. anyway, can't wait until this one is done so i cannnnnnn reread it lmao
𑣲 i didn't wrestle a shark (i promise) | k.baji/reader
keisuke baji x reader ┆ 724 words ┆ injury bandaging, comfort, fluff
baji's hands are not soft. the heels of his palms are rough and often scratched up. his fingers are callused and knuckles bruised. but when he kneels in front of you and takes your injured leg to inspect the wound, his are the gentlest fingers, the most tender palms.
he clicks his tongue, frowning. "how the fuck…" he turns your leg slightly, feeling you wince at the stretch of the skin on your calf.
"fell. didn't think that rock was so unstable." you're holding in the whimper as he gently touches the reddened skin around where the scratches bleed. "it's not that bad." you assuage him.
"looks worse than it feels?" he lifts his head to see you look down at him, awe in your eyes as he holds your leg in one hand and a wet cloth in the other. "tell me if it hurts."
you wouldn't dream of it. you let him dab softly at your scratches, a few long, angry red lines down your outer thigh and calf stinging with the pull of the movement. seeing him so caring sends a shiver up your spine, flipping the breath out of your mouth. it's almost always the other way around, you chastising him for getting reckless and hurt, while cleaning his wounds at the same time. that role is comfortable, you always leave tender kisses on top of his bandages and then crawl into his lap to kiss until he falls asleep with his head on your chest.
when you're the one on the other side, taking his mumbled comment on how you're so clumsy, you feel a little bit of shame creep up your cheeks and paint them red. he's only ever gentle, though, imitating your process but switching it slightly by bringing his lips to the surface of your wound before and after he bandages you up. baji snickers a little bit when you wince at the sting of disinfectant spray that he usually cusses out when you use it on him. it's endearing, seeing you take the same treatment as him, and seeing him get into a role of a healer.
"all done." he murmurs with a kiss to the bandages over your thigh, then does the same to the ones on your calf, and only then does he look up from your leg. "you're gonna be good and watch where you walk?"
you nod in response, looking up as he gets up from his knees and pulls you into his lap on the couch. at least this part never changes—you're cradled against his chest and your arms wrapped around his neck, making it easy to bury your nose into the crook of his neck and inhale the most comforting smell of all, his natural scent mixed with some cologne, sweat, and gasoline.
"you gotta make up a better story for that, though." he nods at your wrapped up leg, still throbbing a little under the bandages. "like fighting off a masked murderer."
"is fighting a stone wall and winning not cool enough?" you could hardly call that winning, not even when you managed to hold onto the edge of it instead of scraping along the whole height of it—which also hurt your palm a little, but baji already kissed the couple of reddened spots on it so they'll be fine.
"you think that was winning, babe?" he snorts, shaking his head. "i'd stick with the murderer thing. or wrestling a shark. or—"
you cover his mouth with your hand, effectively shutting him up only for a moment until he licks a thick strip over your fingers. you giggle as you pull it away, wiping it on his t-shirt while he kisses the top of your head.
"no shark?" he asks, quiet.
"no shark." you shake your head, turning your leg to the side and straightening it out.
"you're a badass anyway." he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours with a co-conspiratorial smile. you kiss him because he's right. takes a lot of courage and skill to take on a stone wall and come out with just a scratched up leg. "my awesomeness just had to rub off on you."
he chuckles when you smack his shoulder, that sharp canine shows as he grins at you the moment before he attacks your neck with kisses and bites.
𑣲⋆tagging @maplewood-valley
⋆˙⟡ burekforsatoru || do not modify, repost, or feed to AI. likes and reblogs appreciated, nice comments make your skin clear.
dividers by @/strangergraphics and @/saradika-graphics
