#i stayed up till five in the morning drawing

[tekkenenjoyerblue]

Well well well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions…

[yandecifi]

sex isn't about have to's

aizawa/reader

~4500 words

mild smut, angst, hurt/comfort

cw; implied rape/noncon, implied incest, implied child abuse

You've managed to avoid nights at the house by running the door at a local strip club. The bouncer you usually work with, Aizawa, is a sarcastic, unusually tall smoker. He's sweet, sweet enough to drive you home most nights — and to pick up on your subtleties.

“Hope all the girls are as hot as you.”

It’s twelve in the morning and your dress is short enough that you’ll flash everybody if you bend over. You don’t mind, though, because that’s kind of the idea; the all black, skin tight nature of your chosen work uniform is meant to draw attention to… well, the parts that matter.

You laugh sweetly as you scan the young man’s ID. Your coworker, Aizawa, looms behind you, eyeing up the crowd in front of the club and rolling a cigarette between his fingers. He’s one of the better bouncers you work with, if not your favorite — not only does he actually do his job when things get rowdy, but he doesn’t snitch on your rather immoral side hustle.

“Oh, trust me, they’re even better,” you say, passing the ID back with a flick of your fingers. You shift your weight so that your breasts squish together a little more. “Wanna come and tell me about it after?”

You flutter your lashes. Distant club music swims through your body. The guy grins and nods.

That’s gotta be at least forty bucks. Score.

You turn to flash Aizawa a little shit eating grin. He just shakes his head and takes a puff of his cigarette.

You don’t bother wearing perfume. Why would you when Aizawa’s always got smoke curling up from his lips and fingers? A year into this job and you can’t even scrub the scent out of your hair anymore. When you grumbled that you stink thanks to him, he just said you’re welcome and held out a cigarette, half-lidded eyes full of mirth.

He takes that dry approach to just about everything. Maybe it’s because he’s so much older than you, what with his inky, messily tied hair and rough stubble adorning his chin, but he doesn’t care about much aside from his paycheck and getting home. You’ve seen him take a punch to the face and just sigh with annoyance.

Still smiling up at your coworker, you ring up the next guy in line.

“Y’know, I think this is gonna be a good night, ‘Zawa.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You stay ‘till close?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nice — oh, yeah, you’re good to go in — I’m here ‘till close, too. Think you could drive me home?”

“Uh-huh. Focus on the customers.”

“Oops.” You whip around to see an older man holding out his credit. You take it with a laugh. “Sorry, sir. I’d make it up to you with a kiss, but you’ll get plenty of that inside.”

“Ha! Didn’t expect the service to start out here. I’m paying for all five of us, by the way.”

“Of course.”

You blow a kiss at the men as they pass you, their loud laughter ensuing. Aizawa blows smoke into your face. You cough and smack his arm.

The monotony of greeting and ringing up, of flirting and scanning, continues. This is how most of your weekend nights go; clock in at nine, run the door with Aizawa (usually) and dick around with him until three, and then give a blowjob or two before heading back to your apartment. It’s a pretty good gig for somebody like you — it doesn’t clash with your other jobs while still making enough cash.

The line dwindles as the night goes on. Eventually, ten minutes go by without a group, and you’re squatting and fixing the straps of the stilettos you’re wearing. An unlit cigarette hangs between your teeth. Goosebumps run up your arms from the night air as you chat about everything and nothing.

“No, yeah, I haven’t seen her since. Do you think she got fired?”

“Probably.” Aizawa’s leaning against the wall, lighter in hand. “People show up high all the time, but not that high.”

“Yeah. I swear to God she was turning blue.” The strap you’re fiddling with slips from your fingers for the — what, fifth time? You groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Aizawa scoffs. “What’d I say? You’ve gotta —“

“You’ve gotta stop wearing the fucking heels, I know, I know!”

You’re kneeling now, knees scraping the concrete. Every time you jam the strap into the buckle it comes right out, no matter how much your nails wedge it in tight. You sigh and resign yourself to the floor.

“This is what I get for thrifting shitty shoes.”

Aizawa hums in agreement and yet squats next to you. He squints at your bratty straps. Then, he hands you his lighter.

“Try putting your leg out straight.”

“Okay,” you murmur, butt hitting the ground as you lean back on your hands and straighten your legs. “I’ll literally love you forever if you fix this.”

“Uh-huh.”

He fiddles with the strap, one hand wrapped around your calf to hold you still. Now that he’s this close, you realize you’ve never been this equal in height to him. Like, the guy is built like a damn tree. His jawline is pretty nice, too, and his hands are warm —

“Lighter.”

“Oh, yeah, here.”

Aizawa brings the lighter to your strap and fiddles some more with the flame. Then, he stands up, already reaching into his pocket for another cigarette, though he manages to catch himself.

“Oh my God,” you say, rolling your ankle around and around. “You actually fixed it. What the hell. And with the lighter, too.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunts, holding out his free hand. You take it with a grin.

“You’re smarter than you look.”

He huffs. “Watch it.”

You laugh and the two of you separate, only to come together again — you lean towards him so that he can light the cigarette in your mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, breathing the smoke out.

“For making you stink,” he responds, breathing the smoke in.

The two of you loiter around the doors. They open occasionally, drunk men stumbling out to catch their Ubers. One guy vomits across the street. You look away with a grimace.

“Ew.”

“You should be used to this by now.”

“It’s still ew.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long have you worked here that you don’t care about that sorta stuff?”

Aizawa rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck and all the joints there. “I’ve been here three years. Had other places before, though.”

“Haha. Old.”

“I’m thirty-nine. I’ve seen you hook up with guys in their fifties.”

You shrug, pass your cigarette to Aizawa. “They pay better.”

“Mhm,” he hums, breathing the nicotine in. He’s kinda pretty when he smokes. It’s something about the veins in his hands. “Your parents don’t care that you’re doing this?”

Your face scrunches up. “My parents?”

“Yeah?”

“How old do you think I am, dude?”

“I don’t know. Eighteen?”

“Excuse you, I’m nineteen.”

He lets out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, sticking the cigarette back out at you. You take it and smoke, face hot.

“That’s basically the same thing,” he says, laughter dead.

“Yeah, whatever, jeez. They don’t care.”

Aizawa nods slowly. You watch your smoke dissolve in the air.

“Just be careful with it,” he says.

You sneak a glance at your coworker. He’s leaning against the wall of the strip club the both of you work at, arms crossed, his black dress shirt unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms.

You cough and look down at your stilettos. “Thanks.”

“Your dress is riding.”

“Fuck.” You bite on the cig and yank your dress down. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I didn’t, uh, mean to,” you mutter.

“I know.” He clears his throat and nods towards the door. “Your guy.”

Just like Aizawa says, the young guy from earlier is coming out the doors with his group of friends. They’re snickering as he says bye and splits off towards you. You’ve always been kind of a joke to everybody else, but Aizawa’s never laughed at you.

You get up with a stumble, adjust yourself. The guy reaches you and you snatch up his hand, snuff your cigarette out on your thigh with a sizzle. You can feel Aizawa’s eyes on you as you drag him around back.

Maybe it’s because you’ve done this since you were a kid, but sucking off guys like the one you’re kneeled in front of doesn’t make you feel or think as much as it probably should. It goes by fast, actually, which you don’t mention (you’ve learned that ruins the mood), a blur of motions and groaning and zippers. He gives you some cash and you’re alone, standing behind your workplace, wiping cum off of your face. It’s quiet except for the muffled music.

You pass Aizawa on your way to the breakroom. He’s checking the IDs of some guys — your responsibility, fuck — and spots you as you try to rush past. You’re wiping off the mess that’s your lip gloss, manicured fingertips running circles around your mouth. He gives you a once over, like he always does, but this time he lingers on your fingers.

The guy called you some names during it. They ring in your ears as you brush your teeth in the employee bathroom. Slut. Whore. Slut. Whore. Slut, slut, slut.

You spit into the sink. You wash your face. You don’t recognize yourself without your makeup. You rummage through your ziploc baggie of product, reapply everything. You fix your hair. Your mouth never does feel clean.

Your lip wobbles. You keep running your fingers through your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror.

When you make it back to your post, the night air biting your calves, your coworker is alone at his usual spot on the wall. You stand next to him with your arms crossed. His voice comes out startlingly even compared to the voices in your head.

“You were in there a while.”

You nibble on your lip. “It got in my hair.”

He hums.

“Sorry for making you do my job,” you whisper.

“It’s boring out here. I don’t mind.” A car drives by. Somebody laughs loudly from inside the club.

“Okay.” You want to swallow but you spit instead. “Thanks.”

Slut. Whore. Slut, slut, slut.

It hits three in the morning and you’re giggling with Aizawa in his beat-up car. A cheap air freshener hangs from his mirror, twirling about as he drives you home, an empty energy drink rattling in one of his cupholders.

“Okay, um, would you kill your cat to end traffic?” You ask, smiling, watching him as he rolls his eyes from the driver's seat.

“You’ve asked me this already.”

“Just answer!”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He taps his cigarette ash out the window, his other hand guiding the steering wheel. “Anybody who says otherwise is a psychopath.”

“Okay, yeah, I agree. What if it was a dog?”

“Still no.”

“A fish?”

“Maybe.” He narrows his eyes. “Actually, yes.”

“Why?”

“You ask the weirdest questions.” He cracks a smile as he says that, shaking his head. “I guess I feel like the fish wouldn’t care as much.”

“Okay. Yeah.” He’s taking you into your neighborhood, now. It’s the kind of place that’s pretty obviously subsidized — it’s all one-story apartments, lawns that are either dead or severely overgrown, and potholes or cracked asphalt. Aizawa slows to a stop in front of your parents’ apartment, puts his hazards on. You should unbuckle your seatbelt and say goodnight with a giggle but you’re stuck.

The lights are still on. Your windows are glowing like eyes.

“Um.” You glance at Aizawa and he’s looking at you funny, fuck. Your fingers fumble with the seatbelt and undo it with a clack. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he says slowly. You need to get out of the car, you’re gripping the door handle, all you need to do is open it.

Your father is awake and he shouldn’t be.

You’ve done this hundreds of times, thousands, even. It’s not even the act that’s the worst part anymore. It's looking at your apartment, knowing what’s going to happen, and knowing you can’t do anything about it. No, no, not even — it isn’t even that, it’s that you won’t do anything about it. You will do nothing. You will walk in and let it happen.

Slut, whore. Slut, slut, slut.

You open your mouth to say something more — another apology, maybe — but you just let out something like a whimper. Your back hits the car seat, you smile, you frown, you shake your head and take a sharp breath. Open the fucking door.

Aizawa turns off his hazards and you’re rolling past your apartment. On and on the two of you go, further into your neighborhood, until you can’t see your windows anymore.

“Anywhere else you want me to drop you off?”

“Uh.” You can’t catch up to all your thoughts. You’ve always been slow; the hot, dumb bitch, the whore, the slut. “What?”

“Do you have a friend you can stay with or something?”

Friends? You? You dropped out of school over a year ago. All you ever do is work.

“I mean, no.”

He takes a moment to look at you instead of the road. His jaw clenches. He passes you his nearly done cigarette as he loops the roundabout at the end of your street.

“I have a couch.”

You look at him with wide eyes. You’re speechless for a second because nobody has ever, ever said to you what he’s saying.

“Uh, no, no. It’s okay. I can go home.”

He grips the steering wheel with both hands, squinting at the road. He seems to be rolling your words around on his tongue, considering, analyzing.

“You can,” he offers, “but you don’t have to.”

Your brows raise as you stare at the dash. Your lips pull into a frown. You know that, you’ve thought it every single time, but it’s so different hearing it out loud.

“Okay. I — yeah. Yeah.”

And he’s pulling out of your neighborhood. You smoke until you’re burning your fingertips. He merges onto the freeway.

Aizawa lives in a concrete apartment complex the next town over. He’s on the third floor, number three-hundred-fifty-three. You stand behind him, your backpack slung over your shoulder. Your hands wring behind your back. His keys jingle and jangle as he unlocks his front door. He’s got a chibi cat keychain.

The door swings open and bounces off a wall with a thud. The first thing you notice is that it smells like citrus air freshener mixed with weed and cigarettes. Aizawa closes the door behind you, toeing his shoes off.

“You can put your shoes over here.” He gestures to the little closet by his front door. It’s empty aside from a coat or two and a few pairs of shoes. You nod, unbuckle your stilettos. Aizawa grows in height as you step out of them.

You smile a little. “How’s the weather up there?”

He sighs. “Very funny.”

His vinyl floor is cold on your feet as you follow him further into the apartment. It’s simple: a kitchen, a living room with the couch you suppose you’ll be sleeping in, and then two doors that lead to his bathroom and bedroom, respectively.

It’s not as dirty as your place. His kitchen is kept tidy, the sink empty and dry, the counters littered with spices and cooking instruments but well taken care of. He doesn’t have trash piling up or mold lining the backsplash. He doesn’t have empty beer bottles sitting on his coffee table, just an ashtray. A weighted blanket is folded neatly on his couch.

“You have a nice place.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

“No, seriously.” You set your bag on his coffee table while he hunts through the fridge. “I’ve got black mold, like, all over my bathroom ceiling.”

“That’s disgusting.”

You laugh, sit on the couch. “I know.”

Aizawa brings you a tall glass of water. You sip at it, tug down your dress. He averts his eyes.

“I’m going to go shower.” He undoes his hair as he speaks. It falls down to his shoulders, all fluffy and rather tangled. He rakes a hand through the blackest of it. “I have some leftovers in the fridge, help yourself. I have extra towels if you’d like to shower, too.” Then, he pauses, opens and shuts his mouth, his head cocked at you. You can’t help but lean back and giggle.

“What?”

“Are you fine with sleeping in that?”

You look down. He’s referring to your dress that, even now, you can’t help but fidget with.

“I can give you some of my pajamas.” Aizawa blinks tiredly at you. “If you want.”

Your face warms. “Uh, yeah. That’d be great. Thank you.”

Aizawa disappears into his bedroom and then returns a couple moments later with a large black t-shirt and some sweats. He hands them to you, all folded neatly on top of one another.

“Thank you,” you say again. “You’re really sweet.”

He heads towards the bathroom. “Just knock if you need anything.”

It feels weird to change in the middle of his living room so you go into his bedroom. You close the door, lock it just in case, and then lay his pajamas on the bed. It isn’t made, the comforter folded back like he just rolled out of it. He’s got shelves with a variety of books and knick-knacks on one wall, a desk with similar items against another. His closet is open, his wardrobe basically all black. How emo.

The pajamas are comically large on you. The t-shirt ends at your midthigh, the sleeves at your elbows. The collar goes off your shoulder. You had to tie the sweats’ drawstring tight around your hips so that they wouldn’t slip.

You slap your hands against your face. It’s definitely better than flashing him every five seconds, but why the fuck did you have to end up in his clothes?

You fold your dress up and exit the bedroom, the sound of the shower running filling the apartment. Sitting back down on the couch, you stuff your dress in your bag. You don’t have any makeup remover with you, but a wet paper towel or two from the kitchen works well enough at removing your makeup.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. The shower runs and runs. You don’t have much else to do aside from sit on the couch and sip at your water.

And think.

Slut, whore. Slut, slut, slut.

But what is sex, anyway? It’s the same as everything else if you think about it. You rub each other like you’re petting a dog, get close like you’re hugging, and kissing is kind of like eating. Nobody cares about holding hands or bumping into one another, so why isn’t it the same with sex? It’s just touching. It’s just touching until it’s over.

Aizawa emerges from the bathroom an unknowable amount of time later. He’s dressed similarly to you, though his pants are plaid and it all fits better. His hair is damp.

“Did you eat?” He asks, eyeing the unchanged kitchen counters.

“I’m not really hungry.”

He trudges over to sit on the other side of the couch, picking up his pack of cigarettes on the way. “You should still eat.”

“You say that while grabbing your lighter?”

He lights up with a snort. “Don’t use me for reference.”

You roll your eyes. You outstretch a hand and make a grabby motion towards him.

“No.” The smoke seeps out of his mouth and nose as he speaks. “You’ve smoked enough for a day.”

You groan. “Literally every time I see you you’re smoking.”

“What did I just say?”

You cross your arms, look away. Aizawa leans back into the couch cushions and continues blowing smoke. You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He’s doing the same thing.

He sits up. “Are you feeling better? Oh.” He blinks a little, gets up and goes to the bathroom. He comes back and stands in front of you, holding out some bandaids and a disinfectant spray. You just stare at them.

“For what?” You glance between the items and his heavily lidded eyes.

“You put out a cigarette on your leg earlier and your knees got scraped when you went with the guy.”

You take the bandaids and spray. You lay them in your lap, stare at them. He just continues to smoke, peering down at you, unmoving. Then, you let out a little laugh, your face crumpled despite your smile.

“Y’know, if you want a blow job, you can just ask.”

“I do not,” Aizawa blurts loudly, “want a fucking blow job.”

He drops to a crouch in front of you. He sticks his cigarette in the ashtray, pushes the legs of your sweats up to your knees, grabs the disinfectant off your thighs.

You sit and watch stupidly. Of course you do, you’re stupid. You’re stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why would he want something like that from somebody like you? What’s wrong with you? You’re not a hot bitch, just a dumb one. Nobody wants somebody that’s been with their own dad. You’re disgusting.

Your face is hot, head hanging while Aizawa sprays your knees. The scrapes tingle and burn. He peels the bandaids free and tears are dripping onto the sweats he gave you.

His head jerks up. You turn away in response, wipe roughly at your eyes.

You’re stupid. You’re stupid. You’re stupid.

Slut. Whore.

“It’s not that I—” He sighs, sticking the bandaid onto one of your knees. “It’s—” He sighs again, louder this time. He rakes a hand through his hair, turns around to take a drag from whatever’s left in his discarded cig.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t do those sorts of things with you,” he settles with. His hands come up to balance himself on your knees. He blows smoke. You sniffle.

“You would?”

Aizawa gazes up at you with hard eyes.

“Yeah, I would.”

Warmth blooms in your face. Aizawa searches your face for something, you don’t know, before sighing even louder and resting his head on his elbow.

“What?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Your brow wrinkles. “You shouldn’t.”

He raises his head. “Why?”

“I sucked off that guy earlier and — just — I’m dirty.”

“And I’m a deadbeat. The only person who should be worried here is me.”

“You don’t get it.” The tears start to well up again. “You don’t know the disgusting shit I’ve done.”

“Great, then we’re on the same level.”

Your fingers twitch in your lap. Before you know it, you’re leaning down and kissing him on the lips.

He tastes like cigarettes. Your hands come up to hold his face that’s all dry and scratchy with stubble. He starts to rise; he leans over, over, over, until your head hits the cushions and you’re making out with him on the couch you were supposed to be sleeping in.

He pulls aside the collar of your shirt and starts kissing along your collarbone. Your legs are tangled together, bandaged knees knocking unscathed ones. Aizawa has one hand attached to your hip, the thumb there rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your sweats.

Buried in his mess of hair, your lip wobbles. People don’t just do things like that. He’s acting like he’s into this not just because you’re willing to fuck him, but because it’s you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. You grind against his thigh, make breathy, little noises the closer his kisses get to your chest. His other hand slides under your shirt and starts to creep up your midriff, wrapping around your back —

Aizawa pauses, lifts his head. He tugs up your shirt slightly to reveal the start of a patchwork of little circular scars and divots. They climb up the sides of your torso, cigarette burns, trailing from your hip to your chest. Some are faded while others are yellow with pus.

He pulls your shirt back down, holds it there. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” You squirm beneath him, chest tight. His hands are more hesitant now. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to take my shirt off.”

Aizawa’s still so close as he speaks, hovering over you. He brushes some of your hair out of your face. “Do you want me to?”

“I mean,” you stutter. “It’s kind of weird to look at.”

“I have them on my legs.”

“What?”

“My foster mom put them out there.” He swallows. “A long time ago.”

Your face crumples. You wrap your arms around him again, pull him into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. They’re almost all gone now.” He slowly hugs you back. “Yours will go away eventually, too.”

“Yeah?” Your fingers comb through his hair, snagging on the knots.

“Yeah.” Aizawa lifts himself off of you.

You smile, sit up, and pull your shirt off. You push Aizawa into sitting against the couch before straddling him. His hands come up to rest on your hips. It’s just your bra and sweats on now, your discarded shirt on the floor.

“Your scars are like leopard spots.” Aizawa’s fingers trail up and down some of the older ones. “You’re pretty.”

You’ve been called hot, sexy, cute, but not often pretty.

“Thank you.” You wipe at your face again. “You really are sweet.”

The two of you start making out again, hands cupping each other's cheeks or pulling the other closer. Aizawa ends up taking his shirt off soon after.

“These pants are ridiculous.” Aizawa laughs a little, kissing your shoulder. You’re leaning against him while he helps you shimmy out of the sweats he gave you, chest to chest. It’s different when there’s nothing but your bra keeping the two of you apart; he’s so warm, hot like a furnace, cozy.

The sweats finally join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You plop back down on him and immediately feel it — he’s hard. You rub yourself against him. Aizawa takes a sharp breath and grabs your hips in response.

“Cheeky,” he mutters, eyeing your grin before starting to kiss you again. One of his hands drags from your hip, down your stomach, and into your underwear.

He starts rubbing featherlight circles around your clit. Soon enough, you’re grinding into his hand, sweating, leaning into his shoulder. Aizawa grips your hip harder with his other hand.

“Stop moving so much.”

You nose his ear, out of breath. “Please?”

He shudders, releases his grip on you. Instead, that hand trails up your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. You let him slide it off of you, let him kiss and nibble at your chest, let him do anything so long he keeps letting you come undone in his lap like this.

He holds you, arm around your torso, when he dips his fingers into you. He thrusts them upwards sluggishly, brows furrowed, until he’s up to his knuckles. You chew on your lip.

“You don’t have to do all this,” you murmur. Aizawa curls his fingers and your thighs clench around him.

“Sex isn’t about have to’s.”

You close your eyes and focus on his hands, on the warmth of him, instead of what that means.

[writinground2]

Sleepy Time - Alessia Russo

Alessia takes care of her sleepy girlfriend.

just a short little fluffy bit.

Y/N cringed when the two pans crashed together while she attempted to grab the middle one, “damnit.”

She looked down the hallway, listening to make sure Alessia slept through the noise, when she heard no movement coming from the bedroom, she continued her task of making breakfast. 

Spraying the pan with cooking spray, she set it on the top burner to begin warming up. Pulling out ingredients and placing them on the counter.

“What all do I want.”

She muttered, thinking out loud, so her tired brain could process what she was attempting to do. 

“I want eggs.”

“Oh, some cottage cheese, gotta get the proteins in.”

“Where the fuck is the bacon?”

“I’m sure if you ask is nicer, it’ll tell you.”

“Christ Alessia!”

Y/N whipped around, slamming the fridge door shut in the process. The blonde appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, smirking. 

The blonde chuckled, before pulling Y/N into her arms, ��morning baby,” 

Y/N melted into the hold, burrowing her face into the taller woman’s neck. Alessia started to pull away but was stopped when Y/N tightened her hold, fisting the back of her shirt in her hands. The blonde tightened her grip in return. 

“Bad shift?”

All Y/N managed was a nod, nestling her face in tighter. Y/N had just returned home from a 36-hour shift at the hospital where she worked as a trauma surgeon. The doctor supposed to have been home 24 hours earlier. 

Alessia let the woman soak up another moment of comfort before gently lifting her to sit on the counter. 

“Stay,” she poked Y/N’s nose, giggling when it scrunched in response. 

Y/N leaned against the cupboards, doing her best to keep her eyes open, watching Alessia finish making her breakfast for her. 

“I was going to make you breakfast in bed,” Y/N mumbled out, losing the fight of keeping her eyes open. 

“Next time, love,” Alessia rubs her hands up and down Y/N thighs, encouraging her to open her eyes, “open.”

Y/N cracks her eyes open to see the blonde holding a fork full of scrambled eggs in front of her, cupping a hand underneath to prevent anything from falling. Y/N closes her eyes again and allows the striker to feed her bites of eggs, alternating with bites of bacon. 

After the last bite, she puts the fork down to wrap her arms around Y/N’s waist. Y/N drapes her arms over Alessia’s shoulders and snuggles her face back into the blondes shoulder, “you didn’t eat.” 

“I’ll eat after we get you to bed,” she pulls her arms away, tapping Y/N’s thighs, then tugs the bottom of her shirt to prompt her to get off the counter. 

“Noooo,” Y/N moans out, leaning forward to maintain her place in the blondes’ shoulders. 

“Yeesss,” Alessia mimics, grinning at her antics “go get ready for bed while I clean up, then we can snuggle till I have to leave for practice.”

Y/N slides the rest of the way off the counter and stumbles her way to the bathroom. 

By the time Alessia finishes cleaning and makes her way back to the bedroom, Y/N already appears to be asleep. Deciding to leave the woman be, she begins turning out the lights, making sure the blackout curtains are properly in place, and begins to sneak back out of the room. 

“Nooo,” Y/N moans from her cocoon of blankets, “you promised me snuggles.”

Alessia turns to see Y/N’s hands jutting out, making grabby hands at her.

“I only have five minutes,” she whispers once Y/N is settled on her side, facing away from her, the blonde protectively holding her to her chest. 

“Won’t last that long,” Y/N slurs out, already beginning to fall asleep. The ministrations of Alessia drawing patterns into her hips soothing her. 

[mamaangiwine]

It takes a while to heal- Like, I'm just mind boggled at how it can take a long ass time sometimes.

For years I was in a situation where it became hard for me to draw, or paint or make any real physical kind of art that wasn't writing and so... I just kind of stagnated.

I got out of that situation five years ago.

It's taken me until this last year to finally find joy in creating and for the simple act of creating.

And it's really weird when you get back in touch with yourself like that. The last time I was in touch with that side of myself, I was 19 and so it's kind of like having to manage the creative process, and therefore the wants and desires that fuel that process, of a 19 year old. I find myself wanting to stay up and draw till three in the morning. I find myself wanting to drink caffeine so I can stay up and draw until three in the morning. I find myself wanting to snack and binge so I can sugar-high myself through a particularly long drawing session.

Idk, it's kind of frustrating. But it's also kind of beautiful? That there are parts of us, because they didn't grow with us, it's like getting back in touch with a past version of yourself that has both negative and positive aspects. Like, I feel excited about things again in a way I haven't felt since I was a kid.

I think we're taught that not pursuing something and actively getting better means we wasted our time- but I also think there's something to be said about...just picking up where you left off? Sometimes you just don't go back to things because you're not ready, and when you finally are? Well, then it's equally celebratory when you become reacquainted with a you that had been left behind. A reunion of sorts.

[ceruleaneyedking]

It's what I do. I wait for you.

Dazai x reader

notes: this is a rewrite of my old fic and i did not proofread...

warnings: suicide mentions, implied self-harm, typical dazai

The first time you’d met, he grabbed your hand with a smirk underlying toxic desperation and asked you to commit double suicide around five minutes into knowing you. His silver tongue drew you into him to such an extent that the expression on his face when you said yes was etched indefinitely in your mind. His eyebrows had quirked upwards, and his lips parted to let out a surprised huff of air as he straightened his posture from across the table. 

“But not yet," you said right after. “I’ll only die with you when I fall in love with you.” You knew it was your fault—your words that had ended you up here. His smile did not falter when you spoke of your condition; instead, he pulled you to your feet and whisked you away into his universe. “The only thing better than committing suicide with a beautiful person, is commiting suicide with a beautiful person you love.” 

The way Dazai saw the world couldn’t be described with words like “cynical” or "pessimistic"—those words could only go to describe the words that truly described his life. It was bleak yet so breathtaking, like untouched snow that was begging to be trampled upon. It was driven by the innate desire to ruin perfection made by forces other than oneself. You knew from the start about his mental state, how he felt inadequate and hated seeing others achieve what he failed to. How his failed attempts were failures too. A sort of ultimatum thrown at him by fate that permanently damaged him each time. Yet, most of your thoughts, the things you noticed were only significant in hindsight.

You remembered staying up till two in the morning, dancing to whatever song was playing on the barley functioning radio, mouth full of old takeout in between music, laughing your hearts out. He had grabbed your waist gently and twirled you around his living room, dipping you every now and then. The sharp pain on your hip from when he accidentally dropped you and the long stream of apologies falling from his mouth felt like it was yesterday. You’d swatted his chest as a rebuttal and dismissed his apologies. But he had still brought flowers the next day. Red Tulips.

You remembered every single time he smiled at you from across the room and waved you over, introducing you to his coworkers or bragging about you to strangers in the store. He complained about how different he was from everyone around him, yet he was charming and would befriend old ladies or young couples without much effort. It was beautiful; he had such a deep understanding of humans—what made them laugh or feel appreciated, or what caused them to feel fear or discomfort. It had always embarrassed you that he would introduce you to these people with a declaration of his love for you. The things you would do to have him do it again just one more time, looking at your annoyed face with amusement, red carnations in hand.

You remembered him giggling for ten minutes straight after you had touched one of his ticklish spots, and how he had immediately tried to find yours. Both of you were in tears by the end of the day, your ribs aching from laughing so much and your arms limp next to you. He had wrapped you in his arms right after, nuzzling his face into your neck, speaking softly into your collarbone every now and then. It was when you first saw him without his bandages, bare-chested and bare-armed, littered with white and red scars. No, not littered. Adorned. He didn’t speak about it, so you didn’t either. Instead, you laid a chaste kiss on his forehead and used the marker on the bedside table to draw around them. Stars. The moon and sun. Birds in flight across his skin. Loosely sketched hydrangeas.

You remembered how he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you onto a Ferris wheel, telling you about how he’d jump from the top when the fireworks started. You felt the bile rise in your throat, gripping his hand harder, but not to the point where he would notice your nervousness. When the wheel reached the top, he was too busy telling you about what he was going to show you tomorrow then to remember his words. That was the moment you had finally started wanting to fulfill his wish. You were falling in love. He kissed your cheeks under the moon and over the wilted yarrow plants.

You remembered him taking you on little adventures throughout the city. He’d never failed to show you something that spiked your curiosity and made you want to kiss him for being so amazing. Sometimes it was cafes; other times it was trails he had found in a park. You remember him taking you through the foliage one morning, frost covering the benches you both passed towards his destination, a grave. He hadn’t talked about it—who it was, why he was there—he just wanted to show you. He left a note and purple hyacinths.

You remembered his hands on you. The gentle kisses he’d lain on your lips, his hair messed up from the night before and his bandages unraveled on the floor. He was the most beautiful he had ever been, and the least beautiful he would ever continue to be. He smiled at you softly, taking you into his arms and laying your head on his bare chest. The cold biting your skin, but his warmth enveloping you comfortably from the other side. His lean fingers were caressing your hair as he quietly inquired about your state while the begonias he had gotten you the night before rested in your glass vase.

“I love you, Osamu.”

Oh, how things had gone from there.

Everything transformed into a memory. No more waking up in the morning with him beside you. No more holding his hands while walking around the shore. No more laughing at the TV at midnight. It was gone. Everything was gone. Forever. You didn’t know why it happened yourself. Why Dazai Osamu never showed up to your house the next day like he always did with a flower he picked on his way to you. He just disappeared from your life.

He didn’t pick up his phone, nor did he reply to your texts. You knocked on his apartment door but no one answered. You called the agency, they said he wasn’t at work. At first, you thought he might have needed to do something important, you knew how he was, always full of surprises. But the grand finale he threw your way was nothing but cold and bitter abandonment.

Weeks had gone, and you hadn’t heard a word from the brunette. You knew in your heart that he was really, truly gone, and it was slowly settling on you. You hated the feeling more than anything in the world. You didn’t want it to settle on you. You wanted to stay in denial forever because then, at least you could hold hope of his return. Even if that hope was obviously fake.

And then the day came.

A single email, sent to you at noon on a rainy day. Sent by an unknown. But you knew exactly who “unknown” was.

I’m sorry.

Though it was me who offered, I have to back out of my request.

I’ve come to realize you have a whole life ahead of you to live and therefore cannot die with the likes of me. Though we've only spent a while together, I can say with determination that I’ve never met anyone as vivid and fascinating. You are alluring to me, pulling me back again and again, like the meals you could only find in the comfort of one’s childhood home. But it is impossible for me to keep tasting you like this. It’s dangerous and will end only in tragedy worse than the one currently.

I cannot have you dying, love. I cannot imagine taking such a beautiful creature from the earth for my own selfish desires. What will this world do without your smile? Without your words? Without your touch? A world without your existence would hold some meaning, possibly. But what would that meaning be?

A meaning dull and rusted compared to what it was before.

Soft drops hit the keyboard. Not from the rain outside.

I apologize again, but I will not commit suicide with you. It seems to me almost like a crime. A horrendous crime that even my inhuman self wouldn’t dare commit. I cannot meet you again either, which you know will lead to complications. I reckon it won’t be a problem soon anyway. I hope you forgive me over time. If you do not, I understand.

I doubt a day will go by without you crossing my mind. I shall dream about holding you in my arms. About laying kisses on your body and going to sleep with you. Till the end of time, I shall think of you. Of reaching you. Of meeting you. And of loving you.

It ended there—no signature. You felt empty as you closed the tab and stumbled to your empty, cold bed. It felt as if you were lying on ice, only the distant remembrance of warmth existing, a memory you never expected to experience again. Not in such a brilliant and awe-inspiring way at least. You found yourself fretting, above all on him, hinting at his suicide. 

The doorbell rings and you consider not answering. Until it rings again. Then again. Fleeting hope captures your heart again, the possibility of his existence outside your door…or an agency member holding news of his passing. It reminds you of Schrödinger's cat. But at least in that case Schrödinger knew whether dead or alive, at least his cat would be inside the box. You didn’t even know if the person outside the door would deliver news of Dazai or…be him.

You trudge to the door, knowing the outcome but refusing to accept it. He had once mentioned it. Hope. The emotion he believed was the most ardent and the most difficult to understand. He could intentionally make someone angry, happy, or sad, but he was never able to plant hope in one’s mind. 

You hated feeling it. You hated everything that reminded you of him.

You hesitate opening the door, letting the possibility embrace you one last time before peaking out. 

“Delivery.”

The scruffy man chews something loudly and he sticks out the bag he had been holding. “Sure took your time answerin’ the door.” It takes you a few seconds to process and take the package from his hands, lowering your head as a thank you and signing the clipboard he was holding. 

“It’s late but it ain’t my fault. The post office’s always misplacin’ this kinda stuff. Hold it, lemme check real quick…” He squints his eyes, looking at the clipboard again. “Was suppose’ to be delivered last week.” The man grunts in your direction and turns around. 

The bag weighs down on your hand as you walk towards the kitchen table. Dazai's keys and roll of bandages were still there, untouched. He had left in a hurry after your declaration, grabbing anything he saw of his and promising to return in a few hours because he had something important to take care of. You place the bag on the counter, examining it for a few seconds before pulling the contents out. 

Dead crimson roses.

[holdupjack]

Waking Up Next To You

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Present Time/In Their Late 20’s

WARNING: None

——————

Hermione's P.O.V:

"Mione?"

"Hm?"

"Are you sleeping?"

"I was...but I heard an angel call for me"

"That's corny"

My eyes peels open to find my wife hovering over me with a soft smile.

"What is it my love?" I ask and she just continues to smile.

"Good morning" Y/n whispers as she leans down and captures my lips.

I hum happily as my hand reaches up and caresses her face, my other hand finding a spot on the back of her neck.

As she tries to pull away, I whine for another kiss, which I'm happily given.

"I have to make breakfast" she mumbles against my lips and I hum.

"Just five more minutes" I whisper and she chuckles.

"Alright Granger, five more minutes" Y/n whispers back as I pull her body on top of mine.

I gently begin to place feather like kisses on her face, she counts them under her breath as my finger tips fall to her waist.

"Can't we just stay like this?" I ask between each kiss.

"We have to eat" she answers and I groan in annoyance, pull her closer to me and burying my face against her neck.

"How about this, I order Uber Eats, and we'll just sleep in today?" She asks and I giggle like a little kid.

"That sounds amazing" I mumble against her skin.

I sit up, her legs wrap around my waist as Y/n reach's for her nightstand.

When she sits back towards me, she hands me the remote and immediately wraps her arms around my body.

Her chin rests on my shoulder as I flip to the news channel, I can hear Y/n's phone as she types, she hums a quiet tune in my ear.

"Expect showers till late this afternoon..."

I roll my eyes at the same old anchor and the same old weather of the U.K.

"It's cuddle weather" I sigh as my arm tightens around her and as I kiss her shoulder.

"It always is" Y/n laughs in my ear and I smile.

"That's why I like living here" I chuckle back and I could feel her eyes roll.

As I flick between stations, Y/n begins to name off restaurants.

"How about that local restaurant near here? You like their beans and toast" she says I nod.

"Good idea" I whisper as I kiss the side of her head.

I reach my hand up and slowly rub her back up and down. She sighs happily and shivers slightly, causing me to chuckle.

"It'll be here soon"

I hum and place the remote down, letting myself get lost in her warmth and company.

"I love you Y/n Granger" I whisper and she quickly answers me.

"I love you too Hermione Y/l/n"

If the butterflies in my stomach could flutter any faster, I swear I could start floating.

"When you say that, you make me want to retire already and stay like this forever" I whine as I push her onto the bed and hover over her.

Her smile shines as the soft sound of 'The Golden Girls' theme plays from the T.V.

"The Wizarding World needs you Minister" she chuckles and I groan placing my forehead on her shoulder.

"No" I whine and she just laughs, pulling my face up and giving a soft kiss to my greedy lips.

"No complaining, you love you're job" Y/n chuckles out as we pull away.

"But it keeps me away so much, this is my first day off in months!" I sigh, laying myself on top of her.

"I know 'Mione, but you're such a good Minister. That's why you work such long hours, to save the Wizarding World from itself" she says and I sigh again, mumbling a few 'stupid people' and 'dumb magic' from my lips.

Y/n just laughs, running her hand through my tangled hair and drawing shapes into the exposed part of my back.

"Can we just go back to our Hogwarts days?" I ask and Y/n hums.

"You really want to fight again?" She asks and I roll my eyes, sitting up and straddling her hips.

"No, I mean when it was just you and me...when we would sit in my room and stare out the window at all the stars, or late at night when we would sneak into the room of requirement and slow dance to music" I sigh and Y/n smiles.

"You just want to have our 'no responsibility' moments again?" She asks and I smile back.

"Yes, I want to just spend my time on earth with you" I whisper as I lean down and kiss her nose.

Knock! Knock!

"I got it" I hum as I kiss her lips once more and hop off the bed.

Quickly, I walk out to the front door and grab the food from the ground. I hear a soft meow as I shut the door, I look at the table to find Crookshanks the Second staring at me.

"There you are" I chuckle out as I walk back to the bedroom, with him in tow.

"Delivery!" I sing out as I walk back inside, to find my wife staring very intently at her phone.

"What are you looking at?" I ask and she hums.

"The Quibbler, seems Luna might think social anxiety might be apart of some fairy" she hums and I nod, setting down the bag at the foot of the bed.

She turns off her phone, and looks at me with a soft smile. I look between the T.V and the bag as I sort everything out.

"Where are you going?"

"To either get ice cream or commit a felony. I'll decide in the car"

I chuckle at the classic sitcom as I pass Y/n her food and the silverware that came with it.

"Can you believe they're all gone now?" Y/n asks and I laugh a little at the now funny memory.

"I just can't believe you called me crying, and made me leave work hysterical, thinking that something was wrong" I sigh and she just laughs loudly.

"It's Betty White! Everyone was crying!" She defends and I just chuckle again.

"I know my love" I hum as I sit down next to her with my food.

As we eat, Y/n's phone goes off a few times but she doesn't look at it, but she has a grin on her face.

"What are you up to?" I ask, a grin of my own forming.

"Nothing, why?" She asks as her smile drops and I roll my eyes.

"Dove, we've been together for eleven years, I know when you're hiding something" I say and she just rolls her eyes back at me.

"I just ordered some stuff from Amazon, I got  confirmation texts" she answers and I hum.

"What did you buy?" I ask and Y/n just looks at back at the T.V.

"Some more supplies for you, and some more food for Crook" she answers and I look at her a moment.

She's not telling me everything.

I chuckle softly and lean over, kissing her cheek.

"Alright my love"

——————

It was now late, almost 9 o'clock at night.

I hum quietly to myself as I go through some emails on my phone, my hair wrapped in a towel from my recent shower.

Y/n was cleaning some of the dishes when suddenly the house goes quiet.

"Y/n?" I call out but get no answer.

As I'm about to get up and look for her, she emerges into the room with a huge Amazon box.

Crookshanks runs through her legs and jumps up at the foot of the bed.

"What's this?" I chuckle out as she places it on the ground.

"You'll see" Y/n says happily as she opens it easily.

"I knew you had something up your sleeve" I mumble as I sit up, placing the towel from my hair in my nightstand.

"Close your eyes!" She says and I roll my eyes.

"Baby-" I'm cut off as she throws the towel at my face and falls to my lap.

I laugh, letting a snort escape me as I shake my head and doing as she says.

My mind wonders about what she could be planning.

A few times I could feel my hairs stand on end and goosebumps cover my arms when she'd places a kiss on my lips randomly.

A good twenty minutes go by of me hearing shuffling around the room, before the lights are shut off.

The bed dips beside me and I feel Y/n wrap her arm around me, pulling me down to lay next to her.

"Okay, open your eyes"

As I do, I'm greeted by the sound of slow music playing and the sight of the stars on the ceiling.

Im speechless.

"Well, since we can't go back in time, I decided to bring it to the future" she laughs out as I look over at her.

"You enchanted the ceiling?" I ask and she nods.

Suddenly Y/n sits up and grabs the Amazon box from the floor, I sit up too and rest my chin on her shoulder.

I look inside to find my favorite snacks and alcohol, with a few of her favorite stuff as well.

"I don't know what to say" I whisper, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"You don't have to say anything, I didn't do this for brownie points or something." She whispers and I slips my fingers with hers.

"Why did you do it then?" I ask as my favorite slow dancing songs play.

"I did it because I always want you to know that I'll always look at you and see the girl from fifth year that I fell in love with" Y/n mumbles as her eyes stare at the illusion, a shooting star goes by.

She closes her eyes and I feel my heart beating like it did on our first date at the Library.

"What did you wish for?" I whisper and she looks at me with a small smile, kissing my lips as well.

"That I'll always wake up with you by my side"

[mangodestroyer]

Not that I want to talk about it too much or anything, but now that I'm actually leaving retail for real (because I finally secured something else and can afford to leave), I'm kind of thinking a lot about how shitty this job actually is. And how I sort of just got used to it after a while.

I mean, first, there's the obvious of retail being a hella toxic environment. You're constantly facing the public, and have zero ways of standing up for yourself and avoiding it. Companies also push for you to reach extreme goals and push for workers to be super competitive over the metrics. All this micromanaging, as well as the bs from the customers, can easily cause co-workers to become burnt out and bitter. Leading to toxic work relationships as well.

Secondly, it's so much physical labor. And my job in particular also requires a high level of social intelligence. I mean, you have to actually SELL things to customers, on top of balancing a thousand different tasks (and completing them within a certain time frame while also putting out other people's fires). I mean, seriously. It's difficult to draw the energy to have a whole-ass sales pitch, individualized to the customer you're speaking to when you've been rushing to complete three projects.

It's also the scheduling. You can never have the same schedule every week. And the shifts are always all over the place. One week, you might have six four-hour shifts, the next week, you have an eight-hour shift where you work till nine at night, and then have another eight-hour shift the next day requiring you to come in at five or six in the morning. Maybe you worked nothing but evening shifts for the past three months. Now you're suddenly being scheduled morning shifts after you've gotten used to going to bed at four a.m. because you hate waiting to go to your job during the day. Maybe you're scheduled two 35-40 hour weeks because it's a very busy sales period and there is A LOT OF WORK TO DO. Then you're scheduled for nothing but 8 to 16-hour weeks and there's nothing to do/you have no money. You're scheduled for every weekend and holiday. You can no longer feel excited about those while everyone else is having a blast. In fact, you forgot that going to the store is something that people sometimes do for fun. If you ask to limit your hours and have certain times/days off, you'll get heckled for it. Sometimes, you're asked to cover shifts and people get annoyed if you decline. You're asked to find someone to cover your shift if you can't make it in. People get mad at you for being sick or for just wanting to use vacation days.

The pay. The pay is shit. All this for the lowest pay they think they can get away with giving people.

It is... exhausting! Even a simple four-hour shift leaves me feeling like I can't decompress. I have to take things to help me relax after work and to help me tolerate it the next day. Even then, I can't truly get myself to focus on my hobbies or anything. It's also made going to school difficult. It's so hard to think after being worked like that. Or to have the energy to stay on top of things. Also, I've gained weight since working this job. I was... 125 lbs when I started. I got all the way up to 165 lbs in three years and struggled to get down to 157 lbs these past few months. I feel like my stomach can't even digest a lot of food these days. Like, if I eat too much dairy or fruit or something, it feels like it just sits in my stomach for a long ass time until I get cramps and feel bloated. I never used to be like this. I also feel like I have more inflammation in general. And God forbid you have issues happening in your personal life. It makes all of this so much worse! Back when I was in a toxic relationship, I straight up wondered if I was developing b*polar/sch*zophrenia, d*mentia, or c*ncer. The stress was affecting me both physically and mentally THAT MUCH.

I spent three weeks away from my job a few months ago. I actually started feeling like I had some energy. I started feeling human again. It was pretty telling. Before then, I thought I'd finally gotten used to working that job and that maybe it wasn't so bad. Then I came back and was like, "Holy, fuck! This place is shit!" I started putting in job apps like my life depended on it for ANYTHING that wasn't retail or food service. ANYTHING. Even if I was underqualified.

And that's that. I will never do a low-paid customer service job again. If things ever get rough in the job market and I don't have a choice but to return to shitty work... I will literally do the actual SHITTY work of scrubbing toilets before I return to retail. I'm DONE.

[iguessmyfishisgay]

It's officially New Year's so here's some RQG New Years headcanons that I'm coming up with as I write this

I still haven't finished the campaign but I'm so close to that I'm gonna put the headcanons under read more so no one gets spoilers

Thought about it a little and I'm gonna do 3 groups: LOLOMG (Zolf, Bertie, Hamid, and Sasha), Cairo2Rome (Grizzop, Azu, Hamid, and Sasha), and End Game (Zolf, Azu, Hamid, and Cel). NPCs like Oscar and James will pop up as they pop into my head

LOLOMG

Hamid hosts because duh?

His flat is quite roomy and fits all five of them comfortably

Yes, five. Because Oscar Wilde showed up and Hamid was too polite to turn him away

As a gesture of good will he swore nothing he heard that night would make it into a page

Zolf was promised some good drinks and drinks he has, though he doesn't let himself get hammered

Hamid hires a caterer but carries the food around on a plater himself

Sasha takes the whole platter and hides with it for the first half of the night, before warming up eventually (even if it's just a little)

The more drunk Bertie gets the more his political views sway in the other direction?

At one point he even says something supportive about poverty relief and liveable wages

Don't ask him about it in the morning, he won't remember (or claims not to)

As host, Hamid spends most of his time puttering around and checking on his guests

But once everyone has assured him he's fine he grabs some drinks and tries to get to know people better

Of course he doesn't let himself get too intoxicated, that would be impolite of a host

Tell me I'm wrong if you want but Sasha would jump at the chance to teach anyone how to throw knives if they asked, no matter who

So when Wilde expresses an interest she's giddy and pulling out all her favorite blades to show him

As the night draws to a close and the count down begins, somehow Hamid has managed to get everyone in one place and with a drink in their hands

They all count down and toast, staying up for about another hour before heading home or taking Hamid's offer to stay the night (he has lots of chairs, couches, pillows and blankets. Even the floor is quite comfy)

That got quite long oops (⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ so I'll do separate posts for the other two groups. I'm so tired though so those won't be till tomorrow. Happy New Year everyone!

[7r0773r]

The Great Enigma by Tomas Tranströmer, translated by Robin Fulton

The Palace

We stepped in. A single vast hall, silent and empty, where the surface of the floor lay like an abandoned skating rink. All doors shut. The air grey.

Paintings on the walls. We saw pictures throng lifelessly: shields, scale- pans, fishes, struggling figures in a deaf-and-dumb world on the other side.

A sculpture was set out in the void: in the middle of the hall alone a horse stood but at first when we were absorbed by all the emptiness we did not notice him.

Fainter than the breathing in a shell sounds and voices from the town circling in this desolate space murmuring and seeking power.

Also something else. Something darkly set itself at our senses' five thresholds without stepping over them. Sand ran in every silent glass.

It was time to move. We walked over to the horse. He was gigantic, dark as iron. An image of power itself abandoned when the princes left.

The horse spoke: "I am The Only One. The emptiness that rode me I have thrown. This is my stable. I am growing quietly. And I eat the silence that's in here."

***

Morning Birds

I waken the car whose windshield is coated with pollen. I put on my sunglasses. The birdsong darkens.

Meanwhile another man buys a paper at the railway station close to a large goods wagon, which is all red with rust and stands flickering in the sun.

No blank space anywhere here.

Straight through the spring warmth a cold corridor where someone comes running and tells how up at the head office they slandered him.

Through a back door in the landscape comes the magpie black and white. And the blackbird darting to and fro till everything becomes a charcoal drawing, except the white clothes on the washingline: a Palestrina chorus.

No blank space anywhere here.

Fantastic to feel how my poem grows while I myself shrink. It grows, it takes my place. It pushes me aside. It throws me out of the nest. The poem is ready.

***

Further In

On the main road into the city when the sun is low. The traffic thickens, crawls. It is a sluggish dragon glittering. I am one of the dragon's scales. Suddenly the red sun is right in the middle of the windshield streaming in. I am transparent and writing becomes visible inside me words in invisible ink that appear when the paper is held to the fire! I know I must get far away straight through the city and then further until it is time to go out and walk far into the forest. Walk in the footprints of the badger. It gets dark, difficult to see. In there on the moss lie stones. One of the stones is precious. It can change everything it can make the darkness shine. It is a switch for the whole country. Everything depends on it. Look at it, touch it...

***

Baltics

5

July 30th. The strait has become eccentric—swarming with jellyfish today for the first time in years, they pump themselves forward calmly and patiently, they belong to the same line: Aurelia, they drift like flowers after a sea burial, if you take them out of the water their entire form vanishes, as when an indescribable truth is lifted out of silence and formulated into an inert mass, but they are untranslatable, they must stay in their own element.

August 2nd. Something wants to be said but the words don't agree. Something which can't be said, aphasia, there are no words but perhaps a style...

You can wake up in the small hours jot down a few words on the nearest paper, a newsprint margin (the words radiate meaning!) but in the morning: the same words now say nothing, scrawls, slips of the tongue. Or fragments of the high nocturnal style that drew past?

Music comes to a man, he's a composer, he's played, makes a career, becomes Conservatory Director. The climate changes, he's condemned by the authorities. His pupil K is set up as prosecutor. He's threatened, degraded, removed. After a few years the disgrace lessens, he's rehabilitated. Then, cerebral hemorrhage: paralysis on the right side with aphasia, can grasp only short phrases, says the wrong words. Beyond the reach of eulogy or execration. But the music's left, he keeps composing in his own style, for the rest of his days he becomes a medical sensation.

He wrote music to texts he no longer understood— in the same way we express something through our lives in the humming chorus full of mistaken words.

The death-lectures went on for several terms. I attended together with people I didn't know (who are you?) —then each went his own way, profiles.

I looked at the sky and at the earth and straight ahead and since then I've been writing a long letter to the dead on a typewriter with no ribbon just a horizon line so the words knock in vain and nothing sticks.

I pause with my hand on the door handle, take the pulse of the house. The walls are so full of life (the children don't dare sleep alone in the little room upstairs—what makes me safe makes them uneasy).

August 3rd. In the damp grass a greeting shuffles from the Middle Ages, the Edible Snail, subtle gleaming grey-and-yellow, with his house aslant, introduced by monks who liked their escargots— the Franciscans were here, broke stone and burned lime, the island became theirs in 1288, a gift of King Magnus ("Almes fordoth all wykkednes / And quenchyth synne and makyth hyt les") the forest fell, the ovens burned, the lime was shipped in for the building of the monastery... Sister snail almost motionless in the grass, the antennae are sucked in and rolled out, disturbances and hesitation... How like myself in my searching!

The wind that's been blowing carefully all day —the blades of grass on the outer skerries are all counted— has lain down peacefully at the heart of the island. The match flame stands straight. The sea painting and the forest painting darken together. The foliage on the five-story trees turns black. "Each summer is the last." Empty words for the creatures in the late-summer midnight where the crickets whirr their sewing machines frantically and the Baltic is close and the lonely water tap rises among the wild roses like the statue of a horseman. The water tastes of iron.

***

The Black Mountains

At the next bend the bus broke free of the mountain's cold shadow, turned its nose to the sun, and crept roaring upward. We were packed in. The dictator's bust was wrapped in newspaper. A bottle passed from mouth to mouth. Death, the birthmark, was growing on all of us, quicker on some, slower on others. Up in the mountains the blue sea caught up with the sky.

***

Black Postcards, 2

In the middle of life it happens that death comes to take man's measurements. The visit is forgotten and life goes on. But the suit is sewn on the quiet.

***

Snow Is Falling

The funerals keep coming more and more of them like the traffic signs as we approach a city.

Thousands of people gazing in the land of long shadows.

A bridge builds itself slowly straight out in space.

***

Haikus

Death stoops over me. I'm a problem in chess. He has the solution.

Sitting on a shelf in the library of fools the sermons untouched.

[lavenelle]

Haru

Scent: Cherry blossom, mimosa, hemlock, and bergamot. 

“I told you we have an image to uphold!” Haru’s father shouts at her as soon as the doors are closed; the paper stings as he slaps her across the face with her report card. 

How dare she not get all As? How dare she not live up to his expectations? 

She waits a few moments after he slams the door to her room shut before she begins to cry. Five minutes, she tells herself. Then she has to wipe the tears away and study till her eyes can no longer stay open. 

She’s barrelling towards burnout; she can feel it bubbling under the surface. Irritable and snippy, jealousy is taking hold of her psyche as she sees her classmates score higher than her, gaining praise from others. Still, she tries– but it’s a losing battle. She knows it deep down. She’s not like her peers. She can’t remember dates, she can’t pull obscure knowledge from thin air, and she has trouble keeping numbers straight. During tests, her heart rate spikes, everything becomes a blur, and it feels as if all her thoughts, all the words, images, and memories just leech from her mind like water through a sieve. Then its times up, and she has nothing to show for those endless nights of studying without sleep. 

She can’t take it anymore. Before she even steps into the entryway, she can see the bruises start to form, and she can feel the heat left by the hands of her father. But she wasn’t prepared for him to look at her with complete apathy. His eyes are void of all emotion as he walks right past her, never speaking a word to her again. 

“I’m an omega.” 

When Haru presents, it’s like her world–  hundreds of scattered puzzle pieces– begin to snap into place. By now, she’s been forgotten. She takes money out of her parent’s wallets whenever she needs it, and she never studies, going through the motions till she can graduate high school. She replaces cram school and late nights studying with a job at a bar, lying on the application. When she graduates, she skips the pleasantries and the afterparties. Having already booked an appointment downtown, she gets her first three tattoos that night, with more to follow soon after. She moves out and gets a roommate and a friend from work. They make her feel safe. Safer than anyone else. Everyone at the bar does. She comes clean to them, about her age, and surprisingly keeps her job. Her boss says it’s because she’s a draw, but she knows he would be lost without her, she’s lasted the longest of all his employees. She has long blonde hair at the moment and likes to wear tight clothes and high heels. She knows she can draw them in too, and if she bats her eyes and pads her bra, she’ll get more tips. But she’ll never sleep with them, won’t even take the bait when they ask for a sniff when half-drunk.  

But she’s still an omega. 

The heats are unbearable for her, and taking time off to deal with them consistently eats into her bank account. So she has a system. When she feels that itch and starts to feel the fever creep up. When her customers complement her unique scent a little too much. When she can feel the gaze of others linger as she walks home at night. She goes out, looking for a quick fix, a one-night stay at a hotel or someone’s bed. But she’s still picky, she won’t fuck just anyone. If they’re cute enough and call her pretty, she’ll be more than glad to share a night with them, but never a morning. She doesn’t want to know their hobbies or job and doesn’t care about their fears or dreams. It’s just for the sake of convenience and maybe a little bit of a game. Though sometimes, when she talks to her patrons when she hears their stories of “love at first sight,” she can’t help but feel that jealousy bubble up from underneath the surface once again. But she blocks it all out, the sound of her father yelling disrupting her thoughts. 

She has her own dreams. 

She tells her new roommate as they move in his things. He’s a recent hire, but she still feels like she can be around him. But when asked what they are, she can’t name them. So maybe, she’s still a bit lost about her place in this world. She’s young, and she’s still spent more than half her life being told what to do than deciding it on her own. She’s still a part of Fenglan, though she doubts if many people could recognize her now. Though her scent would give her away, bergamot was more masculine, more associated with alphas, and hemlock on its own smelled like rot. In the wild, it was poisonous; inhaling too much could kill. Yet when mixed with mimosa and cherry blossom, they became softer, like a flowery bouquet tinged with a hint of danger. The anxiety of anyone acknowledging her past makes her anxious. She passes by a mirror in the bathroom of a club and stares; she changed her hair again– maybe she needs a new tattoo? Maybe that would put her mind at ease? She’s wearing lingerie over a t-shirt dress with black knee-high socks and platforms that make her four inches taller. There’s no way anyone could recognize her. Yet it eats away at her as she looks into the eyes of a stranger, looking for any faint recognition before she pulls them in for a kiss. Maybe she has no dreams, she thinks, maybe she’s just living one day to the next in the hope of inspiration to strike like lightening. 

[wingedarrows]

Plan to write charmed between reading chapters of casting rain is going well. I just moved into my first apartment though so it's gonna be slowing down a lot while I'm unpacking and organizing and getting things fixed up. Also drawing epsilon and brimstar has taken up all my nighttime free time.

[dasistmeinpferd]

Forgot that June was Pride Month, but anyway here take my gays: Andy Rosales (left) and Mark Feng (right). Might draw some more, we’ll see.

(psst, click for better quality it looks so fricking blurry like this)

[moralesispunk]

Kinktober Day Seven - Sex Toys // Marcus Pike

Kinktober Masterlist / @the-purity-pen​

Warnings: female reader and gendered terms used, established relationship (marriage), edging with sex toy, overstimulation, Marcus is a pleasure dom (I will never think otherwise)

Word Count: 2.6k

A/n: alright everything till now has still been pretty romantic but I think this one is mostly hot with a liiiiiittle romance too (it is me, after all)

The situation you had found yourself in was really putting the capital N in Not Safe For Work.

It was a rare day, the first in months in fact, when you and Marcus were both working from home at the same time. 

Working from home usually meant falling into a pit of boredom where it was difficult to get anything productive done but with Marcus working at the desk across from you it was easy to stay motivated - five minutes of chatting being enough to shake any fatigue away for you to get back to work. It wasn’t even for a full day - his suit trousers and shirt that had been rolled up to his forearms a sign of a morning spent in the office for a meeting - but you had been starting to wonder why you didn’t do this more often.

When your thighs pressed together for the dozenth time in two hours and the monitor started to blur before your eyes it was clear that there was definitely a reason you didn’t do this. It hadn’t taken long for one too many heated stares across your desks to turn into something more, something that made playing basketball with a crumpled up piece of paper and your trashcan on days you were alone seem a lot more productive.

By the time Marcus had strolled into your home office around eleven you had already managed to finish all of today’s to-do list and a good share of tomorrow’s tasks, too; it’s why it had been so easy to get lost staring between your monitors at your too-handsome-for-words husband in the first place.

The first few times he caught you staring you had looked away with a shy smile, his soft laughter bouncing around the walls as he went back to typing on his computer. The fourth time he had sent you a wink. The fifth time, with your chin resting in your hand and your eyes blinking slowly across at him as you let out a deep sigh, you hadn’t even realized you had been staring until he had softly called your name.

“Come here for a second?” You shook yourself out of your daze, locking your laptop and pushing your chair back to walk around and perch on the edge of his desk as Marcus leaned back in his leather chair. “Easily distracted today?”

You shrugged, biting back a smile as Marcus ran his hands up the backs of your thighs beneath your dress and pushed you to sit all the way back on his desk before he stood between your legs. His suit trousers pressed against the soft skin on the inside of your thighs and his palms rested on the cool wood by your hips, his head dipping down as his eyes, that seemed to darken even more, bore into yours.

“Will you let me have some fun with you then?”

Your throat dried up when that question, in his deep, rich voice, came out of his mouth and you couldn't answer with words, instead dipping your chin in a nod. Marcus grinned down at you, pressing his lips to your forehead and running his palms up your arms before squeezing once above your elbows. 

“Close your eyes and wait here.”

Marcus didn't move until you closed your eyes, the sound of his footsteps leaving the room following quickly after. You tried to concentrate and listen to where he could be in the apartment but you couldn't tell where the echo of doors opening and drawers closing was coming from. 

After about five minutes you heard him draw closer, the leather of his chair squeaking beneath his weight as he sat down and pulled it closer between your legs that you had crossed over. 

“Open,” he said, tapping your thigh with two fingers and you did as he said. “Your eyes, too.”

When you blinked your eyes open your jaw went slack at the scene before you. Marcus had one of your toys from your bedside table, running his hands over it with a wipe to clean it and an unreadable expression on his face. Your eyes flicked down from his face to his hands, taking in the bright pink toy that he had bought for you not too long ago after a night spent looking through the sex-toy website together.

“Can I play?” You looked back up to his face and found it unnervingly relaxed, one dark eyebrow raised up at you. When you nodded your head he tutted, his lips pressing together before he spoke again. “I’m going to need you to use your words this time, honey.”

“Yes, Marcus. Please.”

The corner of his mouth twitched at your voice, breathy and rasping from the sudden excitement that was coursing through your body, and he nodded once, firmly.

“Good girl. Open your legs wider for me then.”

You did as he asked - no, commanded; your dress tightening around your knees before he pushed the material up to rest at your thighs as you leaned back on one of your palms to hold up your weight. You looked down at his hands again when the click of a bottle opening came and you watched as he coated the toy in lube, smirking up at you in a way that told you he was about to say something he thought was very funny.

“I brought this in case you needed the help but I can see…” His palm slowly skirted up the inside of your thigh before he swiped a finger through your wet folds, bringing it up to your mouth for you to wrap your lips around. “... that you may not have needed the help at all. Already so wet for me, sweetheart?”

You hummed around him, nibbling on the pad of his finger and smirking when his composed expression faltered for a second before letting it fall from your mouth with a pop. He trailed his hand back down your neck to your chest, where he teased one of your nipples over your clothes until your hips rocked up, finally resting his palm back on the inside of your thigh as brought the bright pink toy in his other hand to your entrance.

With how wet you were and the silicon coated in lube it didn’t take much for it to slip inside, Marcus slowly teasing your pussy as he inched it in bit-by-bit until it was settled deep inside you and clamped over your clit.

Marcus had used it on you once before, the very day the discrete package had arrived, and it didn’t take long for him to make you come around the toy. Then again. And again. And again.

His eyes were firmly set on the toy now, the fingers of one hand stroking up and down your folds as the other gripped the soft skin of your thigh. As he spent his time examining you, you did the same back to him.

His hair was that smart-messy way it always was; his eyelids half closed in lust as he stared at you; his usually sharp jaw set tight; his expression one that appeared a lot calmer than you knew he was - something that was somehow making all of his even more arousing.

By the time he had sat back in his chair with a carefully concealed smugness on his face, you were already a panting mess and the vibrations hadn’t even started yet.

“Get back to work, then.” Marcus patted the outside of your thigh, helping you down from the table and pulling your dress back into place.

When your feet landed back on the ground the toy shifted inside you and you couldn’t help but gasp, glaring back at Marcus who was biting the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling.

*****

It had been hours of teasing and taunting with the remote in his hand. 

You would be in the middle of typing an email or filing away documents when the toy would hum to life, your thighs rubbing together and your eyes fluttering closed as you tried to fight against the vibrations that shuddered through your body.

It was clear that Marcus was keeping the vibrations at a low enough level to build you up to the edge but never pushing you over; your fingers gripping the edge of your desk and your eyes locking with his as you panted through another almost-orgasm while his jaw clenched at every high-pitched gasp and whimper that had left your mouth.

You were so on edge from being, literally, strung along the edge or waiting for the toy to come to life once more that you could barely focus on anything.

When you both took a lunch break, the remote was locked in his desk drawer and nothing was said of the toy between your legs as you both sat at the kitchen table and spoke about your weekend plans; about the farmers market Marcus wanted to go to and the cousin you wanted to visit; about the pantry that desperately needed a clear out and the spare room that Marcus wanted to finish painting; about that show that you both wanted to curl up and finish watching. You had almost forgotten about the toy as you walked back into the office before you both sat back across from each other just as it purred to life once more.

It had been an afternoon of torture and the buttons on your dress had been undone all the way down to the middle of your chest with your bra on show as you tried to cool at least part of you down. Marcus watched you carefully each time he built you up, his thumb mindlessly rubbing across the remote as if he was the one who was bringing you to the edge with his touch alone.

There had been some sort of reprieve of vibrations long enough for you to fill up your bottle of water, the corridor feeling a lot easier to walk down when you weren’t gripping the walls to keep yourself upright. When you walked back into the office you were too busy focusing on your own desk to notice Marcus behind his, your eyes completely skipping over the black remote that was back in his hand or how his thumb swiped across it to start up the vibrations once more.

“Marcus!” Your legs gave out from under you before you could reach your desk and you found yourself on your hands and knees with the bottle of water clattering by your side, the vibrations pulsing through your body stronger than they had been all day.

Until now it had been almost a dull ache, one that had lasted long enough it could bring you to the edge without tipping you over, but now the vibrations were pulsing against your clit and that spot inside you that had your thighs squeezing together and eyes fluttering closed. You had lost count of the amount of times Marcus had built you up only to stop before you could come and it had made your whole body sensitive, the way you had been caught so off guard dragging you right to the edge again as your nails dug into the carpet.

Above your gasps you heard Marcus’s voice, looking up to find his jaw resting in his palm and his elbow leaning on the arm of his chair as he stared at you with dark eyes. “Crawl to me.”

It took more effort than you cared to admit to get your body to move, your hands and knees moving across the carpet until you stopped by his chair and sat back on your knees with your hands clenched into fists by your side as you tried to fight against the strong vibrations.

“Please, Marcus, I can’t- I can’t take any more.”

“Are you going to come?” His fingers hooked under your chin, tilting your face up to his. 

His eyes were dark and he was breathing heavily through his nose as he looked down at you sweating and begging by his side. Up this close you could tell that he wasn’t as in control as he had been pretending to be all day, tittering on the edge of throwing the last of his restraint out of the window and bending you over his desk to fuck into next week.

“Please,” you cried.

You could only guess what you looked like now your body was thrust back into the painful-pleasure, mascara running and skin damp with sweat, but you could see in Marcus’s eyes that he enjoyed the view. His hand moved up to hold your jaw, his thumb swiping across the drying tears on your cheeks before going back to hold your chin. His head dipped down, his lips brushing over yours as he used his other hand to kick up the vibrations again.

“Come for me,” he mumbled against your lips.

And you did. You shattered around the toy and Marcus held you in place, his thumb and forefinger gripping your chin when you tried to dip your head down as your body shook with pleasure. You could barely hold yourself up as your eyelids fluttered closed, your hands flying to his forearm to hold on to him as a day’s worth of almost-orgasms rocked through your body.

“Look at me,” he commanded, shaking you ever so slightly. “Look. At. Me.”

Your eyes opened and you moaned even louder, the vibrations kicking up to a level you didn’t know existed as you dug your nails into his skin where his sleeves had been rolled up and forced yourself to keep your gaze on his.

“That’s it. There you go,” he cooed, his grip loosening ever so slightly and his thumb stroking across your jaw. You could only gasp, your voice lost in the back of your throat as he kept the vibrations going until he had wrung out the end of your orgasm and then some. “You look so pretty like this.”

After a day begging to come you were about to beg for him to stop; the release that you had chased all afternoon was now too much and you weren’t sure how much more of it you could take.

“Marcus, please. I c-can’t.”

“Yes you can.” His voice was so firm and calm that you had to believe him, your body slumping onto his thigh and his hand stroking the back of your head and shoulder as you rolled into another, smaller orgasm. “That’s my girl, always listen so well.”

“Marcus,” you cried again and the vibrations finally stopped, his hands coming under your arms and lifting you up and onto the desk in front of him.

You placed your weight back on your palms before sinking to your forearms, Marcus’s hand sliding up your thighs and parting your legs for him.

His fingers stroked down your wrecked folds and you shivered, the sensitive part of you wanting to cry out as he carefully slipped the toy out of you. For a moment he didn’t move and you lifted your head from where you had been looking at the ceiling to look at Marcus, finding his eyes firmly on the space between your legs and his bottom lip between his teeth.

When his eyes flicked up to yours, you knew you weren’t done yet. His hands opened your thighs wider, your weight falling back onto the desk as he stood over you and began to unbuckle his belt.

“Going to let me fuck you now, honey?”

[dreamingofaizawa]

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

*

*

*

“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

*

***3 months later***

*

A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

[chaeryybomb]

TRAITOR

pairings: female reader x lee heeseung

summary: you thought lee heeseung was the best boyfriend you could ever wished for. but they did warn you about long distanced relationships. at first, you convinced yourself that it was just your insecurities taking over. but your gut feeling has never been wrong

genre: college au, lovers to exes, fluff, angst, sad ending

featuring: kang hyewon, shin ryujin, lee chaeryeong, lee daehwii, yang jeongin & zhong chenle

word count: 10.4k

warnings: breaking up, mentions of insecurity and cheating, arguments, strong language

the sour series masterlist

Setting down the final box on the ground, you released a sigh of relief and stretched your arms upwards. The satisfying sounds of your joints popping gave you a sense of relief as you stretched. Then you felt a pair of arms snake around your waist. You smiled as you took in his familiar scent. You reached up to touch his neck as Heeseung pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

"Thank you for your help, lovely," he mumbled in your hair.

You turned around in his arms and clasped your hands behind his neck, toying with the back of his hair. Lee Heeseung was looking at you with pure love in his eyes and you couldn't be more happy. "I can't believe we're both finally in university," he said, squeezing your waist.

"Hmm yeah, finally out of high school," you hummed. "It's sad that we didn't get into the same university though," you cupped his left cheek, rubbing his cheek lovingly with your thumb.

Heeseung nuzzled into your hand, slowly drawing you closer. "I can always drive to your dorm, it's just a three hour drive from here."

"Or I can drive to you," you replied.

He scoffed, "Yeah if you get your driver's license," he teased.

You rolled your eyes and softly punched him on the chest before pushing yourself away from his embrace. "Listen, not all of us can miraculously pass on their first try okay," you defended yourself but Heeseung just laughed at you.

Although you tried to act like you were mad at his joke, you couldn't wipe the smile off your face as you sat down on his bed. Currently, the two of you were in Heeseung's dorm. You wanted to help him move in before you had to leave. Heeseung and you were high school sweethearts, the school's loveliest couple. And you've been together ever since then. Today marked a new milestone for the both of you as you had finally graduated from high school and now both of you were accepted into different universities.

The both of you had decided to do what's best for each other and went to different schools. It was for the sake of your future, you didn't want to cause a commotion just because you guys were three hours apart. Plus, it was just three hours. Heeseung could always come visit you and video calls were a thing. You're friends were scared that the both of you wouldn't survive a long distance relationship but you had faith in each other. And that was enough.

Heeseung was lucky to have a room all for himself, whereas you had to share a dorm with two other girls. His room was small but big enough for one person. You knew Heeseung was a simple man, if it had a bed and a table, that would be enough for him. A knock on the door caught your attention, you suddenly remembered that you guys had left the door open when you were moving boxes.

Outside the door stood a pretty girl with long blonde hair. She was really pretty, you noted. She looked so natural as a blonde as well, you couldn't help but thought. The pretty girl sent both of you an awkward smile and waved. You stood up and walked to her, somewhat excited to make a new friend.

"Hi!" You greeted her with a smile, you felt Heeseung behind you.

"Hi," she mirrored your smile. "I'm Hyewon, I'm from the room next door," she pointed out.

"Oh! I'm Heeseung," the taller boy introduced himself. "And this is my girlfriend, Y/N," he smiled at you.

"It's nice to meet you, are you both music majors too?" Hyewon asked. It was common for Hyewon to ask that, considering the university Heeseung applied for is known for their music stream. Heeseung was extremely talented, being blessed with a heavenly voice and all. It was his dream to pursue a music career. Thanks to you, he found the courage to do so,

"Oh no, just him. I don't actually go here," you immediately told her. "I actually go to George University instead."

"Oh! So you're a theatre major then," Hyewon said, surprising you a bit. You nodded in return and Hyewon's smile seemed to grow wider. The university you applied to was quite well known for its theatre arts course. "That's so cool, I'm a theatre major too!"

Your eyes lit up in excitement and you stepped closer to the blonde, eager to learn more about her. But before you could ask her anything, your phone chimed. You gave her an apologetic look before checking your phone. "It's my mom, she's asking when I'll be home. I still have to pack up," you said disappointed. You really wanted to talk more with Hyewon so the both of you could geek out. (And spend a bit more time with Heeseung.) Hyewon looked disappointed too that you couldn't stay longer.

"Let me drive you home," Heeseung started to move to get his keys but you placed your hand on his arm to stop him.

"Nah, it's fine," you shook your head. "I can take the bus home."

"Then I'll walk you to the bus stop," Heeseung said with determination. He was gonna make use of whatever time he had to spend it with you, even if it was for five seconds.

You realised that there was no way of rejecting him, so you just chuckled and said, "Alright, let me grab my bag then." But Heeseung was already one step ahead of you as he had already gone to get it for you. You sent another smile to Hyewon. "It was really great to meet you, Hyewon. I hope we can talk again soon," you told her.

"Likewise Y/N, have a safe trip home," she bid you goodbye before returning to her room.

Heeseung appeared behind you once again, sneakily slipped his fingers through yours and pulled you out of the room. He locked the door with your bag on his shoulder, he looked like he had the intention of not letting you hold it.

"C'mon," he tugged your hand and you giggled, falling into step with him.

The walk to the bus stop felt quicker than it should be, much to your dismay. The bus stop was empty besides the both of you. As the two of you stood under it, you mindlessly swung your intertwined hands back and forth. Heeseung laughed at your action. He released your hand and you looked up curious on why he did it. Heeseung moved so he was standing behind you and wrapped his arms around you, effectively back hugging you.

Your lips tugged upward at the position you were and you held onto his arms. Slowly, he started to rock you back and forth. "I'm gonna miss you," he suddenly said.

You couldn't help but let your smile falter. You were gonna miss him too, you're gonna miss him so much. "This is the first time where we'll be so far apart, I think I might die without you," he rubbed his face into your hair as you laughed at his words.

"I'll call you everyday, Hee. I promised," you assured him with a pat on his arm. The taller boy only hummed in reply but you felt him move his arms to your middle so he could bury his face in the crook of your neck. You giggled when you felt him peppered small kisses up around your neck.

"I love you," he mumbled before pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head.

"Love you too," you leaned back into him.

Just in time you saw the bus in the distance, which meant your time with Heeseung was ending. As the bus slowed down in front of you, your boyfriend finally reluctantly let you go from his slip. "I'll see you soon, okay?" you promised him. He nodded and leaned down to give you one more kiss before you entered the bus.

Sitting down, you waved from the window and he gave you a smile. Oh god, you already missed him. Heeseung watched as your bus left the station. You sighed, leaning back into the seat. This was the beginning of a new chapter of your relationship, and you have faith that the both of you will be okay.

"Thank you," you said to the barista as she handed you your coffee. With your free hand, you pushed the front door open. The November breeze welcomed you once you stepped outside, your coffee warming your fingertips. Your phone then started to ring in your pocket. You fished your phone out and a smile crept onto your face when you saw the contact name.

"Hello, love," Heeseung greeted as soon as you picked up. You smiled at him, holding your phone in front of your face.

"Good morning, Hee. I just got my coffee," you showed him your coffee like it was a little trinket. Heeseung laughed at your child-like action. The second semester was almost ending and your relationship was still going strong. The both of you were consistent with the video calls and text messages. You'd be calling him at the end of every day and the two of you would talk about your day till one of you fell asleep. (Spoiler: It was usually you.)

And now your second semester as a couple is ending, the both of you had decided to retreat back to your hometown during the break like you did during your first break. So you could bask in each other's presence and visit some old friends. It was slowly starting to become a tradition and you couldn't ask for anything more.

"So, how was your audition?" Heeseung asked as you walked past a group of band kids, sending them a smile as they waved at you.

At the mention of the audition, your smile turned into a pout. "Rejected, as usual," you sighed. You have auditioned for almost every play in your school but you were always rejected or chosen as a background character if you were lucky. You knew that there were a lot of talented students in your school, but you felt dejected each time.

"Sorry, love. I'm sure you'll have better luck next time," Heeseung told you with a sad smile. "I wish I could hold you right now."

You looked at him with a sad gaze, "Me too, Hee." You couldn't lie that long distance relationships were hard, everyday was spent through a screen and you yearned to be next with him physically. During the first few weeks, you told yourself that you would get used to it after a while. Spoiler alert, you still haven't gotten used to it. "But enough of that!" You said, waving away the depressed aura and taking a long sip from your coffee before letting out a sigh. "Our break is coming up and I can't wait to see you."

At the mention of the break, you noticed how Heeseung visibly flinched. His eyes suddenly weren't looking at you anymore, averting his gaze to the side instead. "We are going to be seeing each other, right?" You inquired. But you were met with silence, you stopped in your tracks when Heeseung didn't say anything. "Hee?"

"Actually, Y/N," he started to say and you felt your heart sink already. He didn't call you "love". Some may say you were being dramatic, but Heeseung only used your name whenever something was serious. You're not going to be able to see him during break, your mind told you. You knew it was the most possible outcome, but you hoped that you were wrong.

"I'm not going back during break."

And there it was, what possibly could have been the worse news for you. "Oh," was all you could say, your fingers tightened slightly around the plastic cup before you plastered on a fake smile. "Well, there's always next semester," you assured him, but it felt more like you were reassuring yourself. This was going to be your first winter break without Heeseung.

Heeseung smiled at your reply, a twinge of sadness in him but he brushed it off. "The reason is cause a senior from the film department asked me for help," he explained. "You see, there's a music video competition and he asked me if I could write a song for it."

Your eyes lit up in excitement. "No way! So they're gonna shoot a music video for your song?"

Heeseung nodded with a big smile. "Yup! It's such a big project, like they're bringing in some of the theatre kids as the actors and we're gonna start filming, like next month."

"I'm so happy for you, love," you told him truthfully. Internally, you were scolding yourself for feeling sad that he wouldn't be free during the break when he has something big going on in his life. Stop being so selfish, your mind scolded. Of course you felt a bit blue but this was a big opportunity for Heeseung, imagine if they won the competition. He would finally get some recognition for his music. And the fact that the senior chose him to write the song meant that people were already starting to appreciate his songs and his voice. You were being selfish, like a child.

As Heeseung continued to tell you about the project, you resumed your walk back to your dorms. You listened to him intensively, capturing every small detail in your heart. It was rare for you to see him speak so passionate. Music was his passion, his safe place. You knew that and you wanted him to live a life where he could make his dream a reality. A singer on the bright stage with thousands, no, millions of fans to appreciate his vocals.

You managed to reach your dorm just as Heeseung was being called for off screen. A feminine voice was calling from him and you easily recognised it. "Is that Hyewon?" You asked.

A few seconds passed and a familiar looking pretty blonde came into view. "Y/N? Y/N, hi!" The blonde waved at you enthusiastically, Heeseung was slowly being pushed out of the frame. You could tell he was scooting over to make space for Hyewon. An uneasy feeling slowly sprouted in you when you saw how Hyewon and Heeseung were sitting too close, but you shoved it down when the blonde girl grinned at you.

"Y/N!"

"Hyewon!" You responded with the same enthusiasm, which made the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

"I'm so sorry for disturbing your time but Chan is looking for you," she apologised, the last part directed to your boyfriend.

"Ah, it's okay, I understand," you said.

"I'll talk to you later, okay? Love you," Heeseung said once Hyewon was out of frame.

"Love you too," you replied and your phone screen turned black, your reflection staring right back at you. You were frowning. With a sigh, you stuffed your phone back into your phone pocket to unlock your front door. Your coffee was now cold in your hands and the uneasy feeling from before was slowly creeping back in. You did not like it one bit.

Chaeryeong and Ryujin thought you were being dramatic, they were right in a way. But you were too busy missing Heeseung to be bothered. You missed his warmth, his voice, the way his hands perfectly fit yours when he held them. you missed the way you laid your head on his chest when he sat behind you, you could always hear his steady heartbeat. It always lulled you to sleep in seconds.

You let out a long and loud sigh as you flipped onto your back on your childhood bed. You had returned to your hometown one week ago, which also meant another week without Heeseung. Your best friend and roommate, Chaeryeong, was the one who drove you both home. The last time you saw her was when she dropped you off at your parents home. And you've been dwelling in your Heeseung-less days ever since.

Reaching over to retrieve your phone, you moved to open your chat with Heeseung. The last text message from him was from this morning. It was just a simple "good morning" text, and you replied with the same message except you added a heart emoticon at the end. And the message was on delivered. Not even on read. You don't know which one was worse.

Your phone suddenly dinged and you immediately sat up straight, thinking it was Heeseung. But your shoulders sagged in disappointment when you saw it was just a message from Jeongin. If Ryujin had seen you right now, the short hair girl would have called you a "lovesick fool". She was right, of course but still.

[2:42 pm] jeongin: guess what

[2:44 pm] chenle: what

[2:44 pm] jeongin: guess

[2:45 pm] chenle: no

[2:45 pm] chenle: just tell us

[2:46 pm] jeongin: g u e s s

[2:46 pm] chenle: n o

[2:46 pm] jeongin: guess goddammit

[2:48 pm] ryujin: jeongin i stg

[2:48 pm] ryujin: i will break ur kneecaps just tell us

[2:49 pm] jeongin: ugh fine theres a amusement park and i wanna go

[2:50 pm] chenle: its winter

[2:50 pm] jeongin: yeah and

[2:50 pm] jeongin: is there snow? no

[2:51 pm] jeongin: so therefore, amusement park

[2:51 pm] ryujin: i-

[2:52 pm] chaeryeong: where is it

[2:52 pm] jeongin: its like a 2 hours away from here

[2:54 pm] ryujin: and who tf would be driving us genius

[2:55 pm] jeongin: y/n bc she loves us

[2:56 pm] y/n: since when

[2:56 pm] chaeryeong: and shes alive, great job jeongin

[2:57 pm] chaeryeong: u pulled her out from her depression

i[2:58 pm] y/n: hey im not depressed >:(

[2:59 pm] ryujin: hm sure

[2:59 pm] y/n: >:(

[3:00 pm] y/n: also i dont have my drivers license yet dumbass

[3:01 pm] jeongin: ah right i also forgot y/n cant drive

[3:01 pm] jeongin: ryujin it is

[3:02 pm] ryujin: whAT I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS

[3:03 pm] chaeryeong: lets meet up at jeongin's place then

[3:03 pm] chenle: cool with me

[3:05 pm] ryujin: HEY DONT IGNORE ME

[3:04 pm] y/n: sure!

You stifled a laugh as you read Ryujin's message. Then, you switched to check your chat between Heeseung and you. It was still on delivered. Maybe he's just busy with filming and recording. Yeah, he's probably busy. Stop being so selfish, Y/N.

Yang Jeongin just had to choose the coldest day of the year to go to the amusement park, didn't he. You silently thanked yourself for dressing up in an extra layer, unlike Chenle who looked like he was about to die from frostbite. Whereas Jeongin had a huge grin plastered on his face as he looked at the Ferris Wheel ahead. You rubbed your hands together, bringing it to your mouth to blow hot air at it. You heard the car door slam shut behind you and Ryujin walked next to you.

Families lined up at the ticket booth, laughter and chatter filled the atmosphere. You spot some couples around the area as well, the sight of them tugged at your heartstrings. You wished Heeseung was here with you, he would've wanted to go on the Ferris Wheel with you.

Chaeryeong linked arms with you and Ryujin, leading the two of you to the entrance. The boys already beat you guys to it, you realised. Once Chenle handed you your ticket, you were immediately dragged to the first ride that caught Jeongin's eye.

After a couple of hours, you found yourself resting on the bench with a cup of hot chocolate at your side. Your social battery was empty and you didn't know where the rest of your friends had gone. Ryujin may have mentioned going to the restroom, you're not sure, you were too tired to keep up. So here you were, on the bench next to the Teacups Ride.

You watched as the visitors walked past you. Some were students with their friends laughing as if it was their last day on earth, children giggling as their parents lifted them up in the air and couples sharing a loving look. You fiddle with your phone, debating whether you wanted to text Heeseung or not.

The both of you had called each other last night. You couldn't see him but his voice sounded tired. You felt bad for calling him. Maybe it was for the best if you didn't. You picked up your hot chocolate, the warmth spreading through your fingers as you blew on it. Your body relaxed once you took a sip, enjoying as the warmth spread through your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a very familiar looking coat.

You saw a couple walking together, he was wearing a coat that looked identical to the one you gifted Heeseung last year during Christmas. It was almost as if that was Heeseung, well his back kinda looked like his and Heeseung was about that height as well. But it couldn't be him, his school was almost three hours away from here. Plus the girl beside him was blonde, she kinda looked like Hyewon.

What are the odds of those two being here, you laughed. But when those two stopped in their tracks to look at the Ferris Wheel, your entire body froze right there and then. That was Heeseung and Hyewon together. What were they doing here?

Your body reacted immediately by standing up. Heart beating rapidly, you were about to walk towards them when you saw Heeseung laughing at something the blonde said. A gnawing feeling grew in you, he was laughing with her. He was at the amusement park with her. Not you. Her.

And he never mentioned anything about going to the amusement park, let alone the same one you were going to. Your feet stayed glued to the ground as you watched them get into one of the carts. Why was he here? Why didn't he tell you? Why was he with her? Why? Why? Why?

You saw Hyewon stopped from getting into the cart and she stretched her hand out while she looked up in the sky, Heeseung following her. It was snowing. It was the first snow. And Heeseung spent it with Hyewon, while you watched from the sidelines. They looked like an actual couple. Snow started to fall, your hot chocolate was losing its warmth and jealousy filled up instead. The noise drilled out of your ear so all you heard was a low buzz, your gaze burning on the two. You didn't notice Ryujin walking towards you.

"Jesus, the line was so long that I-" Ryujin stopped mid sentence, her eyes following the direction of your gaze. "Y/N?"

You walked past her without saying anything, chucking the drink into a trashcan.

Your phone felt heavy in your hands as you paced around your room. You knew your eyes weren't wrong. It was Heeseung and Hyewon at the amusement park, you could tell it was him from a mile away. After that incident, you went to find your friends and told them you wanted to go home because you weren't feeling well. It was partially a lie anyway, you didn't feel comfortable. You don't know what you would do if you had stumbled upon them.

Thousands of questions echoed through your mind. And you couldn't bear to ask Heeseung. You knew you had questions but you didn't know what to ask. Why didn't you tell me? Why were you with Hyewon? Why wouldn't you tell me?

Your phone suddenly rang, causing you to jolt in surprise. The phone screen lit up with his name in bold. He was calling you. Without thinking, you accepted the call.

"Hey, love," Heeseung's smooth voice greeted you.

"Hey," you replied, making sure your tone was steady. You were silently grateful that it wasn't a video-call so he couldn't see the nervousness in your eyes.

"How was the amusement park?" He asked.

You bit your thumb, hesitant to answer. Should you tell him that you saw him today? "It was fun, a lot of people thought," you hummed, moving over to sit on your bed.

"You know, funny story. Today we actually went to an amusement park too," he suddenly said and you froze on the spot. "They decided to film there so we went there in the afternoon, it started snowing too!"

You felt a weight was lifted from your heart. So it was just a pure coincidence. Heeseung never planned to go to the amusement park, he just went with what they said. "It would've been funny if we bumped into each other, don't you think, love?" He laughed but you couldn't find the energy to laugh along.

"Yeah," you mumbled, leaning back into your pillows. He was there to film for the music video. He's busy with the music video. It's always for the music video. You trust Heeseung, don't you?

Winter break went by like the cold breeze and now cherry pink flowers occupied the empty branches. Flowers were blooming from the left and right, the cold winter was now in the past and you welcomed (the still cold) spring into your arms. Which meant you left whatever uneasy feeling and doubts in the past.

You were currently in Heeseung's dorm. Today was a big day, it's the day where they were gonna upload the music video and Heeseung wanted you to be there to watch it with him. Heeseung picked you up from the bus stop and then took you out for lunch. Thankfully it was the weekend so you could stay for the night.

Heeseung was at his desk, his thumbs typing away as he laughed silently at his phone. You wondered who he was texting. Maybe he's texting Hyewon, your mind taunted. You shook your head to drive the thoughts away, you were not going to be paranoid. You already left the bitter feelings in winter, you agreed with yourself that you'll leave it behind. You trust Heeseung.

"Who are you texting?" Yet the question slipped out of you either way.

"Huh?" Heeseung looked up, like a deer caught in headlights. "Oh, uh no one," he quickly said, turning off his phone and placing it on his desk. "I think the music video is uploaded," he added before you could question him more.

He moved to his bed, where you were sitting. You scooted over to make space for him as he sat next to you with his laptop propped on his lap. He clicked into his senior's channel, Jeong Yunho, you took note. And there it was, the music video, uploaded forty five seconds ago. You let out an excited noise once you saw it.

"Not for sale," you read the title out loud. Heeseung had a proud look on.

The music video started off with a frame of Heeseung and Hyewon facing each other, then he handed her a note with the words "Not For Sale" on it. The camera then panned out to film the sky where the title appeared again in bold, and the song started to play. The song had a bubbly beat to it and Heeseung's angelic voice accompanied it. The music video was filled with pastels and some scenes were filmed at the amusement park. Specifically, at the carousel. There weren't any scenes of the Ferris Wheel though, you noted.

The video ended with Heeseung and Hyewon holding hands as they face the sunset, while the camera slowly zooms away from them and into the sky. The last scene was a black screen with all the credits listed out. When you saw Heeseung's name being credited for writing the song, you felt a sense of pride inside of you. Your boyfriend wrote this song, of course you're going to be proud.

Once the video ended, you threw your arms around Heeseung. Heeseung laughed as he wrapped an arm around your middle and the other holding onto his laptop. You planted a big fat kiss on his cheek and he tightened his hold on you.

"The song was so good, Hee! I'm so proud of you, babe," you complimented him, one hand reaching up to ruffle his hair while the other cupped his cheek.

Heeseung smiled and leaned into your touch. "Thank you so much, lovely. This song means a lot to me," he kissed your nose. "I actually thought of you when I wrote this song," he confessed.

You blinked at him, your heart beating faster as you processed his words. You were kneeling on his bed as he looked up at you, pink dusted on his cheeks. Instead of saying anything, you threw yourself onto him, tightly wrapping your arms around his torso to buried your head in his neck. Heeseung let out an "oof" when you knocked him back onto his bed, his laptop on the edge of his bed.

"I love you," you mumbled.

"I love you, too," he said. His hand reached up to stroke your head as the both of you laid there in each other's embrace.

A few minutes passed and Heeseung tapped on your head to get your attention. "Hm?" you hummed in reply.

"I need to go pee, love."

"No," you said stubbornly, tightening your arms around him.

"Please, love. I'll be back fast, I promise," Heeseung told you, looking down on you.

You lifted your head to rest your chin on his chest as you narrowed your eyes at him. "Hng, fine," you pouted before you rolled off him.

"Thank you, lovely," he pecked your lips before pushing himself off his bed, not before moving his laptop to his desk.

You watched as Heeseung left his dorm to go to the restroom. You stretched your arms upwards, making grabby hands in the air before sitting up. You reached over to his desk, which was next to the bed, to get your phone when you saw Heeseung's phone lit up. You knew you shouldn't have looked but when her name was in bold white, you couldn't look away.

[4:47 pm] hyewon: can't wait to do it again hee!

"Can't wait to do it again?" You read the message out loud. Can't wait to do what again? And since when did Hyewon called him "Hee"? That was your nickname for him. The bitter feelings from winter crept back into you like the cold seeping in through the crack of your window. Why did you feel so uneasy whenever Hyewon was alone with Heeseung? Was there something going on?

No, they're just friends, Y/N, you reminded yourself. Just friends.

The door opened and your eyes snapped up to see Heeseung returning from the restroom. Suddenly, you wanted to get out of here. You don't know why, but that text message from her just rubbed you the wrong way and you wanted to get out of there before you say something you regret.

"Ryujin just texted me that she needs my help," you lied. You stood up to grab your coat and bag from the chair.

"Woah, woah, what's with the hurry?" Heeseung took a hold of your wrist as he looked at you. But your eyes didn't meet his.

"Ryujin has an emergency, she needs my help," you said again, this time firmly.

"Oh," his grip on you loosened and you pulled your hand back to you. "I'll drive you back-"

"No, it's fine," you cut him off. "I-I'll take the bus home. I'll call you tonight," the words rushed out of your lips and soon enough you were out of his door.

You did not call him that night.

You ignored Ryujin's questions when you reached your dorm, she didn't press on. Now it was Sunday morning and Ryujin had left for breakfast. You felt bad for leaving Heeseung like that and ignoring Ryujin when she just wanted to help you. And you knew you should've talked it out instead of walking out. Sighing, you curled deeper into your blanket.

After a few minutes, you threw your covers off and sat up. Maybe some warm breakfast would make you feel better. So you went down to the cafeteria to see your friends all huddled up at the corner.

"Y/N, just in time!" Jeongin called out. Curious, you walked towards them and saw that they were watching Heeseung's music video.

"The song is so sweet," Chaeryeong cooed, leaning onto you.

You let out an awkward laugh, not quite sure what to feel because of the act you pulled yesterday.

"It has almost two thousand views. I bet you must feel so proud, huh," Chaeryeong said.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you nodded. Now you feel even more bad, Heeseung wrote this song for you and you should've stayed at his dorm to celebrate with him. Instead, you left because you saw one text message without context. You were being a bad girlfriend, you should apologise to him.

"Who's the other girl? She's really pretty," Jeongin suddenly asked.

"Ah, that's Hyewon. She's his neighbour," you explained.

"Hyewon? As in Kang Hyewon?" Daehwii suddenly said. He was passing by when he heard you say her name and pulled a chair across Jeongin. You nodded. "Oh, I know her," he casually said.

You tilted your head to the side. "You do?" Jeongin leaned forward. You heard Ryujin mumble "simp" under her breath, and you bit back a laugh.

"Mhmm," Daehwii nodded and pulled out his phone. A few seconds later, he showed his phone screen and it was Hyewon's Instagram. "I went to the same high school with her, she was really popular. All the teachers said she had the face of an actress. There was a rumour that she even got scouted by an entertainment company."

Ryujin reached over to grab his phone to scroll through her account. "Woah, she has like two hundred thousand followers," she said in amazement. You leaned closer to Ryujin to check, Hyewon sure was popular.

"Yeah, she's a free-lance model and I think she models for smaller brands," Daehwii added.

You couldn't help but feel very small next to her. She was beautiful and she had somewhat of a reputation in the entertainment industry, a rising model. Imagine what kind of connections she could get for Heeseung…

"I bet Heeseung wrote this song for you," Ryujin suddenly said, smoothly switching the topic back to the song.

You felt your cheeks to warm up at her words. Sheepishly, you nodded. Your friends immediately reacted with a chorus of "ooh"s and Chaeryeong playfully nudged your shoulder. "Fuck Romeo and Juliet, I want what these bitches have," Jeongin quoted and the rest of you fell into laughter.

After breakfast, you and Ryujin strolled back to your rooms with your arms linked together. She was telling you about what happened when you weren't here yesterday. "And then he said and I quote "sometimes bullying is okay" just as a family was walking by, the mom was literally glaring at us," you laughed as she told you. "And then- oh," she stopped, and you stopped as well. She was looking ahead of you so you followed her gaze.

"Heeseung?" His name left your lips before you could even process the whole situation.

Heeseung waved awkwardly at you, internally wincing when you used his full name. You and Ryujin exchanged a look before Ryujin pushed you towards him. You stumbled right into his arms but you took a step out of his arms, you rubbed your forearms instead.

"What are you doing here?" You asked him.

"Ah," he rubbed the back of his neck, "I wanted to surprise you since you left early yesterday. I hope you were able to solve Ryujin's problem."

At the mention of Ryujin's "emergency", you stiffened because you didn't mention that you had used her in a lie. You could feel her eyes on you and mentally hope that she got the message.

"Uh, yeah. It was solved," Ryujin replied with an awkward chuckle. "Actually, I forgot I had to meet up with Chaeryeong so it was great seeing you, Heeseung." You turned around and mouthed a "thank you" at her and she gave you a look as if to say "we are going to talk about this later".

And then the two of you were left alone in the empty hallway. Was it always this awkward?

Heeseung stood awkwardly in your room. This was the first time he looked so out of place. Usually, you were the one at his dorm. He doesn't come over to yours that often since he was more busy than you. So it truly was a surprise when you saw him outside your door.

"So, uh, how are you?" He asked.

You hummed in reply. "I'm doing fine," as you sat down on your bed.

"Great! That's great," he coughed while he played with his fingers.

And then the awkward silence returns. You knew it was your fault for walking out yesterday, you probably made him think he did something wrong. When really it was just you refusing to communicate. You gripped your sheets, your mind running laps on what to say. But he beat you to it.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Your eyes snapped up to finally meet his eyes, he was looking at you with brown innocent eyes. Your heart broke a bit at the sight. "It's not you," you assured him. "It's…it's just me," you told him truthfully.

Heeseung looked at you with confusion, he didn't understand what was wrong. He wanted to help but he didn't know how. So instead, he slowly moved to sit next to you. When you did not move away, he took it as a sign of permission. So he took your hands into his, slowly rubbing circles on top of your hand.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"Love, what are you even sorry about?" He softly asked.

"I saw you at the amusement park that day," you confessed.

Heeseung's fingers stopped moving. "Oh," was all he could say. You bit the inside of your cheek, the atmosphere shifted but you can't read him at all.

"I'm sorry," you whispered again because you didn't know what to say. "Ever since that day, I've been feeling weird whenever I see you with Hyewon and I don't like it."

"Love," he softly cupped your cheek to make you look at him, "are you perhaps jealous?" he asked with a teasing tone. You shifted your gaze to the side, you were jealous but you were reluctant to admit it. But your avoiding eyes already sold you out. Heeseung chuckled and brought you into his embrace. "There's nothing to be jealous of. Hyewon and I are just friends," he assured you.

His voice was genuine when he told you and you felt a sense of relief hearing him say those words. You fell forward to hug him and Heeseung immediately accepted you. He planted a kiss on the top of your head and sighed. "Next time we're gonna be honest with each other, okay?"

"Okay."

Heeseung was right, honesty was the key to maintaining a healthy relationship, Heeseung has been nothing but truthful to you since the start, and you allowed yourself to be overwhelmed by your insecurities instead of talking it out. This reminded you of when Heeseung once shut you out because he didn't want to burden you.

He hid his passion for music from you because he thought you would react like his parents, against him. He refused to tell you the truth which left you confused and hurt. Did I do something wrong? The question was constantly in your head. It wasn't until you forced it out of him, and it was the first time you saw his composed figure break down in tears. You embraced him and assured him with comforting words, you loved him at his worst.

And you told him the exact same words: "Next time we're gonna be honest with each other, okay?"

Exam season was the most painful time of your life. Everyday was the same routine: wake up, eat, study, sleep and repeat. You're starting to spend more time in the library than in the comfort of the dorm. Heeseung was just as busy as you, the both of you rarely have enough time to check up on each other. But you tried and so did he.

You plucked out your earphones and let it fall into your lap as you stretched your arms upwards. Chaeryeong and Ryujin were scattered around your shared room, with the latter laying face down on her bed. The three of you had spent your entire morning studying for your own examinations. You had sent Heeseung a quick good morning text before telling him that your phone will be on silent mode until you were done.

That was six hours ago. You pushed your laptop away from you as you reached over for your phone. You smiled when you saw your first notification was from your boyfriend.

[8:15 am] hee <3: okay remember to stay hydrated love! and take some breaks in between!!!

"Look at her, smiling all lovey dovey and shit," Ryujin sneered at you in disgust as she lifted herself onto her elbows.

You stuck your tongue out at her before typing a reply.

[3:52 pm] y/n: guess who's done studying?? 

While waiting for his reply, you decided to scroll through Instagram. Tapping through people's stories, you stumbled upon Hyewon's one. (She had followed you a few weeks ago.) Your thumb pressed down on your phone screen as your breath hitched. It was a photo of Heeseung, it looked like he was in the library and he was reading a book. The words "with mr. hardworking" positioned above his head. You tapped through to the next slide and it was a candid of Heeseung looking up at her with a smile, his hand outreached to grab her phone. This time the words "oops, got caught" were written on the side. You checked and saw it was posted ten minutes okay.

You frowned at the two photos. You knew Heeseung said they were just friends, but you couldn't shake that uneasy feeling away. Your mind was telling you that they weren't but your heart was with Heeseung.

"Who's that?" Chaeryeong suddenly asked.

You jump, startled. Since when was she behind you? Chaeryeong ignored your expression and leaned towards your phone. "Isn't that Heeseung? Who's he with?" She asked.

"Hyewon," you answered.

Ryujin crawled over to plop down next to you, her curious eyes peering up at your phone. "The same girl we saw at the amusement park?" The short-haired girl asked.

You looked down at her, shocked. You never told her about what you saw last winter. Ryujin understood your expression and rolled her eyes. "I'm not dumb, Y/N," she said.

Chaeryeong looked between the two of you with confusion. "Did something happen when we were at the amusement park?"

"Y/N saw Heeseung and Hyewon getting on the Ferris Wheel together."

"Ryujin!"

"What?" She shrugged at you. "We did see them there and it was the reason you were upset," she stated with her arms crossed, now sitting crossed legged next to you.

Chaeryeong gasped beside you and placed her hands in front of her mouth. "Do you think he's cheating on you?"

"Chaeryeong!" Ryujin hissed at the other girl. "Heeseung isn't the kind to do that," she defended him despite what she said before, "right, Y/N?" Ryujin nudged your elbow.

You opened your mouth to defend your boyfriend but no words were said. You bit your lips, Heeseung wouldn't be the kind to cheat, right? Then why were you hesitating? You wanted to agree with Ryujin and say that Heeseung would never cheat on you. So why were you doubting him?

"I'm just saying, long distance relationships never work out. Like Yeji and Soobin, they broke up like six months later," Chaeryeong shrugged innocently and leaned back on her hands as she spoke.

"But that was different, Yeji never really liked him anyways!" Ryujin countered.

"Vivi and Haseul! Everyone thought they were gonna last but they broke up the moment Vivi went home, and they were together for four years. Four years, Ryujin!" The younger girl exclaimed. "Point is, long distance relationships rarely work out."

Before Ryujin could retort, your phone lit up and all three of you looked down. It was a notification from Heeseung.

[4:01 pm] hee <3: hey sorry i was with taehyun

The three of you blinked at the message, Ryujin and Chaeryeong exchanged a look. While you just stared at the notification, refusing to tap into the chat. Did Heeseung just lie to you?

Something shifted in your relationship, you could tell. Calls with Heeseung were now cut short and text messages got short. At first, you blamed it on the upcoming exams and you told yourself that Heeseung was equally busy as you. Sometimes you were too tired to send a text because all you wanted was to sleep but when you tried to give him a call, he always brushed you off with a "I'm busy" text.

Text messages now never got past the "how was your day" before he said that he was going to sleep. Ever since that day with Ryujin and Chaeryeong, you turned a blind eye to the text message. Maybe he really was with Taehyun, you wouldn't actually know.

But that's the thing, isn't it? You would never know what really happens because you're not there with him, your mind taunted you. You shook away the thoughts and tried to be positive. Exams had ended a few days ago and Chaeryeong suggested that you should surprise him with a visit.

So here you were, on the bus to Heeseung's university. You could barely contain your smile, it's been so long since you last saw him and you just missed him so much. You could imagine how happy he would be to see you. An hour later, the bus came to a stop and you thanked the bus driver before boarding off.

Tightening your coat around you, you looked at the road ahead of you with a determined look. You were gonna surprise Heeseung today. And nothing was going to stop you from doing so. You reached the entrance of the school and sent a friendly smile to the security guards.

You made your way towards Heeseung's dorm, your feet have walked this path multiple times. You were familiar with these hallways. Soon enough you reached his door, you patted your clothes and fixed your hair before raising your fist. Your hand hovered in front of the wooden door, Heeseung was one door away from you.  Knocking precisely three times on the door, you took a step back and clasped your hands behind you. You couldn't wait to see his smile when he sees you.

"Surprise!" You said, doing jazz hands the moment the door opened.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" Heeseung asked you.

You blinked, slightly lowering your hands. Heeseung wasn't smiling at you like you thought he would be, instead he was looking down on you with furrowed eyebrows. His hair was dishevelled, like he ran his fingers through it multiple times and he wasn't opening the door fully, like he was blocking something.

"I was going to surprise you, since exams are over and all-"

"Why didn't you text me beforehand?" He cut you off.

You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms, annoyed that he was questioning you instead of being happy to see you. "Because it was a surprise, Hee, that's the whole point. I wasn't supposed to tell you, surprises don't work like that."

Heeseung opened his mouth but cut himself off with a sigh, he turned his head around to look inside then back at you. "I didn't mean it that way, I just wished you would've told me before," he repeated with a softer tone this time.

You frowned and dropped your arms, you shouldn't have listened to Chaeryeong. Maybe you should leave, the next bus would be in two hours. Heeseung was still leaning against his door, you couldn't see past him. "Whatever, I'll leave then," you mumbled and waved him off, turning on your heel to walk away.

"Y/N! Wait!" Heeseung called after you but you ignored his calls and just continued forward. The taller boy caught up with you and grabbed your wrist.

You tried to shake him off but his hold on you was strong. "Let me go," you said through gritted teeth.

"No, you're mad," he said.

"Of course, I am! I wanted to surprise my boyfriend after not seeing him for weeks but he doesn't even look happy to see me!" You sneered at him, still trying to shake his hand off your wrist.

Heeseung's hands moved to hold your shoulders instead to keep you in place, forcing you to look at him. "Hey, I didn't say I wasn't happy to see you. I am happy to see you, okay? It's just that today's a busy day, love," he explained to you softly.

You stopped squirming and sighed. "Sorry, I just…I just really missed you okay," you told him. You overreacted and got mad at him without letting him explain himself. "Sorry," you said again.

Heeseung smiled warmly at you and pulled you into a hug. "It's okay, love," he planted a kiss on top of your head. You rested your chin on his shoulder and returned the hug.

Then, you watched as a certain blonde walked out of Heeseung's room. Hyewon stepped out of his room and waved at you with a smile. Was Heeseung hiding her? You slightly pushed Heeseung away and he took a step back in confusion. He turned around to see Hyewon and then back at you.

"Hyewon and I were working on a project," he quickly explained.

"Yeah," the other girl nodded in agreement. "If I had known you were coming today, I wouldn't have bothered Heeseung," she said.

"Ah, no. I'm sorry for interrupting the two of you," you apologised, slightly ducking your head. You're not sure if you meant the apology. Should you be sorry that you interrupted them? But Heeseung was your boyfriend.

"Well, I'll leave you two be," Hyewon smiled at the both of you before walking away.

You watched as Heeseung smiled at her and how his eyes followed her figure until she disappeared down the stairs. You bit your lower lip and clenched your fist together, feeling uneasy in your chest once again. Your hand reached to tug on his sleeve and he finally looked at you, like he forgot you were there in the first place.

He moved to hold your hand and lead you into his room, not before smiling softly at you. Instead of the usual feeling of butterflies in your stomach whenever he smiled at you, there was a sinking feeling. Because he smiled at Hyewon the same way. Your lips raised a small smile for him but it didn't reach your eyes. He doesn't seem to notice.

The door closed behind the two of you and you swung your arms before clasping your hands behind you. "So, what was Hyewon doing here?" You tried to ask naturally.

Heeseung wasn't looking at you when he replied, "She was here for a project," he hummed.

"What project?" You continued to ask more.

"For school," he simply replied, taking a seat on his bed.

You leaned against his desk while nodding your head. "Ah, so you're helping her?"

"Uh huh."

"Ah, didn't know you guys were this close…"

"Well, we are neighbours so it's just natural that we grew close, you know," he shrugged.

"Close enough to get on the Ferris Wheel with," you muttered under your breath. You thought Heeseung wasn't able to pick up what you said but his eyes snapped to look at you. You gulped, knowing you were caught.

"Love, I already said that we were there for the music video shooting," he told you with a tired sigh.

"I know, I know but I can't help feeling jealous, Hee," you explained yourself.

Your boyfriend sighed exasperatedly as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I already told you that we're just friends, there's nothing to be jealous of."

"Well, you would be jealous too if your boyfriend didn't mention that he was going to the amusement park with you and you found him hanging with another girl!" You scoffed sarcastically.

"I already told you it wasn't planned, Y/N. Why don't you trust me?" His voice was slightly raised when he spoke the last sentence, his expression was begging you to drop the topic.

But your stubborn self refused to let it go and stood up straighter. "Because you're making it really hard to trust you."

"What?" He looked at you in disbelief as he stood up as well. "How am I the one being hard right now? You're just being paranoid and you're letting your insecurities get the better of you!"

"Can you blame me?!" You raised your voice at him. Anger clouded your eyes as you begged him to understand your point of view. "We're so far apart and we rarely get to talk to each other and you're always brushing me off! It's almost like you're cheating on me with Hyewon!"

Heeseung groaned in frustration and dragged his fingers across his face. "How many times do I have to tell you that we're just friends, Y/N? Hyewon literally has nothing to do with this! I don't get why you hate her."

"Cause you talk to her while we're together," you knew that sounded childish and selfish but you were blurting whatever that came to mind.

"Oh, so now I'm not allowed to talk to other girls?" He curled an eyebrow at you while crossing his arms.

Your words were caught in your throat. "I didn't mean it like that-"

"Then what do you mean, Y/N? You never acted like this before," Heeseung rubbed his temples.

"Because!" You threw your hands out in frustration, trying to convey your words out, "I don't know what's happening in your life because we're not in the same school and I'm scared that you're cheating on me with Hyewon!"

Heeseung knitted his eyebrows at you, you don't know if it was from confusion or annoyance, maybe both. "Cheating? No, you just don't trust me! Never once did I doubt your relationship with Jeongin, so why are you doing this to me?"

"Don't bring Jeongin into this," you sneered at him, "you knew Jeongin since we were in high school. Hyewon is a completely different story. You…you look at her like…you're in love," your voice slowly died at the end, it was the final hit on the nail. You looked up at Heeseung, his eyes widened at your words.

They said the eyes are the window to your soul. Brown guilty eyes just stared at you, because you were right. Heeseung couldn't figure out his feelings and you just did it for him. Your boyfriend was falling out of love with you and he was falling for someone new. And you watched as he realised it right in front of you. You swore you heard your heart crack.

He held his head and took a step back from you, silence fell upon the both of you. "I-I think you should go," he managed to say.

"Yeah," you croaked out, your throat was swelling up. You walked past Heeseung in hurried steps and out the door to the stairs. You never saw how Heeseung dropped to his bed with his head in his head as guilty tears slowly rolled down his cheeks.

God, you wished he had thought this through before you went and fell in love with him.

You haven't talked to Heeseung since that day, you knew that your relationship was over but your heart refused to believe it until those words came from Heeseung himself. A dark cloud hung over you and your friends didn't dare to ask. You felt betrayed by him.

You loved him at his worst, but that didn't matter. He gave you his word, but that didn't matter too. You were bitter, angry, devastated, heartbroken. But you couldn't cry, your heart was full of tears yet nothing came out. A single piece of tape holding back your fragile heart. A small sign of hope that you were wrong and Heeseung still loved you.

In the middle of a cold winter day, you were nestled between your warm sheets. Chaeryeong and Ryujin had left for lunch, not before promising to get you something. In the midst of your dark covers, your phone screen lit up and caught your attention.

[2:23 pm ] hee <3: We need to talk, I'm outside your door right now.

What? Your head snapped up to look at your front door. There's no way he was standing outside right now. Gulping, you pushed yourself up and walked to the door. Your hand hesitated, hovering right in front of the silver door knob. You already knew what was coming. Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

The same brown guilty eyes looked at you, and the little white lies from before all came crashing down at once. You stepped to the side to let him in and closed the door. Your back was facing him, you refused to look at him. Your hope was wavering, you don't know if you accepted it or not.

"I'm sorry," he was the first to break the silence. you still refused to turn around. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Lies, lies, lies. You shut your eyes closed, your hand was still on the door knob, holding it tightly.

He inhaled a deep breath before saying his next words, "This is the end."

The words pierced your heart and it started to fall apart. This doesn't feel like a break up, it was the end of your story. It was him telling you that he was removing himself from your life. Falling out of love hurts, but losing a friend is the worst.

"Do you still love me?"

"What?"

"Do you still love me?" You finally turned around, your glossy eyes looking right at him.

Without a heartbeat, he said, "No."

And when you were alone again in your room, your heart finally shattered and the tears poured out like a waterfall. You fell to your knees with your hands clutching your heart, ugly sobs escaped from your lips. You were crying out the pain as big fat tears dropped onto the wooden floor,

Chaeryeong and Ryujin nearly dropped the food when they found you broken on the tear stained floor.

Two weeks later (after being forced to get out of bed by Ryujin), you found your friends huddled at the same place of the cafeteria like when the music video was released. They were surrounding Daehwii with their heads ducked, whispering to each other.

"What are you guys doing?" Ryujin's voice caught their attention and their heads lifted to see the both of you, eyes widening at the sight of you.

Everyone exchanged nervous glances whereas you and Ryujin were left confused. You tilted your head to the sign to show that you were confused while Ryujin raised an eyebrow as if  demanding an explanation. Chaeryeong shoved Daehwii's shoulder and gave him a look, silently telling him to break the news.

Daehwii nervously looked between you and his phone before sighing, his shoulders dropping. Instead of saying anything, he showed you his phone. Ryujin reached over to take the device from him before you could see anything and squinted her eyes. The short haired girl inhaled a sharp breath and looked at your friends, finally understanding what was happening. She then looked at you, deciding whether she should tell you or not.

"What?" You asked her, your eyebrows furrowed as your patience was running thin. What were they not telling you?

But instead of telling you, she showed you. The phone screen displayed an Instagram post with a person holding hands with someone else. The caption was a simple "with him". At first you were confused on what it had to do with you, then Ryujin tapped on the post to show you the person tagged in the post. Heeseung's username appeared, your eyes travelled up to the owner of the post and it read Hyewon's name.

"Oh," was all you could say.

Your gaze averted down and you don't see how your friends exchange worried glances. "Y/N..." Chaeryeong softly called out to you while she walked towards you. She angled her head to look at your face with her arms around you.

Your mind was a mess, it took him two weeks to find someone new. No, not someone new. It took him two weeks to go off and date her. He talked to her when you were together. And you knew if he truly loved you, there was no damn way he could fall in love with somebody that quickly. Ryujin and Chaeryeong embraced you but you felt numb. He betrayed you. And you knew that he'll never feel sorry for the way you hurt.

"He cheated on you," you heard Jeongin say, but you shook your head as you tried to rub the tears away.

"Guess he didn't cheat but he's still a traitor," Jeongin rephrased.

The girls hugged you tighter when you let out a choked sob. Jeongin was right, he didn't cheat but he was a traitor. You played dumb but you always knew that he'd talk to her, maybe did even worse but you kept quiet so you could keep him.

God you wished that he had thought it through, before you went and fell in love with him.

© chaeryybomb 2021

a/n: this took so long to write and i wrote more than i expected. thank you for waiting and reading this, see y'all in "drivers license"!

[echo-of-sounds]

rainy morning (pt.1 in the ‘your first creampie’ series)

-Yagi Toshinori x f!reader-

smut drabble and the first part to ‘your first creampie’ series! (sidenote: these aren’t always going to primarily focus on the creampie part. if I did that, they’d just get repetitive. it will always be a part of the piece, just not the focus)

I love this. It was an absolute joy to write. It’s probably one of my favorite pieces I’ve written to date! So I hope you guys enjoy it as much as well!

“Honey?”

You spit the rest of the toothpaste out, plopped the toothbrush down, and trudged into the hall, fussing to keep your eyes open in the light.

Flicking the switch off, Toshinori spoke, “Field Day was canceled due to the rain.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled. “I know you were looking forward to this.”

“It’s alright. We can always reschedule, and you can go back to bed.”

You immediately retreated to the bedroom and burrowed into the blankets. They were still plenty warm from when you left five minutes ago. Rain drowned out the usual morning noises of birds and cars. It lulled your eyes closed.

Metal clinked, and clothing rustled behind you as Toshi undressed. The blankets shifted. A hand found your side, quickly slipping under your shirt, jumping you. He kissed your cheek with a laugh, “Sorry.”

You hummed and pulled his arm around you, nesting backward against his bare chest. Breath warmed your neck. Hair tickled and his nose nudged there too. Lips started with soft pecks on your neck, brushing along to hear your silent laughs and loving sighs. They firmed once on your shoulder, giving a fleeting suck, touching his tongue to your skin, before idling towards the nape of your neck.

A thumb skimmed your stomach. In mellow strokes, his hand worked up and down, caressing from your breasts to the elastic of your underwear, scrunching up your nightshirt. You fidgeted at all the fondling. It turned into a mild grind when his leg pushed between yours, letting you move at your own pace to find some kindling.

Fingers kept up their pawing, sometimes squeezing. His thigh lifted, flowing to and fro, frisking the sensitive area. He kissed right beneath your jaw as his body pressed tight to yours.

“Toshi,” you sang at his arousal nestling on your bottom. “Why are you so awake? It’s early.”

“I’ve been up for a while.”

The kisses grew. Lips traveled. You shifted to meet them, indulging in his languid, lapping tongue, deferring to him to guide the lust.

Feeling the roaming hand take a detour, your legs fanned, allowing him to rub between your thighs, encouraging you to moan. So you did, breathless, directly into his mouth, panting from the laden kiss. His tongue coasted over yours. It swiftly withdrew, then waved in again, loving your lazy responses.

The pressure behind Toshi’s hand rose. Your hips rocked on their own, finding pleasure in the lightest of touches. Many fingers lessened to just two, circling, almost flicking, and never hurting. Your moan of his name turned into nonsense. But he understood: your underwear was a nuisance.

With his help, you slid them off and removed your shirt. His large palm held your thigh and set it over his hip, perfectly presenting you for him. His sigh and your moan mixed in the smallest gap through your occupied lips as the same two fingers slicked along you, choosing to care for and dote on your clit.

“Ahh,” you sighed, breathless, lolling your head back. He continued kissing your neck, keeping you quietly panting in sleepy, sincere pleasure. You could barely coo your love for him over the downpour outside.

Toshi reconnected the kiss. His lips weighed into yours. His nose flattened to your cheek. You moaned under the desire, gasping when fingers easily smoothed inside, sweeping up, slowly, softly, and sweetly.

His name fell from your mouth. Not even the dim room could darken his eyes. Their gaze clung to yours, amorous blue ebbing you weak and wet under his waving lips.

Pulling away for seconds only, he kicked his boxers off, losing them in the blankets. He retook the position. Your thigh returned to his hip. You both grabbed and lined him up, and moving in delicate inches, he entered. At your whimper, he kissed your cheek, hushing against the skin, not stopping till he bottomed out.

“Oh, God, Toshi,” you whined at the fullness and the burden on your front wall. “Fuck.”

“I love you so much. I love you,” he grunted, pulling out. You copied his sounds once empty. It didn’t last long, though.

Toshi nuzzled inside, gradually like always, making sure you were stretched enough. You swore, but encourage him with your moans. And he listened. His hand settled on your lower tummy as his hips humped. Yours joined, meeting his on the way back, whisking him achingly along your front wall.

His thigh pushed further and harder within yours. His head poked as deep as possible, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

He froze. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Go- Keep going.” You reached back to rub his side and hip. You parted your lips for him, and he accepted, carrying on right where he left off: swaying into you, kissing with his entire mouth, accidentally clinking your teeth together.

Because of your tongues, panting, and the gathering saliva, your words came out illegible. Your hips quivered for him. That seemed to get your point across since two fingers revisited your clit, reeling around it in motion with his stalling thrusts. When he pulled out, they were feathery, thrilling, nearly teasing the nerves. When he sunk in, they gained weight, taxing the now-too-sensitive nerves.

“Just like that.” While his fingers handled you with great care, you arched away from his chest, not to get away but to experience the depth again. You gasped when you found it, awkwardly wiggling to keep him there.

Toshinori’s body moved. It guided your limp body to your stomach. Thighs straddled your hips and shifted into a better position, dipping him inside where you wanted him. He kissed your shoulder and started thrusting with a bit more potency than before, now rushing down against and along your front wall.

He began moaning. They toned into a groan every other drop. You thought you heard the rare swear mixed in, but your moans made it difficult to tell.

Your clit was still being coaxed by his long fingers. With both spots being nurtured, your muscles started trembling for the oncoming orgasm. Gasping and grinding, you grabbed at his thigh. “Toshi- Toshi-”

“I love you so much.” He kissed your shoulder, letting you know it was okay, nudging into the crook of your neck after.

The pillows, heat, and hair trapped in the small area made the air thick. You didn’t let go of his thigh, trying not to scratch too harshly when he brought you to your orgasm. You shivered and panted and praised his care, squeezing your watery eyes, biting the sheet through his dwindling thrusts.

His chest flattened to your back. He groaned directly into your ear. The bass was familiar. But this time, it fluttered down your spine to between your legs, sparking something new- something you wanted fulfilled.

Sooner than he could pull out, you clung to both thighs, desperately seeking, “Don’t- Toshi- Stay inside.”

“I’m not- I’m not wearing a-” He groaned at your clawing nails, clumsily grinding. Sweat stuck his hair to your cheek. His heaving made it worse.

“I know. It’s okay, Toshi. It’s okay.”

“Fuck,” he groaned through his teeth, lurching, clutching the sheets. Hearing him swear changed that something to a need. “I haven’t- I’ve never cum-” His muscles went taut. “I’ve never-” He grunted, right there, humping in the tiniest motions, throbbing so deeply inside.

“Me neither. I want this with you. Just cum in me. Please.”

Wrapping his arms around you, he stiffened. Handsome, spent groans flooded your ears, complimenting what released in you.

“Oh,” you breathed. It was warmer than expected. And happier. Toshi’s heavy breathing and fatigue caused it to be so much more satisfying. The adoration lasted a while. It, and the warmth, spread as he stayed inside, occasionally tensing or squeezing or jerking.

You kissed his stressed temple and whispered in the afterglow, “I love you, too. I love you so much, Toshi.”

A hint of blue eyes appeared. He repeated the sentiment with a huff. Yet he didn't move. And you didn’t want him to. You wanted to feel this for as long as possible.