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mizusnose · 4 months

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Hii!! I love ur writings AND UR ART TOO! I have a req 😈

Mizu meeting reader who has heterochromia!

And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning

Been missing Japan tons recently so this one’ll be set in modern day Tokyo. Here is a list of translated terms/phrases:

Gouchyui kudasai. Abunai desu kara.. : Please be careful, since it’s dangerous

Keigo: super politeful form of words/grammar.

Gaikokujin: foreigner.

daijoubu desu: It’s okay/I’m fine. In this situation, can also mean: I’m okay (without it)

arigatou gozaimasu: thank you (very much)

samu—!: cold/chilly. it’s actually 寒い (samui), but ppl shorten it in daily conversation by dropping the i.

arigatou: thanks, more familiar.

ohayo: good morning

Summary: A meet-cute in a train car leads to an unlikely friendship that blooms into something more. Discussion of beauty standards in Japan. Insecurities are discussed. Tons of flirting, some heavy petting.

SFW, some nudity but nothing blatantly sexual.

— — —

The first time you saw her, it had been on your morning commute to work. The autumn weather muted that far underground. The wind from departing and arriving trains was the only thing that would create a breeze in the otherwise stagnant air.

She was easy to notice.

Her height forced her to duck under the hanging advertisements with a practiced ease, neck long and slender. A white turtleneck against thin golden chains peeked out from her indigo jacket, spots of sunlight soaked into the snow.

And her eyes—a frozen-over ocean in the middle of the Marunouchu line, an early morning in winter. You breathed and suddenly it was the dead of winter in Sendai and the birds fluttered away up above you.

It’d only been a second, a millisecond, the flutter of a bird’s feather. Then she was gone. Her dark hair a shadowing eclipse against the sharp of her chin, the red of her nose—her eyes.

The train ride went uninterrupted. A jingle, shuffling, and then you were on your way to work. You didn’t quite notice though. Your breath a bleary thing in your ballooned-out chest. Belly wide and searching. An open mouth, fanged and hungry.

The next time you see her, it’s in the dead of night. The last train barely caught. Your mini skirt pressed against your bare thigh and the seat. Make-up dark and hair wild in the nearly empty train car. Winter’s fist had started to close around the Tokyo metropolitan area and the nights became a sharp kind of cold. You felt frozen in your seat.

She’d been sitting there, right across from you in the middle of the row of empty seats. Straight tapered office pants meeting her oxford shoes, that same indigo jacket, golden chains glinting in the glow of the moving lights outside. Her glasses caught in the passing stations, a muted orange that blocked the blue of her eyes.

You stared, entranced. You knew it was rude, but the image she made against the smeared nighttime Ginza scenery made you hold your breath, amazed. The last time you’d seen her, it was too quick. Barely a snapshot of a second. So you drank your fill, greedy and tipsy. The train shifted on the tracks and you both leaned into the bend, your bodies in line.

You distantly wonder if she’s willingly not paying attention to you after the doors automatically open and close following two stops. She hasn’t looked up once from her book, her fingertips a dull pink against the English title.

You want to put them in your mouth—a wild thought that conjures itself in your bleary mind.

When she finally does look up, her eyes greet your own and holds—a challenge. Her dark eyebrows furrow: anger. She observes you closer, focusing on your eyes.

You blush, and quickly look away.

You know she’s seen them: your eyes. People usually narrow their own eyes at you after realizing, and yet—hers shift when you meet them again. There’s no longer a scowl, her eyebrows rise instead, lips parted. A question, a surprise, Intrigue.

Oh, you think, oh.

Your chest buzzes and you wonder if your lipstick is still intact. If your eyeliner hasn’t been smudged. If you still look desirable.

There’s no one else but you two, so you quirk an eyebrow, satisfied to see her flush and look away. The cut of her jaw hidden by her short dark hair.

Her wired earbuds follow, they press against her chin and her hair, and you wonder what she’s listening to. If she can hear your breath quicken, heart rate spiked.

The train doors open at your stop and your stomach flips when she stands as well. Her head ducks underneath an advertisement about train manners, and she waits for you to stumble out first. You feel her hands around the air of your body, the pressure of the feeling against your waist. She doesn’t touch, but you wish she had.

“Gouchyui kudasai. Abunai desu kara..” She mutters down to the ground after you’ve both swiped out of the station. Keigo and all.

Her hair flutters in the tunnel wind, grey eye bags and pink cheekbones that make you wonder what her job is. You settle your miniskirt and nod quickly. The glow of the FamilyMart shines on you both, a play, an experiment.

Yet, as she turns to leave, you feel like it’s gone interrupted. Your story, and hers.

“I’ve! um—I’ve seen you around”

She stops, doesn’t turn around. You continue in clunky Japanese. The alcohol settling deeper in your belly, confidence rising in your throat,

“Are you free for lunch or dinner or..”

She freezes—and you feel like you’ve misread the entire situation, but as she turns back around, she nods. A jerky thing that heats up your face.

Her necklace glints in the nearby streetlights as she puts her Line info into your contacts. Her hand encompasses all of your phone, fingers long and palm wide. You ache at the sight.

“Mizu?” Your fingernails brush the character she’s entered after she hands it back to you: 水. Mizu, mizu mizu.

“Mn. My parent’s..Gaikokujin. Thought it sounded pretty.” She looks embarrassed, her short cut hair brushing her jaw, her ears. Yet, her eyes stay on yours. A lull.

“It is.�� You swallow around your words. Greet her with your own gaze, a smile.

She doesn’t trust you to walk home in your stumbling state, so she guides you into the FamilyMart nearby.

She grabs a water bottle for you, a hot milk tea for herself. Like this, in the fluorescent light, she’s taller than the aisles and towers above you. Her nape meets her neck and the hair is shaved there. Short—like a boy’s. You want to touch the skin there, just below it.

She pays despite your assurance that you can pay for yourself.

“‘ts only 120 yen.” is what she says, turns to the cashier and waves away a bag, daijoubu desu, collects the receipt and turns to leave, arigatou gozaimasu. A barely there bow, the receipt crushed in her palm, and then you’re both outside in the softly falling snow.

She opens the bottled water for you and you hiss after you take it: samu—!

She chuckles, watches you take the lip of the bottle into your mouth: tracks your throat as you swallow. You feel like you’re burning up inside your chest and finish half the bottle in one go.

“Do you live far?”

“Just past the next streetlight. I’ll be okay, promise.”

She looks unsure. It’s not windy, but strands of her hair push against her face. She presses it away. Behind her ear that has a stud in the soft flesh of her lobe. You follow the movement in your tipsy state. Watch it glimmer in the night.

“Let’s meet again soon, then.” Her hand gestures to your bare legs, eyes averted and away—flushed, “Stay warm.”

She presses the hot milk tea into your hands. Swaps it out for your water bottle. It sloshes against the plastic when she meets your gaze. She’s inspecting you. Tracing the outline of your face, your eyes. Your fingertips welcome the warmth, and you open your mouth to thank her: arigatou

“Get home safe.” Her hands brush your own, and she grins at the touch, slow and soft.

A taxi’s unoccupied sign blinks on in the dark nearby. The rush of the trains sound behind you, a car drives by.

She leaves then, and you watch her go. Her shoulders sharp in the cold night. The snow falls on you but the unopened milk tea burns and you think of her again and again. Even after you turn and walk away too.

The walk back is slippery and when you get home, your phone sits content in your pocket. You smile, a big happy thing. Her name sits in your mouth, and you think: Mizu, mizu, mizu. As if your lips would forget in the morning.

—

You go out for dinner later in the week.

Mizu is shy. She jokes only after you’ve both ordered a round of sapporo, her flush an insistent thing. Her neck is long and you watch as it reddens through the night. The glow of the shop the only thing keeping your hands to yourself.

The conversation flows steadily. Like two lifelong friends. The banter is easy, and the flirting easier. You notice Mizu’s steady gaze on you and you smile to welcome it. A flower unfurling in the sun.

You both promise to do it again afterwards. Mizu’s hands linger on yours when you leave, and the touch sinks into you, a slow gulp of water against your throat.

It’s breathless and exciting, being with Mizu. She texts you ohayo’s and brushes your hair out of your face, stands close in the train, and slips her hand into yours when she walks you back home after your fifth date. The first night you spend together, her thumb slips against your cheekbones and she smiles,

“You are so beautiful.”

She kisses you and your body and your thighs. She fucks you the way she had promised over texts late at night. Kisses your eyelids afterwards, a love that blooms between you both.

“Did you ever get bullied about it?” She asks one morning.

You’re both naked, the sunshine glinting on the sheets and into the kitchen where you’re making coffee. The question is asked unsure, a train passes by in the distance.

“I did. Not too much, but yeah.”

“Me too.” Mizu shoves on her shirt, a button down that she leaves open, the space between her breasts littered in marks, “Kids can be mean.”

You nod, tilting your head to the side when Mizu comes up behind you and kisses your throat. The muscle in your shoulder. Your back: the bone there.

“You’re stunning.” She whispers. Moves her hands up your body, a warmth that stirs between your legs, “Fuck what anyone says—kids especially.”

You laugh, twisting around to face Mizu. Her eyes meet your own, a clash of colors and you let her gaze win. You tuck your face into her neck and blow a raspberry to the skin there.

“It’s not so bad now. Usually, people just think I forgot to put in my other contact.” Mizu huffs, lets her hands wander lower, “The plus side is that I got a hot girlfriend out of it.”

You pull back and peck Mizu’s unassuming lips. She stutters around the sudden labeling, and you smile to let her know it’s okay. It’s okay.

You spend the day together, a lazy Sunday. And when you see the scene you both make in the bathroom mirror after a shower you flush at it all: Mizu, naked, her eyes boring into you and tracing the lines of your body. And you, the color of your eyes, each a separate hue. Yet, the love inside them the same and as blatant as ever.

“You’re beautiful.” You say, grabbing Mizu and kissing her. Pushing her bangs away from her eyes, hand settling on her back. There’s a freckle there you’d kissed earlier. You press into it.

Mizu chuckles, finds your lips and pulls away to whisper into the opening of your mouth. A secret, a wish, a promise.

You keep every single one.

———

Haha, so I really just miss FamilyMart and affordable food and the stellar Japanese public transportation so here this is. Didn’t specify reader’s eye color so you can imagine whatever colors you want—including your own!

title inspired by about you by the 1975

#blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #heterochromia #mizu x fem!reader #modern!au #Tokyo #Japan #I miss Japan and the trains and the food :

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zhonglicious · 4 months

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pairing: bf!baji keisuke x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k

cw: implied chubby reader, university au, oral (f. receiving), hair pulling (m. receiving), fingering, mentions of overstimulation, manhandling, theyre a bit silly in this one lol, lmk if i forgot any!

i truly love how we as a community agree that baji keisuke loves eating pussy. like. you’re right you’re absolutely right.

he’s the type of guy to grumble at you when you’re studying for finals. in all honesty, he should be studying too. you’re in the same class, in the same course, about to take the same exam two weeks from now, but he just couldn’t care less at the moment.

“kei, just give me a bit, i’ll be done with the unit soon,” you address him, not even looking up from your table as you flip a page. “you’ve been sittin’ there for hours, i’m fuckin’ bored,” your brute of a boyfriend gripes, and you snort. “that’s because unlike some people, i don’t wait days before an exam to study.”

there’s an offended squawk behind you. “oi-“ he starts, and you cut him off with a laugh. “see, this is why you’re barely passing class. you can still study with me, you know. i’ll go over the material with you,” you hum, flipping to another page with one hand, scribbling down the words with the other.

you hear a huff and the sound of rustling fabric, followed by heavy footsteps before a large shadow blocks the light. oh keisuke, always so easy to tease. you look up, countering his grumpy frown with a radiant smile. you're ready to open your mouth to piss him off some more, only words never leave your mouth. instead, your body leaves the chair you're occupying, two strong arms hooked under your back and your knees.

he carries you like you weigh nothing, a testament to the physique he works hard to maintain. it always makes you swoon when he does this, because you know you're not exactly the lightest in the bunch, but baji makes you feel like you are. any time you complain, he raises an eyebrow and snorts, bobbing you up and down like he's testing out weights at the gym. "nah. s'not heavy at all," he grins at you, which is usually followed by you giggling and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

but not this time, because you have a fucking exam that is worth 30% of your grade, and you've barely even studied half of what you're supposed to.

“kei- keisuke-! put me down!” you yell, wriggling in his hold and punching his chest. he grunts as takes the hit, and you wail despairingly because he doesn't even budge. him being a human tank with strength incomparable to yours makes him immune to all your assaults. so onwards he marches, huffing as you squawk like a ruffled bird.

your back hits the mattress softly as baji's hands go to your thighs, pulling your legs apart and hooking them on his shoulders. “not waitin’ anymore,” he grumbles, tilting his head so he can press a kiss against your inner thigh. the light touch sends a jolt through your spine, but you try to ignore the flash of heat that sparks in your stomach. you will take a stand, and you will stand firm.

"will you listen to me?" you hiss, lightly smacking his head. "no," is the immediate answer, accompanied by an unimpressed stare as he turns back to his task. he kisses down your thigh, going down lower with every peck. "this can wait for some other time, you-!" you start, only to yelp as baji huffs impatiently, biting down on the fat of your thigh. it doesn't really hurt, but him unexpectedly sinking his fangs into you caught you off guard.

you can feel the atmosphere getting heavier, more charged as you two stare at each other, neither backing down. you glare him down, while he faces you with a challenge in his eyes. “keisuke. get off.” you huff, breaking the silence. “don’t wanna,” baji says, and now the hands holding your thighs are reaching up tug at your waistband, pulling your shorts off.

even as you protest, your panties go next, thrown haphazardly on the floor behind him. “keisuke-!” you gasp as he bites you again, a final warning for disobeying him. he’s not a very patient man, and he’s not a very nice one either. his gaze doesn’t leave yours as he licks a stripe up the bite, his hot tongue like fire on your skin. your breath hitches as you watch him, thinking he has no right to be that hot while acting like a fucking animal.

you know you’re already wet. your ears burn with how easily your body responds to his, already knowing the mess he's gonna find as he spreads your legs more. baji groans at the sight, glancing up at you again. for a few seconds, the grip on your thighs loosen, and he backs away, a silent invitation for you to push him away if you want to.

you stare at him, your heart pounding in your ears. with the stress of uni, exams and all the work you've been doing, you haven't had the chance to take care of yourself. baji's been much of the same, with the same workload, and you know that's the reason he's snapped. you both want this. god, you want this. "keisuke," is the soft, shaky exhale that leaves your mouth. that's all he needs.

he doesn't waste any time, leaning forward. the tight grip on your thighs return, and he's pushing your legs so your thighs are against your stomach, knees pressed against your tits. you gasp, finally, finally feeling baji's mouth on your cunt.

he's impatient, immediately going to lap at your clit like a man starved, a guttural groan leaving his throat. his eyes don't leave yours even as yours flutter closed. it feels so fucking good, his tongue is so warm and wet, making even more of a mess as you whine his name. "god, y'taste so fuckin' good," he moans, lips closing around the sensitive bud.

your hands automatically go to his hair, fingers tangling themselves in his black locks. he sighs as you pull at them lightly, burrowing his face deeper into your pussy. he could die like this, hearing you whimper his name as he slurps at your clit, the taste of you like heaven on his tongue. he moans like he's the one being eaten out, his hips jutting forward as his cock strains against his pants.

"oh god, kei, i'm-" you're close already. it's too much, baji's deep groans, the way his tongue swirls around your clit and how he sucks on the bundle of nerves. you're so out of it you don't notice one of his hands leaving your thighs, instead sneaking in between them to prod at your entrance. he slides in two fingers at once, and the stretch feels so good, his fingers longer and thicker than yours.

immediately, he finds the spot that has you seeing stars, repeatedly curling his fingers into it, urging you to cum. his name is like a prayer on your lips as that coil of pleasure in your belly snaps, your vision going white as you tug at his hair.

slowly, baji stops and eventually pulls away, the room silent save for both of your heavy breaths. you slowly open your eyes, peering down at him still staring up at you, lust clouding his eyes, pupils blown out. your breath hitches as he licks his lips, knowing damn well what it means.

"keisuke-" you gasp as he starts up again, fingers curling up into your sweet spot. your legs twitch as he lets out a deep chuckle, fangs gleaming in the light. "we're not done yet. you can give me one more, can't ya?" that wolfish grin feels like a death sentence. you make a noise of protest, shaking your head, telling him you can't, only for him to click his tongue and go faster.

after all, eventually, you always give him what he wants.

#im a believer of red eyes baji #like it just feels so right yk #basing my entire baji image off that one manga cover that made his eyes look slightly red #BUT LIKE CMON U CANT DENY IT JUST FEELS RIIIGGHT #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x reader #baji keisuke #baji keisuke smut #baji keisuke x reader #baji x reader #baji smut #not too proud of this one i fear

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