#Made the deadline lets go B)

[draconic-distress]

@bokumonoexchange summer exchange for @thebeckster!

[cherry-zip]

─ • CSC .ᐟ Aisles of Affection

› content ┆ idol scoups x fem reader, established relationship, jealousy, fluff ✎ word-count .ᐟ 2.2k. ⌁ summary ┆ After a hectic week, Seungcheol and you decide to go on a grocery shopping date. As you stroll through the aisles, picking out ingredients for a cozy dinner, an encounter with a supermarket worker triggers a wave of jealousy in Seungcheol.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated!

It had been one of those relentlessly exhausting weeks—the kind that stretched like a rubber band pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment. Between work deadlines, classes, and running errands, you and Seungcheol had barely seen each other. So when Friday evening finally rolled around, you decided to do something simple yet meaningful: spend the evening together, just the two of you. A casual date at the supermarket to pick out ingredients for a cozy dinner sounded perfect. You didn’t need anything fancy to enjoy each other's company; just a quiet evening to unwind.

As you made your way to the nearby supermarket, Seungcheol grabbed a cart, pushing it alongside you with his strong, sure hands. You walked in hand-in-hand, his grip warm and firm as he led you to grab the cart. There was something so comforting about its simplicity. You didn’t need extravagant dates when the best part of the day was always being with him. His presence was steady and comforting, like an anchor in the middle of a storm. Even something as mundane as grocery shopping felt special with him by your side.

“Should we start with vegetables or fruit?” he asked, his voice warm and casual, his eyes scanning the signs hanging above the aisles.

“Fruit,” you replied without hesitation. “I’m in the mood for something sweet.”

He smirked, giving you a teasing look. “You’re always in the mood for something sweet.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Can you blame me? Life’s better with dessert.”

His smile widened at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way you loved. “Alright, fruit it is then.”

As you made your way to the produce section, you noticed Seungcheol looking over at you every now and then, his gaze soft and thoughtful. It was the little things like that—those quiet moments of tenderness—that reminded you just how much he cared. He wasn’t always the type to say it out loud, but his actions spoke volumes. The way he gently guided you through crowds, how he’d grab things off the highest shelves without you asking, or how he’d always make sure your favorite snacks made it into the cart.

Seungcheol was the type of boyfriend who always paid attention to the little things. He knew you loved cherries, so of course, he steered the cart straight to the fruit section. He began scanning the shelves with his sharp eyes, intent on picking the best ones for you. It didn’t take long to reach the rows of colorful fruit. Your eyes immediately went to the cherries, plump and bright red under the fluorescent lights. You reached out to grab a pack, but Seungcheol beat you to it, picking it up and examining it with a critical eye.

“They don’t look that fresh,” he said, frowning as he held the pack closer for inspection. “Let me see if there are better ones.”

You chuckled softly, amused by how seriously he took even the smallest details. “Seungcheol, they’re just cherries. I’m sure they’re fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. “No way, I’m getting you the best ones.” His gaze flicked to a nearby worker stocking the fruit section, a young guy with a friendly smile who seemed happy to help.

And that’s when things started to shift.

The worker noticed Seungcheol’s approach and walked over. His name tag read *Minho* in neat black lettering. He glanced between you two before stepping closer, offering a polite nod. “Hey, can I help you with anything?” he asked, his tone overly friendly as he glanced in your direction, giving you a smile that lingered just a bit too long.

And that’s when you felt the subtle shift.

Seungcheol, who had been calm and easygoing just moments ago, suddenly straightened, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the cherry pack. His jaw set a little firmer, and his eyebrows narrowed just a fraction, barely noticeable, but enough for you to catch it. You sensed the subtle shift in his mood, like a storm cloud gathering on the horizon. Was he... jealous?

“We were just looking for the freshest cherries,” Seungcheol said, his voice polite but a little sharper than usual. “These ones don’t seem great.”

Minho looked at you again, clearly unaware of the silent territorial tension now simmering between you and Seungcheol, smiled, and nodded. “Oh, those are great, but if you want the best ones, we’ve got a new batch in the back. I can go grab them for you if you’d like.” He flashed you another grin before glancing at Seungcheol, who was glaring at him.

You noticed then that Minho’s gaze lingered on you a little longer than it should have, the kind of glance that seemed more friendly than professional. It wasn’t inappropriate by any means, but it was enough to catch Seungcheol’s attention. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers curling possessively on your skin. His grip was gentle, but there was a clear message behind it.

“No need,” Seungcheol replied quickly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll take these.”

You could feel the simmering frustration rolling off him in waves, though he tried to keep his expression neutral. Minho blinked, clearly catching on to the underlying tension but still oblivious to its cause. “Alright, well, if you need anything else, just let me know,” he said, shooting you one last smile before walking off to help another customer.

As soon as Minho was out of earshot, Seungcheol exhaled slowly, his shoulders still tense. You couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers tightened on your waist, his face drawn into a tight line. He didn’t say anything as you continued down the aisles, but you knew him well enough to understand what was going on. Your usually confident and calm boyfriend was feeling... jealous.

The thought of it almost made you laugh. Choi Seungcheol, leader of Seventeen, who could command attention with just a look, was jealous over a random supermarket worker? It was adorable, really.

You leaned closer to him as you walked past the dairy section, nudging him gently. “You okay, Cheol?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

He didn’t look at you at first, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the tone of his voice said otherwise.

But he wasn’t fine, and you knew it. You could see the way his jaw was clenched, the way his eyes flicked toward where Minho had gone as if to make sure the guy wasn’t still looking at you. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so out of character for him.

“You sure? Because you’ve been acting a little... off since the fruit section,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Seungcheol sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he leaned against the cart, his eyes searching yours. There was something vulnerable in his gaze that made your heart squeeze a little. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, though you could tell he was struggling to brush it off. After a moment, he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “It’s just—did you see the way that guy was looking at you?” he asked, his voice low, almost frustrated.

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “Minho?”

“Yeah, him, Minho,” Seungcheol said, his brow furrowing, nearly spitting out the name like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “He was practically undressing you with his eyes.”

You tried to hold back a laugh, but the seriousness in Seungcheol's expression made it impossible. You let out a soft chuckle, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Cheol, he was just being friendly. I doubt he even thought about me like that.”

But Seungcheol wasn’t having it. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Well, I noticed. And I didn’t like it.”

There was a pause as you took in his words, your heart fluttering at the possessiveness in his tone. He wasn’t usually this direct about his feelings, but when he was, it always caught you off guard. You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his dark hair, trying to soothe his worries. Choi Seungcheol—your confident, cool-headed boyfriend—was feeling jealous because of a brief interaction with a random supermarket worker. It was kind of adorable, really.

You leaned up on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, your fingers grazing his jawline. “You don’t have to worry about anyone else, Cheol,” you murmured against his skin. “I’m yours, remember? I always have been.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close in a protective embrace. “I know...,” he whispered, his tense expression softening just a bit, but the jealousy still lingered in his eyes. “I just hate the idea of someone else thinking they have a chance with you.”

You leaned up on your tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling the tension in his body slowly melt away as he kissed you back. His arms tightened around you, anchoring you in place as if he needed to remind himself that you were still there, still his.

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady

 beat of his heart as you stood there, cocooned in your own little world amidst the bustle of the supermarket. No one could ever compare to him, and you hoped he knew that. “You’re the only one for me,” you reassured him softly.

Seungcheol was quiet for a moment, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, the edge of frustration melting away. “I know. I guess I just get... protective sometimes.”

You smiled, tilting your head up to look at him. “Sometimes? Mmmh… You’re always protective.”

Seungcheol chuckled at that, his mood finally lightening. He gave you a sidelong glance, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Can you blame me? Well, you’re worth protecting.”

As you finished up your shopping and headed to the checkout, the earlier tension seemed like a distant memory. Seungcheol was back to his usual self, joking with you as you debated which snacks to buy. And when you passed by Minho one last time, you couldn’t help but notice the way Seungcheol shot him a quick, pointed look, as if to silently say, *She’s mine.*

And honestly? You kind of loved it.

That night, as you cooked dinner together in the warmth of your small apartment, the earlier jealousy seemed almost silly. But deep down, you knew it meant something more. Seungcheol loved you fiercely, protectively, in a way that made you feel safe and cherished. And even if it meant dealing with the occasional amount of jealousy, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because at the end of the day, you knew one thing for sure: Choi Seungcheol was your boyfriend, and no one—not even a flirty supermarket worker—could ever change that.

Later that evening, after you had returned to your apartment and started cooking together, sneakily eating cherries at times while still thinking back to the supermarket, Seungcheol stood beside you, focused on chopping vegetables while you stirred the pot on the stove. The warmth of the kitchen, the quiet clinking of utensils, and the soft hum of your shared space felt like a balm to the stress of the week.

“So,” you said casually, breaking the comfortable silence. “About earlier…”

Seungcheol glanced at you, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Nope. I just think it’s cute that you got jealous over a supermarket worker.”

He groaned, running a hand over his face as if to hide his embarrassment. “I wasn’t jealous—I was just… being cautious.”

“Sure thing, darling,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “Whatever you say.”

He sighed dramatically, setting the knife down before turning to face you. “Fine, maybe I was a little jealous. But can you blame me? You’re the most amazing person in the world, and I don’t want anyone else thinking they have a shot with you.”

You felt a surge of affection as you reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing gently against his skin. “You have nothing to worry about, Seungcheol. I’m all yours, forever.”

His eyes softened at your words, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I love you,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice making your heart swell.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the kitchen and the comforting presence of the man you loved, you knew one thing for certain: no matter what, no one could ever come between you.

› anonymous review form

yes i had to make it about cherries out of every fruits available... i might just be obsessed thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! don't forget to like, reblog, comment ^^

❀ a/n┆I've been writing a longer fic.. I've no idea if it will ever come to life so I do have a shorter and modified version coming at some point

‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip"🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 4

"THOSE FUCKING BITCHES SAM!" Danny shouted as he stormed into his apartment, slinging his backpack off by the door as he toes his shoes off.

Rounding the corner of the hallway, Danny was met with Tucker, shirtless with only a pair of plaid boxers on, staring at him with sleep glazed eyes, he had a box of cereal in one hand, and a bottle of oat milk in the other, raising the bottle in a salute, Tucker stuffed a handful of cereal into his mouth before taking a swig of the milk, holding up a hand to stop Danny from speaking as he chewed, only letting his hand fall before he spoke.

"What?"

"The Bats are fucking assholes!"

Tucker looked back at the bottle of oat milk, sighed and placed it back in the refrigerator, chucking the box of cereal on the counter, Tucker grabbed Danny by the shoulders.

"Of course they are Jerks Danny..." his grip tightened as he started to shake the Halfa, "I have ten deadlines and 5 missed calls, I really want to geek out right now about you meeting the local heroes but I really don't have the time, so yes, jerks, tell me about it later okay?"

Danny phased through the tough grip on his shoulders, letting out a giggle as he watched Tucker fumble as he no longer had someone to help steady himself, "I did yell specifically for Sam, Tuck so you can't get mad at me! Go huant the Wanyetech building, I know for sure those dudes are way more dead inside than I am!"

Getting a groan from his friend at his dead pun, Danny continued into the apartment, snatching Tuckers cereal box off the counter as he went to sit in the living room.

Spotting Sam typing something on a lap top, her big over the ear headphones blaring as he flops down next to her, which thankfully was enough for her to notice him.

Offering g the box of cereal to her, she sent him a tired smile as she slipped the head phones off and took some of the fruit flavored rings, "Hey there Deadstuff...how was work?"

Danny sent her a grin, "Well, Clocky decided to throw me a bone and I think I got this? He is a little bitch boy that sends me all over the place but this time it was a dined, Lunch Lady taught me how to cook." Pasuing to stuff a new handful of tasty fruity goodness, Danny spoke around the cereal in his mouth "Cookin' ish so much more cool when da food isn't trying to kill you"

Slapping Danny's arm as she rolled her "Don't eat with your mind full and tell me what got you so riled up" Sliding her laptop of her self she tucked her knees up before stretching them out over Danny, who was already going off on his story.

"Wait wait! You had Nightwing in you're restaurant and you didn't get me an autograph?" Same shot Danny a scowl, who at least had the decency to look sorry

"I was going to but they fucking dined and dashed Sam! Even when I was actively Phantom, I never, ever just left a bill!"

---

Dick knew that perhaps eating the food was a slightly bad idea, given the look B gave them when him and Tim pulled into the Cave.

He was standing there, arms crossed, thankfully cowl down, what made the sight infinitely less intimidating was Damian doing the same next to him, his head tilted to look down at them and perhaps standing on his tittpy toes a little bit.

Dick wanted to coo at the father son bonding, but remembered he had to act at least a little chastised at the moment "Yes I am sorry B, It was my decision to head in, there was no outward danger so we just took a chance."

Wincing at the gruff grunt he got from that Dick powered on, "I will write a more detailed report, but personally if anything wrong it's likely that the kid working there is Meta? I dont-"

"He can't be meta! He is very clearly a ghost Dick!" Tim interrupted already flipping through some notes he had made on the way back home, "its the only explanation...or he is a 5th dimensional Imp with a passion for cooking but I really hope not those guys suck to deal with..."

Dick nodded at that, but had to say some thing foe his own superfan imp "Nightmite is a chill dude helps sometimes with cases back in Bludhaven!"

Giving a sigh, Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, "No mites, no metas, no ghost, go to Medbay I am running blood tests on what sweet hell you have ingested."

---

Bruce ran the test again, sure that it was wrong, praying that it was wrong.

TEST COMPLETE

TRACE LAZARUS WATERS DETECTED

Underneath was lists of chemical make ups of the samples Tim took and his sons blood, there were varying levels through out the food samples, some lighter but others were heavy on it.

What was stumping him was...it was nearly perfectly pure, the pits naturally over time get polluted, with the dirt and sediment that falls in, and with the various amounts of bodily parts and fluids that are dipped in it.

But the trace amounts Bruce was finding were a better quality than Ra's own personal pool, not the one he dips in to regain his youth that the LOA make a ritual out of, no the privet one in the Alps that was clear as glacial water.

It didn't make any sense to Bruce, who would be spreading Lazarus water around? Ra's would not simply share his secret pure stash...

Lost in thought, Bruce sat back glaring at the test results.

---

"And after I thought I was giving great service, they fucking left, no bill, no tip! I didn't even get to see Nightwings ass as he left! People say it's a godly experience! I was robbed!" Letting out a huff Danny shot Sam an incredulous look at her sudden burst of laughter. "Sa~am, this isn't funny! Never meet your heroes! I am taking this to Twitter! They shall know my fury!" His words only served to make Sam laugh even harder.

Stifling a grin Danny took out hos phone, a old busted thing that was more ducktape and prayers than actual technology, but dear go's did it still work.

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@.realwing @not-that-red-robin.real yall are toxic twinks came in to my workplace and fucking dined and dashed 0/10 Nightwing has a flat ass.]

Hitting send, Danny put his phone down, choosing to let the nights happenings go past his mind and just hang out with Sam before showering and finally going to bed.

---

Tim was hunched over his lap top, going frame by frame of his body cam footage, he *needed* to figure this out, it was like an itch in his brain that he would go through bone to get through.

His work payed off as he clicked forward another time, his feed went static before it showed a blurry blue blob in place of the diner! Proof! It was there!

Jumping at the sudden bang of his bedroom door being thrown open, Tim whirled to around to see Dicks distressed face, standing up, Tim prepared for the worst, something happened. Bruce was dead agian it had to be-

"TIMMY I AM A TWINK AM I??" Was Dicks wail as he flopped down on Tim's bed.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, Tim looked longingly at his laptop before closing it, "Dick, what the fuck."

Rolling around on the bed, Dick finally looked up at Tim "Littlewing sent me a tweet and...ugh just look!" Thrusting out his phone as he spoke

Pasuing at the mention of Jason, Tim  looked down at the screen and froze

"Holy shit...we forgot to pay didn't we...fuck Jason is never going to let us live that down."

Tim still remembered the first time he witnessed one of Jason's famous "make Bruce spend more money" rants about tipping.

It was glorious.

Tim now realized he would be one of two that was likely going to have to face it next.

"UGH?? You focus on the money and not the other parts? Tim I was called a toxic twink with no ass! This is a declaration of war! I have never been so offended!" Dick sat up, eyes narrowd while Tim opened up the tweet on his own phone.

"The comments agree Dick, I am sorry, you now have a flat ass congrats and welcome to the club" Tim said dryly, trying to go to the posters page, since it was clearly Danny who posted it.

Only the app crashed when he tried to. And again when he tried to a second time, and his web browser crashed when he tried opening it there

Tim was baffled on what was happening while Dick lemented on his bed before deciding to hack it later.

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween super sorry about that send me venmo and I'll pay with tip]

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@not-that-red-robin.real Fuck that face me like a coward bitch bet you wont]

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween...bet]

---

Somewhere in a safe house in Crime Ally, Jason let out a little giggled as he scrolled through the comments on the funniest post he had found in a while, Jason was surely going to have to speak to Timberly and Dickiebird about paying their bills but right now?

He was kicking his feet watching Dick have a public meltdown as Nightwing.

Finally, he wouldn't be the only one who had to retake the Bat Media course.

How was he supposed to know doing peace signs next to a person he just shot wasn't allowed?

[riaki]

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[boyfiechan]

He couldn't help it.

He tried, he really did, forcing his mind to travel back to his work every time it slipped away. He focused on the harmonies drawing shapes on his laptop screen, the ridiculous amount of papers pilling up with bits and pieces of lyrics for multiple songs, the laughter of his group mates as they came up yet another insane idea for a future project. Deadlines, rhythms, enunciations, syllables, anything.

And it worked, until it didn't, and neither did the idea of spending an extra half hour on the gym because maybe, just maybe this is all pent up stress and energy pilling up and not what feels like a second puberty because he just can't stop thinking about you.

He's a little ashamed of it, honestly. Maybe even more than a little, trying to push back pretty much every single thing related to your existence to the back of his mind when he's around anyone to avoid the feeling of his pants getting tighter and cheeks getting flushed and he may be going insane, really, there just isn't any other explanation to why his body and mind decided to crave something he barely even tasted yet.

He knows it's technically okay and normal to feel this way. Your friendship with him was always a little strange to everyone, and he knew he did like you a little bit more than a friend would, and you seem to share the feeling after making out with him at the end a night out that didn't envolve enough drinks for that to be a choice you made simply because you were drunk out of your mind. And it's technically okay because you made it sure that you wanted him too, even if things didn't go further than a lot of kissing and touching for the night.

He couldn't help but picture it if they did. That's how he found himself there, scalding hot water traveling down his back, dark, wavy hair stuck to his forehead and a dizzying curtain of steam filling the bathroom as the feeling of your lips sucking on his travels back to his mind with full force, making his knees feel a little too jelly. He tries to convince himself it was the workout, or that he's just a little too hormonal but it's not, it's you and your soft skin and the softest lips he ever tasted and how much more he wanted, needed do to and to feel.

And that is a battle that he knew he lost when he rested one of his hands on the wall in front of him, the one traveling down to his hard, leaking cock, hissing at the feeling of finally getting some sort of relief. Oh, how he wished they were your hands instead of his, thumb running across his tip as he gets even more aware of everything around him, water caressing his bare skin and the warmth of the room surrounding. He's deliberately slow with it, finally allowing his mind to explore the nastiest, dirtiest images he kept pushing back all day, closing his eyes and picturing your delicate hands instead of his moving up and down his shaft, torturing him in the most delicious way possible.

He feels dizzy. The water is way too warm and so are his hands, and so would be your mouth wrapped around him. He wonders how you would do it, from the way you kissed him so wet and messily, desperate but sensual and so luscious it was hard to not imagine how wet and warm your tongue would be tracing his veins, tasting him, taking all of it as his hands wrap around your hair. The image of your lips around his cock and your eyes locked on his is enough to make him let out a whiny, breathy fuck as his hands pick up their pace, not a single care about how desperate and needy he looks at that moment.

He needs you. He needs you bad, so bad, spread open for him and gorgeous, lips red and puffy from his biting and sucking on them for hours. Your back against his sheets as he buries his fingers so, so deep inside of you, your cunt soaking his fingers, all ready for him. He needs to sink his cock into it, feel you moaning at the girth, the feel of him spreading you open so good, so inviting you can't help but clench around him every time he pulls away just to fuck back into you again and again. He needs to see your face all flushed and red, feel your hands gripping his shoulders ad he gets even deeper, pushing your thighs to your chest and finding the angle that makes you eyes roll back until the only thing you can repeat is his name as you contract around him, begging for him to fill your hole up with his cum and he needs to do it.

And he can't help but to cum at the mental image of his seed dripping from you, soaking the sheets beneath your body and it's so hard to keep quiet, the sound of the water hitting the ground barely disguising the hoarse, raspy moan he lets out as he feels the extra wetness traveling down his hand, knees even weaker than before.

He wonders if you think about him too.

[fos-tis-zois]

thinking about co-worker!nanami kento who cannot stop staring at you every minute you are in the office.

the minute you step out of the elevator his eyes fall on your every movement. the way you rearrange your desk every morning before starting work, and what he would give to take you on your desk and eat you out until he cannot breathe. he probably still wouldn't stop. he watches you every day as you make your coffee and take your cup to your plump, glossy lips, breathing out a sense of relief after your first sip. ohh what he would give to be the one on your lips, tasting your sweet lip gloss mixed with caffeine, and giving you so much more relief than that cup. he knows he is not the only one looking at you. he sees all the other men in the office gawking at your ass hugging skirt, wanting to break their faces for even looking at the perfect body which only his discreet eyes deserved. his heart literally stops when you pass by his office and wave at him with a smile before you resume your work. and fuck….what he would do to see how that pretty mouth looks when he bends you over his desk and pounds you till fucking oblivion, if your sweet pussy can even take him all in. it had almost become a ritual to get a hard on every morning after seeing you, but he was learning to keep it hidden.

he had to keep all of this in, always. he respected the work you did and knew you saw him as a mentor. he did not want to break that trust in any way by letting you know even a little about the lewd thoughts he has been having of you. but all his caution went out the window one day when he saw you in the office lounge, getting lunch with the team. even though you were at a different table with your friend, he could not help but be jealous of the sauce coating your lips, his thoughts once again getting the best of him. the fact that you were wearing a tight shirt which accentuated your perfect big b🍒bs was not helping kento's mind from everything unholy. the tipping point was when a dollop of the sauce fell on your chest, right above your tits. you laughed with your friend about it, and wiped it off your chest with your finger and put it in your mouth to lick the sauce off. it is as if this whole thing took place in slow motion in front of kento's eyes. he immediately became so hard that he had to excuse himself saying he had an important meeting pushed up that he needed to attend. he literally had to hide himself with the empty tray he was holding, lest his co-workers see the excruciating situation your existence had put him in.

as if this was not enough, his karmic slap was when an important meeting really did get pushed up which you had to attend with him and you both got loaded with a lot of work to finish within a really time crunched deadline. this meant kento had to stay late, even pull an all-nighter maybe. that part really wasn’t difficult. what was difficult was that he had to do this with you. “You do not have to stay Y/n, it has been a long day, you are free to go home,” he tried to make you leave to relieve the sexual tension building in his pants. “thank you nanami-san, but according to this schedule we will have to finish up the presentations by tonight to meet the deadlines, it will be faster if i stay back with you too”. this is the work ethic he really did respect in you, really made restricting his urges worth it. he smiled ever so slightly and said, “You can call me Kento”. “but you’re my senior”, you hushed. “Finee, you can call me Kento when it’s just the two of us. better?” he offered. “yes, kento”, you replied. his name sounded sweeter than honey to him in your voice. he tried to shake all his thoughts away and threw himself to work.

an hour or so later, you got up to stretch out your back. nanami did not want to look but oof- the way your shirt was clinging to that perfect waist, he seemed to get frozen in time just looking at you again. “it seems like we are going to be here for a few more hours, i'm going to start a pot of coffee, want some?”, you asked, breaking his daze. “Um, what? Yeah sure coffee sounds good”, he musters, hoping you did not catch the way he was staring. you lean next to him to pick his mug up from the table, where the sight of your perfect tits got in his eyeline, and it’s like nanami forgot how to breathe. he immediately got up, entranced in your smell and almost put his hands on the small of your back to pull you close but stopped when he saw you looking at him, holding the two mugs in both your hands, confused. “Y/n…”, he started, “You are free to stop me or report me or whatever you deem necessary, but on the off chance you are okay with it, can I please kiss you?”

little did he know that you had been waiting for ages for him to ask you this. you were secretly delighted when he had been assigned your mentor. not only was he mind-blowingly good looking, he was extremely passionate, which was reflected in his work. you always wondered how that passion would convert when he took you, hopefully roughly, and made you his. you knew his eyes were on you when you entered in the mornings; you chose outfits that would make his eyes linger on your body more. as much as you respected your senior and knew this could not really happen, the forbiddenness of this dynamic was what turned you on every time you saw him, dressed up in his tight suits each time. you could not help but peek at his ass when he walked past you, or take a whiff of his sexy cologne everytime you walked together to or from conference rooms. you purposely greeted him every morning, hoping that one of the days he would finally break in and initiate something with you. you could not believe this was happening either when he finally asked you for a kiss.

“oh my god kentoo…”

“I’m sorry y/n, it was stupid-”

“i didn’t say no.

he looked at you in disbelief like he needed you to say it again. “please kiss me, kento”, you obliged. he did not have to be told a third time. he immediately crashed his lips on you, pulling you closer to him, his hands firm on your waist that he was admiring mere minutes ago. you close your arms around his neck, making the empty mugs you're holding crash into each other but neither of you cared about that at the moment. he takes one hand up to your neck and pulls your face closer to his, his other hand being on your ass squeezing it and pulling it towards his covered cock. you feel your effect on his bulging cock and curve your hips even more to press his cock onto you deeper. your hands move around the man’s entire body, lingering at his pecs and biceps. your lips aren’t stopping and he bites your lower lip softly, lips he has been looking at every morning wanting to do this forever. you part your lips and let his tongue explore every corner of your mouth. your tongues fight for dominance, neither of you wanting to let go for even a second. he breaks the kiss and attacks your neck, licking and biting like an animal in heat. he takes his one hand in your hair and pulls it down, giving him more access to your pretty neck. he moves from the neck to your ear lobes, licking it clean like a cat. your knees melt at his warm saliva being across your face, but still wanting so much more. he pulls your shirt open in with a sharp tug, letting the buttons fall loose on the floor. you open your mouth to protest, but it is replaced by the moans coming out of your mouth as he takes your tits out from your bra and puts one nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. as he is playing with your nipples, he pulls your skirt up from behind and squeezes your ass, making you moan his name loudly, “aaah kento!” he looks back at you and whispers in his deep gravel voice, “my name has never sounded sweeter to me”, and kisses you again, with vigor, as if breathing was less important than kissing you at the moment. you pull his tie out and throw it on the table and undo all his buttons so you can see his sexy chiseled abs, the one you have been imagining on your lonely nights. you run your hand across his body, your fingers lightly touching his nipple. little did you know that was his sensitive spot. he breaks off the kiss and looks at you with his darkened eyes, “kneel.”

it's like his voice cast a spell on you, and you instantly fell on your knees. it is as if heavens itself had told you to kneel and with a voice like nanami’s, it really seemed heavenly. you immediately started unbuckling his belt and removing his slacks to relieve the pressure on his bulging dick. it sprang up as soon as you removed his boxers, and you gasped. nanami was chiseled like a greek god. you had only imagined what his perfect cock would look and feel like in you, but this was so much more. he was big, but not just long. he was girthy, and you wondered if you could even fit him in your mouth. but you had wanted this as much as nanami and you were ready to take all his stress away. you looked up at him as you took his throbbing veiny dick in your hand, and licked it fully from the end of his balls all the way to the tip of his fat cock. he winced, finally having your warm tongue on his cock, something he had literally dreamed about. you swirl your tongue in circles around his tip, making him throw his head back in pleasure and anticipation. once you have teased him enough, you take it whole in your mouth, almost hitting your throat. you bob your head up and down, letting your saliva lube up his cock fully while you play with his cum filled balls with one hand. you feel his dick hit your throat over and over, but you love it. “Oh baby, you’re doing so well, taking me in completely, fuckk--ahh-- keep going”, nanami’s words gave you an extra jolt of energy and you took his dick completely in, and took your tongue slightly out to lick his balls at the same time. this made him almost feral, and you started feeling his cock vibrate against your cheeks. he took your hair in his hands and tugged it roughly, making you insanely horny. “darling i'm going to come so soon, get your mouth out”, he said trying to remove your mouth from his dick. you look up, lick his precum from your lips and say, “i want you to cum in my mouth, sir.” calling him sir awakened some kink in him and he thrust his cock into your pretty fucking throat and came instantly. you looked up, swallowed all his warm cum and smiled at him.

he got you up and lifted you by your waist and sat you on his desk. “Didn't realize you were this slutty, Y/n” he mocked. “only for you, sir” you countered with a devious smile. he removed the remnant of your shirt and bra and pulled your skirt down while his mouth worked wild on your boobs, biting and sucking them, to make sure he left his mark. he took his fingers over your clothed pussy and found a wet mess down there. “So wet f’ me, pretty? It’s as if you have wanted to fuck me all this while”, he teased you. “you were not the only one looking at me every morning”, you teased back, looking deep into his almond brown eyes. he smiled and put his hands inside your lacy panties and inserted his long middle finger inside your folds while using his thumb to rub circles on your clit. “ken--” you mewl at the unknown sensation, wanting it more and more. “You like, baby?”, he asks. “yes....” you whisper in reply. he puts his finger deeper and harder, “yes who?” “yes, sir”, you gulp. “Good girl”, he said and licked your earlobes while finger fucking your wet mess of a cunt. he yanked your panties down and took his tongue at your dripping folds and licked it generously. “ohh….fuck…ahhhhh”, you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his yellow locks. he held you stable by your ass, massaging it to relax your core muscles even more. you were getting wetter by the second, having his big nose propped up against your clit while he ate your wet pussy like it was his last meal. “fuck…sir, please don't stop, oh god….” you whimper, mentally surrendering to your sexy boss sending you to heaven. he started rubbing circles on your clit suddenly and you let a sharp exhale out, feeling yourself get close. “sir, im very close…”, you mewl out. he immediately takes his tongue out, to your dismay, and faces you. “you're not allowed to cum yet, my pretty little slut”, he said gravely, sending goosebumps down your spine. he hastily flipped you around and bent you over his desk, like he had imagined every morning. he spanked your soft ass hard, watching it jiggle against his dick. “sir…” you cried out, “please fuck me..”. “So impatient”, nanami huffed. he took his tip close to your wet folds and slapped his cock against it. your frustration had you gripping the edge of the desk. you looked back at him to beg, “sir ple-”, you did not get to finish as nanami started ramming your wet fucking cunt raw, as he spanked your ass more and more. “aaah, yess sir fuckk…” you cry out in pure bliss, your legs shaking as his fat veiny cock goes all the way to your intestines. “Mmm, you like it when i fuck you dumb princess? Is this how you think about your office seniors, my slutty little minx?" nanami groaned. he lifted your chest up a little from the desk and started pinching and pulling your nipples, while still ramming you from behind. you were helplessly standing there, using your hands to balance you on the desk with your tongue hanging, legs shaking and ass jiggling under this perfect man fucking you. he continued until you both came, moans mixing together to create the most lustful amalgam of voices.

“You can wear my shirt”, he said as he saw you looking at your shirt with its buttons lost on the ground in dismay.

“thanks, kento”, you cooed as you shyly took his shirt from his hand, taking in his scent.

before you could retract your hand, he took his hands in yours and pulled you closer, “I had planned to do this the other way around, but can I please take you out tomorrow?” he asked, looking deep in your eyes. you were finally being asked out, you could hardly contain your happiness. “kento, yes wow, i would love to but…”, “but?”, “well don't you think we would be here again tomorrow getting the deadline finished?”, you said, dejectedly. “Oh wow, the deadline. Your pretty pussy got me so drunk I forgot other things even existed.” he sighed. “Well, as long as I'm spending the time with you, i don't have any complaints”, he smiled at you, a proper rare nanami kento smile, and you knew you were head over heels in love with this beautiful man.

[rqbossman]

Rules

Hey everyone, I thought it would be a good idea to establish some ground rules to guide interactions on here so without further ado: 1) I get to change and or ignore my own rules as and when I like. It's my blog so tough. 2) I won't even consider answering an ask unless it meets the following criteria: a) I haven't been asked it before on Tumblr. b) It is worded as a question. c) It does not ask me to rule on canon for content I make. d) It does not ask for takes on real people. e) It has a positive tone (seeking to become positive counts) f) It is not a callout (e.g. why are you so rubbish etc.) g) It is not asking for confidential information on business and/or Intellectual property h) It is not just rephrasing a previous question because people didn't like the answer. i) It's respectful. j) It is not just a veiled story request (e.g. why don't you make these characters kiss etc.) 3) This is not a press conference or an interrogation. If you want to ask serious questions about Rusty Quill and other proper topics send them to mail@rustyquill.com 4) If you DM me I will ignore it on principal. Not because I don't like you but because I am receiving so many that I can't be fair with it and it's just generally unwise anyway. 5) Remember we are all human. That means we can make mistakes, change our minds, be flippant, have a bad day and give bad advice. Please show a little grace rather than trying to catch people out. I do not support dogpiling in any situation. 6) Be kind. The fastest way to get yourself blocked by me is being unkind even if you are in the right. Some of the cruellest and regrettable actions I have ever seen have been fuelled by righteous indignation. 7) Be wise. Internet culture moves fast. Not everyone knows everything you know and not everyone needs to know everything you know. You aren't helping me if you appoint yourself "chief brainbox educator supreme" and try to school people on how things should be. Let's just all keep it chill yeah? 8) Be patient. This is not my job. This is barely even counts as a good idea! I run my social media when I can but I don't have deadlines and I don't have sociability quotas. I might do a flurry of activity when I have time then go quiet for months. Just go ahead and assume if I am not posting it's for a good reason. 9) One question per person. Don't worry it doesn't annoy me, its just I don't know if its fair me using all my social media time budget on a single person and leave others unanswered.

This is hardly a complete or exhaustive list and no doubt I have made some tragic tumblr newb error but it'll have to do for now. I am happy to take constructive feedback on these but don't expect quick turnaround on anything.

[starboye]

starring: lando norris x male reader

request: Top!reader where lando norris has been a brat all day cause he's horny and wants reader to fuck him so hard he gets pregnant but readers busy looking over car blue prints (cause readers is chief technical engineer for mclaren) and basically sticks lando on his dick and tells him to fuck himself, he does so but readers to invested in his work to actually cum and by the time his finished with his work lando has cum several times already, reader then just goes on to fuck lando so hard he's pregnant a few weeks later.

warnings: smut, cockwarming, top!male reader, bottom!lando norris, cursing, brat!lando, pregnant!lando, breeding kink, pet names, use of daddy

lando was aching for you, wanting to be filled with you cum asap, so much so that he decided to wake up and be a brat the whole day, begging you to fuck him and pawing at your clothes when out in public just to turn around and ignore you when you ask him what he wants for lunch. but what could you do, just take him to the nearest room and fuck him till he was a whiny mess? no you had a job to do right now so you had to focus then you'd handle the brat that was lando.

but none the less he still persisted well into the afternoon when you were looking over some blueprints for the new mclaren car that was supposed to be made but the only thing on landos mind was the thought of you fucking him till he was completely filled with your kids and he was pregnant like the bitch he wanted to be, and who's to say he couldn't try to get you to help him with that "y/n... y/nnnnn" he pesters pulling at your shirt as you were locked in to the computer.

"yes darling" you say, your soft words trying to calm him down "please could we do something else i need you" lando whines stopping his feet "as much as i would love to do that lando, i can't there's a deadline coming up and i can't be behind on this" you say still not looking up to face him "b-but i promise i'll be really quick" lando tries to convince you and that was a lie, any time this man got you distracted enough from work to fuck him somehow day would turn to night in the blink of an eye and you wouldn't know how.

but you couldn't let his desperateness stop his work "y'know what how about this" you say bringing him in between your legs and slipping down your pants to bring out your dick, it was hard from all landos' vulgar words he's tried to get you with throughout the day and you slowly lower him onto your cock, sitting him nice and pretty on your lap "now everyone wins, you get me and i get to work" you smile kissing his cheek before going back to working and aha you were falling right into landos trap, first get him on your cock then he could do whatever.

he slowly ruts his ass against your lap, trying to get you distracted enough but your eyes never waver so he begins plopping up and down on your dick, drawing satisfied moans from him but little grunts from you so if lando couldn't distract you into fucking him he was at least gonna get something out of this so he begins just fucking himself on your cock,going up and down over and over till he came once but that wasn't gonna stop him from milking you till he was filled to the brim with your warm cum, now starting his movements again this time a little weaker than before, pulling your shirt up to run his through your torso, wanting more and more of you than he was getting, that little slut.

"please y/n... just a little touch" he begs tugging at your shirt to grab your attention "c'mon lando let me get my work done and i'll give you whatever you want" you reassure leaning down to give him a little kiss, he chased after your lips wanting to taste more of you but failed so instead he lazily took of your shirt with the help of you lifting your arms, bringing the piece of fabric to his nose to sniff the manly scent from you as he layed flush against your chest, you didn't bat an eye to what he was doing since you were so engulfed in your work and only wanting to kill two birds with one stone.

next thing lando knew he was cumming all over himself again with a whiny moan, his hand moving to grip your thigh for support, he looked up to you from his dazed vision "mmmm y/nnn" he whimpered "almost done baby, almost done" you kiss his head sweetly, lando wasn't gonna give up though he was gonna ride you till he drained you, but load after load lando spewed out weakly you didn't move a single muscle to his words or sexual actions and only giving him an occasional kiss and by the time lando came for the fifth time he was a mess, covered in his own arousal and weakly kissing your neck while whining your name.

by the time you finished working lando was still trying to fuck a load out of you, weakly rutting his ass against you "oh my baby" you playfully pout turning his face to kiss him, it was the face of defeat plastered across his "please y/n" he moans feeling you bring his legs up and pressing them against his chest, glancing at the mess he's made below the desk "such a naughty boy for daddy" you say kissing his forehead before fucking up into him roughly "ah ngh fuckkk" lando brokenly moaned out gripping the arms of the chair while your nails dug into his skin leaving marks to be seen in the later days.

"you want daddy to give you a baby, hm, make you nice and plump with our kid while i care for you" you hum kissing down his neck as he moans out a sloppy "yes daddy" so you give him what he wants, filling him up with all your cum and painting his walls white "good boy, can't wait for you to be all big" you coo rubbing his stomach while regaining your breath "th-thank you" lando shudder before falling asleep in your arms, you carry his cute sleeping figure back to your car and drive home, waking up the next morning to lando excitedly holding a positive pregnancy test with a huge smile on his face.

now what would be the harm in giving him triplets

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

[atinystraynstay]

Homecoming - Kim Mingyu

Synopsis: The expectations vs. reality of bringing your significant other to your hometown

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem. reader

Warnings: mentions of death (of family member), comforting fluff because Mingyu is THE golden retriever boyfriend.

Word Count: 1.2k

Your eyes looked out of the plane window, your smile growing as you recognized some of the landmarks of your hometown as you flew overhead. It is rare nowadays that you get a chance to come home. Most of the time, it is your parents coming to visit you.

Mingyu liked seeing this side of you. He liked seeing you relaxed rather than stressing over deadlines or trying to meet social obligations. While Mingyu loved seeing you get dressed up for date nights, he loved seeing you dressed in sweats with your hair pulled back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent. Please make sure tray tables and your seats are upright, and that your seatbelts are fastened. We will be arriving in about 20 minutes."

Gently, Mingyu leaned over to kiss your cheek. You jumped slightly, getting lost in your own thoughts.

You turned your head from the window to look at your boyfriend. Your cheeks were a light red color, a bit embarrassed for jumping. All Mingyu did was offer a light smile that made your stomach erupt into butterflies, forgetting all about your slight embarrassment.

What you adored about Mingyu was that he was never the type to make you embarrassed. He was kind and considerate, easily qualifying as the world's best boyfriend.

"Are you okay, angel?" He whispered.

You squeezed his hand gently, smiling lightly back. You were okay with Mingyu by your side.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air around you felt still. There was light movement around the house, but you felt like you were in your own universe. Your parents graciously offered to let you and Mingyu stay in their home for your short visit.

While Mingyu was getting ready in your childhood bedroom, you were in your bathroom. Your makeup bag had spilled its containments on the yellow tile counter. Your curling iron was cooling down on the other side, unplugged before you would tuck it away back in the cabinet underneath the sink. Part of you knew you had to get ready, but the other part of you couldn't bring yourself to finish.

Not when you knew what was waiting for you.

Sensing movement behind you, you looked up. Mingyu was slowly approaching you, that loving smile of his that made you weak in the knees flashed in your direction. it didn't have the same effect today. No, after seeing that smile, you just wanted to curl back into bed. He knew this was going to be a tough few days for you, and he was more than ready to be there for whatever you needed.

"You look gorgeous, doll," he whispered. The room was so silent that it felt like he was up close to you even though he just stepped into the bathroom. "Do you need help?"

You hadn't even realized your dress was half-zipped. You were just going through the motions at this point. Once he was close enough to you, he rested one hand on your hip. His thumb caressed against your clothed side, pulling a gentle smile on your lips. He always knew the little ways to make you feel better. Even if it was just for a second.

"Please?"

Mingyu didn't need to be asked twice. Keeping his hand on your hip, his free hand gently grasped onto the black zipper. His thumb and index finger moved the zipper along the back of the dress until it reached the top. He went slowly, not wanting you to feel rushed but also making sure no hair of yours was at risk of getting caught.

Once you were completely zipped up, he kissed your cheek lingeringly. "Absolutely gorgeous today, darlin'," he whispered into your skin. His arms wrapped around you fully, allowing you to lean back into him. Slowly, you released a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding.

"You know, you don't have to put on a brave face today, angel. It's okay to be sad. That's why I'm here. I'm your shoulder to lean on, a safe space for you to cry. I've even got two mini packet of tissues ready to go for you."

Your hands ran up and down his arms slowly, not wanting to leave the room to encounter what was waiting for you on the other side. You weren't sure how you got blessed to have Mingyu you, but you weren't taking any second spent with him for granted.

This was not how you envisioned bringing your long-term boyfriend home for the first time would go. You weren't expecting to introduce him to everyone at your paternal grandmother's funeral. You wanted him to come with you this summer when you were going to be at your happiest with the warm air and summer festivities. Not in the bitterness of winter at a funeral.

Yet, you were glad he was here. He kept you together when you felt like falling apart, even when you weren't aware of how you were about to fall over the edge. He was always there to catch you.

"I know," you responded, a voice at a soft whisper. "I just don't know how to feel. I mean, none of this feels real. It wasn't supposed to go this way."

Mingyu slowly nodded. His head gently rested against yours after pressing a soft kiss into the crown of your head. "It's okay to feel however you feel. Grief is a tricky thing, but you're not alone. If you need a laugh, I can do that. I can also be there to wipe away your tears. If you want to go scream, we can drive around and blast music. But you are not alone."

You were truly the luckiest person alive. Looking at your reflection, you just took a moment to admire the man in front of you. At a moment's notice, he cleared his entire schedule so he could accompany him to the other side of the world. You tried insisting he stayed in Seoul, but it was a topic not up for negotiation. He knew you needed him.

"Thank you."

Slowly, you turned your head so you could tilt it up to look at him. He opened his mouth to speak but you just shook your head. You leaned in to press your lips fully against his.

It was a brief kiss, but one you hoped conveyed everything you felt and believed in. Mingyu reminded you of your self-worth, but also how important you needed to take care of you. And he would happily take care of you if you let him. And it was vice versa. Whenever Mingyu was in trouble, you hoped he knew that he could always turn towards you.

He was the one to break the kiss before resting it against your forehead. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling as if you just enjoyed the feeling of his body heat against you, internalizing the love you unconditionally showed you.

"If you want to stay here all day, we can. Wherever you go, I follow, sweet girl," he promised.

You knew deep down the next few hours, days, and even weeks were going to be hard. Part of you was afraid to experience the rollercoaster that is grief. Yet, you were comforted in the fact that Mingyu would always offer his hand to hold so you were never truly alone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hi hi just a quick lil blurb I've been working on. After losing my father's mother last week, I am still trying to navigate how to grieve and what that looks like. I'm taking it day by day, but always find comfort in Seventeen

Hope you are taking car of yourselves, especially if you are going through a tough time. 🩷

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Very nice 1920 hacienda style home in Reading, PA has so many offers, that they had to set a deadline, b/c it's only $277,777. 2bs, 1ba.

I'm sure that it will sell for more b/c there's a bidding war. The living room is spacious and has a wonderful fireplace. The double wide windows go down to the floor to let in lots of light.

French doors open to a spacious dining room with a built-in window seat and shelving under the kitchen service opening. The room is so large that the current owner has a desk in it with room to spare.

The kitchen is very bright. It has the favorite laminate cabinets of landlords in the 70s, though.

Bedroom #1 is a nice room.

The renovated bath is cute and is between the 2 bedrooms.

Bedroom #2 is lovely.

The basement is mostly finished and has a sitting area.

Looks like there was a little flooding on the floor around the drain.

Extra closet.

Nice private porch. Is there a mold issue?

The porch has a custom-made awning.

It has a yard with lots of potential- looks like there's mulch down, ready for planting. 4,356 sq. ft. lot

Wide alley on the side of the house.

There's a one car garage and the front could some curb appeal.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1150-Fairview-Ave-Reading-PA-19610/8939665_zpid/

[frost-queen]

Sleep tricks (Fem!Reader x Lorraine Warren)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers , @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly ,@denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco,@subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07 , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury ,  @imagines-by-her ,  @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @cherrysxuya , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @niktwazny303 , @markive-m

The tele was on loud as Lorraine laughed loud at something silly. You were leaning against her, all snuggled up. The television was no interest to you as you couldn’t seem to keep yourself awake. Such a hard working day you had, it exhausted you. Too many deadlines and pressure that came with unwanted stress. Lorraine laughed again as a little motion from her made you snap awake.

Half confused, you looked around. – “Y/n sweetie were you falling asleep?” – she asked curious. You shook your head with exhausted eyes. Lorraine giggled repositioning herself in the sofa to face you more. She placed her hand under your chin, cupping it. – “Did you just lie to me?” – she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

You shook your head again. Lorraine tilting her head down with a scowl. Smiling sheepishly, you measured a little between your fingers. Lorraine smiled before bringing your face closer to her. Kissing your lips tenderly. – “Then lets head to bed.” – she spoke, turning your cheek to leave a kiss there.

“You don’t have to go just because I feel tired.” – you told her, already moving the blanket away. – “Nonsense.” – Lorraine let out. She got up, taking your hand to pull you up. – “How can I refuse the opportunity to wrap my arms around my wife and sleep comfortably.” – Lorraine teased making you give her a playful shove.

Lorraine kept holding your hand, leading you upstairs. On the way, you yawned needing Lorraine to help you upstairs. She moved you into the bathroom. You wanted to pull your shirt off when you seemed to get a little stuck. Arms up as the shirt was all around your head.

“Help.” – you yelped out as Lorraine chuckled softly. She pulled the shirt over your head, releasing you from your clothing trap. She tossed it on the ground, leaving a kiss on your collarbone. Then she left a kiss in your neck, tickling you.

“Allow me.” – Lorraine said unbuttoning your pants. She bend down to pull your pants down. Lifting your feet up, you helped her with the last bit. Lorraine left a kiss on your inner thigh as you hummed softly. She then moved back up, kissing your lips. Lorraine helped you in your pyjama’s knowing you were too exhausted to do so. Lorraine changed while you brushed your teeth. 

Lorraine bumped you aside with her hip to get some space too. You laughed with a mouth full of toothpaste. Lorraine brushed her teeth while you made yourself ready for bed. Lorraine entered the bedroom as you were puffing up the pillows. She went around the bed to her side, pulling the blanket off. You crawled in the bed with her.

She sighed content when you came snuggling closer to her. – “Good night sweetheart.” – she said with a kiss on your forehead. – “Good night my darling.” – you responded, leaving a kiss on her cheek. Lorraine and you shared a last kiss before settling down to sleep. She wrapped her arms tightly around you as you reached out to turn the nightlight off.

Exhaling soft, you moved closer to Lorraine once more. Kissing her neck before resting against her. Lorraine seemed to be more tired than she let out. For she slept deeply within the next 15minutes. You on the other hand, despite being so tired before, seemed wide awake now. With eyes wide open, were you staring at the ceiling.

Lorraine’s arm sloppy on your chest. Sighing loud, you hated this feeling. When you tried to close your eyes, a million thoughts kept you awake. Lifting your head a bit up, you stared into the darkness of the room. Swallowing nervously, you laid your head back down. 

Not wanting to think about Lorraine’s job. What if something had followed her home? What if something was watching you? Waiting for you to go to sleep to torment you in your dreams? Looking over at Lorraine, she seemed to sleep contently. Almost with a smile on her lips, so she couldn’t be having a nightmare.

The sudden thought of a thing being in the room with you, made you even more awake. Filling your body with fright. You shot up, sitting up straight. Scanning the room with frightful eyes. Wanting to recognize every shape of shadow in the room. That was but your closet. The vanity. A chair.

You needed to recognize everything to know for sure there wasn’t anything with you in the room. Swallowing nervously, you knew you wouldn’t sleep now. Even when you had the confirmation that nothing was in the room with you. It could always still happen. You kept sitting up, staring a bit out in front of you.

Thinking a thousand thoughts to set your mind of potential demons or ghosts. Singing a song in your head. Listing things up that you had to do tomorrow. Plan something in your head to do with Lorraine this weekend. Anything to not think about it.

The hours went by as you still didn’t feel sleepy. As if the brief moments you had closed your eyes, were enough for your brain to think it had has enough sleep. Which it didn’t. Sighing soft, you rubbed your eyes annoyingly. Lorraine groaned softly in her sleep, making you freeze. You didn’t want to wake her up. She moved again in her sleep as you watched her attentively.

Lorraine kept moving in her sleep till she lifted herself a bit up by her elbow. – “Y/n are you awake?” – she asked sleepy, eyes still closed. – “Go back to sleep.” – you whispered to her. Lorraine rubbed her eye, slowly waking up. – “What’s the matter sweetheart?” – she asked with a soft yawn. You pulled your shoulders up as Lorraine looked at you. – “Can’t sleep?” – she questioned.

“It appears so.” – you answered feeling a bit silly. Lorraine chuckled snuggling closer to you. Wrapping her arm around your waist. – “Then we shall have to do something about it.” – she mumbled feeling herself go sleepy again. You smiled giving her a kiss that seemed to wake her up a bit more.

“Do proceed.” – Lorraine muttered out with a content smile. You laughed. Then you started to leave more kisses on her face. – “Who is making who sleepy?” – you asked teasingly. Lorraine inhaled deep lifting her body a bit up. – “Alright.” – she spoke with a deep inhale.

She seated herself a bit better, cupping your face as she started kissing your face. Every inch of it kissed by her till she ended with a strong kiss on your lips. She moved over you, continue to kiss you as she had other plans to wear you out. You didn’t complained feeling her love for you through her kisses.

Soon you yawned making Lorraine snort. She stopped kissing you, laying her head on your shoulder. Snuggling closer to you as you wrapped your arms around her. – “Good night sweetheart.” – she whispered. – “Good night… darling…” – you yawned out, closing your eyes.  

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[blackbackedjackal]

I was the one who started the server and founded the studio. I invited DogBlud to the server.

I was an investor on the project, quoted a total of $5200 out of the full $13,600 on a website that DogBlud commissioned Angela and her team to make.

One of the first red flags I noticed as an investor was that DogBlud never patched me through to Angela and her team. She said she would after I read over and agreed to the contract that Angela wrote up, but she never did. She promised to add me and Rex to a server with Angela so we could keep up to date with the progress. This never happened.

I messaged DogBlud several times about my payments. My first one was due February 12th. I didn't know where to send the funds and brought it up with her several days before. It was around this time that I suspected she was hiding me away from Angela and her team, and now I know why.

According to Angela's own account, DogBlud is saying she invited ME to the project. Which is a blatant lie. So let's go ahead and add taking credit for space a Black woman created, a space that was predominantly women of color (DogBlud being the ONLY exception) to the pile.

Dog was not the "group leader". She was tasked with being an investor, my business partner/consultant, a writer, and an inker. Since we agreed to start on her project, Same As Always, first, I asked her to be a project manager so that she could tell us the art direction she wanted us to take. She was asked to do these things, by me, the studio founder and lead who was working on contracts, setting up meetings with lawyers/other investors and participants, researching for and planning a KickStarter campaign that was intended to help us raise more money for the studio, set up an LLC for the studio, be a character/writing consultant, cultural consultant, art director, colorist, and more.

The reason I "wasn't able to hit my deadlines" is because A. She made completely unrealistic deadlines on a project that I and Rex were under the impression was volunteer work since none of us were getting paid. We agreed to this because we knew that a lot of work needed to be completed before the site launched.

B. Because I was in the process of moving (a move that DogBlud encouraged me to do due to my horrid living situation at the time) and did not have access to my PC for certain working hours that was had agreed to. I was working consistently on the off-hours to make up for any scheduled time I missed (my art updates were posted in the server) and kept the team updated with my moving situation. I assured Dog that once I was done moving, I'd be on a proper schedule. My move was delayed and complicated due to external factors outside of my control. After about a week and a half into what was a three week process, Dog either stopped acknowledging my updates in the chat or said that she "wasn't happy" with me even though she was harassing me and pressuring me to work on pages nearly every day when I physically could not work on them.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I refuse to do anymore work on the group project we already missed the deadline for, but can still submit?

I am extremely tired of being walked over and doing all the work. I'm a 3rd year uni student and multiple times I've been the main person doing group project work. The latest example is what prompted this ask. Our task was to do a discussion and then write an essay based on it, the group consists of 4 people including me. We talked for 10 minutes at the end of last week and a little bit yesterday. We did the majority of the work yesterday as well.

There are 14 points/questions we need to cover. Multiple people not only are advised to, but must cover the same questions so there's substance to be worked with. While the rest of the group covered some, it's insufficient and I did the majority of the work on the first half of the questions and all of the second half. A worked on 4/14 questions (pretty short answers), B also did 4/14 questions (one longer answer, three pretty short answers), C wrote 2.5/14 questions (2 medium length answers, one single sentence answer) and D, me, did 11/14 (mainly long answers with a couple of shorter ones).

After I made a Google Doc to make communication easier, they submitted their answers and basically ghosted me. I asked multiple times for help but was met with silence or jokes about checking the grammar and typos later for me. Again, we don't have enough substances to work with, the essay CANNOT be completed with what we have so far.

And here's where the issues get deeper. I asked for someone to at least look at what I've written down so far multiple times, proofread it if you will. Silence. I know for a fact A and C were FREE and could've continued working on the project, while B might or might not have been at work. Finally C said they'll do it. We were left with less than an hour to wrap it up and submit it before the deadline at this point.

2 minutes after saying that they'll read it, they sent me a "it's great" message. They shameless lied to my face.

I was inside the Doc the whole time and no other users were shown to be viewing the page, let alone reading 3 lengthy paragraphs in 2 minutes.

At some point during the day I was so desperate, I was ready to delete all I've written, comments, intro and first few paragraphs of the essay, everything and beg to join a different group. But a friend managed to calm me down and I didn't go that route.

I can't write to the professor and explain the situation to him, it's just not an option, that's not a practice in my country when the subject only consists of lectures and the professor has to look after 100+ students. My last hope is tomorrow morning those 3 will see the newest messages of me asking for help to finish it and will help me. If that doesn't happen, well...

What I can do is say fuck it and give them the same treatment they've given me – ghost them, don't do additional work on the questions and essay and take all of us down for not finishing and submitting the final project. I don't really want to do it and fuck up our grades (we have no idea how important this homework is for the final grade) but I genuinely see no other way. So WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[sergeifyodorov]

would u do a little analysis of how each team has done so far this season … i trust ur opinions so much

EACH team okay... under the cut bc i am not subjecting the masses to 32 nasty little thots cody edition

Bruins: RIP patrice of course but the bruins are steamrolling as ever... i think that if there is any evidence of the universe simply not caring abt good things it is that the bruins slip and stumble and have some of their best players retired and still manage to put up a 50 win season every year. <- salty leafs fan but ANYHWAY the bruins are easily a Playoff Team. simply "there" 5v5, strong power play, they make their money off finishing (pastrnak you filthy animal) and goaltending (swaymark you filthy animals). they have been trending downwards of late so i'm not entirely sure of like their final standings place but with this kind of head start they're staying up.

Sabres: currently in what we the people call a "decade of darkness." might be a "two decades of darkness" if we're going to be honest. the active player with the most playoff points with the sabres is tyler myers. 7 points. yeah the tall one most famous for having a subreddit that posts the gamescore card every time he's on the bottom of the gamescore card. sabres are really hard to fix because their first real step to contention is "hoping devon levi turns out really good." not promising. bad enough that by selling a piece or two celebrini is in sight. maybe that'll help? a third 1OA?

Red Wings: presenting the mid-season Season Ruining Unforced Error Award early by saying: not that they were going to be as good as their first few games of sniping suggested, but signing patrick kane tanked any realistic hope they have of playoffs. is patrick kane good? he's actually alright. maybe this time the surgery worked. is the team made better by having him on it? it surely isn't! a few REALLY BADLY TIMED dylan larkin based misfortunes have made it go from bad to worse. they were in A2 like a month ago and now they're Out. strengths: finishing. weaknesses: everything else, including morale.

Panthers: okay you've probably clocked this by now but ive been Generally Salty so far and that is bc a) im easily tempted to haterhood and b) currently discussing each team in the atlantic which does nothing to make me less Tempted To Haterhood. that being said the panthers are Good and For Real About It. they can do everything except finish chances, which is fine when the other team has way fewer chances than you and your goalie doesn't let any of them in. fuck ALLL the way off. place your bets on these guys having a deep playoff run. cross your fingers for them not having a deep playoff run i can't stand chuckyposting again it's RAN ITS COURSE. (also: machuk is probably still injured and absolutely Not doing as well as he did the last few seasons. maybe because he's just not that kind of guy but it's probably at least mostly the broken chest thing)

Canadiens: they are bad EXCEPT when it comes to overtime + the shootout. also much like the sabres they're going nowhere fast. i expect at least one of their goalies to be gone at the deadline... furthermore i think ppl who are ragging on slaf's slow development are simply expecting all 1OAs to be like an auston or a connor type (pick your connor) where they come in and immediately adapt -- slaf rings very reminiscent of quinton byfield to me, who was picked 2OA in 2020 and is only now starting to break out. give him time he's a baby...

Senators: despite how much literally everyone talks up all their players constantly, they are not good either. like the sabres or the habs... atlantic is 4 teams in the genuine hunt, 3 teams who suck and have sucked forever and will suck forevermore, and the red wings who haven't made up their minds yet. the sens actually Do have a singular Biggest Problem though and that's goaltending, but they're not a good enough team otherwise that getting a quality goaltender is going to make them playoffs worthy, especially not in the very short (this-season) run.

Lightning: the lightning are weird to me because like i think they're still making up their mind as A People what they want to do. kucherov is the best player in the league rn, this is stamkos' ufa season and he hasn't been offered an extension, vasilevskiy is back and vasying his levskiy... i fully believe they have the capability of getting a playoff spot, maybe even A3 if they want. we've all seen them in the playoffs, we know how they can turn ~It~ on at will. as always they're a deeply mid 5v5 team powered by very strong special teams... the goaltending numbers say goaltending is shit but they've been playing in front of the genuinely unplayable jonas johansson most of the season so i think it'll be fine.

Maple Leafs: as the team ive watched the moast i can talk about these guys for evar so for all of our sanities i will be brief: Auston Matthews, Baby, Look At Him, That's Auston, Auston Motherfucking "Sexy Mustached Bitch" Matthews!!!!!!! powered by an extremely strong power play and very good offence, and defence and goaltending that is held together by Morgan Rielly and a dream. possibly the only reason they're in a playoff spot is the fact that martin jones didn't get claimed on waivers three months ago and i am being dead serious about that. for some reason they're at their best when they're down by two. they do really need both their #1 goalie to come back from injury and to make a splash for a genuine nhl-calibre defenceman, but they're stubbornly determined to win games even through nasty flu.

Hurricanes: their usual selves -- analytics darlings, can't buy a goal. this year they can't buy a save either -- Freddie is out with a medical condition, Raanta is straight up not good, and Kochetkov is... well, he's Kochetkov. they're not far out of a spot but they'll need a hot hand if they want to get comfy... which i don't expect, frankly. they're good enough to make the playoffs, but they're not really a team that goes on heaters, so they'll be bubble until the end.

Blue Jackets: genuinely not sure they know what they're doing like... okay. from an outside pov they are obviously Tanking. they're bad in every way that matters except for finishing and the standings show it. but also like... they're at the point in their development cycle where they shouldn't be tanking... or at least are on the verge of Shouldn't Be Tanking. and again, because they don't know what they're doing, they hired mike babcock for this... if they know what they're doing they'll toss kekalainen as soon as they can and, following this year's draft, start Fighting. but let's be real i doubt that. adam fantilli it's your time to shine... sorry sweetheart!

Devils: see Hurricanes. Great on paper, can't buy a save. They've obviously been stunted by Timo, J'accuse, and Nico all being injured at various points, but goaltending is their biggest and most solvable problem. Unlike the Hurricanes, though, the Devils are fully capable of going on a heater, so the gap between them and WC2 isn't as big as it looks (probably.) Luke Hughes is going to be something special.

Rangers: Looks like Lafreniere is finally getting his feet under him -- but the Rangers have always been far more about getting old, known players to get a second wind with them than they've been about prospect development, and Quick and Wheeler are both showing this pretty definitively. Another one of those teams that's run by special teams and finishing/goaltending. Easy playoff spot, likely solid run. Nothing too interesting here.

Islanders: On the other hand, the Isles are interesting because... like... how did they get There? They have a negative goal differential, for heaven's sake! Their special teams are godawful, their defence is a sieve, they blow leads like that's what actually gets you points in this league, and they're somehow second in the Metropolitan??????? Is it Horvat? Barzal? Sorokin? (It's probably Sorokin.) They'll make the playoffs but i doubt they'll succeed in them.

Flyers: This one's also weird. They have the power play and offence of a peewee team in the big leagues, but have become defensively Actually Super Competent and are somehow good because of this? I'm going to theorize -- because you've asked me to but also because I really want to -- that this is due, at least in part, to somewhat of an inverse Kane-on-the-Red-Wings effect from their offseason removal of Provorov and DeAngelo; without them, the team is now not only better defensively on paper but also better as a team in the locker room. They're [uncle voice] playing with heart now! I doubt they're a real contender, but I think they might actually make playoffs.

Penguins: ...this one's also weird. They're good on paper. Like, really good on paper? Defensively "just okay" but offensively great, goaltending is fantastic, special teams are shutdown. They just can't buy a goal and they can't buy a good sequence.

Capitals: This one's weird, too, but in the opposite way -- aside from the power-play, the Caps are actually godawful on paper, especially when it comes to finishing (because when Ovechkin takes such a high percentage of your shots but he isn't scoring, your team REALLY suffers) but somehow they've managed to pinpoint sequencing luck (win close, lose ugly) and are somehow in WC1. Do I think they'll make the playoffs? Absolutely not -- if either the Devils or Canes step up, the Caps are the odd man out -- but it might be fun to see them try. Or hell, I hope they win-close-lose-ugly their way to a goddamn Cup final. Would be funny as fuck for Ovi's second-longest ever playoff run to come at the fresh young age of thirty-eight. Dude looks ragged out there. I'm going to shut up now before I start talking about finding him sexy

Coyotes: Simple on paper: bad at running play, good goaltending and finishing. Essentially what the Canucks are doing at a smaller scale. The Leafs should never have let Kerfoot walk and I mean that unironically. Okay, anyway, the Yotes are a bubble team and won't make higher than WC1 because of the logjam at the top of the Central, but holy fuck do I want them to make WC1 (or a playoff spot in general.) People ask "how can we grow the game" a lot, and when it comes to what the NHL can do directly, the number one biggest thing is win in small markets. Arizona has already created one of the sports' biggest stars -- Auston! -- and it's an absolutely massive TV market and a potential hotbed of new fans and new, great players. Arizona making a playoff spot -- or even better, going on a run -- would be amazing for the NHL. And it would be funny. And I would like that.

Blackhawks: shoutout to dave !!! dave who works for the hawks!!! anyway the hawks are very obviously tanking and good at it. Their only real point of interest is their Sacred Child, and holy fuck is their Sacred Child going to absolutely fucking smash it when he's given a team that's not entirely made up of scrubs. i think his analytics, especially his defensive numbers, are, like, fine? but accounting for his leverage (all situations, especially the difficult ones), his teammates (his best linemate is Anthony Beauvillier, and tito... is a third liner), and the fact that he's all of eighteen, he's definitely on track to be a Real Force. i kinda love him... okay moving on.

Avalanche: All-over good: finishing their biggest obvious strength, but hockeywise they don't have any real weaknesses... although there is some serious Drama brewing in that locker room and i think it might just be getting started. with landeskog gone for at least until the end of this year (and possibly forever) and ej a sabre, there is absolutely no one in there capable of actually emotionally running a team: makar lacking in a leader's magnetism, rantanen an idiot, toews and mackinnon far too high-strung and competitive, and no one else with seniority. they're a good enough team that it's not really affecting them right now, but ... i don't know, i can kind of feel it coming. They'll make the playoffs, but when the pressure is on they'll either step up or completely fall apart.

Stars: See above: all-over good, but saving their biggest obvious weakness. I think most of this is spurred by Otter being out -- Wedgewood is a serviceable backup goaltender, but obviously not capable of being a real starter, and the team is stuttering because of it. I doubt it'll be for long or too much difficulty (they're a good defensive team, so it's not going to affect them a lot, but they might lose a game or two they might have won with Otter, especially if he's out for a while), but it's going to keep them from taking a step on top of the Central. Easy playoff team, probable contender.

Wild: They are bad! Penalty kill is their worst weakness, but they're not great in goal either and the combination is kicking their ass. As much as I respect how well they've done with that giant cap-space penalty from the Parise/Suter buyouts all those years ago, it's... kind of time to throw in the towel. Get Flower those final few wins, because by god are they devoid of much other success. Right at the tail of a competitive arc. RIP. Tank incoming.

Predators: Weirdly good, even though Saros hasn't been his usual self? O'Reilly esp has been an absolutely fantastic addition for the team over the offseason. No huge strengths, no significant weaknesses. Not an amazing offensive team, but it's Nashville so they were never going to be -- the place practically breeds defensive forwards and all-around dmen. I don't expect they'll seriously contend, but they'll make the playoffs (unless someone offers the farm for Saros).

Blues: I genuinely think so little about the Blues .... that whole thing with Jordan Kyrou has been the most I've thought about them for a bit. That and the fact that only three of their games haven't been decided by the first goal? They're not good and they're really boring. Yeehaw.

Jets: THE JETS let's get JUICY. Jets' biggest strengths by far are a) 5v5 defence and b) finishing/goaltending. Even with Kyle Connor out they're sniping and Hellebuyck and Brossoit are both absolutely on it. The Jets have always seemed to have this problem where on paper (take a shot every time I've written "on paper" in this post if you want to die of alcohol poisoning) they seem fantastic, then January onwards they absolutely plummet. And it's not January yet, so that might still happen, but that kind of thing tends to happen because of a dramatic morale shift, and now that Lowry's captain and Wheeler's left for New York... that might not happen? They've banked enough points that unless they're historically bad from here on out they're still a playoff team. If they keep up what they have going so far, they're a contender, but if it's the same Winnipeg with the same problems, then they're not.

Ducks: Taking a step in the right direction with Carlsson and Mintyukov, but still bad! I really hope Carlsson recovers well, he seems like a sweet boy. Also: what on Earth are they doing with Zegras. Is he a defenceman now? Are they making him play defence? Are he and Dixie D'Amelio still dating? I have many questions. I just hope whichever high draft pick they get is an idiot. I feel like they need another dumbass baby on the team.

Flames: The Flames also appear to have no idea what's going on. And frankly, neither do I! They're too good to be obviously tanking, but not near good enough to be a bubble team. They're definitely reluctant to sell, but their best hope to win soon absolutely should be selling. They have one of the worst contracts in the league on their payroll (wow... I hope the guy in charge of my favourite team didn't sign that!) and a bunch of really solid late-round picks and prospects cutting their teeth on the NHL. In short: they aren't going to make the playoffs and should be leaning into that, but they don't seem to have realized this yet.

Oilers: For the sake of not gloating, I'm going to sum this one up with a Marek quote: If you have a goalie, it's 70% of your team. If you don't, it's 100%. They've had finishing trouble, but considering they absolutely run the show at 5v5 AND special teams (they put nearly SIXTY SHOTS on Vasilevskiy the other day) a little finishing shouldn't be quite so dangerous if they didn't have two sieves minding the net. McDavid might hit 150 again and the Oil might still miss the playoffs. If they get in, they're going far, but at this point it'll be tough as fuck to make it in.

Kings: Average penalty kill. No other weaknesses. Kopitar 4 Selke.

Sharks: This is an absolutely glorious tankjob. No other way to put it. This is the pinnacle of tank design. This is the Wayne Gretzky of tankjobs. This is the Casablanca of tankjobs. This is the Saturn V of tankjobs. Nothing has been so beautifully engineered to suck since Sir James Dyson patented his vacuum or Nancy Reagan walked the earth. It's beautiful. It's gorgeous. I am in awe. They deserve Celebrini purely because of how flawless the tank is. I don't care if he has a warm undertone and would look pink in that fantastic teal. The boy needs San Jose.

Kraken: Good defensively at 5v5, bad pretty much everywhere else. I'm going to be honest with you all, last year was kind of a flash in the pan -- Seattle isn't great and they're neither headed upwards nor downwards. Not a bubble team, probably won't pick top ten. They haven't decided whether or not to build up or tank. Beyond the fantastic aesthetics and four-unranked-lines shtick, they don't really have a whole lot of competitive mojo: no star forwards, no goaltending. Wholeheartedly mid.

Canucks: oH BABY!!!!! The 23-24 Canucks made us all learn what PDO is. The 23-24 Canucks are first in the motherfucking league after being one spot out of being in the Bedard lottery. The 23-24 Canucks are on track to have the best shooting and saving percentage in league history. The 23-24 Canucks' leading goalscorer is Brock Boeser, the guy they've almost traded practically every year since they drafted him. The 23-24 Canucks started the season by naming the Wettest Little Man On The Planet captain and they haven't looked back since. I think they're an easy lock for a playoff spot -- but within the playoffs, do I know what they're going to do? I absolutely do not. They could PDO their way to a Cup or they could bow out in four games flat. Either is equally likely. They have thoroughly embraced Good Chaos. Quinn Hughes might win the Hart. Everything's coming up Vancouver.

Golden Knights: Not as good as they were last year. Ultimately still pretty good. Easy playoff spot. Definite contender. Jack Eichel is better than ever and I love him for it, the dickhead.

[jothemouse]

COMMISSIONS ARE CLOSED!!

EDIT/UPDATE:

Commissions will be closed until August! Thank you so much to everyone who's commissioned me or shown interest in these! It means the world to me!! And I hope that you'll all stick around to see the results of these commissions!! (Which does include the sticker plan!)

To all current commissioners and waitlisted folks: don't worry, your pieces are still in progress and to those on the waitlist I will be in contact! Thank you all for your patronage and patience! You are all so amazing!!!

If you would like a commission but missed out on these, please be sure to check back in August!

Thank you all again so much!! I hope you have a wonderful week you guys!! <333

SO, as you may know, some of you may know, maybe none of you know, I am trying to start selling stickers!!! On my own. No RedBubble or Society6. Nope. All by my lonesome!

But in order to do that, I need to make the money to purchase the stickers and other necessary shipping supplies in the first place. So, I'm opening commissions!! Specifically,,,,,,

I am doing sketch commissions!

I don't have a set close date OR any slots, so it is completely first come, first serve for as long as I can keep it up!

I'm going to include more information, process, as well as terms and conditions under the cut, but if you have any questions not answered below please don't hesitate to get in touch with me here, on Instagram (@jo.the.mouse) or by email (micecandraw@gmail.com)!

And before I continue on, if you cant commission me but want to support me all I ask is that you please reblog this post!! It does a WORLD of wonders to spread posts around! Thank you!!

What I'm Offering

Commissioned artworks in my “Sketch Style”. The money made from these commissions is going to directly fund the creation and sale of illustrated stickers!

Here is a fun little preview sketch of what will be the Canada sticker that I've been obnoxiously polling people about:

Prices

Uncolored Sketch:

$15 

Includes: one character, no/minimal shading, and simple/abstract background

Flat Color Sketch:

$25

Includes: one character, no/minimal shading, and simple/abstract background

Full Color Sketch:

$35

Includes: one character, basic shading, and simple/abstract background

Add Additional Characters:

+ $5 per added character

What I will draw:

OCs (original characters)

Fanart

Real People

Furries (Anthro and Feral)

Fantasy/DnD 

Suggestive (no real people without written and signed consent)

What I will NOT draw:

Overtly NSFW

Heavy Gore

Process

Contact me either through DMs (Tumblr: jothemouse, Instagram: jo.the.mouse) or through email (micecandraw@gmail.com) 

We'll talk a bit about your commission (like what you're looking for, any references I'll need, how much it'll cost,.ect.) I'll also be asking for your email and preferred payment method at this time. 

Payment for the commission is due upon receiving a confirmation email. This email will include a google form contract (this is mainly for me to make sure I have everything correct), notice that I've sent you a payment request, and a time estimate! 

I will begin the initial sketch once payment is received. 

Refunds are available at any point before you receive the initial sketch. 

Upon receiving the initial sketch you can suggest changes and revisions. This is your only opportunity to do so. 

From there I will finalize your commission to agreed upon level. 

I will let you know when your commission is finished and send you an email containing a PDF and PNG file!

Terms and Conditions

PAYMENT is due upon receiving email with confirmation and a time estimate. Depending on discussed payment method, you will receive either A; a PayPal invoice, or B; a Venmo payment request. Work will begin once payment is received. 

REFUNDS are available at any time BEFORE you receive the “initial sketch” OR if commission cannot be delivered within agreed upon time or at all. 

Time estimate is not a hard deadline and response times may affect how long a commission will take. 

This commission is for PERSONAL USE ONLY. You may not use the commission for any commercial purposes, claim it as your own, or use it in conjunction with any AI methods. 

I reserve the right to refuse any commission that I believe falls outside of my comfort level or skill level.  

Additionally, I will only be drawing in the specific style demonstrated in the example works. 

ALRIGHT! You made it through all that nonsense!

Thank you so much for reading! And if you're able, please consider commissioning me!

I hope to see you in my DMs!! (^-^)

[writingsofanomnivore]

Wishing well- Oikawa Toru x Reader

fluff/angst? a bit bittersweet. this feels like a very shitty piece. might delete. based on a song I really like.

"I threw a coin in the wishing well; I thought it was free.”

Sunlight peeked through the wooden slats near the well, casting a golden glow that reminded you of a certain someone’s eyes. The gaping well beneath your fingers seemed to peer up at you, its depths reflecting the silver shine of coins that almost blinded you. You wondered who else had thrown a coin, what they wished for, or, as in your case—for whom they wished. The 500 yen coin between your thumb and finger suddenly felt so heavy, as if begging to join the others inside. So, you threw it. Let it go, like that one boy you so dearly loved.

“I wrote you a letter, baby,

Signed it from me.”

The letter sat in the book, lying lifelessly as if it did not contain the words you wished to utter to him—words you’d never said, words that required more courage than you could ever muster. You still remembered writing it a year after he was gone. It wasn’t his birthday, New Year’s, or even Valentine's Day, but you still wrote it, signing it, “from me,” knowing your ‘lovely’ handwriting was quite distinguishable.

“Yn-chan!! What is this? I cannot read a word!”

“What are you talking about, Shittykawa? I knew you were blind, but not this blind.”

“a) Rude. b) I bet you a ramen bowl that no one other than you can read your handwriting. Don’t pretend I haven't caught you squinting at your notes trying to read what italic mess you’ve conjured up.”

“Hmmph!” With a huff, you took it back, ignoring the cries of “I was just kidding, Yn-chan!!” and “Yn-chan, please!”

“I’m looking around this town,

Everything’s changed.

That old liquor store has been sold away.”

Your ‘secret bridge’ is gone. A whole road has been built atop it. The water beneath it is now solid brick. The old grandma you’d meet on your way home has moved to the city with her grandson. The cat who would purr into Oikawa’s hand looks at you every day, as if asking where that loser is. Everything’s changed—for better or worse, you’re yet to know.

“I see your reflection in every scene.

I miss your long brown hair just blowing for me.”

Peering at the glass window, you somehow saw his reflection behind you. A part of you wished to turn around, but the wiser part didn’t want to be disappointed, so you looked ahead. Wind entered through the window, and the image of brown hair flowing flashed into your mind. Fluffy brown hair blowing in the wind—it was unfair how one could be blessed with so many things. You couldn’t even be mad because, at the end of the day, it was your love who was the blessed one, and you were the only one getting to admire his beauty. So, with a sappy smile, you looked at him like you always did.

“If love was a feathered wing,

I hope you’d see,

There’s a whole wide world even if it ain’t with me.”

Though these moments are bittersweet, it feels nice to know you’ve grown up. You’re not that same 17-year-old sneaking out to meet someone your parents didn’t know about. You’re not the same 17-year-old saving money to buy Tooru charms, little bouquets, and keychains for his bag. Now you’re 21. You’ve learned how to deal with idiots, stand up for yourself and others, manage deadlines at work, and made new friends. A journey everyone makes, and just like that, you hope he is doing the same. Learning, experiencing the little joys of life, the hardships, and battling each one with grace. Though a part of you wished you could be by his side when he plays his first match in university to cheer him, to be part of the audience when his serve hits the opponent's court—you’re glad he can experience these moments.

“So long to the summer.

You were always my friend.

So long to my lover.

You were there till the end.”

And now summer’s almost gone, marking the third year without you, friend, lover. The sunlight slowly fades as the sun begins to set, making the park chilly. Walking out of the park, you knew this wishing well would not bring him back into your arms, but maybe, just maybe, you will keep wishing.