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peachdues · 1 year

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Phantasmagoria (Part III)

Tell Me to Stop (Sanemi’s Version)

Sanemi x F!Reader • Modern AU • NSFW

A/N: read the fucking warnings before you report.

Massive TW: grief • loss of a parent • canon character death • drug and alcohol abuse • panic • references to previous attempted S/A • violence between characters • more descriptions of Douma getting his ass kicked (still deserved) • situation requiring a hospital

CW: 25k words. MDNI. explicit sexual content ahead • multiple creampies • oral (f! and m!receiving) • face sitting • swearing • angst with a good ending • non-sexual intimacy

Oh boy. It’s done.

This one is super personal to me, so I really hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for showing this story your love, I adore you all.

Without further ado!

Sanemi’s Playlist

PART ONE • PART TWO

(Sanemi’s POV)

The Party on 52nd Street

Sanemi couldn’t bring himself to say that he regretted how he’d ended up in handcuffs. Sure, his knuckles were bruised to shit and covered in blood that was and was not his, but at least his face was still a hell of a lot prettier than the sniveling, cowardly asshole curled onto his side on the gravel outside his house.

Granted, the severe swelling of Douma’s face was because of Sanemi, but truthfully, he thought it was an improvement. By the time Sanemi had been yanked off of the barely conscious, campus-resident creep, those freakish, multi-colored eyes had been so blackened and swollen, it was a wonder that Douma had even been able to see the cops swarming his living room at all.

Sanemi knew the only reason his ass wasn’t being thrown into the back of the police cruiser waiting out behind Douma’s hell den was because Tengen had been the one to escort him out. And, because the local police had been itching to bust Douma for his little drug operation for months, Douma had been hauled out as well, handcuffed for good measure (and for insult) by Tengen.

It also helped that Douma was a dumbass, who’d sent the incriminating photos of his assault on Y/N to the groupchat that included all three of Tengen’s partners. Once he was sure they were safely out of view of spectators and witnesses giving statements to the other responding officers inside, Tengen took care to slam the greasy asshole to the ground, getting a few good kicks in as Douma curled pathetically against the asphalt.

“I will sue your ass,” Douma wheezed as he struggled to catch his breath. Through the purple black swells of his eye sockets, Sanemi could just make out the sliver of jewel-toned irises as they glared in his direction. “The whore fucking wanted it rough.”

Sanemi lunged for the cowering bastard where he lay, ready to stomp the fucker’s face in once and for all, but Tengen roughly threw him back against the side of his cruiser before he could.

“He’s trying to rile you up. Don’t fall for his shit,” Tengen’s magenta eyes were full of warning as he held Sanemi back. “He was stupid enough to send proof of the assault; ain’t no way in hell anyone buys that it was consensual.”

But Sanemi could only see red, the image of Y/N’s tear-streaked and terrified face burned permanently into his brain, worse than any scar that he bore on his skin.

“I don’t give a fuck, it’s working,” Sanemi snarled, struggling against Tengen’s iron-clad grip on him. “I want him fucking dead.”

“Y/N needs you not to be in prison. Don’t you two have something goin’ on?” Tengen shot back hotly. The young cop’s words stilled Sanemi’s struggle against the police cruiser, his fury deflating slightly.

As Kyojuro’s car had jumped the curb in front of the house, both boys agreed to split up once inside the house. Kyojuro was tasked with retrieving Y/N from wherever Akaza had hid her, because Sanemi had viciously vowed that he would be the one dealing with Douma.

And so, he had.

Party attendants had taken one look at Sanemi’s stony face as he’d made his way through the house to the main living room and parted, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of the violence promised in his eyes.

He’d found Douma, standing back near the speakers that crackled with some out-of-date, heavy bass music, laughing like he hadn’t a care in the world. Those monstrous eyes had met Sanemi’s for only a split second, but the delighted malice they beheld was enough to make Sanemi want nothing more than to make the monster bleed.

Douma’s answering smile had been brief, unable to withstand the smash of his fist as the enraged Sanemi knocked him to the ground and lunged to pin him down.

Kyojuro’s car was long gone by the time Sanemi and Douma had been dragged out of that party house of horrors by Tengen in handcuffs, Sanemi smirking at the way Tengen kicked at the whimpering bastard’s feet every few steps. But that meant that Sanemi had no idea how Y/N was even doing – or whether she’d sustained more serious injuries than what Douma had shown off.

He didn’t want to think about what else might have happened in that room. If he did, Douma would surely not survive the impending ride to the police station.

Sanemi knew, however, that Tengen was right, however much it pissed him off. Y/N was the priority here, not him or his righteous, violent fury. He would restrain himself – for her. Nonetheless, Sanemi felt a rush of gratitude for the young cop, who, despite cautioning Sanemi away from ripping the cretin apart once and for all, spat directly on Douma’s bruised, bleeding face.

Half an hour later, and Sanemi was being escorted by his friend through the familiar sliding doors of the police station. It took only five minutes of him speaking with two other detectives before he was strolling leisurely back out of the station and into the small parking lot with Tengen, who offered to drive him back to his apartment.

All it had taken was for Sanemi to whip out his phone to show them the picture Douma had sent of Y/N around for them to agree that the benefit of letting Sanemi go outweighed the burden of booking him; besides, the baggies of Wisteria they’d found on the famous party-thrower meant they’d caught the larger fish anyways.

If it weren’t for the looming threat that Douma had perhaps inflicted far more harm upon Y/N, Sanemi almost would have felt good striding out of the busy police station, but the fact that she might be with Kyojuro at a hospital somewhere, in need of treatment, sat in his gut like an icy stone, tempered only by the murderous rage he still felt.

In his stewing, Sanemi almost didn’t realize that Tengen was speaking to him.

“Look, I’m not sayin’ I don’t get your reasoning. I do,” Tengen said lowly, pausing near his cruiser to face Sanemi, though his eyes scanned the parking lot to ensure unwanted ears weren’t listening in. “Frankly, if I didn’t have my job to worry about, I woulda let you keep going. He deserved it.”

“But I don’t wanna see you falling back into old habits.” The young cop sighed, clapping Sanemi on the back. “You’ve been doing so well.”

Sanemi grimaced. “I’m not,” he bit out darkly. “This wasn’t about me. It was about her.”

Tengen eyed him incredulously but sighed. “It’d do you good to remember that. You can’t work things out with her if I’m haulin’ your ass to prison.”

Sanemi didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d long since fucked up any chances of working things out with Y/N.

----------

“This is the third time you’ve been brought in this month,” the young cop chastised him, crossing an ankle over his knee as he folded his massive arms across his broad chest. “And we’re only two weeks into December.”

Sanemi grimaced as he shifted in the dingy metal seat, his wrists going numb behind his back as the metal of the handcuffs around his wrists dug into his skin. He scrunched his nose, trying to stifle the drop of blood sliding down from his nostril before it could reach his mouth, though without much success.

He was growing more agitated as he waited on his best friend to come collect him – yet again, from the Ubayashiki police station, but Kyojuro had yet to show.

“Listen – Shinazugawa, is it?” The cop had a peculiar shade of silver hair, and a cursory glance-over by Sanemi revealed that he had an apparent penchant for fuschia eyeliner, an almost perfect match to the hue of the discerning eyes which watched him. “You’re a student at Ubaya-U, right?”

Sanemi only nodded, ducking his head down to avoid holding the officer’s gaze for too long, lest he see how dead the nineteen-year-old truly felt.

“My name’s Uzui – Tengen Uzui -- I graudated last year,” the man called Uzui said, somewhat proudly. “So I know you’re a smart kid, but you can’t keep getting hauled in like this. You’ve got too much goin’ for ya.”

Sanemi finally made a sound. “I got nothin’ going for me,” he scoffed, finally lifting his eyes to meet Uzui’s stern face. “Spare me the ‘you’re better than this,’ crap.”

Uzui only rolled his eyes. “Look, kid, whatever happened to you before you got here, you’ve gotta deal with it – but not like this.” Sanemi opened his mouth to snap back, but the young cop paid him no mind, only continuing his lecture. “I’m not gonna ask, because frankly, I don’t care that much. But I know a good kid when I see one, and I don’t think you want to live this way.”

Uzui sighed. “Surely you’ve got someone in your life you wanna do right by? A parent, or a girl, maybe?”

Sanemi’s already sour mood dampened even further. He was about to bite out that no, he had no one, when Kyojuro finally pushed through the doors of the police station, amber eyes scanning the intake area until they narrowed in on him.

And he looked tired. So goddamn tired, that for once, Sanemi felt something other than the numbness he’d felt slowly swallowing him whole over the last three months.

He felt guilty; he’d forgotten, that while he may not have cared about his own stupid actions affected himself, he did care about how they impacted his best friend. Sanemi’s only friend, really, though that was entirely his own fault.

But Sanemi’s guilt could not stop him from checking back out as Kyojuro walked over and spoke in a hushed voice with Uzui, both tossing concerning glances his direction every few minutes. Before he knew it, Uzui was standing and unlocking the handcuffs from around Sanemi’s wrists, the latter’s shoulders relaxing as his arms were released from behind his back.

“I’m letting you off with a warning, but with a condition” Uzui said simply, tossing the handcuffs back onto his desk. The young cop produced a small, white card from his pocket and pressed it into Sanemi’s hand. “I want you checking in with me every couple of weeks. We can do it here, or wherever you want – but it ain’t optional.” Uzui smiled wryly at the baffled look on Sanemi’s face. “Think of it as an unofficial probation. Until you settle down a bit.”

Uzui parted with a shake of Kyojuro’s hand and a wink at Sanemi before sauntering off down one of the adjacent hallways abutting the intake area, leaving the two boys behind.

Sanemi shoved his sore hands into his pockets, barely noticing the stinging in his bleeding knuckles as they chafed against the fabric of his pants.

“I can’t keep doing this for you, Sanemi,” Kyojuro’s voice said quietly from beside him, and Sanemi’s head snapped over to his friend. “You’re destroying yourself. I can’t just sit by and watch it.”

Deep down, Sanemi knew his friend was right, and he was a little afraid that he risked losing the fiery blonde for good, just as he apparently had lost his other best friend, though, it wasn’t like she’d been around after…after he died.

But if Sanemi lost Kyojuro for good, he’d truly have no one left, and so, he fingered the card that Uzui had given him as it sat in his pocket, and resolved he would try; if not for himself, then for the last person on earth who still gave a shit about him.

-----

Later, the nineteen-year-old managed to stumble his way back to his dorm and he collapsed in his bed, not bothering to nurse his bleeding nose or even change out of his dirty, rumpled clothes. His knuckles stung and his body ached from the scuffle, but he found that he much preferred the throb of the bruises blooming across his body to the deep numbness he felt in his heart.

As he began to slip into a dreamless slumber, a pair of pretty eyes and a sparkling smile that had once filled him with so much warmth flashed through Sanemi’s mind. If he concentrated hard enough, he thought he could just recall the sound of her laugh, though it had been months since he’d last heard it.

He frowned as he tossed and turned in his bed, desperate to throw out thoughts of her, because she tended to disrupt his sleep and to make him feel even lower than he already knew himself to be.

And he didn’t want to think about what Y/N would say if she could see him now.

Though, Sanemi supposed, that would assume she would give enough of a shit about him to have an opinion on him at all.

He winced at the thought, so callous and bitter. He didn’t truly mean to be so cruel to her, even in his thoughts; he knew she didn’t deserve it. Sanemi knew it was his fault things had gotten as bad as they were between them – knew it was because of his piss-poor reaction to her admittedly badly-timed love confession that had driven her away.

After Genya’s death, Sanemi hadn’t much of a heart left that he could claim, but he’d known that whatever of it remained surely belonged to her, just as he always had. So, he’d tried to reach out after his brother’s funeral, during one of those rare moments of clarity when he wasn’t just existing on autopilot, detached from the world around him, but she’d never responded.

Her silence had been slowly needling him to death by a thousand sharp pricks to what remained of his pitiful heart, threatening to whittle it away entirely.

Sanemi imagined himself a pendulum that couldn’t decide whether he was angrier at himself or at her; forever swinging between his shame for lashing out the way he had at the train station and anger with Y/N for thinking his reaction had anything to do with her at all.

He’d never imagined himself worthy of Y/N – his best friend, so beautiful and intelligent and kind-hearted, even though he’d been so stupidly in love with her since they were small children. He’d always been too rough, too scarred, too…much. But he’d hoped, no matter how foolishly so, that perhaps one day, he’d work himself up to being worthy of her, be the reason she smiled and laughed and loved.

But, as Sanemi felt his stomach squeeze uncomfortably at the memory of her tear-streaked face, staring at the platform before the train he’d boarded, he was reminded that one couldn’t be worthy of the person they loved if they insisted on shattering their heart like a piece of glass.

-----

In the absence of semi-regular beatdowns, Sanemi had found other ways of distracting himself from the gnawing pit of despair and loneliness that was swallowing him whole, day by day. At the start of the spring semester, he’d finally hooked up with a girl in his mathematics seminar, and then began sleeping with another a month later. For months, he’d alternated between the two, thankful that neither of them had been interested in pursuing what he could not give them. And he’d enjoyed himself, because yeah, sex felt fucking good, but at the end of each affair, he hadn’t been able to shake the way his stomach clenched with the deep-seated disgust and oily squeeze of guilt.

Guilt, because he’d felt like he’d betrayed her, which was ridiculous considering she wasn’t his even if he’d always been hers; even if he knew, deep in his soul, that he always would be.

-----

A few nights later, he was out grabbing dinner on campus with Mitsuri and Obanai, the two lovebirds happily holding hands the entire evening, when they passed Shinobu crossing the green, ignoring her roommate’s kind greeting.

Though, Sanemi reasoned, she’d likely been trying to avoid having to make eye contact with them, so as to conceal her new black eye. While Sanemi would never raise a hand to a woman himself, that hadn’t stopped him from feeling a small bit of satisfaction at the memory of Makio stalking right up to the petite pharmacology student and nailing her square in the face.

In retrospect, Sanemi didn’t know if it was fair to blame Shinobu for Douma’s actions, but it was clear Makio did. Given the general iciness of the group toward the young woman who’d garnered a reputation for dealing Wisteria around campus, it seemed as though the others did, too.

He’d decided to withhold his feelings towards Y/N’s roommate until she, herself, indicated how she wanted to approach their friendship. It was her call to make, given that she was the one who’d been the target of Douma’s retribution.

Not that Sanemi would know of Y/N’s thoughts on the matter anytime soon; they hadn’t spoken since that morning in his kitchen, and she’d not returned any of his texts or calls in the days since the incident at the party. He knew she likely needed her space, so after the third straight day of no response, he resolved to give it to her.

It was hard to accept her radio silence, because it sent him right back to that feeling he’d had last year when he’d been urgently trying to find her after he’d learned her mother had died, and he feared she would disappear yet again. However, the group was set to go to Tengen’s family’s lake house that weekend for one last summer hoorah before classes began once more, and Kyojuro had already confirmed that Y/N was planning on going.

All of them were, except for Shinobu and Giyuu, according to Mitsuri that night as they ate too-greasy food at their campus grill. The pinkette sheepishly admitted she’d spoken with her roommate the night prior, and both agreed it was probably for the best that she stay behind, especially since Y/N was going. The pair of friends, though they lived together, hadn’t spoken since the Douma incident, either. Giyuu wouldn’t have gone without Shinobu anyways, but he was already out of town visiting his sister and her new husband.

So, Sanemi was left to anxiously anticipate the upcoming weekend. The thought of being at the Uzui lake house with Y/N filled him with both longing and dread, especially because he simply did not know the extent of the harm she’d suffered at the hands of Douma.

He’d known that she and Kyo had talked and worked things out – but Sanemi knew his friend wouldn’t divulge details without her permission, so Sanemi hadn’t tried to ask, wanting to respect both of his best friends’ boundaries.

The not knowing, however, was slowly eating him alive; he’d wanted to kill Douma that night, and truthfully, he thought he still might, if the opportunity presented itself.

Not that he was one to claim moral superiority over the bastard; not when he’d spent the better part of the last two years as one of the direct causes of Y/N’s emotional pain.

-----

“It’s Mrs. Y/L/N – she … she died. Last week. The funeral was yesterday.”

-----

Kyojuro’s words split Sanemi’s heart clean in half. There had only been one other time in Sanemi’s life when he’d felt the earth beneath his feet split open and swallow him whole, and that had been when his foster mother called him to tell him his little brother was lying in a morgue with a bullet hole in his chest.

But Sanemi found himself free-falling back into the earth’s molten center, and he couldn’t help but think he deserved to burn away inside its fire, because he’d failed yet again to be there for someone he loved.

Tears burned in his eyes as memories of Y/N’s mother flashed vividly through his mind, a slideshow of kindness and love that he’d been so grateful to receive from the young mother in the wake of his parents’ deaths.

For the first few weeks following the Shinazugawa boys’ discharge from the hospital, Mrs. Y/L/N had been a stand-in mother to them both, and they’d clung to her like dew on grass, craving her motherly comfort and assurance in the wake of the violent collision which had killed most of their family.

She’d been the one to apply ointment on his and Genya’s scars every night, her hands so warm and gentle to make up for the light sting of the medicated salve as she dabbed it delicately against their skin. She’d been the one to make their bag lunches for school, always making sure to pack extra for his younger brother, who never seemed to be full no matter how much he ate.

And now, she was gone. And he hadn’t even known she was ill.

That night, Sanemi sat on the floor of his shower and cried.

He cried, because his still-mending heart had been re-broken with the news of the death of the closest thing he’d had to a second mother.

He cried, because he’d failed to be there for someone he loved yet again, and Y/N had shouldered the death of her mother and the burden of planning a funeral without her two childhood best friends to lean on, and that wasn’t fair.

But even through his tears, Sanemi felt his resolve harden. He’d failed to be there for his brother when he needed him most; he’d failed to be a decent friend to Kyojuro, in the months following the younger boy’s death as he reeled from the pain of the loss. But he would not fail again; he swore he would find her and be there for her going forward. He would track her down, and he knew she might curse at and rebel against any offer of help, but he wouldn’t balk; he’d do anything, be anything for her, if it meant ensuring she wouldn’t fall into the infinite void of despair and grief that he had.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d prove himself worthy of being her friend once more.

-----

The Uzui family’s summer house was a sprawling manor that abutted a pristine, turquoise lagoon of a private lake, complete with a secluded beach area and a large section quartered off for bonfires, should the group of college-aged guests decide they were sober enough to light it.

The house itself was three levels, with a basement and a half-loft. The considerable size of the estate meant, plus the fact that several of them would be sharing rooms with their partners – Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma all sharing one with Tengen, and Obanai and Mitsuri sharing another – meant that Kyojuro, Sanemi, and Y/N each got their own private guest room.

Sanemi had no interest in being anywhere near the room with Tengen and his three, equally loud partners once they all retired for bed later that evening, and so, he’d claimed the room on the first floor, located just down the hall from the grand kitchen, decked out in new, state-of-the-art stainless-steel appliances and marbled countertops. Kyojuro and Y/N had both taken separate rooms on the second floor, apparently sure they wouldn’t be bothered by the sounds that were sure to emanate from their host’s room until the wee hours of the morning.

They’d arrived only an hour earlier, barely setting down their bags before everyone began to change into their swimsuits to head for the sun-warmed water before nightfall, the girls eager to work on their tans. Now, as Sanemi strolled alongside the sandy shore of the lake, only Y/N remained on land, lounging out on one of the luxurious beach chairs the Uzuis had installed in a finished seating area about fifty feet from where he stood, gazing out at the group’s newest couple as they splashed in the water.

A pang of jealousy reverberated through his chest as Sanemi watched Y/N’s pink best friend giggle in the arms of her new boyfriend as he swung her around in the shallow of the lake.

Ever since Obanai had finally confessed his feelings – and his fears – to Mitsuri, the two of them had been joined at the hip, the dark-haired boy's eyes perpetually clouded in bliss every time the vibrant girl fluttered her eyelashes at him or pressed against him to whisper softly in his ear before kissing his cheek.

-----

“If you can’t be honest with her, you’re going to lose her,” Sanemi said quietly as the two men stood at the bar, both nursing sodas as they watched the objects of their heart’s desire dance wildly and carefree on the Kizuki dance floor.

Obanai looked over at him, his eyes full of the kind of pain that he’d come to know far too well over the last few years. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he said quietly. “I’m not good enough for her – I don’t want to hurt her.”

Sanemi felt like he was talking to a mirror. “You’re already hurting her,” he took a sip of his ginger ale, though he hardly tasted it. “Cause you’re breaking her heart by staying away.”

The tortured boy’s misery was palpable as he looked back to where Mitsuri danced, lively and carefree.

“You’ll regret it as long as you live if you don’t tell her now.” In his mind, he saw only Y/N’s face as she transformed from the smiling girl of his memory to the cold, numb woman of his present. “Trust me.”

-----

He was happy for them, truly; but he couldn’t deny feeling a little jealous of the couple. After all, they both got to be with the person they loved.

Sanemi knew he had no one to blame but himself, but still; he wished he hadn’t fucked it all up with Y/N.

When Sanemi discovered the speckle of blood on his sheets the morning after he’d first brought Y/N home, he’d barely made it to his bathroom before throwing up.

It was too grotesque – the thought that the Wisteria had made him lose control so badly that he’d made Y/N bleed was too much for him to bear.

But the reality had been far worse than a simple case of lost control under the influence of an experimental drug and alcohol.

Far, far worse.

-----

(Three weeks earlier)

“Oh please, we all fuck each other here,” Mitsuri laughed, and Sanemi rolled his eyes.

The pretty, bubbly girl was unshaken by Sanemi’s terse rejection of her offer to join her and Obanai in the back of Tengen’s Volkswagen van for a “good time.” Though, whether her unflappability was from the drink she nursed in her hand or from an unshakeable confidence, developed over a lifetime of being beautiful and adored, he couldn’t say.

“Well, actually,” the pinkette chewed on her lip for a moment, in thought. “I guess that’s not totally true. Y/N didn’t sleep with anyone until you, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi’s hand, which had been reaching for his plastic cup full of water, froze mid-air.

“What.” His voice was hard, monotone.

The pink-haired girl was oblivious as she laughed. “Yeah, that’s why Makio called you ‘The Cherry Popper,’ that one night - since, y’know, you were Y/N’s first.”

Sanemi felt his vision tunnel, his heartbeat loud in his ears as it thudded uncomfortably against his chest. Something pressed against his lungs, making it difficult for him to breathe as the weight of Mitsuri’s confession settled over him.

All this time, he thought he’d simply been too rough with Y/N, under the influence of that cursed Wisteria.

But this was worse.

He’d assumed Y/N had already lost her virginity when they slept together. She’d had no hesitance in stripping him of his clothes, had begged him to go hard, and fast.

But now, as Sanemi’s breath came rough, he’d wondered if he’d misinterpreted her screams of pleasure — had they been cries of discomfort?’

Or her nails digging into his back — he’d assumed they were to spur him on, to beg him to go faster, but what if she’d been clawing at him to slow down? To stop?

If he’d known, he’d never would’ve done it — not like that, not when he was so blitzed out of his mind that he couldn’t make sure she received the kindness and gentleness she deserved.

It should’ve been special; she should have known how special she was to him. Instead, he’d fucked her no differently than any other hookup he’d had.

Was he no better than his father?

He’d been so elated that she’d responded to his kiss with enthusiasm, that admittedly, he’d lost his ability to reason. He’d pined for her for so long — years really — that the moment her lips had met his, all rational thought had flown from his head. And his heart had nearly stopped in his chest when she insisted that they keep going, when she’d laid back against his sheets and told him she needed him.

He’d hoped she would’ve felt some of the happiness he had, when she awoke the following morning; he’d hoped that he’d be able to make her breakfast, and then the two of them could talk and he could apologize for every stupid thing he’d done over the last two years. Maybe she would’ve forgiven him. But he’d gone and fucked that all up.

Because when he awoke, all that was left of her was her blood on his sheets.

-----

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N watched her friends sprint into the shallow of the turquoise lake with a small bit of envy. She wanted, so very badly, to join them, but she’d miscalculated the coverage that her swimsuit afforded her, and to her horror, she’d realized that the mark Douma’d left on her would be on full display the moment she removed the oversized button-down she’d used as a cover-up.

“Y/N! C’mon!” Mitsuri entreated her as her head popped back up from under the surface of the water, her hair tinged a dark pink from the water.

Absentmindedly, her hand raised to the spot where Douma had soiled her and rubbed, the slight pain from her stimulation of the still-healing wound forcing her to remain in the present instead of back in that blasted, dark bedroom.

“I think I’ll work on my tan for now!” Y/N called back, plastering a wide, fake smile on her face to assuage any worry. Not that she needed to, because before Mitsuri could question her further, Obanai snuck up from beneath her and raised her out of the water on his shoulders, the pinkette laugh-screaming as she flailed about to keep herself upright.

A crunch of gravel next to her caused her to tense, because she knew that all of her other friends were accounted for, splashing about in the serene crystal of the lake.

All of them, except for him.

Sanemi said nothing to her as he drew up next to her, though he maintained a respectful distance. He too, watched their friends laugh and play in the water for a moment, his hands shoved in the pockets of his red swim trunks.

Y/N tried to be sneaky as she allowed her eyes to roam the sculpted plains of his exposed torso, marveling at the muscle that seemed to be carved from stone. Since the summer, he’d gained a bit of a tan, his skin now a lustrous nutty gold, that, against the white blonde of his hair, created an attractive contrast that made her mouth water.

God, he was beautiful; it pissed her off.

The tension between them was electric, as neither wanted to be the first to break the silence growing ever louder between them.

“No one will stare, y’know,” Sanemi caved first, though he did not tear his eyes away from where they were fixed resolutely on the horizon beyond the lake. “They all want you to feel comfortable, so they won’t look.”

Y/N was about to snippily ask him why he was butting in on her business, even though her irritation was because he’d read her mood so easily – too damn easily, for that matter. She tilted her head up, readying her venom, but before she could bite, the words died on her tongue.

Sanemi’s tan hadn’t been able to obscure the scars of varying lengths and thickness which crossed his chest, forearms, and half of his face; if anything, his sun-kissed skin only made the silvery, jagged slashes stand out.

As she’d looked up at her former friend, she was reminded that he knew exactly how she felt at that moment – had felt that insecurity, every day, since they were eleven and a drunk driver had slammed into his parent’s station wagon, killing everyone but him and Genya.

I don’t care if you have scars! She’d told him, once. I’ve always thought you were…were..pretty!

She winced at the memory, but painful and intrusive though it was, she still couldn’t find it within her to throw his attempt at reassurance back in his face. Y/N’s heart might have been a lowly, misshapen, shriveled lump, but she still had one.

And besides, she wouldn’t lie to herself; his words had soothed some of her anxieties, damn him.

“Thanks,” she said softly, and she gave him a small, tentative half-smile. She hated the look of hope that flickered to life in his eyes at the sight.

She hated the guilt that sunk into her gut even more.

-----

It was late and she was restless.

Most of the house had already retired for the night; Tengen had disappeared with his three girls, and Obanai and Mitsuri had snuck away back to her guest room, giggling softly, as the pair had been unable to keep their wandering, eager hands to themselves.

Y/N stayed up a little longer with Kyojuro, laughing and talking about everything and nothing as Sanemi lingered awkwardly by the shore of the sprawling lake that sat before the Uzui family’s handsome summer home. By the time Kyojuro had yawned, the moon hung high in the sky, and even the chirping night cicadas had long fallen silent.

She’d hoped that returning to her own guest room – located on second floor of the Uzui home – would trick her brain into thinking she too, was tired; but hours later, she’d realized, grimly, that she’d not be enjoying such luck.

And so, she’d found herself braced over the pristine kitchen sink in the Uzuis’ kitchen, unable to shake the incessant nag of sleeplessness that prickled under her skin.She’d thought herself alone, until a noise over by the entryway caught her attention, her eyes flashing over to see who’d joined her in her restlessness.

Y/N’s stomach roiled at the sight of Sanemi standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, as though he too, would rather be anywhere but there at that moment.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Y/N shook her head, busying herself with dumping out her water glass and rinsing it out. “Neither could I, I guess.” An awkward pause ensued, only disrupted by the squeak of the faucet as Y/N wrenched it off to towel off her drinking glass.

“I tried calling you – last week,” Sanemi said carefully, leaning against the door jam, his arms folding loosely across his chest. “But I never got an answer.”

Y/N chewed on her lip, wincing slightly. She didn't want to admit that she hadn’t really returned anyone’s calls, but that was because she’d spent the majority of the week hunched over her toilet, alternating between dripping with sweat and half-freezing to death as she weathered through the brutal withdrawal from Wisteria.

She wasn’t ashamed per se – but admitting she’d gone through withdrawal meant admitting that she’d become reliant enough on it to have a physical reaction to cutting herself off from it, and that meant admitting she was weak.

“I was…dealing with a lot,” she decided after a moment. She realized that she was oddly grateful that Douma’s assault on her had been the catalyst for her stopping her Wisteria misuse, given that it gave her away around talking about the pitiful way she’d spent the last seven days.

Besides, it wasn’t like it was a lie; between puking her guts out, she’d spent a lot of time replaying the events that had led her to Douma’s bedroom, terrified and crying.

“A-and are you – you okay?” He stuttered, fidgeting with the drawstring of his sleep pants, twisting it nervously around his finger.

Y/N exhaled but gave him a half-smile that was almost genuine. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Sanemi continued to shift nervously in the door, as though he wanted to ask her something else, but was warring with whether he should.

Ultimately, he decided to risk it. “Did he -“ Sanemi’s eyes screwed shut, and when he opened them again, he was fixed on a point over her shoulder, as though the question on his tongue was too much for him to risk meeting her eyes.

“Did he… hurt you,” Sanemi hesitated, his voice quieting to a whisper so soft, Y/N had to strain to hear it. “In a way I can’t see?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her gaze softening as the weight of his question settled. “No, Sanemi, he didn’t. I promise.”

Her hand jumped absentmindedly to the faded mark where Douma had bit her and rubbed. “He wanted to, that much was clear, but Hakuji…Hakuji came just in time.”

Sanemi’s shoulders curled inward as he relaxed, and to Y/N’s heartache, she saw him nearly shaking under the weight of his unshed tears. “I’m sorry — I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

Y/N’s eyes hardened, and she let out a sardonic laugh. “That’s what you’re sorry for?”

She shook her head. “Why in the world would you have expected to have been there, Sanemi? You weren’t there any other time I needed you.”

“That’s not-“

“Too bad that’s the only thing you’re apologizing for,” Y/N sighed. “If only you would be sorry for the pain you’ve caused me, not for someone else hurting me.”

Sanemi’s gaze was hard, if not a little weary as he considered her words. “Okay Y/N, you’re right. It’s past time for us to do this,” he walked to the door that led out to the patio area, a little away from the house. He looked back to her, and in response to the eyebrow she had raised in question, he exhaled. “We’ve gotta have it out.”

Y/N did not move from her spot, standing with her back to the stovetop burners, merely crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him, her hip jutting out. “I’m not going anywhere. If you want to do this, we can do it right here.”

“Fine,” Sanemi bit, voice stony as he folded his arms across his chest, matching her stance. “Then go ahead.”

Y/N merely raised an eyebrow at him, keeping her mouth clamped tightly shut. She refused to let him order her around, to let him goad her into being vulnerable after two years of nothing from him.

Sanemi watched her expectantly for a moment before sighing. “I guess I’ll start,” and he rubbed at his tired eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your first time? That night?”

To Y/N’s shock, Sanemi looked genuinely upset, and she despised the way it made her ache. For all her attempts to keep him forever at arm’s length despite her need for him, the first sign of his pain was enough to make her want to fall to her knees.

But she kept her face neutral, disinterested. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I-,” Sanemi hesitated, his fingers curling against his palms, hands forming fists. “You should’ve told me.”

This conversation was nearly impossible to have sober, and for a brief moment, Y/N craved the sweet oblivion of flashing neon lights and pounding music and purple pills.

“It was none of your business,” Y/N decided, fingers toying with the ends of her hair as she avoided his gaze. “It was my decision.”

Sanemi opened his mouth as though to argue with her, but she cut him off. “God, this is so like you, isn’t it?”

Her fists clenched, and the anger she’d so carefully kept tucked away inside her began to bubble over. “Is it some weird male possessive thing? You fucked me, so now you think you have some kind of claim to me?”

“I care about you, you idiot, and I thought I’d hurt you,” Sanemi replied hotly. “If I’d’ve known, I wouldn’t have done it at all.”

“It’s not about you caring for me,” Y/N snapped. “Admit it — you feel entitled to me.” You’ve always felt entitled to my affections, ever since we were kids.”

Her leg began to bounce with her irritation. “You’d get huffy if I showed the slightest bit of affection to any other boy — don’t try to deny it. You’d cross your arms and get all broody and it fooled no one.”

Y/N laughed, though it was without humor. “You’re a possessive, jealous asshole, who keeps me around because I stoke your ego. You can’t tell me you never thought, not even once, that I had feelings for you.” Y/N’s eyes burned with angry tears.

“Of course I thought it,” Sanemi shot back. “You think I was that fucking blind?” He cracked his knuckles, an anxious tic he’d had since they were small. “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at me, like I was your goddamn favorite person? How could I ignore that?”

Sanemi shook his head. “Did you ever stop to think, for one moment, that maybe I didn’t say shit because I knew — have always known — that I’m not fuckin’ good enough for you? You’ve always been the smartest out of the three of us, Y/N — but did that thought ever cross that pretty head of yours?”

“That’s such a bullshit fucking reason,” Y/N said, exasperated. “Spare me the ‘I’m not good enough for you’ crap, Sanemi. This isn’t a fucking novel,” Y/N ground her toe into the expensive, stone tile of the Uzui’s kitchen floor in frustration. “Because for all your talk, nothing changes the very simple fact that you cut me off like it was fucking nothing. Like I was nothing.”

Sanemi’s jaw went slack as he gaped at her. “Is that how you remember it?”

-----

“Though, I guess it would’ve been hard to know it was you, anyways.”

-----

(Nine Months Earlier)

As he lazily strolled to his next class, Sanemi’s eyes casually roamed amongst the faces of fellow students as they brushed by him, heading in the opposite direction, when something caught his attention. Or rather, someone.

That someone was a wisp of a person, hunched over and curled into themselves like a wounded animal. From the cursory glance he gave them, Sanemi could see that the student was one, a girl, around his age, and two, looked as though she was about to blow away in the brisk, November wind.

He almost passed her without another thought, when her eyes lifted briefly and collided with his, and Sanemi felt his stomach drop, though he couldn’t explain why. Perhaps the flip in his gut had to do with the deep-set shadows beneath the girl’s glassy eyes, or the heavy hollow of her cheeks, as if she’d not known rest or a decent meal for months.

As quickly as her eyes met his, they lowered again, and the girl brushed past him. Sanemi kept walking for a few steps, content to let all memory of the girl fall into the recesses of his mind.

But her eyes. Something about her eyes made his mind snag, pulled at something in his chest that urged him to stop, turn around, and go back to her.

He stopped; he stopped, in the middle of the crosswalk, though the light was quickly ticking down the seconds he had to finish crossing the busy intersection, because he knew those eyes, even if, to his horror, he hadn’t recognized the face, so worn and thin under the crushing weight of her grief.

He knew those eyes, because he’d spent his entire life loving them.

Sanemi whipped around, eyes frantically scanning the dissipating crowd of students in search of her once more. Though his next class was in the opposite direction, he sprinted back across the street to where she’d been walking, calling her name as he darted in and around scowling students, annoyed at the panic-stricken man calling a name that wasn’t theirs.

He felt the burn of his frustrated and desperate tears begin to sting his eyes as he realized, to his torment, that Y/N had evaded him once more, vanishing like smoke in the wind.

Sanemi felt the familiar howl of crippling, raging despair gathering like a violent sea wave in the midst of a storm within him rearing its ugly head to smash him to bits against the rocky shore of his anguish at the realization that Y/N hadn’t just lost her mother.

She’d been suffering. For months.

And he hadn’t known; hadn’t been there for her to lean on, to make sure that she wasn’t bearing the entirety of the weight of a sick parent by herself, only a nineteen-year-old girl. So stuck in his own grief over Genya he’d been that he hadn’t known the depths of Y/N’s endless distress.

He’d abandoned her, and now, the woman he loved was a shell of her former self; a living ghost, forever out of his reach despite always haunting the corners of his shredded heart.

Any thought of his upcoming class faded from his mind as he began to stumble towards Kyojuro’s apartment, desperate to share the news with someone, anyone, who would understand the depth of his despair, and Sanemi broke down into tears.

-----

“And where have you been hidin’ all this time?”

“I’ve been right here.”

“Nah, you haven’t.”

-----

(Six Months Earlier)

“It’s been months, Sanemi, and we haven’t caught so much as a whisper of her,” Kyojuro’s voice was heavy with resignation as the blonde looked pleadingly at his best friend.

The muscles in Sanemi’s forearms flexed as his grip on his phone tightened while he fiddled with it. “We haven’t looked everywhere – have we tried the Pillars?” Sanemi began searching the address for the nearby apartment complex where over two-thirds of the Ubaya-U upperclassmen student body resided.

Kyojuro shook his head. “The Pillars house over two thousand units – we can’t just start going door to door. We’d look insane.”

But the silver-haired man didn’t reply as his eyes narrowed at his screen. “I’ll bet most of the students are in the same building – most residents don’t wanna put up with a bunch of noisy, drunk college kids.”

Kyojuro only looked at his friend in pity. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found, Sanemi. Not by us, at least.”

Sanemi finally looked up from his screen and cringed at the docility in his friend’s eyes. “What do you suggest we do, Kyo?” He tossed his phone on his kitchen table in annoyance. “Just give up? D’you really think it’s best to just leave her by herself?”

“You don’t know for certain whether she is alone, though,” Kyojuro countered. “She might’ve found her own group here. Maybe she already has support. Maybe she doesn’t need us anymore.”

Kyojuro’s words hit something soft within him that he hadn’t realized had been left unguarded. For deep down, one of Sanemi’s many fears had always been that Y/N would one day outgrow him, though he’d always maintained that he wouldn’t hold her back should the day come.

But that wasn’t what happened; Sanemi had checked out after Genya’s death, and had only snapped back into reality a few weeks before the news of Mrs. Y/L/N’s passing had reached his ears, threatening to send him back to that dark, lonely island amidst the never-ending sea of his grief.

All he wanted was to make sure Y/N hadn’t been marooned on her own isle. As long as she had someone, then Sanemi could accept that he’d fucked over any chance he’d had of remaining in her life, in any capacity.

But until then…

“We don’t know for sure,” Sanemi said hoarsely, leaning back in his kitchen chair, the worn wood creaking slightly under his weight. “And until we do, I ain’t risking her being left alone to deal with this.”

Kyojuro looked at him with such pity and sorrow that it made him want to squirm. Refusing to meet his friend’s fiery, discerning gaze, Sanemi reached to pluck his phone from the table once more, scrolling through his phone contacts list, scanning the names.

“D’you think she might still be in contact with her old roommate?” He asked though it was more of a rhetorical question, given that he’d already begun drafting a message. “I’ve gotta catch my train here in an hour – but we could always try texting her.”

-----

“D’you really think I didn’t try to find you?”

-----

(Three Months Earlier)

“Three – you’re dating three women?” Sanemi asked, equal parts stunned and impressed.

The suave, silver-haired man nodded, a dreamy grin spreading wide across his handsome face. “Sure am,” Tengen produced a sleek black phone from the pocket of his joggers, and opened his social media profile to search a username. “Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru. They’re all seniors at Ubaya-U, and roommates.” Tengen wiggled his eyebrows. “Which makes life very convenient for me,”

Sanemi met Kyojuro’s ochre stare as Tengen scrolled, as though waiting for his friend to call bullshit on the young detective’s brag, but the blonde only nodded.

“Hold on, they all went out with a few friends the other night, and I think Suma uploaded a pic with all of ‘em,” Tengen’s eyes narrowed in on what Sanemi assumed was the girl’s profile, scanning. “Aha! Here,” he held his phone out for the two boys to inspect, a proud, smug smile etched into his handsome face.

The photo was of five girls, three of whom Tengen identified as “his girls.” One of the remaining smiles was that which belonged to a girl with curious pink and green hair, wearing what could only be described as rave attire, given that most of her considerable body was exposed, even under the dim light of the club. As for the remaining girl --.

Sanemi’s stomach dropped as he looked closer at the image on Tengen’s phone. For there, sandwiched between the pink girl and one of Tengen’s partners, was the girl who’d held Sanemi’s heart since the day they’d met in preschool.

Y/N.

Only, she didn’t look like herself, not really. The sultry smile she gave the camera didn’t quite reach her eyes, which held that hollow, deadened look of someone who’d long since lost their will to live; who’d long since stopped caring they had.

Sanemi was only able to tear his eyes away from the image of Y/N’s frozen not-smile when Kyojuro pressed his elbow into his gut. He looked back to Tengen, who watched him with an odd expression, and sheepishly, Sanemi realized he’d snatched the phone right from the young detective’s hand.

“Sorry,” he muttered, handing Tengen back his cell. “I’m just surprised. It’s been a minute since we last saw her.”

“Who?” Tengen frowned, looking back at the photo, before recognition lit his eyes. “Oh! You mean Y/L/N? You two know her?”

Sanemi found it difficult to speak, so Kyojuro answered for him. “We grew up together back home. We haven’t really seen or heard from her in a while,”

Tengen hummed disinterestedly, apparently aloof to the way Kyo’s voice had cracked. “I’ve met her a few times – Suma dotes on her.” He smiled as he clicked off his phone, leaning back in the booth. “She’s been over to the girls’ place a few times before, and she seems pretty cool; kind of a party girl, though.”

Sanemi gaped at him, finally finding his voice. “She’s a what?”

Tengen shrugged. “Yeah, one time I met up with their friend group at one of the clubs downtown – the Kizuki Lounge, I think? – anyways, she and Makio decided to have a drink-off, and it ended with my ass having to carry them both out to the car and drive ‘em home.” He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “They argued the whole drive back about who won.”

Both Kyojuro and Sanemi sat in dumb silence as the silver-haired man leaned in, his voice lower than it had been. “One of their friends – she wasn’t in that picture just now – but apparently she’s some sort of chemistry whiz. Made a new drug that’s like ecstasy, but lasts longer and has an easier come down.” A conspiratorial smile spread across his face, a devious light in his eyes as he whispered, “The girls swear it helped give them the most intense orgasms of their life. I kinda wanna try it out for myself.”

Tengen leaned back and winked. “Are either of you interested? Even if you don’t want it, you should try hitting up the Kizuki every now and again. Most of Ubaya-U’s student body goes to party there during the summer, and they tend to offer decent deals on drinks.”

Sanemi had frequented bars, but never clubs, and Kyojuro rarely found himself in either. However, if Tengen’s comments about Y/N were to be believed, it was more than likely she was a regular patron of the local joint. She’d managed to evade every other attempt to get in touch with her, but perhaps meeting her on her turf would give him the opening he’d been desperately holding out for.

And Sanemi wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to find out.

He took a swig of his coffee before setting it down, meeting Tengen’s stare evenly, though he fought to conceal the way his hands trembled. “What are you doing this Friday?”

-----

“I looked for you – everywhere, I looked for you.” Sanemi promised, his voice trembling as he pled with her. “Y/N, I knew what you were going through – I know what it’s like --,” his eyes begged her to just listen, but she couldn’t, not when she’d spent so long staying so silent.

“You have no idea!” Y/N burst, and for the first time in two years, she spoke of the night her world had ended, even though for everyone else, it kept spinning.

“I was alone when she died! It was just me in that hospital room,” Her tears flowed in a steady stream down her face, though her voice remained steady and sharp. “I was moving her hand over my hair because I knew I would never again get to feel her stroke my head whenever I was sad or stressed. It was so fucking late, and I was so tired, but I felt something shift, and I looked at her and watched her take her last fucking breath, Sanemi!”

Y/N ‘s hands wrung in her grief. “I had to call the nursing attendant and tell them – even though I could barely speak, I had to tell them my Mama stopped breathing.” As she spoke, she saw only the image of her mother in that damn bed, still and pale, and her mother but no longer.

“And do you know what happened next? They told me I needed to leave and sign fucking paperwork,” She laughed, derisively, though she only cried harder. “I had to sign fucking release forms and then they just – told me goodnight. I walked to my car. Alone. I drove home. Alone. Without her.”

“I was with you when you found out about Genya – we made sure you weren’t alone! But me? Who was there for me?” Y/N was sobbing into her hands, her shoulders shaking with the weight of all the bitter loneliness she’d been forced to endure over the last two years. “Where were you?”

“Y/N, I get it, I do –,” Sanemi began but Y/N shook her head.

“No, Sanemi, you don’t understand!” Her voice was no longer angry, but pleading, begging him – anyone – to understand just how much she’d been struggling and for how long. “Every night when I close my eyes, I see her, lying there. I hear the beep of her oxygen monitor going haywire because she wasn’t breathing, and I see her take her final breath. Every night, over and over, and I just want it to stop.”

Y/N slumped back against the kitchen counter, exhausted and defeated. “You asked me where I’ve been the last two years, and you were right – I haven’t been here; because I’m still there –in that hospital room. I never left.”

Her sobs finally quieted beneath the press of her hand to her mouth as she tried to stifle the hysterical way her breath struggled to catch. “And I don’t think I will ever leave. It’s been two years, Sanemi, and I’m still sitting there, right where I lost everything.”

“So yeah, I was desperate for an escape. Because, that next day, I woke up, and for some reason, morning, still came, even though my Mom would never again see another sunrise, and even though my world had been obliterated,” Y/N’s voice quieted to a near whisper, her voice hoarse from her tears. “And everybody else just moved on. I wanted to pretend that I had, too, even if only for a little while.”

“I was alone,” Y/N cried softly into her hands. “I’m still alone.”

When Sanemi spoke, his voice was rough and cracked. “I know I left you alone then,” but for some reason, his validation didn’t soothe her the way it had with Kyojuro. “But you’re not alone now – I tried, so hard, Y/N, to find you and make sure you were okay, and I failed,” His eyes shone with his own unshed tears. “I refuse to leave you alone, now. I know that probably pisses you off, but I can’t – I can’t leave you, not when I know --,”

“It’s too late,” Y/N interjected, lifting her head up to meet his eyes. “You can’t just waltz back into my life and decide you care now, not after all this time.”

“It was never about me not caring,” Sanemi sat down in the seat opposite from her, his head braced between his hands as his fingers tugged at his hair in frustration. “I don’t get why you can’t understand that.”

She gaped at him. “You stopped talking to me because I said I was in love with you – I fully understand that it was piss-poor fucking timing on my part, but you tossed me aside like garbage.”

Sanemi’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “You think that’s why I stopped talking to you?” And suddenly, devastation pulled at his face as his shoulders sagged. “Y/N – that was never the reason --,”

“What other reason was there, Sanemi?” Her tears had dried, but the gnawing ache in her chest only deepened at the look of his despair, because, angry as she was with him, she would never wish him to be in as much pain as he appeared to be in right then. “Even if you weren’t really that angry, it doesn’t change the fact that you stopped speaking to me because of it,”

“Y/N – that’s not –,” Sanemi began, but Y/N wanted no part of it, and she could tell they were only gearing up for another fight. She opened her mouth, ready to unleash all of her acidic, biting remarks about how comfortable Sanemi had been to use her, knowing that she was probably still in love with him, when he spoke once more.

“You aren’t the only one who has been grieving.” Sanemi’s words hit her with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs, and the fight from her blood.

“I lost the last person I could call ‘family,’ too, Y/N.” Sanemi spoke with a brokenness that she knew only she recognized as grief – boundless and all-consuming. “I failed as your friend, that’s true,” Sanemi’s voice quieted to a whisper. “But I failed as a brother, first.”

-----

(November, 2 months after Genya’s death)

Sanemi laughed as the enraged bar patron’s fist slammed into his nose. The blow wasn’t hard enough to break the bone, given his intoxication, but it was enough for Sanemi to taste the blood as it dripped into his mouth.

“You’re fucking crazy,” the man spat, stumbling slightly.

Sanemi’s grin only widened. “I bet your wife would like some crazy in her life. You look as dull as a sack of shi-,” his taunt was cut off as the man landed another sharp to his gut, the breath wheezing out of him as Sanemi felt something inside him crack.

Probably another rib, he groused, gritting his teeth slightly. Just down the darkened alley, Sanemi could see people slowing down, watching as the balding drunkard threw lazy and disjointed punches at the bloodied, laughing man, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the cops were called. And Sanemi, to his annoyance, had promised Kyojuro he would try to stop needing the blonde to bail his ass out of jail every other week. He hadn’t known why he’d made such an inane promise to his best friend in the first place; it wasn’t as if he mattered.

Because the days following Genya’s death had blurred into weeks, which bled into months. For Sanemi, life became marked by the amount of time that had passed since he’d become the only Shinazugawa left on earth.

Since he’d last been someone’s brother.

Two days. Twenty-three. A month. Four months. Nine. A year.

Life post-Genya was a series of blurs; droplets of water on a page that smeared ink into something vaguely recognizable, but ultimately rendered useless.

Just like him.

For so long, his identity had revolved around being Genya’s big brother — his Aniki, as the boy had affectionately called him.

Could one still be an older sibling when they had no sibling left?

Genya had been Sanemi’s pride and joy. He’d been eager to get settled into college, to get his own place so Genya wouldn’t have to share a bunk bed with other kids the state had squeezed into their foster home. He’d lined up jobs to ensure he could buy Genya whatever food he wanted, whenever he wanted it, because Genya was always hungry, and their foster parents had never seemed to have enough to go around.

But then, Genya had wound up dead, and Sanemi hadn’t even been there to protect him. What kind of big brother was he, if he couldn’t even be counted on to be there when his little brother needed him the most?

He didn’t even get to say goodbye. He’d left his brother only a couple of weeks prior, with a promise to come and visit him as soon as he could. Genya had tried his hardest to stifle his tears, but despite his brother’s somewhat hardened appearance, thanks to the scar that cut across his face, Sanemi knew Genya was a sensitive boy, prone to wearing his heart on his sleeve. So the elder Shinazugawa had pulled his brother in tight, ruffled his hair, and told him he’d see him soon.

It had been a lie; the next time Sanemi saw Genya, the fourteen-year-old was a body on a metal table, awaiting Sanemi’s approval to be sent to a funeral home for burial preparations.

And so, the days passed in one, monotonous, never-ending cycle. Wake up; stare at the ceiling; force himself to eat, shower, and go to class. Then, Sanemi would grab his fake ID, head to a bar, take a few shots of some burning, acidic liquid, and then identify the meanest, biggest thug in the joint and pick a fight. He’d let himself get beaten to a bloody pulp and then he’d limp his way home, barely making it to his bed before passing out in the sweet stupefaction of oblivion.

Occasionally, he’d wonder why on earth he was the one who was left alive; why fate had demanded Genya’s life and not his, because Genya had so much more to offer the world than he did.

After all, Genya hadn’t even picked the fight between the two boys from their old foster home, and he’d still ended up dead.

The time never seemed to stop even though his little brother’s heart had; and with each passing day, Sanemi felt himself growing number and number. As the pulsing ache between Sanemi’s ribs dulled, he mused that, with every moment that passed, he was growing closer to becoming just like the little brother who now slept six feet under the frozen ground of the cemetery plot that also now housed their parents and other siblings.

Nothing more than a corpse.

If only it had been him.

It should have been him.

-----

“After Genya died I —,” Sanemi hesitated. “I wasn’t a good person, Y/N. You didn’t need to see me like that.” He ran a hand down his face, his weariness a heavy shadow beneath his eyes. “I’m honestly surprised Kyo stuck through it as long as he did.”

“I fucked up, I know that.” He admitted, his eyes shining with his own unshed tears. “I was an asshole to you, and I could’ve done more,”

Sanemi’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But I needed you, too. And you vanished. You told me you loved me and then you vanished. And it was like losing another person I loved all over again, and I’d barely started mourning Genya.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop to the floor and her vision tunnel. The weight of Sanemi’s words slammed into her with cataclysmic force, and she shot out a steadying hand against the counter to keep her knees from buckling.

She remembered now, the point at which she’d fucked it all up; and he was right.

Y/N had felt abandoned by her friends, but she’d forgotten that it was she who distanced herself from Sanemi first; that she’d done so to protect her own stupid pride and heartache after his apparent rejection of her love. She’d evaded him first, because she’d assumed that was what he wanted, even though he’d tried texting her once. She’d neglected to consider that perhaps, his ignorance of her hadn’t anything to do with his anger that she’d dared to confess; that perhaps, his neglect of her had been part of a general disconnect from the world, in the wake of it taking yet another person he loved away.

At the time, Y/N hadn’t understood what it meant to grieve; hadn’t been able to comprehend the ways in which it could engulf someone like a wildfire before they could ever see the smoke.

He’s dealing with a lot right now, Kyojuro had told her, sternly. But perhaps Kyojuro’s admonition hadn’t been that at all; perhaps it had been a tired, desperate effort to remind her that Sanemi’s introversion from the world had nothing to do with her at all.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N gasped, her hands shaking. “I didn’t realize – I just knew I felt alone. All I wanted was you, Sanemi. I didn’t care how. I just wanted my friend.” This time, Y/N did not try and steady her voice as the tears welled up in her eyes. “I needed you — I needed my ‘Nemi. But you weren’t there – I-I didn’t think-,”

“I promise you, I wanted to make it right. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did at the train station,” Sanemi gave a great sniff, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “When I snapped out of it, I tried so hard to find you by then, it was too late; you were gone,” His tears fell fast and hot down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

“I failed you; I know that --,”

But the girl shook her head, collapsing back against the kitchen counter. “We failed each other.” She wiped her cheeks, her arms winding tight around her middle as she tried to hold herself together even though the weight of the words that followed threatened to tear her apart at the seam for good. “And I don’t know how to fix this – how to fix us.”

Sanemi leaned back against the table, opposite her. “Maybe we can’t…maybe we can never go back to the way things were.”

Even as he said it, Y/N’s heart seized. She knew he was right, but she wanted so very badly to believe he was wrong; wanted to believe there was still a them to salvage.

“That doesn’t change how I feel about us,” Sanemi continued. “And that doesn’t mean we can't try to make something new.”

His words, so brutally honest and yet hopeful, tugged at the bleeding, mangled pieces of her heart. For the first time since they’d reunited, Y/N felt as though she could finally see him – all of him – and he broke her heart, and not for the reasons she thought he had before. The remnants of her heart ached for him because he looked just as broken and lost as she was, and she realized that perhaps, they hadn’t meant to hurt one another. Perhaps, they’d both been merely victims of their own grief.

All Y/N knew was that she was tired, so very tired of running from him, especially when he’d always been inevitable. And she wanted, more than anything, to ease some of the burden that she’d failed to notice he’d been struggling to carry, too consumed by her own grief and pain and rage.

Sanemi’s stare was weary as she slid off the counter and approached him timidly, hesitating just once before winding her arms around his neck and kissing him, gently.

She kissed him because she did not know what else she could do at that moment. There were no words she could say, no promises she could offer him, other than this small act of physical comfort.

Sanemi kissed her back, soft, though the hand on her face felt more like an effort to restrain himself from going any further. Y/N’s suspicions were confirmed when he broke away from her lips, panting slightly, and moved when she tried to reconnect them.

He pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he murmured, apologetically. “We’re both all worked up.”

Y/N opened her eyes and peered up at him, nodding. He was right; of course, he was right, but his rejection stung anyways.

He must have sensed it, for he pressed his lips tightly against her forehead, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Let’s just take some time, okay?”

Her lips trembled with the effort to keep herself from crying once more, but she nodded, nonetheless. Briefly, Sanemi’s lips brushed her forehead once more, before he pulled away, and silently retreated to his bedroom, leaving Y/N in the dim light of the kitchen.

-----

The next day and a half passed without event, and Y/N was grateful for it. She’d managed to smile and laugh with Mitsuri and Kyojuro, and goofed around with Tengen’s beautiful girlfriends, but her heart remained heavy in her chest.

Though, it wasn’t an unwelcome weight, even if it made her uncomfortable at times. The fallout from hers and Sanemi’s talk two nights earlier had been both the final knife to her blackening heart and its bandage, and she’d been left to work through the complex tapestry of her feelings towards the man who’d held her heart before she’d even known she’d given it to him.

Such thoughts, however, had not quieted. It was just after midnight when Y/N gave up on trying to sleep. The house was too large and too quiet, and it made the thoughts in her head all the louder and sleep all the more evasive.

With a sigh, she kicked free of her blankets and rose, padding out of her temporary bedroom and into the dark, silent hall of the Uzui lake house. Trust that Tengen, of all people, would come from a family that not only had a summer house, but one large enough that each of her friends had been afforded their own private bedroom for their short weekend.

Clad in only a pair of black boy-shorts and a matching, cropped tank, Y/N clandestinely made her way down towards the large staircase which led to the first floor, but paused before beginning her descent, as she remembered that Sanemi’s room was on the first floor – just before the kitchen.

He’d wanted space, and she’d given it to him. Over the last two days, the pair hardly spoke to one another except for, when necessary, by virtue of the group’s activities under the sun. It hadn’t been out of any malice or anger, not like before. Rather, it seemed that their mutual avoidance of one another had been born out of a curious shyness that had bloomed between them, as both worked through the snarled tangles of their hearts.

If she went to the kitchen, as planned, there was a chance she’d wake him, and even if every fiber of her body missed him, the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of his loss of sleep – at least, more so than she’d apparently already had been.

On the other hand, she was thirsty, and there was a restlessness buzzing beneath her skin that would not quiet, that hadn’t quieted since she’d given up those treacherous lilac pills.

Y/N decided to take her chances, resolving not to turn on any of the stair lights or the light in the kitchen, instead navigating only by the dim light of her phone as she eased her way down the polished wood stairs. She held her breath as she slipped past the door that led to Sanemi’s room, as though the very sound would risk disturbing the handsome man slumbering within.

Once in the kitchen, Y/N blindly felt around for the cupboard containing sparkling glasses and managed to fill one with water without making a great deal of sound. Using the light of her phone screen, she managed to hop up onto the cool, marbled countertop and leaned back against the cabinets as she nursed her drink.

For the last two nights, sleep had evaded Y/N because of the way Sanemi’s words had played, over and over her head, a never-ending tape that showcased her own selfishness on a loop.

You aren’t the only one who has been grieving, he’d told her, brokenly.

He was right, and she was horrible.

For as long as she could remember, Y/N had always feared being selfish. She didn’t know where the deep-seated aversion to looking after he own self-interest had come from, but it was one that was so deeply ingrained within her that she’d long since stopped trying to overcome it. Instead, she’d found herself always trying to do the best for other people, desperately trying not to put herself over her loved ones, for fear they would leave her the instant she did.

When she’d found out her mother was going to die, she’d been left by the doctor to break the devastating news as her beloved mother lay in that hospital bed, fighting so hard to keep her oxygen levels up so that she could get out. Her mother had been asking Y/N to describe all of the autumnal decorations she’d seen go up in town, as though the prospect of seeing fake leaf garlands and pumpkins would be enough to make her lungs work properly once more.

For as long as she lived, she would never forget the broken disbelief in her mother’s eyes as Y/N had tearfully told her she would not live to see the end of the week.

“I thought I had more time,” her mother had wheezed, brokenly, clasping Y/N’s hand as tightly as she could with her dwindling strength.

She’d looked so scared, so lost, and what had Y/N done?

Y/N had cried; sobbed and had been utterly unable to stop. Her mother had needed comfort, and she hadn’t been able to toughen up and stop crying.

I’m sorry, Mama, she’d bawled, I can’t stop crying, I’m so sorry.

Her mother, with tears in her own eyes, had only shaken her head. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

As though it were her fault she was dying; as though Y/N didn’t know that if death were a matter of will, her mother would be here, on earth, with her still.

In her mother’s most desperate moment, Y/N had been utterly incapable of providing comfort, instead needing to be comforted, like the child she’d been. It was despicable; she was despicable.

To her horror, she’d been nothing but selfish. So, so very selfish, for being unable to check her emotions when it mattered most. And her mother had barely been conscious after that final conversation, which meant Y/N hadn’t been able to apologize for making her mother comfort her in her hour of greatest need. But Y/N had added that great regret to the list of things that would likely haunt her for the rest of her life, hopeful that maybe its presence on her list of regret would serve as a warning for her in the future.

It hadn’t; because Y/N had fallen right back into the sticky trap of her own selfishness and had failed to account for all the ways in which Sanemi had been suffering, right alongside her.

Worse, she’d relished his suffering because she’d thought she’d been the cause of it, and it had felt so damn good to finally get him back for the two years of hell she’d endured, never realizing that he’d been burning, too.

They’d been victims of a shitty hand dealt to them both, but too young and too stupid to be able to see the world outside of their own heads. And now, she had no idea where things stood between them.

Deep in thought, Y/N did not sense the shift in the air that signaled another was stirring until the kitchen light flipped on, and Y/N’s head shot up to see the person she’d most wanted to both see and avoid.

Sanemi looked just as surprised to see her, perched on the kitchen counter. His hand still lingered on the light switch, and his eyes were wide. He seemed to realize he’d been staring, and he quickly looked down to his feet, the faintest trace of red crossing his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Y/N huffed a watery chuckle, wiping quickly at the tears that clung to her cheeks. “Neither could I – just a little restless, I guess.”

There was so much she wanted to say, and yet, she couldn’t think of a single word to speak, as he continued to hover by the light switch, uncertainty turning his muscles rigid. An awkward silence ensued as Y/N gave a great sniff and tried, but failed, to fake an ‘everything is fine’ smile.

Not that she would’ve been able to fool him anyway, but still, she mused, it would’ve been nice to try.

“I’m sorry – I’ll go back to my room,” She put her water glass down by her side and braced her hands against the edge of the counter to hop down, but remembered that she was still only in her underwear. It was foolish, she knew, to feel suddenly self-conscious being so exposed in front of him, given that Sanemi had spent the entire summer exploring every nook and cranny of her body with his mouth and hands, but the emotions of the weekend still weighed heavily on her – made her feel vulnerable.

Especially under the microscope of his burning stare.

Sanemi didn’t respond, nor did he comment on her failure to move off the counter. Instead, he only continued to watch her as she wiped at her cheeks, that fathomless heat and longing and hurt in his stare.

“I’ve always hated seeing you cry,” he finally murmured, and Y/N was surprised to see that he had inched closer to where she sat, perched on the kitchen counter.

A door was opening, and Y/N found herself wondering if she should walk through it or remain here, where the line between them was tenuous, but a line nonetheless; safe, and capable of being enforced, if she needed to run.

Y/N recalled a conversation they’d had about Mitsuri and Obanai before the pair had begun dating – back when they, too, had been chained to their own doubts of the other’s sincerity.

They should let themselves try, he’d quietly insisted.

She’d rebuked his words, only to find herself eat crow later; Mitsuri and Obanai had let themselves try, and now they were together, mending and growing as one instead of as two.

Maybe they could try, too.

“But why?” Y/N pressed, because though she’d decided at that moment to walk through that door with no reservations, she still wanted to hear him say it; wanted an explanation, after all these months.

“You know why,” was his only reply, his voice growing hoarse as he drew up within an arm’s reach of her.

Y/N shook her head again, but Sanemi did not stop; his hands boxed her in on the counter, one thick forearm coming to brace on either side of the kitchen counter, thumbs just grazing her thighs.

“You know why,” he insisted.

Y/N finally lifted her eyes to his, the last wavering thread of her resolve dissolving as she beheld the timid, pleading sincerity in his stare.

She exhaled, softly, but she did not move away from him.

“Then show me.”

She’d never seen Sanemi look so shy as he lifted one hand to cup her delicately under the chin. As he leaned in close, Y/N felt a curious tingle in her stomach that only grew in its intensity as his lips – so warm and soft – brushed against hers.

It was butterflies, Y/N realized as her eyes closed, that she’d felt fluttering in her stomach as Sanemi kissed her, because it was everything their first kiss should have been. It was not rough and sticky from mixed drinks and being pressed against dirty club walls in the dark, like the act itself was a shameful secret driven only by lust.

It was gentle, and soft, like the first fall of snowflakes against her cheeks. It was warm like a summer breeze, gently messing the tendrils of her hair against her bare shoulders, as it caressed her skin and promised precious moments of levity and of peace.

Sanemi’s lips moved against hers, still so gentle, and Y/N felt not just the love she’d come to accept he held for her, but also his hope, as tentative and uncertain and yet as eager, as a newborn fawn taking its first shaking steps in the spring.

It was everything; he was everything.

Their kiss grew more heated as they both grew more desperate to consume one another, the desire to make up for all the time lost between them morphing into a base need, as though their minds knew they needed the other to help put themselves back together again; to make themselves whole.

Sanemi’s hands found the sliver of skin exposed between the top of her underwear and the bottom of her tank top, and Y/N moaned, her legs wrapping around his hips to lock her closer to him as she let Sanemi engulf her in his strong, sturdy arms.

He lifted her effortlessly from the counter, his lips never leaving hers, and he began to walk them toward his bedroom. As Y/N’s legs wrapped eagerly around his waist, and her fingers tightened their grip in his hair, she found herself grateful that his room was just around the corner.

His tongue danced slowly with hers as he nudged the door to his room open with his foot and blindly pushed it shut once they were safely inside.

Sanemi’s lips dropped to her neck as he carried her to his bed, laying her out beneath him as his hands skimmed under her tank top, rough fingertips gliding up the sides of her bare waist until his palms rested against her breasts, rolling the mounds between his hands until she was moaning into his mouth, her wetness gathering quickly in her underwear as Sanemi pressed his groin against hers and rolled.

He made quick work of discarding her sleeping top, his mouth closing around one of her nipples as he gave it a hard suck, his hand cupping the other to roll her stiffening nipple between his fingers with a surety that had her whining and tugging at his hair, begging him for more.

Y/N’s fingers clawed at his back, eager to tear his t-shirt from his back so that her hands could greedily roam the stony ridges of his back, his chest. Sanemi groaned as she raked her nails across his shoulders, and he nipped her breast in response for making his way down to where her underwear struggled to conceal her arousal from him.

His tongue grazed over the thin scrap of fabric that separated her bare cunt from his waiting mouth and he groaned, his fingers digging into the sides of her thighs. “I can taste you through your damn panties,” he growled, his eyes dark as they lifted up to her face, flushed bright pink as she watched him slowly drag his tongue up her clothed slit. “Are you that needy for me already, baby?”

Sanemi withdrew himself from between her legs, and Y/N thought she’d fall apart at the loss of his warmth above her. Any protestations she had bubbling in her throat, however, died, as Sanemi shoved his sweatpants down his legs, his thick length springing forth and bouncing against his navel.

No matter how many times she’d seen it, the sight of his cock, long and with considerable girth, with a pretty, mushroom-like tip that grew an angry red the longer he went without stimulation, never failed to make her mouth go dry.

“Let me take care of you, sweet girl,” he cooed, slowly kneeling before where she laid sprawled on his bed as his hands smoothed up her thighs to the bottom of her underwear. Gently, his fingers curled under the fabric and began to slide them down the length of her legs, until he’d pulled them away from her feet.

Before he returned to her, he balled the discarded cloth in his hand and brought it to his nose, eyes closing as he inhaled deeply the scent of her arousal, a soft growl reverberating from the back of his throat as he opened his eyes, amethyst irises full of heady want for her.

“Fuck, I’ve missed that,” he said quietly, his movements slow, teasing, as he knelt on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, as he settled between her thighs.

Y/N huffed a shaky laugh. “It’s been two weeks, you nymphomaniac,” though she nearly gulped at way his eyes darkened as he exhaled softly along her glistening, throbbing core.

Sanemi sat back from her, eyes roaming her bare body as he considered her words. “You’re right, it’s been two weeks,” he said evenly, as his hands slide under backside, lifting her up to work himself under her until she was perched on his abdomen, its rocky ridges brushing deliciously against her bare folds.

“W-what are you -!” Y/N’s question was cut off as Sanemi’s broad, warm hands gripped under her thighs and hauled her up his torso, bringing her to hover just above his face as he settled beneath her.

“It’s been too long,” Sanemi grunted, his voice like gravel with his desire. “I need this. I need you.”

His strength had always greatly outmatched her own, but Y/N did not try to struggle as he lowered her bare cunt onto his mouth, his hands braced on her hips as he pushed her full weight down onto his face, groaning loudly as her essence enveloped him.

Sanemi’s head had spent a great deal of time between her thighs since the start of the summer, and yet this was somehow far more intimate.

Intimate, because she was utterly helpless as he held her throbbing core flush against his face, his arms caged tightly around her thighs, prohibiting her from moving away even if she’d wanted to do so, as he devoured her.

From beneath her, Sanemi let out a deep groan as his tongue sank between her folds and began lapping at her. Sanemi’s expert tongue wove in and out of her folds, periodically grazing over her entrance with such teasing fervor that Y/N felt her lower abdominal muscles seize, and she could not stop her hips as she began to grind into his mouth, her head tossed back.

A sharp prick against her inner thigh had Y/N’s eyes flying open as she looked down, surprised to see Sanemi licking the inside of her thigh where he’d nipped her. Even in the dark, Y/N could see the moonlight reflecting off his lavender irises he held her gaze, the hands around her thighs tightening and Sanemi slid his hot, silken tongue into her opening.

Y/N’s responding moan was loud, wanton, her head falling back as her hips ground down into his mouth as she began to ride his tongue. Below her, Sanemi groaned, his laps and sucks at her most sensitive area growing louder as he greedily slurped her juices.

Y/N began to feel that coil deep in her stomach grow tighter as her clit began to pulse and throb against Sanemi’s relentless tongue and lips. One hand slid under her to play with her entrance, his rough fingers circling her opening, sliding into her until his first knuckle before withdrawing, teasing her as her hips bucked wildly against his face, as she grew more desperate for him to fill her.

“Sanemi – p-please,” Y/N begged as his deft fingers avoided sinking into her spasming heat once more, a small scream of frustration tearing from her throat as he continued to tease her.

Though her white-haired lover was prone to continue teasing her, the grip around her thighs tightened as Sanemi pressed her harder against his face, his tongue thrusting in and out of her as his teeth grazed her aching bead over and over. Y/N’s cries grew louder, closer together, as the rough stubble of his jaw scraped against her sensitive flesh.

It was too much; with a sharp cry, Y/N’s thighs seized around Sanemi’s head as she felt a rush of her juices gush out of her, coating his face. The vibrations from Sanemi’s groans of satisfaction intensified the ripple of pleasure that rocked through her, and Y/N could not stop herself from grinding even harder against him in a desperate attempt to prolong her release.

Y/N fought to keep herself upright as she bucked against his face, but the sensation had become too much, and she found herself falling back against his legs. Sanemi didn’t seem to mind, his arms remaining tightly locked around her lower hips as he continued to rock his face against her core, her thighs shuddering around his head at the scrape of his stubbled jaw against her heated, sensitive flesh.

She turned her head and was surprised to see how close Sanemi’s cock was to her face, standing thick and tall as it bounced proudly against his abdomen with every flex of his stomach muscles and thighs as he continued to eat her out like she was his final meal.

Y/N’s lips went dry as her eyes took in the leaking, red tip of him, so demanding and eager, and yet he’d been utterly content to ignore his own need in favor of satisfying hers.

She struggled against his iron-like grip on her hips, trying desperately to turn so she could take him fully into her mouth, but he was too lost in her cunt to realize she wasn’t trying to get away; she wanted him, wanted to pleasure him as must as he insisted on pleasing her.

“Sanemi,” she whined, trying to turn once more, but his arms only tightened around her, a growl of warning reverberating from his chest.

Straining, Y/N leaned as close as she could to his aching cock and stuck her tongue out, just managing to graze the side of it before she had to pull away.

It was enough. At the first caress of her wet tongue against him, she felt Sanemi freeze beneath her, his tongue momentarily pausing mid-thrust into her core as he realized what she was trying to do.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, finally tearing himself away from her lovingly abused cunt and throwing her off him to the side, her breasts bouncing as she settled against the mattress. “I need you – now.”

Sanemi covered her body with his own, her legs falling to the side with practiced ease as she accommodated his hips. Despite his gruff words, Sanemi bent down to kiss her softly, his lips warm and gentle, as one hand rose to caress her cheek. Y/N locked her arms around his neck, happily sighing into his mouth as his tongue slid between her lips to stroke hers, each caress making the fire in her lower belly burn hotter and more urgent.

Sanemi shifted, keeping one hand on her face as the other moved to grip him at his base, aligning himself with her entrance. His eyes flitted back up to hers one more time, seeking her permission, and it made Y/N’s heart seize. Even after more than two months of sleeping with her, he still insisted on ensuring he had her approval.

Had she been able to form a coherent sentence, she would have begged him to take her, but she’d long since lost her ability to speak thanks to Sanemi’s skilled hands and mouth, and so, she only rolled her hips towards his impatiently, whimpering with her need.

Sanemi groaned in response and the hot, flared tip of his aching cock pushed into her. Ordinarily, Sanemi took his time working his way inside her, given his considerable size and girth; but, thanks to the way he’d insisted she ride his face, Y/N’s core had become impossibly slick that Sanemi sunk into her molten heat in a single, fluid motion, not stopping until his base was pressed flush against hers.

A hitched breath blew past Sanemi’s lips as he buried his face into the crook of his neck. He locked one arm around her upper back, the other encircling her thigh to hold her open for him as he began to rock into her, sloppily and hurried, as though he were getting lost in the feeling of her tight, soaking heat as she clenched around him.

“S-Sanemi!” Y/N gasped, her fingers burying themselves into the pale cornsilk of his hair as she tugged, eliciting a deep groan from the Adonis that ground into her from above with abandon.

Y/N’s hips moved of their own accord as she desperately sought to meet his frenzied thrusts, circling and pushing against him as Sanemi’s cock hit that spot within her that made her toes curl and her stomach dip. She was as wanton and desperate as he was, though the harder she moved against him, the more needy she became.

She needed him to be closer; so much closer.

“’Nemi,” she cried, begging him though she did not know what she begged for, as she moved her hands from his hair to rake her nails down his back, needing him to do something, anything to bring her closer -.

Sanemi locked a steely arm around her middle and in one fluid motion, flipped them, bringing Y/N atop him.

Both groaned in unison as the new position allowed Sanemi to reach even deeper within her, and Y/N felt nearly intoxicated by the sensation of being filled and stretched to her limit. Sanemi’s hands braced at her waist as he began to help her roll her hips against his, his head falling back as his eyes fell shut in bliss, a deep moan falling from his mouth.

Tears stung Y/N’s eyes as she ground against him because she understood what his actions meant even if he’d not uttered a word.

Sanemi Shinazugawa said he’d never let anyone ride him.

But he wanted to be hers.

So, with an unfamiliar yet welcome warmth spreading through her chest, Y/N began move, her hips softly rolling and grinding against his as she braced her hands against his rocky abdomen, fingers digging in slightly as she tilted her head back and moaned his name, loud and unrestrained.

“Nemi,” Y/N gasped, her hips rising and falling and grinding against him with a fervor beyond her control, as she could not get enough of how it felt to fuck herself on him. “Am I — ah — doing this right?”

A loud groan from deep in Sanemi’s chest was her only answer, as her lover lifted his head from where it’d been thrown back against his pillow as he basked in the feeling of Y/N’s silky cavern milking him for all he was worth.

“Baby, I don’t think you could do wrong if you tried,” he grunted, his voice trembling with his unbounded desire.

She was inclined to agree, because god, even after months of being fucked by him, none of those previous encounters could compare to the way he was making her feel right then, his warm, sturdy hands braced on her hips as he helped guide her up and down his hot, steely length, the room filling with the sound of their skin clapping as she bounced and ground against him.

Y/N’s hands found his at her waist and she pulled them away, in favor of tightly interlocking their fingers as she increased her pace, bringing herself up off his cock before dropping her hips back down again for a needy grind, her walls fluttering around him with each push and pull against him.

She fell forward slightly, pressing the back of his hands down into the mattress and holding them there, just over his head, their fingers tightly interlocked together. She shifted, so that she could brace a little of her weight into him, pressing them even harder into the soft bed as she increased her pace, rolling into him faster as she circled her hips around him.

With his hands pinned above his head, and his eyes squeezed tightly shut as a needy moan echoed from his throat, Y/N swore she’d never seen sight more beautiful than that of Sanemi completely at her mercy.

“I want to finish like this,” Sanemi’s voice had an uncharacteristic desperation in it that bordered on begging, he threw his head back harder against his pillow, the tendons in his neck tensing as he groaned unrestrainedly for her. “Please, Y/N –,”

She only ground down against him harder, his pleas choking off in his throat as his fingers dug harder into her hips. “Sh-i-it,” Sanemi groaned out, his hips thrusting wildly up into her, so lost in just how deep he could reach within her vice-like, silky heat.

Guided by pure instinct, Y/N released his hands and sat up, her own drifting behind her as she began to fondle his swollen, heavy balls while she continued the relentless pull and drop of her hips up and down his throbbing cock.

“Fuck!” Sanemi bucked harshly up into her, his head pressing harder against the pillow beneath him as the muscles in his neck strained, his eyes falling shut in his bliss. One of his hands found its way to her lower abdomen, pressing down slightly so she could feel him pressing against the front wall of her core, Y/N’s voice cracking as she moaned. His other hand lowered to where they were connected, and he began to swirl his thumb around her aching clit, his ministrations causing the walls of her cunt to pulse and constrict around him as her end neared.

Y/N’s thighs began to burn with exhaustion as she bounced up and down his cock, but she could not stop, not until she reached the dizzying height of her pleasure that was quickly coming on the harder she rode him.

Sanemi, however, appeared to sense her growing tiredness. “C’mere,” he said gruffly, one hand lifting to cup her face as the other shifted to press against the small of her back, guiding her to lay flush against him as he claimed her mouth with his own and began to thrust up into her, holding her securely against him.

Y/N groaned into his mouth, as their new position allowed Sanemi to hit a spot within that had her seeing stars as he kept her crushed against him, his tongue dancing languidly with hers. The hand on her lower back moved so that his arm could wrap around her waist and embrace her, as his other hand moved from her jaw to brush a lock of hair back that had fallen in front of her face.

“N-Nemi,” Y/N whimpered, her hips beyond her control as they dropped and rolled and ground against him, in desperate search of her release.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” Sanemi’s voice was raspy, his arm tightening on her waist in a poor effort at restraint. “I feel it, too.”

Sanemi began thrusting up into her spasming cunt, a renewed string of curses falling from his mouth as the messy sound of Y/N’s honeyed core filled the room. Y/N felt herself begin to tighten around him, the thighs trembling against either side of his waist as she slammed herself back onto him, her cries growing louder as Sanemi brought her closer to her peak. His hips began to lose rhythm as he wildly jutted into her. Y/N’s eyes were squeezed shut as she began to babble, alternating between cries of his name and nearly incoherent pleas for more.

Sanemi’s hand found hers and brought it up against his chest, holding it tightly as his other arm cinched around her waist. “Let go for me, baby,” his voice was hoarse as he leaned up slightly to brush a kiss against her lips.

One, strong grind of her hips later, Y/N shattered around him, her inner walls seizing him like a vice as she tipped her head back and wailed for him, so pretty and so completely undone by him that she did not think she could ever be put back together and be wholly her own, without his touch forever imprinted on her skin, or upon her heart.

She knew, at that moment, as Sanemi’s grunts turned into loud, unrestrained moans as he bucked wildly into her, that running from him had always been futile, because she’d only ever been running in circles, only to find herself as she was then, right back on her knees before him, utterly his.

The difference was, she realized as he gave one last mighty push of his hips up into her still-spasming core, his seed shooting into her with blinding force, as a strangled shout-cry tore from his throat and his fingers seized around hers against his chest, that he’d been running in the same circle, too, just in the opposite direction. But now they’d run out of track to tread, and he’d smacked right into her, knocking both of them off their axes, stumbling and spinning together until they’d finally hit the ground, with only each other to face and nowhere else to run; and she was tired of running, anyways.

Because she knew, as Sanemi’s hips finally stilled against hers and she collapsed against his chest and he on the bed, leaking cock still nestled between her legs, that she loved him.

She loved him.

-----

Neither of them spoke for a long while, both panting hard as they caught their breaths.

“You said you think I’m possessive — maybe I am,” Sanemi said after a long moment, as the two came down from their mutual highs. “But it’s because I want to be yours. I’ve always been yours.”

He paused before continuing, his arms around her tightening. But when he spoke again, his voice was perceptibly softer, more timid, as though afraid of her rejection. “And I want you to be mine, too.”

Let him into your heart, and he will gladly give you his.

Y/N’s hand found his at her waist, and gently, she removed it. As she brushed her lips over the calloused pads, always so soft whenever they touched her, she lifted her gaze to his.

“You are mine,” she repeated softly, before moving his hand to press against the valley between her breasts, where her heart beat strong against her sternum. “And this has always belonged to you.”

Sanemi’s cheeks burned red as he bent to graze her lips with his, his hand still pressed against her chest. So innocent and chaste was the kiss that it was easy to forget that his cock remained buried within her, his seed still gathering on the sheets beneath them as it trickled from her.

Sanemi’s thumb stroked the skin of her sternum absentmindedly. “What comes next, Y/N?” He murmured, his eyes tracing over the features of her face as she rested her cheek against his bicep. “What do you want this to be – what would make you happiest?”

Y/N thought for a moment and weighed all of the emotions that had sat heavily in her chest for the past two days – the past two years – untangling each knot and snarl that had formed to obstruct the heart of her true desire.

When she spoke, her voice was as soft as a feather.

“I want to be with you. I’ve only ever wanted to be with you. That hasn’t changed.”

Sanemi’s eyes widened with a hope she knew he’d not dare let himself feel ever since their fateful reunion at the Kizuki. “So you’ll stay? With me?”

Y/N’s answering smile was wide as she leaned up to brush a gentle kiss against his lips. “Yes, ‘Nemi. I will stay.”

And for the first time in two years, Y/N felt just as hopeful as him.

“Can I kiss you again?” Sanemi breathed, staring down at her in awe, as though he could not believe that she was real, despite having just had her in the most real way he could have.

Y/N didn’t answer, instead raising her lips to his, as she threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him close to her. Sanemi responded with a soft groan and pressed himself into her. His cock began to twitch to life within her once more as her tongue slid into his eager mouth, gliding alongside his own.

She moaned into his mouth as he began to roll into her, her legs falling to the side to accommodate his body as he settled himself between her thighs. But Sanemi’s warm, rough hands slid underneath her backside and shifted her to lay on her side next to him, her chest pressed flush against his as he began to rock gently into her.

Y/N lifted her leg so that it wrapped around his hips, and Sanemi groaned, one of his steel-like arms wrapping under her upper thigh to hold it in place. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his lips trailing along the underside of her jaw and down her throat. “Just focus on me, baby.”

The hand of the arm gripping her thigh moved to splay across her backside, pushing her against him as he rolled into her. A cracked moan broke from her throat as Sanemi began to massage her cheek in time with the slow, languid pump of his cock into her, the walls of her cunt tightening around him.

They continued to rock into one another like that, softly groaning and gasping every time Sanemi’s hips stuttered against hers, or every time Y/N’s nails sunk harder into the muscular slope of his back, so lost in the feel of the other’s body that Y/N was sure she did not know where she ended, and he began.

“Sanemi,” she cried, because the feeling of him this close, of him being this gentle, was so overwhelming to her because it was more than just fucking. This was them, raw, and unguarded, moving imperfectly against one another and letting their bodies speak in the words their mouths had not.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. I’m right here,” he promised, his lips brushing against hers once, twice. His arm tightened around where it gripped her upper thigh, hand splayed across her backside, as he rocked harder into her, both of their ends rapidly approaching. “I’ve got you.”

Y/N pressed her lips desperately against his, needing him to soothe the ache that grew in her core as she drew near the summit of her pleasure. She hitched her leg higher up on his hip to allow him to push deeper into her, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she felt Sanemi’s balls begin to tap against the curve of her backside as he picked up his speed.

“Come with me,” Sanemi grit out, his brow pinched as he stifled another groan. Y/N chased a bead of sweat as it rolled down his neck, mewling in agreement as she tugged him closer, pressing her chest flush against his.

“I’m close – fuck, I’m close,” Sanemi gasped, his lips crashing down against hers, his teeth tugging at her lip before he pulled away. “Are you?”

Y/N nodded desperately, as a long, high-pitched whine tore from her throat. “I wanna cum – ah – Sanemi, please, I want to cum.”

Sanemi’s hurried thrusts up into her melted into rutting, as his thick length hardly slid out of her sopping and spent heat. “Eyes on me, baby,” he managed, his fingers digging into the plush of her ass as he began to twitch inside her – a sure sign he was mere seconds from his peak.

With great effort, Y/N opened her eyes and met those violet eyes that she loved so dearly, and Y/N’s climax slammed into her with a force that had her crying out. She was the rough, coarse wave that crashed and broke around the steady rock that was Sanemi.

His free hand fumbled for hers, bringing it close against his chest, fingers tightly locked together. Her eyes still locked with his, Sanemi’s soft grunts turned to loud, wanton moans, his thrusts sloppy and jerky, as he came in time with Y/N, filling her with his hot, thick seed until it spilled over where they were connected, staining the sheets beneath them.

Sanemi did not stop pumping into her, could not, as he continued to unload within her, the hand on her ass locking her against him as his hips finally stilled against her with a final, strained cry of her name.

He collapsed against her, his full weight bearing down on her as they struggled to catch their breath. After a few moments, Sanemi shifted like he was going to pull out of her and away, but Y/N whined in protest.

“’Nemi,” Y/N panted, her arms locking around his back and holding him to her as she circled her hips against his, Sanemi hissing as she began to overstimulate him. “Please, can we stay like this for just a little longer?”

She hardly recognized the breathy, needy tone with which she spoke. For so long, she’d denied herself of any intimacy with him that extended beyond allowing him to cum in her, always pulling away and fumbling for her clothes the second his climax ended. But now, Y/N could not bear the thought of tearing herself away from him, because she belonged to him, and he finally belonged to her.

Sanemi’s hands dug into her waist as his head dropped into the crook of her shoulder to bury his face into her skin. She felt him inhale deeply, as though she was the air he needed to breath, and he nodded, apparently unable to form any words as he came down from his high.

After a few, quiet moments, the air around them only occasionally disturbed by the sound of their breathing, Sanemi answered her. “I will always want you to stay.”

-----

Y/N did not remember the last time she’d slept more peacefully than she did that night wrapped in Sanemi’s arms.

When the bright light of the sun finally broke through the gossamer-like curtains hung on the guest room window, Y/N sleepily blinked herself awake, turning to bury her face into the mattress to hide away from the bright, unrelenting light of morning. But what lay beneath her cheek was not the feather-plush soft of the luxurious mattresses the Uzuis had in every room of their summer home; it was rocky, hard muscle covered by warm, scar-speckled skin that made up the man she loved with every fiber of her being.

Sanemi groaned as he felt her face press against his upper abdomen, his hand raising to caress up her spine as he drew his other arm over his eyes to block out the sun. “’S too early,” he protested, drawing a light chuckle from Y/N.

“We have to leave soon,” she whispered, pressing a kiss against the rigid plane of his abdomen before trailing her lips down to where his cock was already beginning to stir. “Let’s at least enjoy the morning.”

Sanemi did not protest as she ducked beneath the covers to take him into her mouth, sighing happily as his hands softly stroked her hair while she bobbed up and down his length. Sanemi, however, was too impatient to feel Y/N’s walls around him once more, and lasted only a minute before he tugged her up his torso and sank her down onto him, his face buried into her neck as his teeth bit into the sensitive skin of her throat.

Y/N spent the remainder of their morning fucking herself once more on Sanemi’s stiff length, relishing the way his broad hands slid under her thighs as she rode him to lift them up so he could watch himself thrust up into her, admiring the way his cock glistened with the pleasure he helped to give her.

A couple of hours later, the group of friends loaded up their respective cars, Tengen and Obanai grumbling under the bright light of day as both fought of their mutual hangovers from the previous night’s inhibitions.

Though Y/N was set to ride with Mitsuri and Sanemi with the boys, neither of them could conceal the small, contented smiles they bore as they loaded their bags into the trunks of their cars, the pair occasionally sneaking a furtive glance at the other, smiles only broadening as their eyes met.

Just before Y/N opened the passenger door of Mitsuri’s vintage Volkswagen, she felt a pair of fingers, rough yet warm and familiar, brush shyly against her own.

“Text me when you guys get back, okay?” Sanemi murmured. On the other side of the car, Mitsuri’s jaw fell open, and her jade eyes gleamed with poorly-concealed excitement.

Y/N closed her hand around his and jerked him down, muffling his grunt of surprise as her lips met his. “I will.” She said as she released him, Sanemi’s cheeks turning pink as he grinned back at her. His hand closed around hers where it rested on the door handle of Mitsuri’s car, and pulled it open, holding it for her as she turned and lowered herself into the passenger seat.

Mitsuri practically tripped over herself as she scrambled into the driver’s seat, though she restrained herself from squealing until the door was shut safely behind her. Keys turning in the ignition, the pink-haired girl turned to her best friend, nearly vibrating with excitement.

“Tell me everything. Now.”

Y/N laughed as the pinkette pulled out of the manicured driveway of the Uzuis’ lake house, and she began to fill her friend in on everything that had changed between her and her childhood best friend.

-----

The lightness that Y/N felt leaving the lake house lasted the entire drive back home with Mitsuri in the latter’s car, her chest feeling full and warm as the two scream-sang along to every song on Mitsuri’s playlist.

The sun was nearly setting by the time the pinkette parked her car in front of their apartment building, the pair having stopped to grab sushi for dinner for themselves. As the two exited Mitsuri’s car, Y/N noted Shinobu’s small, purple sports car parked at the far end of the lot and smiled to herself, knowing her friend was home, where they could talk. As they’d picked up their to-go order from the sushi restaurant down the street, Y/N had made the last-minute decision to grab one of Shinobu’s favorite rolls, having resolved to talk to her other roommate and work things out between them.

Not that there was truly anything for them to work out – Y/N had concluded she didn’t blame her friend for what had happened; Y/N had made her own choices, as had Douma.

The pair of best friends giggled as they walked up the steps to their apartment, takeout bags in hand, ready for a night of relaxing on the couch with sushi, some facemasks, and trashy reality television. Y/N’s key unlocked the front door, which swung open to a darkened apartment. Her fingers flipped the kitchen light on and the sushi bag in her hands dropped to the floor.

For there, sprawled on the linoleum by the kitchen counter in a puddle of her own vomit and blood, was Shinobu.

She wasn’t moving; it was hard to tell if she was breathing.

Everything seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. One moment, the two young women were laughing and talking as they returned from a life-changing weekend at the lake, and the next, Mitsuri was screaming while Y/N heard nothing but the strong roar of panic echoing in her ears.

“Call an ambulance!” Y/N managed to bite out at her hyperventilating friend as she dropped to her knees beside her unconscious roommate, her hands shaking as she tried to feel for a pulse. “Mitsuri!”

As the pinkette scrambled for her phone, Y/N took note of the odd violet hue of Shinobu’s vomit and the sickly-sweet scent of flowers and synthetic fruit.

With trembling hands, Y/N brushed back a strand of her friend’s inky-violet hair that had fallen in front of her face. There, mixed within the dried blood beneath Shinobu’s nostrils, was the faintest trace of lilac.

Wisteria.

Over the roaring in her ears, Y/N vaguely heard Mitsuri crying into the phone with the emergency dispatch operator.

“She’s twenty,” Mitsuri sobbed. “We don’t know what happened, but it might’ve been an overdose. But there’s blood, too.”

Her pink-haired friend was right; there was an alarming amount of blood, dark and sticky, that had pooled beneath Shinobu’s head. Y/N suspected she’d hit her head on the edge of the counter, either because she’d tripped or because she’d passed out and hadn’t been able to catch herself, but Y/N couldn’t tell where the wound was, and she was too afraid to risk moving her friend’s head and worsening her injuries.

“Is she breathing?” It took a moment for Y/N to register that Mitsuri’s question was directed at her. “Y/N is she breathing?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, “I don’t know, Mitsuri.” And, because she was panicked and scared, and utterly useless, Y/N began to cry. “I can’t tell; my hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I can’t tell.”

-----

Half an hour later, Y/N stood against the wall of the small waiting area in the emergency room, leg bouncing in agitation and anxiety. Beside her, Mitsuri sat with her head in her hands as the two waited for any news as to their friend’s condition.

The outer doors to the emergency room slid open and the girls were joined by Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma, the latter of whom was crying softly to herself. A few moments later, Obanai arrived, face severe, aiming straight for the pinkette as he crouched before her, covering the hands she had buried in her hair with his own and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

The waiting room had become too crowded for Y/N’s frazzled nerves to handle. She tore herself from the wall against which she had been fixed, opting instead to pace the hallway between the waiting area and the main hospital. Makio may have called her name, but the roaring in Y/N’s head had become too loud, the jitter under her skin too incessant, for her to remain still in the waiting room a second longer.

Y/N finally exhausted herself enough to slump back against the wall, the passing sounds and beeps of the hospital only faint echoes in her ears. But then there were thunderous footsteps walking quickly toward her, and Y/N’s eyes lifted just in time to see Sanemi’s stormy face as he reached for her.

He crushed her against him, one hand buried in her hair as his other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her to him as though he needed to assure himself that she was real and there, and not the one getting her stomach pumped on the other side of the sealed emergency room doors.

His lips pressed hard against the top of her head, Sanemi inhaling deeply before pulling back from her, his hand rising to cup beneath Y/N’s jaw so he could tilt her face up toward him, those lilac eyes scanning her frantically for any sign of external injury.

“I didn’t know,” he said hoarsely against the crown of her head as he pulled her back against him. “Tengen called -- only said an ambulance was being sent to your apartment – that a twenty-year-old woman had overdosed.”

Y/N shook her head against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent and allowing it to still the jitters crawling beneath her skin. “I haven’t used in a week, Sanemi.”

Her – boyfriend? paramour? exhaled shakily, his arms tightening around her. “I was scared. After last night, I-” Sanemi swallowed thickly. “I was worried you regretted it.”

Y/N closed her eyes as she let herself melt against his stabilizing warmth. “Not you,” she murmured, “Never you.”

-----

An hour later, Y/N stood in her kitchen, chest heaving as she looked at the wreckage of Shinobu’s bender scattered around her.

There was an empty bottle of peach vodka lying on its side on the floor. Lilac residue was smeared on the kitchen counter, likely the result of Shinobu having snorted it the night before. A puddle of her vomit, streaked with purple, still lingered where the petite woman had lost consciousness.

Sanemi came around the kitchen counter, his hand resting at the small of Y/N’s back as he guided her away from the cabinet below. He bent to pull out a bottle of bleach and a roll of paper towels, as well as a pair of cleaning gloves that he pulled over his scarred, callused hands, and he set to work scrubbing at the floor.

Y/N watched him for a long moment before she moved to begin rounding up all of the bottles of liquor and wine that had been stashed in their apartment. One by one, she dumped their contents into the sink and chucked the empty containers into the garbage.

Next, Y/N gathered up all traces of Shinobu’s Wisteria from their various stash spots around the apartment. It had taken her a while to hunt through pharmacology student’s room, given that the young woman had become rather adept at squirreling away those poisonous little pills. Over the course of an hour, Y/N had managed to locate every little baggie and loose pill shoved under her friend’s mattress, tucked into her sock drawer, and slotted between pages of textbooks she’d never opened.

She’d stood over the toilet where she’d flushed them for a long while after the last of those lilac devils had swirled down the drain. It was not until a pair of warm, comforting arms encircled her from behind that Y/N was aware of the tears slipping hot and fast down her cheeks.

Sanemi pressed a soft kiss into the back of her neck as she cried, allowing her to press her face into his muscled forearm until her sobs had quieted, before he turned her around. He’d kept one hand on her shoulder as he leaned to tug her shower curtain open and turn the water on, before returning to her. Slowly, and with more gentleness than Y/N thought she deserved, Sanemi began to undress her, chucking her vomit and sweat-stained clothes into her laundry bin before helping her into the shower.

Y/N stood numbly under the hot spray of the water as she waited, the sounds of Sanemi’s belt and pants hitting the cold tile of the floor before he parted the curtain and stepped into the bathtub with her.

The moment he’d re-oriented the shower curtain to close them in, Y/N melted against him. Sanemi’s hands came to her waist, gently turning her so that her back was to him, as though he knew she was losing the battle against the weariness that had seeped into her bones. His arms locked tightly around her, he guided them to sit on the floor of the bathtub. He situated Y/N between his legs, her back resting against his chest. One arm was wrapped around her upper shoulders, holding her to him, as the other wound around her waist from behind, gripping her hand in his. His lips found the juncture between her shoulder and neck, brushing softly against her wet skin once before he buried his face there and held her, as the hot water beat down upon them.

They stayed like that until Y/N could no longer tell whether the water on her face was from her tears or the spray of the shower nozzle above.

Only after the water had begun to cool and their fingers had turned wrinkled did Sanemi help her stand, reaching behind her to shut the shower off.

Sanemi stepped out first, grabbing a towel from where it hung on the back of her bathroom door, to secure around his waist. He then produced two more from Y/N’s bathroom closet – her two fluffiest – and held them under his arm as he used his free hand to help Y/N out of her shower to stand on her bathmat.

Had she’d any tears left, Y/N was certain they would have been shed as Sanemi gently toweled her hair and body try before he scooped her up and carried her to her bedroom.

Sanemi set her carefully on the edge of her bed before leaving to return to her bathroom once more. Y/N’s eyes were fixed blankly on the carpeted floor of her room, her mind blank and that howling numbness that had become her constant companion over the last two months threatening to swallow her whole once more. She barely registered Sanemi’s return to her room until he, in all of his shower-dampened glory, knelt at her feet, with a bottle of her favorite lotion in hand.

Wordlessly, Sanemi pumped some of the lotion into his hand and began to gently massage it into her skin, starting at her feet and working his way up her legs. Once he’d reached the tops of her thighs, he repeated the action once more, carefully taking the time to ensure that he worked the lotion on every part of her body. With every stroke of his hand against her skin, Sanemi chased away that encroaching numbness, replacing it with the warmth of his adoration and love for her.

“Have you eaten today?” Sanemi’s voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over them.

Y/N shook her head. “But I’m not hungry – really,” She urged as Sanemi opened his mouth in protest. “Can we just – just lay here?” She patted the soft down of her bed, motioning for him to join her.

Sanemi nodded, rising to turn towards her dresser to pull out a pair of underwear for her and digging out a pair of briefs of his that he’d let her borrow as pair of shorts after one of their earlier trysts.

Once both had pulled their respective pairs of underwear on, Sanemi squeezed himself into the small crevice between her twin bed and her bedroom wall and held out his arm in an invitation that Y/N did not hesitate to accept.

She curled against his bare chest, warm against her own naked skin, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as she sighed deeply, inhaling his scent and allowing it to wash over her, and still her mind.

Sanemi’s hands absentmindedly stroked her hair, his lips periodically pressing against her hairline as she began to doze in his arms. Just before the exhaustion commanded her to fall into sleep’s embrace, she spoke.

“I meant what I said earlier – I haven’t used Wisteria in over a week. I stopped drinking. I’m done, Sanemi. I swear it.”

Her face was pressed against his pectoral, so she did not see the tears of quiet, exhausted relief that filled his eyes as he pressed his lips against her forehead once more. “I know. Kyo mentioned on the way back that you’d been dealing with withdrawal for the last week. That it was why you weren’t answering your phone.”

Sanemi’s arms tightened around her as she began to drift off. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.” And then, he added in a voice so quiet that she almost didn’t hear it before sleep’s sweet lull pulled her under. “Thank you for choosing to stay.”

-----

She slept soundly through the night once more, until Sanemi awoke her in the early hours of the morning with his head between her legs, Y/N gaining consciousness just in time to come on his tongue. In the throes of her climax, Sanemi replaced its position at her entrance with his fingers as he dragged it up her messy folds so he could suckle at her clit.

Sleepily, Y/N clawed at his back, an impatient demand for more falling in the form of a whine from her lips, and Sanemi complied. He turned her onto her stomach and his cock found its way between her thighs as he began to fuck her from behind, his hips setting a leisurely pace as they slapped against her ass, Y/N’s soft moans only growing in their vibrato as he brought her to orgasm yet again, his warmth flooding her shortly after as he sighed her name.

They remained in bed for another few hours, talking and holding one another, trading lazy kisses and gentle caresses because they could not get enough of touching each other like they were right then – soft and meaningful, because Y/N and Sanemi were now a them, rather than two people who alternated running from the other.

Sanemi, it seemed, especially couldn’t keep his hands off her, which she found amusing, given that as children, Y/N was always the one who initiated any kind of affection with him, though she suspected that his begrudging acceptance of it had really been a front to conceal his true feelings.

His hand was smoothing up and down her bare thigh as she stroked his hair, his eyelids fluttering shut against her touch, when his phone rang from its place on her nightstand. Groaning, Sanemi blindly felt for the buzzing device, answering it only with a grunt as he kept his eyes locked on her, his hand still gliding up and down her shin.

His brow furrowed in seriousness, and he nodded, as though whomever was on the other end could actually see him, before he muttered a soft, “thanks, man,” and clicked the phone off, tossing it back onto her covers.

“That was Iguro. Shinobu is awake, and they’re allowing visitors.” His eyes were full of a quiet concern as he regarded her gently. “Are you okay to go right now?”

Y/N was already making her way out of bed, nodding. Of course she was okay to go – she needed to go, needed to assure for herself that her friend was awake and knew she was supported.

She dressed quickly, donning only a matching black workout set and sneakers before pulling a jacket over her bare shoulders. Sanemi merely tugged on the clothes he'd worn the day before.

“I’ll stop at my place on the way back,” he added, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “If you want me to stay again tonight, that is,”

Y/N turned away so he wouldn’t see the small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she quieted a laugh, so as not to make him feel embarrassed. “I want you to stay.”

Sanemi drove them, though he kept his hand firmly locked around hers the entire ride. Ever since they’d began their physical relationship back at the start of the summer, she’d been adamant that she wouldn’t allow herself to accept any affection from him if he didn’t have his cock buried inside of her while he gave it. It seemed too risky at the time, as though allowing him to care for her would blur some line she insisted had already been drawn, even though she’d been the one to hold the stick marking the ground.

Now, in hindsight, she couldn’t believe she’d denied herself of his intimacy for so long – not when it felt this good to have his steadying, grounding warmth wrapped firmly around her hand, his thumb running over her knuckles as he smoothly worked the steering wheel with his free hand.

This -- whatever this was. It was good.

-----

By the time Sanemi drove them back to her apartment, the evening sky was beginning to shift from a pale blue to a creamy orange, the sun beginning its descent towards sleep for the night.

Y/N, herself, felt an exhaustion so heavy, she wondered whether it had infiltrated the marrow of her bones. Her head ached slightly after a solid hour of crying with Shinobu, the latter offering apology after apology as Y/N held her trembling form close, shushing her with assurances that she’d never blamed the pixie-like girl for what Douma had chosen to do just a few weeks earlier.

Shinobu had confessed she hadn’t been trying to harm herself – not really, anyways. Rather, she’d been so overcome by her guilt and self-loathing that she’d stopped keeping track of just how much alcohol she’d been drinking or how much of her accursed Wisteria she’d been ingesting. The cut on the side of her forehead truly hadn’t been that deep, but it had been the result of a fall she couldn’t break, just as Y/N expected.

Y/N had sat, curled beside her roommate and dear friend, for another couple of hours, until Giyuu materialized in the doorway, deep-set shadows under his eyes and breathing hard, as he took in Shinobu’s vulnerable form, hooked up to various hospital machines, with a thick bandage wrapped around her head.

Y/N had quietly untangled herself from her friend and quietly exited the room, patting Giyuu’s shoulder as she passed him, though the ravenette did not acknowledge her, far too focused on his crying girlfriend as he wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest.

As they’d walked back to his car, Sanemi told her that Giyuu had driven straight through the night from his sister’s the moment he’d received word of Shinobu’s condition, too frantic to be by her side to even stop for food or rest.

Sanemi swung by his apartment, as he promised, and emerged a few minutes later with a bag full of his clothes and toiletries before he drove the rest of the short drive back to her shared apartment with Mitsuri and Shinobu. Her best friend, however, had decided to stay over at Obanai’s, and given that her other roommate was unlikely to be discharged before the following day, Y/N and Sanemi had her apartment to themselves once again.

After a dinner of vegetable omlettes, prepared by Sanemi, the pair fell back into Y/N’s tiny twin bed, both exhausted from the excitement and stress of the previous four days. Y/N, in particular, had felt more emotionally zapped than she had in a long while, having spent the majority of the holiday weekend crying for one reason or another, and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her evening wrapped securely in Sanemi’s arms as she listened to his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

She’d stripped herself of her clothes, leaving herself in only her thong, as she pressed herself against Sanemi’s bare chest. Sanemi, however, could sense her weariness, and so they did no more than kiss every now and then, both merely content to simply hold the other and bask in their shared warmth.

“Thank you for being here for me – yesterday and today,” Y/N murmured quietly, her lips grazing his collarbone.

Sanemi’s fingers brushed under her chin as he tilted her face up to meet her eyes. “I told you already, I’m all in. Whatever it is you want from me, I’ll be it.”

Y/N smiled wryly at him as her eyes roamed his face in consideration. “So, does that mean we’re official? Are we boyfriend-girlfriend?”

His responding smirk made her thighs squeeze together as he leaned in close to her face. “You can call me whatever you want, baby,” he kissed her nose before lowering his lips to hers, though he held back, teasingly. “And for however long as you want.”

She giggled as he kissed her and it felt like coming home, and Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she felt like she’d had one of those.

He broke away from her after a moment, hand coming to a rest against the side of her head while his thumb stroked her cheek, a profundity creeping into his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. With all my heart.”

Y/N thought her heart would fly out of her chest as Sanemi repeated the words she’d uttered to him nearly two years prior. She thought hearing them would cause her to clam up, that they would send her careening back to the dark, lonely hole she’d spent the last half of her university experience trying desperately to claw out of, but they did not.

Instead, Sanemi’s words – her words – mended something within her that she’d long thought to have been irreparably broken. There was no emptiness left in her, no gnawing wound; it had been healed by him and his earnestness, and she only felt her love for him. Love that made her feel pretty, soft, and new, mending her broken heart with its golden light.

“I never stopped loving you,” Y/N’s voice grew thick with the tears that filled her eyes. “Please know that. No matter how mad I was, no matter how low I felt, I always knew I loved you – and I still do.”

Sanemi’s answering grin was so beautiful, so bright, that she wondered why she’d waited so long after making up to say it. His smile made her feel as though she could soar through the sky, breathless and wild and free.

Once upon a time, she’d believed love was pretty; she imagined it would be soft, pink, and shiny and make her feel warm and pretty in return.

Then, as an adult, she realized that love was pretty, but not in the way she’d imagined it would be when she listened to stories of princesses and their knights as a little girl. Love was a blur of many hues, some soft and bright, but some dark and harsh too, melding together to create a kaleidoscope of light and shadows. And it was because of this phantasmagoria of joy and pain and laughter and sadness that love was so beautiful, and so worth fighting for, because in the end, finding herself in the arms of the only person she’d ever loved outweighed any of the heartache which preceded it, and it would be worth whatever heartache was sure to come.

Because loving Sanemi Shinazugawa was worth it all.

EPILOGUE – 2 months later

The sun was golden and bright and the air as crisp as an apple as the couple de-boarded their train at the small station in their hometown, hands clasped tightly together. The blazing heat of summer had quickly given way to October, and the autumn harvest brought with it a new tiding of ruby and ochre yellow leaves.

Y/N was grateful for the loose sweater she’d worn — stolen from Sanemi’s dresser one day several weeks earlier when she’d insisted she needed his scent to take back to her apartment with her, to help her get through the first wave of reading and papers she’d been slammed with. Initially, Sanemi had protested with a grumbled “fuck off,” as she’d tried to lay claim to his favorite sweater.

He’d change his tune rather quickly, however, when his girlfriend then donned the garment whilst giving him what he later called “the best head of his life.” And so, the worn, dark gray sweater had remained safely in Y/N’s care.

As the train doors slid shut behind them, Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, mentally preparing herself for the reason they’d risen early that Saturday morning to return to their sleepy hometown.

The gentle squeeze of Sanemi’s hand around hers as he brought their interlocked fingers to his mouth for a sweet kiss, helped abate some of her nerves and grounded her.

“You ready?” He murmured, his eyes warm and so full of love and concern for the woman beside him that Y/N felt her heart lurch.

She smiled at him, softly, and rose on her toes to press a chaste kiss against his lips. “I’m ready.”

The advantage of living in a small town — no more than a village, really — was that nearly everything was within walking distance, as long as one did not mind a few steep hills here and there. And so, the couple set off from their town’s small train station, towards the grocer to pick up flowers — two bouquets, one for each grave that marked the final resting spot for their loved ones.

Autumnal arrangements in hand, the pair walked in a comfortable silence up the hill leading to the cemetery.

“Genya’s with the rest of my family,” Sanemi said quietly as they passed the iron-gated entrance that gave way to the sprawl of headstones that lined the grassy hilltop. “They’re just over here.”

Y/N nodded, squeezing Sanemi’s hand in assurance as her boyfriend led her up a small trail to a row of graves gathered beneath an old willow tree.

When Sanemi had shared with her that he made this bi-weekly sojourn to visit and lay flowers on the graves of his family, Y/N had cried. She’d held him tightly, offering a litany of apologies for not being there for him more, for the fact he’d been doing it alone.

He wouldn’t hear of it, insisting that she hadn’t anything to apologize for, which only made her cry harder.

A hush fell over the pair as they drew up upon the Shinazugawa family graves, Y/N’s heart breaking a little more as her eyes scanned each name, the life spans etched into the stones far too short.

Wordlessly, Sanemi plucked a flower from the bouquet he carried and laid one at the base of each gravestone, repeating the process until no more flowers remained. Once the last flower was placed, just over Genya’s grave, Sanemi straightened, gripping Y/N’s hand tightly in his own as his other lifted to wipe at his eyes.

“He’d be over the moon, ya know, that we’re finally together,” Sanemi murmured, his voice hoarse with his grief, nodding at the last stone bearing the name of his beloved brother. “He used to give me all kinds of shit for not making a move sooner.”

“He always was wise beyond his years,” Y/N sniffed quietly, her own tears slipping freely down her cheeks. “He used to pester me about it, too – would always ask if I was single, and if I said ‘yes,’ he’d mention that you were also single.” She huffed a watery laugh as the image of the boy’s smiling face flashed through her memory. “Though, I think he did it more so to tease me, because I’d always turn as red as a tomato whenever he’d mention it.”

Sanemi smiled softly as he squeezed her hand. “It’s a family trait, I s’ppose.”

The couple remained at the site of Sanemi’s family’s graves for a little while longer, the last living Shinazugawa tucking his girlfriend tightly into his side as he held her close, her warmth helping to keep him anchored here, to life, rather than wishing he slumbered beneath the hardening ground with his family.

Eventually, they agreed to make their way toward the other grave that had drawn them there, Y/N taking a deep, steadying breath as she prepared herself to visit her mother’s final resting place for the first time since her death.

“I think the map said she’s over this way,” Y/N nodded at a small, winding path that led down a gentle hill to the south of the Shinazugawa plot. “I remember I wanted her over there by the walnut tree – she loved them in the autumn.”

Sanemi nodded and let her lead the way, her fingers clutching tightly around the bouquet in her hands as she drew nearer to the tree which marked her mother’s plot, her stomach twisting with anticipation.

Because she knew, the moment her eyes settled on the stone with her mother’s name and dates of birth and death, that reality would hit her all over again; but she persisted, for the sake of her mother, who’d loved her more than anything.

“Mr. Shinazugawa!” A voice called, and both looked over to see the old cemetery caretaker waving in greeting as the pair made their way towards the section where Y/N’s mother rest.

“Good morning, Mr. Urokodaki,” Sanemi answered, nodding respectfully in greeting. “I can’t believe they have you working on the weekends.”

The grandfatherly caretaker chuckled. “Only the departed sleep; I do not.” He shifted the rake he was holding from one hand to another as he wiped his brow. “It’s been a few weeks since I last saw you!”

“School has kept me busy, sir.” Sanemi’s hand around hers squeezed and Y/N smiled softly.

“Well, I had a feeling I’d be seeing you soon, so I went ahead and cleared any leaves off Mrs. Y/L/N’s grave for you – and I took the liberty of clearing out the flowers you brought last time.”

Y/N’s breath died in her throat as she looked between the old man and her boyfriend, her eyes wide.

Mr. Urokodaki appeared to mistake her shock for confusion. “He’s such a kind lad, your friend!” The old man smiled warmly at Sanemi, before continuing his explanation to her. “He brings flowers not just for his family, but for a woman he knew growing up – like clockwork, every two weeks, for the last year. That’s why I was worried when he didn’t show up last week!”

Sanemi chuckled softly. “I’m back to the regular schedule now, sir!” And he bid the old caretaker farewell. He turned back to his girlfriend, but froze at the expression on her face, mouth slightly open and eyes as round as saucers.

“Y-you, you’ve b-been,” she stuttered, her eyes welling with tears as she began to shake.

Sanemi hesitantly reached for her, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked, first, but we weren’t talking yet, and I wanted to make sure --,” Sanemi’s explanation was cut off with a small mmph! as Y/N grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and hauled his mouth down to hers.

After a long moment, she broke away. “T-this whole time, ‘Nemi — you —,” Y/N could hardly speak through her tears. Sanemi’s arms wound tightly around her waist, locking her to him as she buried her face into his neck.

Her boyfriend’s lips found her side of her head and he smiled softly into her hair. “Tch, idiot,” he said, affectionately. “I told you already — there hasn’t been a single moment that’s gone by that I haven’t loved you.”

“And I loved her, too.” He added quietly after a moment.

Sanemi’s words only served to make her cry harder, her arms tightening around his neck as she poured every ounce of her love and gratitude into the force with which she hugged him tightly against her.

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from peppering his face with kisses, as Sanemi’s smile stretched wide across his face. The brilliance of his happiness was nearly blinding, but Y/N knew she would never desire to look away from it – from him.

Y/N pulled back to study his face, her hand coming to rest against the side that bore his scars, her thumb gently stroking the one that crossed his nose. “I love you,” she whispered. The tears still shone in her eyes, but beneath them lay a fierce sincerity. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

His lilac irises glimmered with his own emotion at her words, and his hand reached to intertwine with hers once more, the other lifting to brush the last, errant tear that escaped down her cheek.

“C’mon,” he said thickly after a moment, “Don’t wanna keep your Ma waiting.”

Cries. Thanks for reading!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer smut #kny smut #sanemi x reader #sanemi x y/n #shinazugawa sanemi #kny sanemi #kny sanemi smut #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #hashira #hashira smut #sanemi smut #sanemi x you

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many-gay-magpies · 1 month

Text

hello dead boy detectives fandom and bbc merlin fandom. i know there is a decent overlap between the two out there because i am either followed by or have followed several blogs myself that post about both merlin and dead boy detectives, so hopefully this finds its target audience. anyway a little while ago i became obsessed with the idea of merlin and kashi being besties, so i started writing a thing, and i don’t know if or WHEN i’ll finish the thing but i don’t want it to stay hidden until then so i am posting the incomplete and very unpolished version to tumblr. and who knows maybe if people like it that will give me the motivation to rewatch some merlin and actually finish it

anyways without further ado. here’s 1000 words of merlin engaging in (fairly mild) shenanigans in port townsend

—

There was a cat sitting on a rock.

Port Townsend had quite a lot of cats, Merlin had discovered. There had been at least one in sight at all times since he’d arrived in the small coastal town. This cat was regarding him with an expression that might have been called scrutinizing, had it been made by any face other than a cat’s. That is to say, it looked rather like cats typically do, which is scrutinizing as it is.

“Hello,” said Merlin, just to be polite. He had a bit of time before Kashi’s host—Angie, he’d said her name was—came to the surface, after all, and he was in the mood for a spot of conversation.

“Oh, great, it’s another o’ you English twats,” said the cat. “The hell are you doin’ here?”

“I’m visiting an old friend,” said Merlin. “We meet for tea every so often, to catch up. This’ll be my first time seeing his new place. I won’t be staying long.”

The cat settled further onto the rock, folding all four of its legs underneath its body. Its tail flicked lightly before curling around its haunches.

“Good,” it said. “Hopefully you won’t cause as much trouble as those two dead little shits from a couple months back. Brits, I tell ya—ain’t good for nothin’. The Cat King’s still hung up on the stuffy little asshole.”

Merlin hummed. “Huh. I don’t think I’ve met a king of cats before. What’s he like?” He’d met a number of kings in his times, including, quite recently, the King of Dreams—but that number had never included a king of Cats.

“None o’ your fuckin’ business,” said the cat. “Hold on—who are you, anyway? You don’t smell human, and you’re not dead.”

“I’m Merlin,” said Merlin. He thought it sticking his hand out for a shake, then thought better of it. “Pleased to meet you.”

The cat snorted. “What, like the wizard?”

“Warlock, actually,” said Merlin. “But yes.”

The cat opened its mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a whispered voice floating up from the shore.

Arthur’s voice.

“Merlin,” he called, his voice sounding exactly as it always had when Merlin did something far too stupid and risky for a servant, and he had to hide his worry under blankets of annoyance. “Merlin, are you there?”

“Fuckin’ Christ, again?” The cat grumbled. “There wadn’t even no storm last night!”

Merlin cleared his throat, shaking loose the small lump that had grown there at the sound. Kashi had warned him about Angie’s hunting techniques, so he’d known what to expect, but it was still something of a shock to hear in person.

“I think that’s my ride,” Merlin said. He turned to the cat and gave a little wave. “I’ll be off, then. Thanks for chatting with me!”

“Wha—hey!!” The cat exclaimed as Merlin turned and headed for the cliff. “No—Oi, stop that! Don’t—oh, brother…”

Merlin leaned over the stone barrier to peer down into the water, where a large light was pulsing visibly just below the surface. As he watched, his phone began to ring in his jeans pocket. He was still watching when he brought it up to his ear to answer.

“Hello, my friend!” Crackled Kashi’s enthusiastic voice from the end of the line.

Merlin squinted against the rays of sunlight lancing off the water.

“Is that you down there, Kashi?”

“Yes, it is me. And this is Angie! Say, hello, Angie!”

A loud, almost thunderous roar shook the sound, sending waves clawing at the sandy shore below.

“Hi, Angie,” Merlin shouted down to the creature. Then he waved. He doubted she could see him, but it didn’t hurt to be polite.

To Kashi, he asked, “How should I get in? Should I teleport?”

“Best not,” said Kashi. “Your style of teleportation might upset her stomach. Just jump down! She will catch you. Being swallowed is not the most pleasant feeling, but I’ve asked her not to chew on you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been swallowed before,” said Merlin, thinking back to a very particular instance with a giant snake in the Andes mountains. That was the time he discovered he could bounce back from being fully digested—although digging himself out of a pellet of giant snake dung after his body reformed inside it had not been fun.

“Are you there, Merlin?”

Merlin shuddered and shook his head to clear it of the discomfiting deja vu. “Yeah—yep. I’ll be right down. I just jump in?”

“Exactly, yes,” said Kashi. “It is not a far drop, so you should be fine.”

“Right,” said Merlin. “Well, see you in a minute, then.”

“Looking forward to it!”

Merlin hung up and deftly tucked the phone back into his pocket. Then, he climbed up onto the stone wall, and—after ensuring there was no one around to be traumatized by what it would seem like he was doing—performed an exquisite swan dive into the water.

Being swallowed was about as pleasant a feeling as Merlin remembered it being. That is to say, he felt rather how he imagined toothpaste being squeezed out of the tube might feel, had it possessed any of the five senses or been in any way alive. This time, though, he did not have to endure the process of being digested—which had taken nearly a month, given that Merlin’s first time being swallowed had been by a gigantic snake—and was instead spat out onto the floor of a large, warmly-lit cavern, drenched to the bone and coated in fish mucus.

A step up from being digested by a snake, all things considered.

“Eugh,” said Merlin.

It was then, of course, that Kashi appeared, stooping down and offering Merlin a hand to pull himself up with. Merlin took it and thanked him.

“Welcome in, welcome in!” Kashi said, grinning widely. “Sorry about the mess. I tried to clean up a bit before you came, but things got thrown around in the journey to the surface. Speaking of—“ he raised a finger, and the ground beneath Merlin’s feet—which was disturbingly hard and dry for being the stomach of a fish—began to shake. “—she seems to be going back to the bottom now. Come, sit, so you don’t lose your feet!”

“Nice place you’ve got,” Merlin said, allowing Kashi to lead him across the quaking floor to a small table near the back. “Definitely the best-furnished stomach I’ve ever been in.”

“Yes, it’s very nice,” Kashi agreed.

#magpie writes #dbda #dead boy detectives #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #kashina #dbda kashi #idk how to tag this rip #fanfiction #bbc merlin fanfic #dbda fanfic #dbda kashina #fanfic

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binsito · 1 year

Text

subaru

pairing: han jisung x fem reader

genre: enemies to lovers

word count: 5.4k

rating: mature, includes: swearing, jisung is kind of an asshole to reader at first, mentions of smoking and alcohol consumption, mentions of death but in an exaggerated way due to being upset over a situation (no one actually dies, just used as a hyperbole here and there), an altercation where someone gets slapped on the face, slight mentions of reckless driving (they like to street race n shit!), words such as "stupid", "idiot", "dumbass", "bitch" etc are used, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), mentions of cum play, pet names such as "baby" are used. i think thats it??

disclaimer: i am not too involved in the car community although i do love cars ashsh so if i got anything inaccurate i apologize but it's just a silly lil fic okie!!!!!! also not entirely proof read lmfao

subaru wrx with a clean build.

it was baby pink, low to the ground with bright blue led headlights. the color combination was absolutely sick.

it was fucking gorgeous and jisung couldn't help but be jealous.

it was two in the morning and he had decided that he wanted to grab some mcdonalds, his sleep schedule was shit and all he ever did was watch movies, smoke, eat-

typical boy shit.

but aside from all of that, han jisung had an extreme infatuation with cars, more specifically street racing cars.

none of that corny fast and the furious shit, he was seriously into car modifications and speeding whenever he was sure there wasn't a cop around to catch him (even if there was one, he'd probably floor it to get out of the mess like an idiot, catch-me-if-you-can mentality). he had built his old honda civic up from scratch and it had been pretty loyal to him thus far. that was his baby, his girl, he loved his car more than anything and it was his pride and joy.

however that subaru was definitely one of his dream cars. something he hoped to get his hands on one day when his civic decided it was time to bite the dust.

he was sure he had seen all the street racing cars in his city, he had gone to plenty of car meets to know.. but this subaru was new and he had never seen it before. he definitely would've known if someone in his car community got a new vehicle..

you two were the only cars on the highway right now, the city was mostly dead - perfect time to get some action in.

he drove closely to the car, right next to it, lowering his passenger window to look over at the driver.

he couldn't see shit through the tint, trying to get their attention by revving his engine at them but they seemed to pay no mind

who was this guy? why was he going to have such a badass car and not use it to its fullest potential? why even bother getting a racing car if you weren't going to put your foot to the pedal?

was this guy just being an asshole? jisung clearly was trying to race, trying to get their attention..

the least they could do was tell him no?

whatever.. jisung thought, pulling up his window before speeding off, smoke obnoxiously coming out of his exhaust as he drove.

that weekend, jisung had gone to a car meet, it was something he participated in once a month, it gave him something exciting to look forward to.

looking at all the cool modifications his friends have invested in for their cars - whether they got a fresh wrap, new lights, whatever it was, he was excited to see it.

he pulled up in his car, parking in reverse next to the other vehicles in the lot.

once he stepped out, everyone greeted him and they caught up, talking about whatever came to mind

"i saw this fucking baby pink subaru wrx.. none of you got a new car and didn't tell me right? you know how fucking much i love those damn cars!" he whines

"uh no actually.. did you race it?" "no the guy must've had a stick up his ass because he didn't even acknowledge me.." "well i'm sure you'll see them around again, it'll be hard to miss a baby pink wrx, trust me" his friend giggles.

jisung knew he was right, how many pink subarus could there possibly be in this town? (lucky for him, just one)

"hey jisung! there's your car!" his friends giggle when they catch sight of the pink subaru pulling up to the meet. the last thing he expected was to see them again so soon, here of all places.

"holy shit" he groans, he was dying to see who the asshole behind the wheel was, but they never seemed to get down, and those blasted tints might as well have been illegal because he could barely make out the shape of a person in there.

instead they rev their engine, jisung's friend urging him to get into his car and race them. so now this asshole wants to race, huh? he thought as he got into his car, pulling up next to the subaru as they drove out into the street. both getting their cars ready and as soon as the lights turned green, they were off. the area they were racing in didn't have many stoplights and was normally empty at this time of night. jisung knew this road like the back of his palm, so he felt like he had the advantage.

he was not about to lose to this person, no way in hell. he had so much faith in his old civic, it had never failed him before, so it better not fail him now.

(but the subaru was sooo kicking his ass and it was making his blood boil.)

they raced in a loop back to the lot where the other cars were at, his friends waiting with anticipation, watching as the subaru arrived first, jisung was furious.

how could he lose to this guy? his ego took a huge hit.

to make matters worse, the driver finally rolled down their window

"i hate racing guys that have those dumb anime stickers on their car.." you smirked.

jisung gritted his teeth.

a girl? a car girl?

(those were his dream girls, but how dare she insult his anime stickers..)

"better luck next time buddy.."

oh he could not stand you.. (but that was just his fragility speaking.)

his friends held back their giggles as they rushed over to the cars, they crowded over you, checking out the wheels on your car and complimenting them.

jisung wanted to explode, who even were you anyways? your car wasn't even that cool or that fast (he was lying to himself).

(he was soo fucking jealous)

unfortunately for jisung, that wasn't the last time he saw you.

you also began attending the car meets once a month and were quickly becoming acquainted with his friends.

great.

they had learned that you had moved to this city for a job and were excited to find another group of car enthusiasts. you were scared that maybe you wouldn't find a group but you were proven wrong.

everyone got along well with you except.. han jisung of course!

his friends had told him to grow up and get over it but he just couldn't seem to let it go, once he had a bad first impression of someone, there was no changing his mind.

it was childish, but that was han jisung for you.

he hated how you were becoming a part of his friend group, how his friends were inviting you over to their garage on saturdays to maintenance your cars together.

and he couldn't be more obvious with his hate. he made it his job to make it very clear to you that you were not welcome here.

"hey jisung can you pass me that-"

his foot coming to kick the wrench in your general direction while you worked underneath your car.

"dude piss off. seriously." his friend chan spoke up. he was the one trying the hardest to keep things neutral between everyone.

you tried not to let it bother you, although you were not stupid and knew jisung didn't like you one bit.

it made you a little upset the way he treated you.

you felt like you had to apologize. maybe the whole anime sticker thing really hurt his feeling? you didn't mean to hurt him but maybe you took it too far before you even got to know him?

you didn't want things to be like this if you were going to keep hanging around him. you'd find the time to apologize one of these days for sure.

see, han jisung was charming when you weren't around or when he thought you weren't looking.

he was actually a pretty funny guy.

(you loved funny guys, had a thing for them even..)

so you tried to incorporate humor when you tried talking to him but he always just looked at you blankly or let the joke go over his head purposely.

you were starting to feel like you'd never be able to apologize to him. and if you did, you were sure he wouldn't even accept it. this was so much harder than you anticipated, why couldn't he just let you make things right?

the only time han jisung ever talked about you without a front was when he was drinking with chan in the garage. they kept a fridge in there stocked with water and snacks and jisung was thrilled to see his favorite kind of beer in there one day. it seemed that drinking made jisung so much more open, like it made him just spill whatever was on his mind easily. it could sometimes put him in sticky situations but it also ratted his true feelings out. chan figured he could get some info out of him.

"your civic is getting old, dude.." chan teased him, taking a sip out of his beer can.

jisung just hiccuped and laughed.

"don't call my baby that.. she's all i got.." he smiled stupidly

"i think she's keeping the ladies away from you"

jisung waved him off and shook his head "nuh uh.. she's a babe magnet trust me.."

"what babe is she exactly pulling? cops handing you speeding tickets don't count" chan laughs

"that subaru bitch.. fuck if she wasn't so annoying.. i think i'd fucking kiss her.."

"she's got a name you know? she's only annoying to you 'cause you want to hate her." "no, she's annoying.. hot but annoying. like cool.. you like cars too, whateverrr.." he slurs

"what if you guys talked it out?"

"would rather die, channie my boy.. besides what if it get out of hand? what if she's angry hot or somethin'?.. no thanks.." he was holding on to one of the rolling carts in the garage only to almost fall over.

"you are the most stubborn person i know, han jisung." he shook his head

chan knew jisung had a tiny crush on you, there was no doubt about it. but he knew his best friend well to know he would never admit to it. god he was so dumb sometimes.

before you were in the picture, he would always talk about wanting a girlfriend who liked cars. how they could modify their cars together, go to meets hand in hand in their obnoxiously fast and loud cars..

(han jisung loved car girls.. had a thing for them even..)

but chan just kept this information to himself, didn't out jisung's crush to you. he wasn't that kind of friend. if it was meant to happen, he'd let it unfold.

things remained virtually the same after that conversation with chan, most times jisung couldn't remember anything he said after he drank so he wasn't even aware he basically told chan he liked you.

on this particular saturday, chan wasn't in the garage.

normally jisung wouldn't care, he knew where everything was and he could just start working on his car on his own.

but you were there.

you were there and it was pissing jisung off.

"what are you doing here?"

"oh.. i thought channie was gonna be here and i came so we could rotate my tires-"

"ew.. don't call him that.. channie? gross."

"well you call him that so what's the problem?" "i'm his friend. i'm not trying to fuck him."

to say you were offended was an understatement. maybe you shouldn't even waste your breath apologizing to him, seemed whatever this is was irreparable.

"you're a real piece of shit you know that? i'm not trying to fuck chan, he's my friend too."

"yeah well i've known him for ages so.. and i just know when a girl is just trying to fuck him, like it's so obvious.. could you be anymore obvious? jeez. like why are you even coming in here with those slutty shorts and-"

oh god.

you knew you shouldn't have done that but he had it coming.

your hand stinging after the impact.

shit, this was bad.

you slapped han jisung straight across the face.

"f-fuck jisung- i-i-"

he was angry. face red.

you swore you could see smoke coming out of him.

"get out of here. NOW." he said angrily between gritted teeth.

you didn't want to see where this would escalate so you quickly ran out, tears stinging at your eyes.

shit. you felt like you just ruined everything.

chan would be mad right? you hit his best friend across the face.. should you call him? you didn't want to burden him. ever since you started hanging out with them, all you've ever done was cause problems to arise. it was hard not to agitate han jisung when you all were together. things must've been fine before you joined the scene..

you decided it was best to just remove yourself from them and let them be.

after two weeks of not seeing you or hearing from you, chan knew something was up so he decided to confront jisung. he had invited him over to play video games and jisung showed up within the hour of being asked.

chan didn't feel like beating around the bush, this was getting out of hand and he needed to figure out how to make peace.

after two rounds of call of duty, chan looked over at jisung.

"mind telling me what happened that day i wasn't in at the garage?"

"what are you talking about?"

"don't play dumb ji.. come on. we both know better than that. it's been two weeks and i haven't heard or seen of y/n. i texted her and at first she was giving me excuses to not show up at meets or come over on saturdays but now she's straight up ghosting me."

"maybe she got tired of being annoying-"

"han jisung, get a fucking grip dude. she is NOT annoying. you're being a fucking asshole. you know she's been trying to apologize to you right? are you that stupid? you think she's just trying to crack jokes and bring us beer because she wants to be annoying?"

"no she's doing that because she's trying to fuc-"

"holy shit, you are a lost cause. i didnt buy the beer and it was never for me okay? she brought it for you because i told her you liked that kind and they don't sell it in any of the shops here, only that one liquor place twenty minutes from here. and i lied to her, i told her i'd be there saturday and i wasn't just so maybe, you'd be a nice guy for once and help her rotate her tires. clearly you didn't fucking do that."

"maybe i would've if she didn't fucking slap me."

"she slapped you? well you know what, maybe you fucking deserved it? if i were her i'd do a little bit more than just a little slap. i'd rock your fucking shit for being so fucking insufferable. you're my best friend but right now, you are being the most goddamn pathetic person ever. all because she kicked your ass in a race? because you like her car? because she poked a little fun at you that day?"

jisung started to get up, dropping the controller on the couch and walking towards the door, he knew chan was right but he was too prideful to admit it. chan didn't bother stopping him, he knew he had to let him reflect on everything. the only way jisung would ever listen was if he talked hard to him, it was the only way for his thick skull to understand.

jisung was embarrassed.

his ego getting the best of him.

he knew it was too late to backtrack everything he's said and done.

he fucked up and these were the consequences.

and karma had a way with things because as he was on his way home, his car finally gave out in the middle of the highway. thankfully nothing happened and he was able to make it to the side of the road quickly but he was so upset.

he couldn't help but cry as he sat on the hood of his car. he didn't even know who to call for help. he just sat there contemplating what to do while tears blurred his vision.

he wanted to kick and scream and throw himself in the middle of traffic but before he took a leap in front of a semi, he saw that godforsaken baby pink wrx.

he figured you would drive by him and not give a shit, maybe even roll down your window to laugh and point at him but you pulled up behind his car and got out.

maybe he had died before he made it to the side of the road and he was now entering his personal hell.

"han jisung? are you okay?"

he didn't answer you, instead he looked down at his feet.

"i'm trying to help. you're lucky i was on my way home and i saw you." you said, walking towards him

"hey, i'm talking to you, idiot. want me to just leave you and your stupid car here?" you shouted, hoping to get him to snap out of it.

he shook his head and sniffled

"just..get in my car okay? i'll call a tow truck." you sighed

he didn't question you, he just walked over and got in the passenger seat. jisung wasn't surprised that the interior was sleek, black leather with pink accents and led lights. you got in contact with a towing company, thankfully they came fairly quickly and took care of jisung's car.

you got back inside your car and started your engine before looking over at him.

"nothing happened right? you're fine?" "she just gave out on me.. i'm fine.." he mumbled.

you nodded and asked him to put in his address.

after that it just went quiet.

it felt tense but not like before. like there were things you both wanted to say but decided not to.

after fifteen minutes on the road, you pulled up to his apartment.

he didn't move to get out and you didn't urge him to.

"i'm sorry about your car jisung.. a-and i-i'm also so fucking sorry that i hit you.." you spoke up, breaking the silence.

"no.. it's cool.. i deserved it. thank you for stopping for me. that's really nice of you.. even after i was such a dick."

you took a deep breath and looked down at your lap

"i've been trying to make things right between us.. i know maybe what i said about your car that first time we met might've been rude but i didn't mean it like that.. friendly competition you know? but maybe i went too far.. i'm sorry.."

"no seriously.. it's fine. i'm the one that was being an asshole.. i'm the one who's sorry okay? your car is super sick and you're actually a really cool girl.. i just guess i got intimidated by you. that sounds really fucking lame doesn't it?"

you laugh and nod at him "super lame.."

he just smiled softly and let out a chuckle.

"i guess.. truce then? you owe me anyways for the ride home.." you held out a pinky for him, he wrapped his own around yours without hesitating

"truce.

oh and.. thanks for the beer."

you blushed softly, hoping he wouldn't notice.

(he definitely did. he thought it was cute.)

"oh yeah.. it was nothing. i just had a box in my house and i thought you guys would enjoy it more than i would."

(and he knew that was a lie too. that you had gone out of your way to buy a pack and didn't just have it lying around your house.)

"right right.. well thanks..

um listen there's a meet coming up.. you haven't really been around lately so.. are you gonna come? chan's been worried about you and i know it's my fault you've been m.i.a.."

"mm.. i dunno.. i feel kinda weird just showing up after ghosting him.." you said softly.

"i'll take care of that okay?"

"how do you plan on showing up if you don't have a car?" you teased

"well i could ask chan- no no.. he'd ask me what happened.. he's so nosey, dammit.." "i'll pick you up han jisung.. don't sweat it." you laughed and in turn it made him laugh.

the next order of business was him figuring out his feelings for you now that he had apologized and formed a truce with you.

he hoped he didn't fuck things up too badly. hoped that maybe he'd finally grow a pair of balls and face the fact that he liked you.

jisung knew it was gonna be crazy for him to show up the car meet with you.

in your car.

he knew chan was going to question and pull him aside and bombard him with a thorough interrogation.

but he tries not to think about it, not while he's shaking with nerves as he watches you pull up to his apartment, honking at him to alert him of your arrival but your loud ass exhaust pipes gave you away the second you entered his neighborhood.

he walks up to your door, hearing you click it open for him to get in.

and god, did you always dress this pretty to go to meets or is today a special occasion? cute blouse with a pleated skirt and converse to tie it all together.

so, so pretty..

"welcome to the barbie subie" you joked which earned you a smile from him

he buckled up and you were off, jisung enjoying the way you shifted gears and drove your car so flawlessly.

part of him didn't even want to go to the meet anymore.

all of him wanted to just pull over somewhere, lean back in his chair and talk to you for hours.

"han jisung is awfully quiet.." you giggled

but he didn't find it amusing, instead he shrugged.

"oh come on.. i thought we were doing good. what's wrong now?"

"you really wanna go to this meet?" "i mean.. you're kinda the one who invited me remember?"

"well yeah but.. i don't know if i wanna go anymore y'know?" "are you embarrassed of being seen with me or something? jeez man you got some serious ego issues to deal with-" "no no! it's just i dunno.. i think i just.. fuck.. don't laugh okay? don't you dare fucking laugh.."

you shook your head and bit your lip in hopes of hiding the smile creeping up on you

"i just kinda wanna hang out? like.. just with you.. and without chan asking a million questions. just us two alone.." "so like a date is what you're saying?"

"what! fuck no!"

you frowned but only to mess with him.

"w-well shit yes okay! but like you didn't have to say that yeah? admitting it makes me feel funny.."

"it's okay jisung. it's growth and you're lucky i think you're cute so i'm taking the offer."

jisung feels like he could jump out of your car from how crazy he's feeling right now. and he's so mad at himself for being such a dumbass before because maybe he could've been going on dates with you so much sooner.

he could melt into a puddle right in your seat.

especially when you tell him you've found this huge empty lot by a construction site that you two could go make donuts.

even more so when you tell him he can drive your car.

and jisung feels like he's in some insane car wet dream of his because there's no actual way he's in your car, driving, you at his side laughing hysterically while your car spins in circles, tires screeching as it leaves dark circular skid marks.

"j-jisung! jisung holy shit!" you laugh as you hang on tightly "i'm gonna hurl!"

he stops the car and his sides hurt from laughing. cheeks sore from the huge smile he had been wearing. and when he looks at you, he feels like such an idiot because he really wants to kiss you and he regrets wasting so much time hating you for no good reason.

and you feel the same desire.

you want to kiss his stupid, stupid face.

want him to finally admit he fucking likes you.

thank god you're both finally on the same page. both leaning in at the same time and bumping into each other with a laugh.

"you first.. please.." you whisper, he cups your face and leans in to capture your lips. fluttering his eyes closed as he gets to feel your soft mouth on his. letting out a pleased sigh as he deepens the kiss.

kissing someone had never felt this good before.

when you pull away, he almost whines, almost begs you to come back. he watches as you lick your lips, almost as if collecting whatever remnants of him were left on yours.

(he'd be lying if he said he didn't think it was hot.)

and he looks at you confused when you get up and crawl into the back seat of your car, gesturing him to come join you. basically knocking over himself as he rushes to get back there.

was jisung about to fuck his dream girl in his dream car? if you told him this a few weeks ago, he'd laugh in your face.

"by the way stupid.. i was trying to fuck you not chan.." you laugh

his face is so fucking red and his cock is so unbearably hard, he almost felt humiliated.

"why didn't you say something then?"

"cause you'd never even give me a chance to.. besides i thought you said you can tell when girls want to fuck someone? was i not being obvious enough for you?" you tease him, using his own logic against him.

he physically face palms, he'd have to make a reminder to never be so fucking stupid again. he'd have to learn to not open his big mouth sometimes.

"fuck. whatever okay? we get it, i was stupid."

"i'm not letting you live it down, ever." you smiled crawling over to him to give him another kiss

he pulls you close, grips your hips tightly. he was so needy but that doesn't come as a surprise to you.

"shit.. i wish i could've fucked you stupid in my civic.. make you regret ever calling her names.." he groans

"shh.. be quiet.. you talk too much.." you teased.

he quickly pressed you down into your seats, hovering over you as he pulled off his shirt. you leaned up to touch the tattoos littered over his skin. he should work shirtless in the garage you think. why doesn't he? maybe it would distract you but that would be alright with you.

and he doesn't waste a second pulling off your top, hastily unclipping your bra to let your tits spill out for him, slapping them before taking one in his mouth and moaning.

your legs wrapped around his torso, tugging him closer, desperately to feel him against your crotch

"fuck jisung.. take it out.. i wanna see it.." you whine

he pulls back to unbuckle his jeans shimmying them off while in the process hitting his head against the roof a couple of times. you laugh at him and reach forward to help him tug them down, boxers soon following suit, letting his cock spring free.

"now i wanna see yours." he gives you a stupid little side smile and you pull your skirt up to reveal your panties. black thong that would soon be thrown out of sight. you hook your fingers on them and tug them down, throwing them at jisung once they were off your legs. he caught them and give them a nice sniff to which you slapped his arm and laughed, calling him a pervert.

he quickly manhandled you into position. he wanted to take you from behind, wanted to lap you nice and clean before he even dared sinking his cockhead inside of you.

working your pussy with his tongue, his hands spreading your asscheeks open for him to be able to embed himself within you. he could stay like this forever. he could live off eating your cunt for the rest of his life.

you were soaking.

some of it dripping on to your leather seats which made jisung fucking lose it

"your car's gonna need some detailing on the interior once we're done.." his hot breath fanning against your pussy as he lands a spank on your ass

"i think my pussy needs detailing first.." you giggle and jisung lets out a grunt. you couldn't joke with him like that, he could fucking die!

he spits on his cock and and uses it to work himself, pumping his length and letting his tip collect some of your essence so he could rub it in with his palm.

he presses an inch in, hearing your breath hitch as you scramble to hold on to the door, anticipating him to completely ruin you.

he curses as he feels your tight pussy swallow whatever he gives you, starting with an inch, then two, then three.

holding still to not overwhelm his cock and blow right then and there, he still had to work the rest in and he was already feeling his balls tighten at the sensation of your warmth.

once he collects himself, he bottoms out. taking a deep breath as he holds your hips and starts to set a steady pace.

the way your pussy was gripping on him was making him dizzy. hearing you moan his name and reaching a hand back for him made his ego and cock swell. he grabbed your hand and held it behind your back as he pressed you further up against the door.

you didn't seem to care about how uncomfortable it was at the moment, all you cared about was that han jisung was using your cunt and it felt so fucking good.

your face pressed against the window as you mumbled incoherently, he picked up the pace as a sheen of sweat started to form on his body.

"fuck.. this pussy is so greedy.. holy shit.." he groans loudly

he could barely pull out, cunt too tight and hungry for him to even let go.

"this pussy is mine now got it? m' making it mine.."

"yours now jisung..fuck yes.. gonna cum in it right?"

"you can fucking bet on that, baby.. gonna fuck you full and have you keep it in until the next car meet. then i'll just fill you up all over again, got it?"

you moaned in agreement, you wanted nothing more than to be stuffed full of jisung's cum. maybe you'd go home and play with yourself, pressing your fingers inside of you in hopes of collecting some to rub against your clit. or maybe you'd bring it up to your lips to taste him, to imagine it's actually his cock in your mouth and not your fingers.

"shit jisung.. i-i'm gonna cum.. keep going baby please.."

the pet name has him reeling, it makes him animalistic, pounding into you so hard that the car starts shaking. if anyone were to pass by, they'd know exactly what was going on inside your car.

he reaches a hand down to rub at your clit, pinching it a few times to hear you yelp.

"come on baby.. cream on my cock.. milk me yeah?" his chest pressed against your back while he whispered pure filth in your ear.

he could feel your pussy clamping down on him as you reached your orgasm, body shaking as it ripped through you, cumming with his name on your lips.

it was finally too much for him so he lets himself go, letting his cum seep into your walls as he finished inside of you, making sure not a drop is spilled.

"fuck jisung.. that was a lot.." you whined, afraid that if you moved too much you'd make a huge mess for sure.

"sorry.. just had to get my point across. i was serious about this pussy- well.. you.. being mine.." he laughs shyly

"we can discuss that topic later and see if it fits into the terms and conditions of our truce." you giggled.

he smiled and helped you up carefully to give you a soft kiss.

at least he was right about his honda civic being a babe magnet, right?

his car sacrificed herself for this moment and han jisung couldn't be too mad about it.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

#skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #han jisung #han jisung smut #binsito #han smut #skz han

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allycat75 · 1 year

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Screaming into a void time (another long one, sorry)...

Ok, I have tolerated these shenanigans with the Boston bonehead and his merry band of clout chasers and liars, watching his soul decay while everyone (including me) debated whether he was married or not, how many ceremonies they had, how they traveled and where they lived (and was it even their ugly-ass house in MA or NY) but I have to lay down some cold hard truths for our anxiety riddled pothead.

Your decisions, forced or not, have led you to this horrid point. Your only choices may have been between a turd sandwich and a giant douche (thanks, South Park) but you made that choice. And something tells me you didn't just come to this point out of nowhere. There were probably a string of missed lessons along the way that painted you into such a corner.

I know you may be fragile right now but you need to hear this as I suspect you are not hearing it from your loser friends or listening to the ones who do have your best interest at heart.

You are teetering on the ragged edge, my friend. I just saw the first trailer for Pain Hustlers and I can see why they released it only a week and a half before it is in the theaters- because Netflix wants to bury it. Another in a long line of duds your team should have been adept at steering you clear from. You better hope the strike last long enough to where Red One has to be postponed until next year, otherwise you will pull off the hat trick of working your ass off on three movies that have showcased how little anyone cares (you or the audience). I could be wrong about Red One, but this was filmed during your fugue state where the real Chris disappeared and was replaced with a stoned automaton who had no problem selling out everything he believed in. Not conducive to the best creative energy.

Well, buddy, it is time to wake up. You are aware of what is going on in the world, right? You used to have a website that cared about this stuff. Too bad you couldn't use this time off from the strike to pour into that instead of pretending to get married to a woman you refuse to touch or even sit near, breadcrumming two weddings by leveraging the poor boundaries you have established with your family and friends and giving the worst interview to GQ, making you look like a tone deaf, moronic, pretentious asshole.

You need to separate yourself from these racist, anti-semites NOW. While some outside the fandom are starting to notice, it will catch on like a house on fire if you aren't careful. Remember how easy it was for the fandom to find out all this shit about them last year? And now look at what is going on outside. Hamas is a terrorist organization who wants nothing more than to have Jews exterminated from the planet. And here in the US, we have someone vying to be Speaker of the House (second in line for the Presidency) who describes himself as "David Duke without the baggage"; you remember David Duke, right? You used to stand up to him before you were made to look like a fucking joke).

There is no such thing as a little bit racist, or a little bit antisemetic, and for all intents and purposes, you married one, with all her "baggage". Certificate or no certificate; pictures or no pictures. This isn't one of those things that you can claim plausible deniability. You are in it. And if you think your privlege can save you, maybe it can, but I doubt it. It may not have happened yet, but the Sword of Damocles is hanging just above your head.

It comes down to the difference between intent and impact. No one really believes this has been your intent, but that matters little to those impacted by your actions. I know you have "cyclical unhappiness" when you think about the small stuff too much, but too bad. There is no way to take yourself out of the equation. You are not a used car lot balloon, who frantically moves every which way until the air is let out and deflates into nothing. You are a grown human being and like all of us, have a responsibility to understand your place in the universe. Otherwise, you are just stepping over bodies with such carelessness- the teacher in Portugal who only thought she was supporting a charity, your friends trying to promote one of your crappy movies, only to have it derailed by your drama backstage, fans getting harassed and even receiving death threats for speaking the truth we see with our own eyes. You may not be doing these things with your own hands, but that does not absolve your responsibility.

As I said before, this is your time to wake up. Coming clean with pure heart and honesty is the only solution at this point. If you wait too long or dig your heals in, like we have seen before, it will be too late. Do you think Jinx will want to partner with an antisemite loving dog dad? What studio will hire you, even for your one movie a year? Based on your crappy decision making skills, I have a feeling any pottery you sell will be break even with the amount of pot you smoke. So invest wisely and I hope your accountants are more trustworthy than the rest of the people you have surrounded yourself with.

Now, I am actually a very kind person who for some reason is still rooting for you. I still think there is a good person buried deep in there. These are rare and may be why I can't give up just yet.

You have the con this weekend. I know you can't promote Captain America, but think back to what he stood for. You even referenced him and how you aimed to be more like him in that god forsaken GQ video. So do it, you dummy! You will feel much better when your soul is unburdened. Then follow the advise I and many others have given before:

Get a good therapist and do the work

Decide if you really want to act or not; if so, take some classes to shake the cobwebs off; If not, are you going to be ok giving up the perks?

Don't use weed as a crutch

Establish clear boundaries with family and friends

Remove relationships (personal and professional) that are no longer serving you or even doing you harm

Listen to what your head and the universe is telling you

Do not get into a relationship until you have an idea of who you are and at least get to the "like" stage

To quote Florence and the Machine (Wish That You Were Here):

And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

#boston bonehead #you are the company you keep #Used car lot balloon #Do better #legacy

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marsssbarrrr · 1 year

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Brother

Dabi x UaTraitor!gn!reader

Substitute big brother dabi, substitute little sibling reader

this is purely a platonic, brother-sibling relationship post (no i’m not using capitals i’m on my phone and too lazy :p)

the bar roof. you spent a lot of time there, usually after you came back from that hellscape they call a school.

you’d come back to the bar, hair frizzy and eyes red, drop your bag near your usual stool, and head to your room to change. after that, nobody really knew where you went. maybe you spent the rest of your night in there. maybe you were studying or doing things to keep you from failing out of your classes.

but dabi knew better, as you’d soon find out.

today was…particularly difficult. a different kind of difficult. you were over bakugo’s stupid chastising. kaminari’s stupid pointedly backhanded flirting. kirishima’s never-ending annoyance, midoriya’s muttering and todoroki’s indifference. you were over these stupid people.

you’d had to purposefully strike out of your one-on-one battle today. you needed to stay inconspicuous. that part had already bothered you. but kaminari’s backhandedness afterwards? bakugo’s insults? that pushed you over.

kirishima said it was manly? what the hell was manly about throwing an easy fight to appear weak?

you kicked your legs a little, finding comfort in the feeling of nothingness below them. you sat on the back edge of the roof, right above your window. your legs dangled only a few feet above it.

you rubbed at your eyes. this hadn’t worked the last ten minutes, but you hoped maybe the crying would stop if you tried one more time.

“whatcha doin up here?”

you turned, sniffling. dabi. you turned back away.

“nothing, fuck off.”

dabi huffed, stalking over and taking a seat next to you. his legs dangled lower than yours, you noted. the ground was far. you wondered what would happen if you just pushed yourself a little. would he catch you? would he care? he and the rest of the league probably thought you weak now, anyways after seeing that fight. stupid.

“ok,” dabi wrapped his left arm around you, “what’s up kiddo?” he looked at you, but his gaze held only concern. not the usual quiet arrogance. “is this about the fight?”

you looked away again.

“ah. so it is.”

you were too ashamed to look at him any longer, so you took to staring into the dark space below your feet and your dim window. it was so far down. it seemed to never end.

“you threw the fight.” you looked back up at him. “we all know that. we thought it was bullshit, but shiggy insisted you needed to stay in the middle of the pack of somethin’ like that. we know you could have taken that guy, you know that, right?”

tonight you were still clad in that stupid uniform. you were too worked up to change out of it before sulking up to the roof. it was suffocating.

you looked away again.

“they probably gave you shit for it, right? those ua assholes? they’re not worth it, kid. they’re gonna go down just like the rest of this fucked society. that includes my dad,” he poked at your side, “and your brother.”

your brother. that one was a touchy subject. the scars on your back still ached some days and his mantra of “it’s for your own good” still rang in your ears. dabi knew a little about him, you knew a little about his dad. both heroes. both corrupted assholes.

“next time they fuck with you like that, just tell ‘em the truth.”

“and what would that be?” you cocked and eyebrow, tears finally drying.

“that you say one word to your real brother, and i’ll fuck em up good.”

you smiled, leaning against him. “thanks, d.”

#dabi fluff #brother #comfort #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #my hero academia #ua traitor

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gefdreamsofthesea · 1 year

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The Andersons Do Not Get Enough Shit For Their Bullshit: My Thoughts on Feri.

First of all in case this post breaches containment, a little about myself. I'm Gef, I'm a thirty-something white cis disabled Canadian lesbian. I have a BA in Religion and Culture from Wilfrid Laurier University and an MLIS from the University of Western Ontario (I think it changed its name since I graduated). I also have minors in Medieval Studies and Women's Studies but they don't give you pieces of paper for those. My spiritual journey looks something like Catholic - New Ager - eclectic Wiccan-ish - Dianic-ish (the TERFy kind) - Heathen - Vanatru - now I kind of just read about witchy stuff, goddess-y stuff, and I collect divination decks. This isn't the first I've heard of Feri, but this is the first time I've sat down and read up on it.

I would just like to take a moment to recap what I've read so that everyone is on the same page:

Heart of the Initiate: Feri Lessons

Fifty Years in the Feri Tradition

Evolutionary Witchcraft by T. Thorn Coyle

The Wikipedia pages for Feri and Victor Anderson

A couple articles on feritradition.com

I read The Spiral Dance ages ago and am currently rereading it but am not including it here.

I think that's all the basics covered, let's get to the meat of the discussion.

I'll start with what I found appealing about the tradition. Both the founders and initiates stress that Feri is an ecstatic tradition, not a "fertility religion" like Wicca. It is a tradition of the poet, of being in your body, of dancing with the gods. It's also pretty explicitly queer (but see below): God Herself catches Her own reflection in a mirror and makes love to Herself, creating all the other deities in the pantheon. Coyle in particular talks about the Gods and Guardians (think like the Guardians of the Watchtowers in Wicca) as being genderfluid. The tradition practices ritual possession where the genders of the deity and their host don't matter.

Regarding Evolutionary Witchcraft specifically. I found the exercises (which involve a lot of breathing and awareness) to be useful and I think they would be of use to any witch. I also love the way she speaks of the Earth element in particular, as I think a lot of Pagan books are like "Oh Earth is money and other boring mundane stuff" whereas she talks about Earth as money but also as safety, security, the place where you incubate things (like in a cave), and the tomb. Despite my issues, I think I would recommend it.

Having said all that, I feel like the Andersons do not get enough shit for their bullshit.

Based on his students accounts, Victor sounds like a bit of an asshole at best. He's described as "a taskmaster" and that "One could ask for clarification, but to even hint that one disagreed with him, or worse yet, to contradict him, would result in an immediate and permanent order to leave," which is maybe just me but I wouldn't want to study under a teacher who didn't allow for disagreements or questioning, that's a cult leader thing. His wife Cora comes across as a yes (wo)man "my husband is a great shaman and an expert on x, y, and z." Now honestly I feel like people should hype up their spouses, but this is a constant throughout their writings.

Honestly though, I didn't get the chance to know them personally. Maybe they were awesome people irl. I'm just going off what I've read, but even if they were both very nice people, I still have some major issues.

One of these issues are the Andersons' claims about their own religion. Feri dates back to the Stone Age (uh huh), Feri's origins are in Africa (sure). Victor claimed to be a kahuna and an expert on Vodou. Apparently, once Victor read something he thought was true, he decided it had always been true. I should note here that near as I can tell, his source for info on Hawaiian religion is that Huna book by that white guy writing about what he thought Native Hawaiians believed. I've heard people justify this by being like "oh well Victor was being poetic and not literal" but that doesn't change the fact that it's straight up bullshit. Poetic lies are still lies. So yeah you'll often hear "Feri draws from a variety of traditions" but I'd say in some cases it's less "influenced by" and more "appropriated from" (I do feel the need to mention that some initiates have moved away from, say, using Hawaiian terms for their concepts).

I mentioned the deities in passing but Feri has its own pantheon. Most of the deity names are Welsh and many deities go by several names or are seen as similar to named deities in many cultures (the Blue God, for instance, being compared to Krishna) and they also have secret names that only initiates know. One important aspect of the Blue God is the Peacock God, at first I was going to include him under the section on appropriation, but Feri practitioners have apparently been in contact with actual Yazidis who have given their blessing re: Feri worship of Melek Taus but I'd prefer to hear it directly from the Yazidi that they are cool with it.

Okay so way back at the beginning I mentioned Feri was very queer but I really should amend that to say "unless you're asexual" because oh boy sex is inescapable in this tradition. It's implied that sexual activity between initiator and initiate is a thing that happens but there's an alternative ritual called the Intentions of the Heart where you do (non-sexual) ritual things and then "your first act of sexual intercourse" post-ritual is your initiation. The foundation of Feri practice is the Iron pentacle, where "sex" is at the top. There is also the Pearl pentacle, seen as the "higher energy" version of Iron, where sex becomes love. In Evolutionary Witchcraft, Coyle makes a few unfortunate statements about the relationship of sex to love that imply you cannot have love without sex. I don't really see a lot of room for asexual practitioners in this system, which is a shame because I know of some wonderful queer initiates of this tradition. I would be interested in an initiate's view on this because I know queer practitioners have talked about using an amethyst pentacle, for instance. I should note however, that Coyle states that not everyone needs or wants initiation as it involves marriage to the deities and responsibilities to the tradition, but as I said the tools and techniques she talks about are fine to use.

I did actually like Evolutionary Witchcraft so even if the tradition is not for me, I do what I usually do: take the bits I find useful and leave the rest.

#feri tradition #feri #witchcraft

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fireemblems24 · 1 year

Text

Golden Wildfire Ch 8

Spoilers for GW up to Ch 8 below.

STORY

Shahid may as well have been called "plot tool" lol.

Are Claude and Edelgard going to make some kind of Alliance now? I hope he's not stupid about it.

Claude's like maybe attacking the larger, richer country with more soldiers and resources wasn't a good idea, lamo. As much as I loved punching the Empire for once rather than just always fighting defensively, Claude really picked up the stupid stick.

It hurts every time I see Judith.

Man, I don't like how they retconned Gloucester. He's getting treated like a saint now. It's so weird. I feel like they softened up a lot of people, and I'm not sure i like it.

Haha, at least he called the Empire foolish for starting a two-front war.

CAMP

Oh, wow, no side missions. I have two paralogues unlocked though, so I'll probably do those.

Honestly, I'm a bit relieved. These levels take forever and I'm not even putting time into plotting builds or anything. I def want to replay AG one day where I put more time into just building out all my favs.

Honestly, part of me is tempted to drop AG and speed run SB and GW (which are both really boring so far, sorry) so that way I can just blow through them and take my time with AG, but I can't imagine not going back to AG to keep me going lol.

I'll just do an indulgent, S-Rank everything, unlock all the everything AG type run later.

MARIANNE & BERNADETTA B SUPPORT

Not who I would've picked to support Marianne, but I can see it.

Yep, this is as awkward as you would've guessed with neither sure what to say and lots of just "..." and "ums."

Bernie finally breaks the silence talking about pretty bugs. Marianne is into the conversation since she's a Disney princess animal lover. And Bernie just like creepy things.

Then it dies. And Marianne struggles to find another topic and talks about the sunrise.

In the end they had a successful conversation. Since I support Marianne having friends, I support this.

LORENZ & BALTHUS C SUPPORT

So why does Balthus get a support with Lorenz, but not Hilda?

Balthus asked Lorenz about a Claude investigation, but Lorenz doesn't know much about it.

Lorenz thinks Balthus' father is behind the questions. Balthus is doing it for money, unsurprisingly.

Lorenz puts down Balthus as a corrupt commoner, but Balthus is secretly a commoner, which doesn't surprise me since Hilda and Holst are his buddies.

Lamo, Balthus said Lorenz says whatever just pops into his head. Doesn't sound like a compliment.

BALTHUS, HOLST, & HILDA PARALOGUE

I'm using two of the three, so this shouldn't be too bad. I can make Balthus an adjunct.

Balthus is hiding from someone, then turns around and asks Hilda and Shez for money. Hilda encourages him to pay them back. Then Balthus leaves.

Holst arrives and bothers Shez about bothering Hilda. Then they catch him up about Balthus.

Balthus sounds like an absolute nightmare and asshole of a person, ngl. He steals from people, fights, and drinks. Hilda and Holst can do better.

Oh, shit. The goal is to rescue Balthus, so I can't just rescue him? But the Golden Deer are basically broke, so IDK if I can level him up enough to survive.

So his stepmother sent assassins after him because she wants her younger son to lead instead. Honestly, don't blame her for that last half, but big yikes.

Ok, that wasn't too bad since I got to control Balthus pretty quickly.

Balthus seem wholly unbothered by his step-mother trying to kill him. He talks about it like she's throwing a tantrum, lol.

Did Balthus' real mom raise Shez?

LEONIE & SHAMIR PARALOGUE

Welp, they didn't get a support this time, but they got this at least. Feels bad Shamir didn't get one with Cyril, but I don't think the poor dude is even playable this time around.

Shamir is trying to pull a mysterious vanishing act and Shez can guess what she's up too including romantic rendezvous, fighting, or drinking. See, this is why Catherine and Shamir are meant for each other.

Ohhh, Shamir is breaking up with someone.

Not a former lover, though. A noble who has an infatuation with her and is threatening her if she doesn't come back. Shamir plans on just dealing with it herself.

Lamo, Shamir doesn't mind killing them.

Leonie is leveled up, but not Shamir, so Leonie will just tout her around.

Shamir burned the captain bad - "You're still alive. I guess it's true only the good die young." Like, damn, woman.

They sent a whole army against Shamir lol.

Cool to see three mercenary women all talking mercenary stuff.

Wait, WHAT? A WOMAN is the one after Shamir. Go off, Fire Emblem.

Leonie, my sweet summer child, has no idea what Shamir was alluding to. That's Caspar/Hilda support levels of naive, except Leonie's older lamo.

MAIN BATTLE/STORY

Short chapter this time around, which is nice. I saw it's the same for Scarlet Blaze in chapter 9. I'm assuming Azure Gleam will get a chapter like this too, except that time I'll be bummed.

Shahid has no personality outside of bloodthirsty idiot.

So Shahid has no clue that Claude is in the army he's attacking. So Edelgard is the only one the writers don't make kill their own family. Claude and Dimitri are just built for angst.

Yep, here's a cut scene where poor Claude gets to kill family now. He should've just let Shez do it. Cool cut scene though.

Claude thought he wouldn't feel bad about it, but he does. That's just being human, Claude.

Lorenz is like a whole ass 10 levels ahead of everyone else. Dude is a monster in this game.

Will the Golden Deer actually learn Claude is from Almyra this time? Claude lied again, saying he just went there for political stuff and that's why he meant Nader. Ah, well, maybe later on.

Shahid really was just a plot tool in the end. He had no personality and was just the evil prince from Almyra that makes it easy to wrap that up with a nice bow.

Lamo, Raphael gets closer to figuring it out about Claude than anyone else. Perfect.

Arval is like ugh, why are they celebrating? There's still a war going on. Arval is a party pooper, confirmed.

Claude feeling bad because he killed Shahid, which would have more weight if Shahid was an actual character.

Arval doesn't trust Claude, but I swear if I hear the word "scheme" in a Claude route one more time, I'm going to scream.

xxx

#golden wildfire #fire emblem #fire emblem three hopes #three hopes #three hopes spoilers #golden wildfire spoilers

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heckinconfusedparade · 2 years

Note

How about an aftermath to Nine finally being back in the Prime universe after all of his universe jumping? Maybe before Sonic rejects his offer in the Grim? Im curious on how his mental state would be after seeing to many other Tails's loved and cared for by a Sonic of their own. Having a HOME instead a simple safe place to hide from the world. Now that happiness and hope hangs on a simple 'yes'. How he would handle Sonic inevitably choosing to help others over his wants?

Nine has traveled many places and met a lot of people. He’s seen realities where he and Sonic could be friends, and even brothers. Even got himself included in a squad.

So his reaction to Sonic rejecting The Grim is… not good.

He backs up and turns away to hide his tears from Sonic as he chuckles to himself “heh.. I knew it was too good to be true. Why’d I allow myself to have hope..?” He hits his head against his hand many times muttering “stupid stupid stupid!” under his breath.

Sonic catches his hand “Nine, what..? What’s going on with you? I can see you’re upset. Is there something else going on?”

Nine rips his hand away from Sonic “I just spent the last forever in the multiverse. I met other me’s other you’s.. other versions of the people in my world. In every single one of those universes.. I was happy. I had friends, I had you. We were best friends.. like you said. Even brothers in some realities. In every reality, you came to save me. But of course, in my reality, I’m alone, forced to suffer for years and give up my childhood because some assholes can’t accept that people can be born different. I was constantly told on my travels that it’s ok to want other people around. And guess what? I do! I’m lonely as shit! And guess what else? YOURE GOING TO LEAVE ME! TO ROT BY MYSELF BECAUSE YOU ALREADY HAVE TAILS!”

“Nine?” Sonic is taken aback by his words.

Nine continues “you have friends and family. You have purpose. I was so.. so stupid to think you’d give all of that up. That world means nothing to me now. I don’t care if it blows up or ceases to exist, because everyone there has been nothing but awful to me. That Echidna and that bat won’t forgive me for leaving them for dead! I’m an enemy.”

“Nine, stop.” Sonic says more firmly “look, I.. don’t know what to say to.. most of that. But what I can say is this: you still have a chance to make things right. I’m not saying you should forgive anyone. I’m saying to help reform the world you do have. You’ve been a lot of places, so you must have some ideas. There’s other people in your world like you, I bet. Be their hope. You don’t need me to find happiness. And hey, maybe if I ever find my own world again, you can stick around for a bit if all else fails. You can hang out there instead of.. whatever this place is. It’s neat, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a bit.. barren, don’t you think?”

Nine takes in what Sonic said. He really doesn’t want to get his hopes up again. “I’ll.. think about it. And you better not be lying!”

Sonic smiles “I’m not! Though I will have to ask Tails once he is done being mad at me for not listening to him if he’s ok with it.”

“…ok. Thank you, Sonic. Now, go, help some more people. I need some time to myself.” Nine opens a portal. Sonic waves to him “see ya later, Nine!” “See ya.”

Sonic runs through the portal and is now on an island! Yay more people he has to earn the trust of!

#sonic prime spoilers #sonic prime #sonic the hedgehog #nine the fox

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cljordan-imperium · 2 years

Text

WORD SEARCH TAG GAME

I am behind on tag games, but I'm trying to catch up.

This tag was from @toribookworm22

My words were - BLESS, SOUL, JAM, KEY, WIND

I'm tagging - @writingpotato07, @blind-the-winds, @frostedlemonwriter, and @saltysupercomputer

Your words are - IMAGE, STONE, PLAZA, BEFORE, SOON

BLESS

“Now, Sor, you know me better than that.” Whatever he had done to make Div happy, he was thankful for it, because he was obviously being blessed. Never in the history of millennias’ worth of first dates had he had one start off this easy, not even a second date. Then again, this was Sorina, and this, he hoped, would be his last first one. “But I do believe my lady said something about wanting to take an overnight bag?” An eyebrow rose as he looked down at her beautiful face. “I also assume that you’re going to want a change of shoes for the garden.” He pulled her tighter against him. “I can keep you from getting cold, but not from heels sinking in dirt. I’m liking those heels though, a lot.” There was no misreading the grin and wink he gave her, which got him a laugh and a quick kiss from her.

SOUL

Their foreheads came together with the softest of touches and Adriel could have sworn there was an actual spark that passed between them. Not one like static electricity, but one of a soul deep connection being established. “There should be nothing about me that scares you, mia bella.” One hand left her hair, coming forward to cup the side of her face and hold it tenderly. “Unless it is the same thing that makes you so dangerous to me. What is between us is unexpected and strong, as well as unexpected. Angels mate only once….” He let the statement hang there and saw the gentle movement of her throat as she swallowed. He’d been right about what she had meant. “I promise to be most gentle with your heart, my dear one.” His thumb swept over her cheek, his expression softening and his eyes tender as he took her in. HIS female. HIS Grigori. HIS.

JAM

When Leviathan looked up, he saw his brother leaned up against the door jam with his massive arms crossed over his broad chest. Unlike Leviathan who was tall with dark hair and eyes, Mammon had lighter auburn hair and blue eyes, his frame broader and more muscular as well. They were only brothers in that they were created by Div at the creation of the Earthly Realm, so their “Father” was the same. There wasn’t much about them that was alike, other than their hatred for their father.

KEY

“We are going to need to keep them closer together. If he’s far from her again, we’re going to have a repeat. I’m pretty sure they can be in different rooms, but not different wings of the castle.” Arch answered, which made every other male’s jaw tick. “However, I believe that I’ve figured out the key to why they are here. The spell worked exactly as it should have. Whether she was to be bound to Dartan (Dar-tan) or an angel (Dare-ten) is debatable, but the spell worked as it was designed. The spectre is just an egotistical asshole.”

WIND “I would not hit my daughter, Lucifer.” Adriel’s tone was condescending and although he was addressing the fallen, his eyes were focused solely on Abbadon. His hands were glowing an ethereal blue and there was an otherworldly wind that was swirling about him. No one who had ever seen the Angel of Death and Destruction doubted that he was in no mood to discuss anything with anyone, and he was quite done with whatever shit that Abbadon was about to pull.

TAGGING SO YOU CAN SEE SNEAK PEAKS INCLUDED

THE IMPERIUM CHRONICLES TAG LIST - @ceph-the-ghost-writer @writingpotato07 @kjscottwrites @saltysupercomputer @careful-pyromancer @late-to-the-fandom @autumnalwalker @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @jessica-writes22 @dogmomwrites @mjjune @verba-writing @andromedaexists

Please let me know if you want +/-

#word search game #word search #tag game #writeblr #writeblr game #the imperium chronicles #my ocs #writing #my writing #interesting snippets #snippets #writing snippet #snippet #sneak peak

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peachdues · 1 year

Text

Phantasmagoria -- the final teaser

Sanemi x F!reader modern AU

Enjoy the opening scene of the final part of Phantasmagoria!

CW: descriptions of Douma getting his ass beat (deserved); reference to the implied attempted SA in part 2.

The Party on 52nd Street (Sanemi's POV)

Sanemi knew the only reason his ass wasn’t being thrown into the back of the police cruiser waiting out behind Douma’s hellhole was because Tengen had been the one to escort him out. And, because the local police had been itching to bust Douma for his little drug operation for months, Douma had been hauled out as well, handcuffed for good measure (and for insult) by Tengen.

“I will sue your ass,” Douma wheezed as he struggled to catch his breath. Through the purple black swells of his eyesockets, Sanemi could just make out the sliver of jewel-toned irises as they glared in his direction. “The whore fucking wanted it rough.”

Sanemi lunged for the smirking bastard where he lay, ready to stomp the fucker’s face in once and for all, but Tengen roughly threw him back against the side of his cruiser before he could.

But Sanemi could only see red, the image of Y/N’s tear-streaked and terrified face burned permanently into his brain, worse than any scar that he bore on his skin.

“I don’t give a fuck, it’s working,” Sanemi snarled, struggling against Tengen’s iron-clad grip on him. “I want him fucking dead.”

And so, he had.

Douma’s answering smile had been brief, unable to withstand the smash of his fist as the enraged Sanemi knocked him to the ground and lunged to pin him down.

He didn’t want to think about what else might have happened in that room. If he did, Douma would surely not survive the impending ride to the police station. Sanemi knew, however, that Tengen was right, however much it pissed him off. Y/N was the priority here, not him or his righteous, violent fury. He would restrain himself – for her. Nonetheless, Sanemi felt a rush of gratitude for the young cop, who, despite cautioning Sanemi away from ripping the cretin apart once and for all, spat directly on Douma’s bruised, bleeding face.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #uzui tengen #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny tengen #tengen uzui #demon slayer fic #kny fic #kny smut #demon slayer smut #hashira smut #hashira au

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incarnateirony · 2 years

Text

today a friend googled the demographics of NOLA and Atlanta and really let it set in what I meant about it being a different, much less white and privileged world than this pillow cushioned fandom is used to.

Vancouver 78% white

NOLA 59% black and 33% white

ATL almost 50% black and 40% white

And those NOLA numbers are deceptive. A good portion of the population that answers "white" on the census are lighter blend creole people, or non-anglo french descendents. Realistically, the only anglo fuckers there are a small minority of annoying yuppie transplants that move there thinking it's just a fun party town and get their ohio vibes all over the place.

And yeah. it influences culture and how people think, act, and react. When cultures have had to pull each other up to survive, to stay free, when they predate the country itself--your white colonizer mindset is what gets your shit pushed in IRL if you try it. They don't take white nonsense.

And this fandom is the triple definition of White Noise. you're walking into a world of self made people fighting up against oppression for centuries, not handed to them on generational platters and privilege that white communities get.

your Quirky Fun Liberal Cities like "Keep austin/portland weird" look like utter jackasses in actual like. how shit gets handled compared to, say, houston even, much less nola or atlanta.

sorry to break it to this precious white fandom, even as another white person who had to break my bullshit down ages ago, but you aren't special. Your opinions don't dictate reality. And most of all the black gay pagan south does not give a FUCK if you consider an MLM pairing going mainstream "inappropriate." they catch Kelios concern trolling that shit they're gonna see how far they can take porn on network tv just to piss you entitled assholes off.

yeah. that goes for all of you. shrill queerbait shriekers that were attacking our own allies in the room included just as much as the wincels. If you wanna see how we do it, how about you like. come do your shit without a keyboard and a few thousand miles protecting you.

oh right. none of you are that brave. fuckin marshmallows. pat still wont even bet another 5k after his last fail but knows his precious whiteness and keyboard will protect him from getting his spine ripped out.

you wanna know why nobody here accomplishes anything anymore, it's because you're too busy fixing your egos behind keyboards but don't have the compunction to get up and actually do something to get what you fucking want. That's it. That's the difference. Down south, the real south, the actual Dirty South, not ivory lib castles like Austin and their suburbs fed conservative garbage via nexstar for years; you get up and help move the log. If you get in the way, the motherfuckers with the log will smash your ribs and keep going through you. It's that simple. nobody cares about your white fragility bubble, pat. nobody cares if you clicked and ordered 5 dollars to a food bank to make yourself feel better as a white savior. We care if you get up and bring the fucking food to people. We care if you help advocate for systems where it isnt as needed, and show up and meetings and raise your voice and cuss if you've fucking got to, and riot if you've fucking got to, and get arrested if you fucking got to.

nexstar's conservative shit flooding white liberal cities like austin is how you get jackasses like kelios being so up her ass she unironically screams Make Supernatural Great Again, or joined the Silent Majority, and demands staying in "safe, old ways". and fuckin white libs at a core, a lot of them are like this. They're conservatives in a mask. 2p0 too and how they go into DM to argue incest should be allowed irl or try to compare it to the lgbtq struggle--active enemy against progressives, but this fandom sucks his dick of raw, uninformed opinion anyway. Beneath the skin, these agendas are all driven by political skews informing their opinions, and this is ripping open faux white liberalism and gutting it like a piggylecki.

i ain't afraid to get arrested for the right cause. Hell it goes viral enough on why they'll pay my bail. you guys though, you're afraid to even step outside your houses. Welcome to Nola. Buckle up.

like in my life i've put a few dudes in the dirt in self defense, and you really gonna try to act like a tough shit online when you guys won't even put your money where your mouth is in a bet. Because you goddamn know. there's a reason taw had all of you running pissing your pants for years and then he met me and it was his turn to piss and run. only one person ended up updated to "armed and dangerous" on his doxxing site despite being a Big Scawwy Miwitary Man. catch a clue. you ain't any better than him, 2p0

And eventually, your followers will notice that for alllll the subtweeting you do, you magically missed the 20 chances to take up that bet if you're half as confident as you pretend.

Yeah guys, why won't he?

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kamisathoes · 3 years

Note

Okay here me out imagine this itto has a friend who has little to no shame like she has a filthy mind and is okay with just openly sharing her kinks , has probably changed in front of him at some point not caring at all if he looks the kicker she’s a virgin. This girl has never been with anyone that she’s gone farther than kissing with. To help with the imagining process she’s so short like 5’ and is kind of thicc too

oh, the thoughts you dirty little anons make me have~

pairings: itto & virgin ! f ! reader

notes: this is filthy, i'm sorry i got carried away. i also misread "mind" as "maid", so enjoy ! this actually reminds me of another maid fic i have in my drafts...

warnings: maid kink (?), itto admiring your uniform, alcohol mention, degradation, reader is big horny, itto is always horny and a bit of a perv, a little bit of himbo ! itto, kind of friends to fuck buddies, a lot of dirty talk (including mentions of: masturbation, rough sex, exhibitionism, a little allusion to dubcon, fisting), size kink, spitting, implied virginity loss

word count: 1.2k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

you often met up with ITTO while you were on your lunch break from work. he'd come pick you up from the little hotel you worked at in hanamizaka. you couldn't remember how you'd come to befriend the man with oni blood, but the two of you were rather close. you sometimes slept over at his place and he yours, often when one of you had gotten a little bit too tired or tipsy to be left alone. (it's you. always you. you think itto is capable of getting drunk OR tired ? you're wrong.) he just didn't want you to get hurt, though the way you would shamelessly strip in front of him, pulling on some comfier clothes to sleep in, made his jaw drop to the floor every time without fail.

that's also why itto cherished your little (platonic) lunch dates. he couldn't help but thank the archons for the pervy boss that forced you into a tight little maid dress to make a living wage. the black material barely covered you ! your breasts practically hung out on display, the neckline dipping so low that itto was just waiting for the moment where one of your nipples would be set free from its restrictive prison. the fabric gripped your wider hips, hugging all of the dips and curves of your perfect body. and your thighs, oh god don't get itto started on your thighs ! it wasn't uncommon to catch him staring at the way your garter squeezed your plush flesh, looking rather uncomfortable but so very hot. the oni tended to prefer walking behind you when you were together, since the uniform was so short that you ass was basically on display for him. he'd often drop something, or even knock something out of your own hands, just so that he could catch the view of your plump pussy lips straining against those lacy white panties, framed perfectly by the thigh high stockings you wore. itto couldn't help but strain against his trousers at the sight.

the way you spoke never helped the situation either, often being one to share you deepest desires so openly. you'd be strolling around lower inazuma city, munching on some sweet dango treats he'd bought as you vented about work. "why is everyone that comes in such an asshole?!" you whined, "why can't i finally find a nice guy? i deserve that, don't i, itto?"

"sure you do. but that's not what you want, is it?" the way he cocked his eyebrow at you was suggestive, playful grin pasted onto his sharp features.

you sighed, unable to deny that he was right. "you're not wrong." itto could only chuckle heartily. "oh come on, it's not like you would be the nicest guy in bed. so what, judge me for being a degenerate ! it's not my fault i would kill for a man to come into the hotel, bend me over my little cleaning cart and take me in the middle of the corridor for anyone to see."

itto moved to sit on a stray rock, anticipating the rest of your lewd rant. "i just want to be used, itto. i wear this shit to work everyday, practically whoring myself out for the whole of inazuma to see. yet every night, i'm forced to go home and stuff my own cunt up." he couldn't help but choke on his mouthful at the last part. he'd thought about what you did while you were alone, given your willingness to discuss this kind of thing. though every time you mentioned it, he was still taken aback.

"what about that guy from the bar last week? homa, was it? i thought you ended up going home with him?"

"thoma? he was nice. but archons, the man gave me the female equivalent of blue balls when he refused to come inside." you stood tall, beginning your impression of the man who you'd only met once. "'darling, at least let me buy you dinner before you invite me in.' ugh. how much more forward do i have to be?" you finally slumped down next to itto, head leaning against his bare shoulder. "i don't care about dinner when there's something else i'd rather watch him eat," you took a bite of his food, not caring if it was covered in his saliva. his eyes were glued to the way that your mouth wrapped around the sweet treat. his arm wrapped around you protectively - it looked somewhat comical, really. itto was huge, that much was obvious. just one of his hands could spread out to cover the whole width of your back. it only made you whine more.

"do you have any oni friends you could set me up with? you're just so... big. you can't judge a girl for wondering just what else is the size of those hands."

"doll, you know anything my size would break your weak human body,"

"that's the point, itto ! i wanna be fucked so hard that i can barely make it into work the next day. archons, just look at my fingers !" you splayed out your hand, emphasizing how small your digits were. "you think these are enough for me? i'm gonna be fisting myself at this rate."

itto grabbed your hand with his own, folding you fingers into a fist. mentally, he was comparing it to the size of the length in his pants. he scoffed, placing his own hand over the top of it. "still so small," you weren't sure whether or not that whisper was to you or for himself. "still think you can handle an oni? you really must be the biggest slut in hanamizaka,"

"yeah right, the biggest slut who's still never been fucked."

itto stared at you in shock. he must have misheard you. the way you talk about sex so openly, there was no way you were a virgin ! an uncharacteristically weak "excuse me?" was all he could muster up.

"you heard me, itto." your contrasting tone still confident as ever. "no one's ever cared enough to fuck me. well, other than myself and whatever god i smited in a past life to end up so fucking lonely."

"you're not lonely, i'm here." he didn't mean it like that. itto's tone was sincere, almost forgetting the lewd nature of your conversation only moments ago. he could be so stupid sometimes.

"unless that was an offer to dick me down yourself, you better stop."

your gaze moved towards his pants, tent becoming increasingly obvious. you swung one of your legs over his, pressing your barely clothed cunt against his growing erection. his eyes couldn't help but grow attached to your plump chest. he grabbed your thighs, sharp nails digging soft marks you would undoubtedly be seeing for a few days.

"first time and you want to get wrecked an oni?" itto laughed at you. he used one of his hands to grab your face. despite being on his lap, you still had to look up at him. he squeezed your cheeks harshly, forcing your mouth open. he took a moment to collect some of his saliva before dumping it down your throat. "you're gonna regret this, doll. gonna fuck you so hard your virgin cunt is gonna be too loose for any other man to satisfy you."

part two can be found here !

#thena.mail #thena.thirsts #thena.writes #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #itto smut #arataki itto smut #itto x reader #arataki itto x reader #itto x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #gi smut #˘ᵕ˘ itto

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bakuthedeku · 4 years

Text

their everyday game

Read on AO3

Words: 3,000

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Things Midoriya Izuku is: A student, a sugar baby, a boyfriend, a brat.

Things Midoriya Izuku is not: Patient.

Or: Izuku wants attention from Kacchan and he is going to get it.

A commissioned fic for @insinirate !

Clack clack clack. The room is silent but for the steady breaths of its occupants and the rhythmic beat of fingers on plastic. Clear, wall-to-ceiling windows wash the sun’s gentle light into the room, and reveal a picturesque view of the sparkling city, looking like something straight out of a magazine.

Izuku glares at the extravagant view. He bets Kacchan is writing another one of those stupid reports of his.

Buzz. The clacking halts and Kacchan glances at his work phone for but a moment before the typing resumes.

Izuku takes a deep breath. Holds it. Puffs out his cheeks.

He slumps over in his seat and sighs obnoxiously.

God, he’s so damn bored.

Kacchan said he had to get one more hour of work done, and then he’d take a break. That had been almost three hours ago. ‘One hour’ had turned into two when Izuku left Kacchan to get ready for their lunch date and had foolishly gone straight to the cafe instead of meeting up with Kacchan at the office first. He’d waited all of ten minutes at their usual table before calling a company car and returning to find Kacchan still working in his office.

If not for Kacchan’s genuine surprise at the time and his gruff, yet sweet apologies, he would be a dead man already.

But Izuku still isn’t satisfied. Kacchan needs a break, and Izuku needs attention, stat. There’s only one solution: Izuku’s gonna annoy the shit out of Kacchan. So Izuku sucks in another breath and pouts at the ceiling. “Kacchaaaaan!”

Kacchan sighs, but he doesn’t respond. The silence in the room grows thick with expectation; Izuku’s long-perfect attention-seeking tone signals the start of the game they play every day.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clack of keys and occasional buzz from Kacchan’s work phone. Izuku wriggles against his plush seat, making the leather squeak obnoxiously, and clears his throat daintily, earning himself a glance. “Kacchan, I’m hungry…” Izuku peaks at Kacchan from beneath fluttering eyelashes.

Kacchan shifts his eyes back to his computer and types another line, pointedly loud against the room’s still silence.

When they play this game, whoever breaks first (or whoever wants whatever they’re after more) will relent and go to the other, so this can go one of two ways; Izuku will pull himself from his lounging position to drape himself over Kacchan, or Kacchan will pull himself from his work and lavish Izuku with the attention he deserves.

Today, Izuku takes it upon himself to move things forward—Kacchan is in one of those moods where it could take hours to break him down, and Izuku needs results now.

So with an impatient, gusty sigh pulled deep from his lungs, Izuku heaves himself up and slinks over to Kacchan’s grand desk, stalking up from behind him. When Kacchan makes the mistake of glancing at Izuku from the corner of his eye, Izuku pounces.

Izuku wrenches Kacchan’s chair around and jumps into his lap, laying himself over Kacchan as well as the plush arms of his chair. Kacchan grunts out a quiet oof at the sudden weight but wraps an arm around his waist nonetheless.

“I’m working, Deku,” Kacchan says dryly.

“Actually, Kacchan, I think you’ll find that you’re cuddling me and giving me attention right now, and I can’t imagine why you’d want to stop.”

Kacchan exhales quietly and wrestles down the corners of his lips—it’s not quite a smile, but it’s a good enough start for Izuku. “I have a lot to do, so as much as I’d love to keep giving you all the attention you desire, I really do have to get back to work.”

Izuku wraps an arm around Kacchan’s neck and pretends to think, then shakes his head solemnly. “Unfortunately, it’s a no from me. I’m hungry and I want lunch.”

“Then go get lunch.”

Izuku gives Kacchan a look for being deliberately obtuse.

“I’ll order in for you, then,” Kacchan offers.

Izuku huffs and pushes himself away from his comfortable spot against Kacchan’s broad chest. “Not good enough, Kacchan! We organised a lunch date, so I am getting a lunch date. Now.” Izuku sticks out his chin and dares Kacchan to say no.

Eyes lock. Izuku stares with determination, burying his will into impenetrable crystal red and steadfastly ignoring their alluring pull. Kacchan makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat, as if he was about to say something stupid but thought better of it, and finally sighs.

“Half an hour.”

Izuku smiles sweetly. “Two. You’re late, so you’ve accrued interest.”

Kacchan decides to focus on their negotiations over Izuku’s mockingly business-like tone: “Forty-five is the best you’re going to get from me.”

“An hour, not including travel time, or I’ll get our contract from your room and tear it up myself.” Izuku juts out a petulant lip. He’d never do it, but it gets his point across—Izuku isn’t budging on this.

Kacchan stares hard for a moment, then sags and rests his head in the crook of Izuku’s neck. “You’re such an annoying little shit,” he murmurs, warm against Izuku’s skin.

Izuku hides his smile in Kacchan’s hair and holds him tight. Another victory secured.

/-/

The cafe is a relaxing, familiar space for Izuku. He’s been a regular since before his arrangement with Kacchan began, and when it breached the confines of Kacchan’s highrise office, it was only natural Izuku would drag Kacchan to his favourite little spot.

After enough of their regular visits, the staff have stopped staring at Kacchan and his crisp suits and shiny Rolex watches, and they interact more or less normally with the pair when they stop by.

They place their orders, as usual, and Kacchan pays, as usual, before they settle in their favourite corner, waiting for drinks and food.

Izuku relaxes into his plush chair. He breathes in happiness, the scent of sugar and coffee and Kacchan’s handsome cologne, and breathes out his worries. He’s already plotting ways to extend the hour he was so graciously granted.

On the table before him is a generous slice of cake, which is ‘not a meal,’ according to Kacchan, but Izuku wanted it and he doesn’t care what Kacchan has to say about it. Kacchan is still waiting on his own food; some kind of salmon dish, which is about the fanciest thing he might be able to get his hands on at a casual place like this.

Before Kacchan can grouse at Izuku further, Izuku digs into his treat with no regard for manners, or as Kacchan calls them, “basic fucking social etiquette.” Whenever Kacchan attempts to spout this particular kind of bullshit, Izuku rather enjoys pointing out the hypocrisy of Kacchan of all people criticising other people’s social graces.

Izuku glances at Kacchan and licks his lips before he fills his mouth with fluffy, sugary goodness, making eye-contact with him as he lets out an exaggerated moan. “So good,” Izuku takes care to lick his lips and smiles, warm and sweet like molten honey.

Kacchan rolls his eyes, but he swallows like his mouth is dry. “You’re a damn menace, you little brat,” he says hoarsely, despite the way his eyes have been stuck on Izuku’s lips since he licked them.

“Hey!” Izuku kicks out with all the gentleness of a fussy toddler, landing a solid kick on Kacchan’s shin. “Don’t be mean. You would’ve missed our lunch date altogether if I hadn’t dragged you here.” Izuku tilts his head and gives an Oscar-worthy kicked-puppy pout.

“Deku…” Kacchan obviously misses the point of his pouting by a mile, because now he just looks sad, and that is not what Izuku was going for! “I’m sorry I forgot, baby. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, it’s just...”

“You’re busy,” Izuku finishes for him, and leans across the table to (affectionately) swat his dumb boyfriend’s head. “I know. I’m not mad, but I do want your attention right now, so cut out the sadness and shower me with compliments like you’re supposed to.”

This earns a snort of laughter from Kacchan, who finally catches on and plays along with their usual game. His whole face brightens with his smile. “Ah yes, of course, dear. How could I spend even a second not overwhelming you with compliments?”

Izuku nods seriously. “Exactly. I’m just so shocked. You should know better than to neglect me by now,” Izuku winks, “Daddy.”

Kacchan makes a point of rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling broadly now, all teeth and crinkled eyes. “Alright, you’ve made your point, asshole. Eat your stupid cake already.”

/-/

Once they’ve eaten, and the redundant alarm Kacchan had set goes off, they return to the car. It’s time for Izuku to execute his plan.

Before Kacchan can put his belt on like the square he is, Izuku swings a leg over his lap and wraps himself around his boyfriend. Kacchan raises a questioning eyebrow before Izuku makes his demand: “Take me shopping.”

Kacchan smacks his head back against the headrest dramatically. “You have my card. I’ll have the driver drop you off wherever you want to go, okay?”

“I said take me shopping, not send me. You have to be there or there’s no use! Kacchan needs to come with me.”

Kacchan looks sad, then, and the stupid man has apparently learnt a thing or two from Izuku, because he’s got the bestest, heart-wrenchingest puppy-dog eyes without even trying. Resting his forehead against Izuku’s, Kacchan sighs softly against his lips. “You know I spend as much time as I can with you, baby. I can only ignore my work for so long, for you.”

Izuku aches, sudden and raw. “Oh, Kacchan… I know you’re busy, you work so hard! Kacchan really is amazing. But sometimes I want to be selfish and snatch up more of your time. You put too much pressure on yourself at work. You have so many employees so you don’t have to run yourself in the ground.”

“There are things my employees can’t do-”

“Like stopping you from working yourself to death? Right, that’s my job.” Izuku wiggles in Kacchan’s lap and captures his lips in a whisper-soft kiss. “So let me take care of you.” Izuku flutters his eyelashes and pulls his trump card. “Please, Daddy?” he asks, words sugar-sweet on his lips.

Cheeks glowing a suspicious strawberry red, Kacchan huffs and grabs Izuku by the waist, easily picking him up off his lap and depositing him on the seat next to him. He waits patiently for Kacchan to break, all the while butterflies dance in Izuku’s belly at his Daddy’s casual display of strength.

“The hell do you need so badly anyway?”

Truthfully, Izuku has no idea what he would wish to buy. Spoiled as he is, there are few things he’s wanted through life that he doesn’t now own, thanks to Kacchan. “I saw this gorgeous lingerie set and I just have to try it on before I buy it. And I need you there to tell me how good it looks,” Izuku states matter-of-factly.

Kacchan clears his throat and pinches Izuku’s cheek. “Fine. Let’s go look at this lingerie, then, baby.”

/-/

Izuku drags Kacchan out of the car by his hand and refuses to let go even after they’ve made it inside the shopping center.

“Come on, come on, I wanna see what this store has!” With Kacchan in tow, Izuku makes a beeline for his favourite lingerie store.

Izuku chatters away as he makes his way up and down the store, fluttering about pretty displays and shiny, luxurious lingerie sets hung up on the walls. He semi-consciously gives Kacchan a consistent stream of observations, rhetorical questions and mumbled postulations about what Kacchan might like best. He picks out half a dozen sets in just a few minutes, handing each one over to Kacchan for him to judge and/or hold like a handsome sentient display rack.

Soon enough, Kacchan flags down someone from the store to do the grunt work for him as he follows Izuku around the store like a loyal dog, face warring between fondness and annoyance.

Izuku is quite certain that the fondness far outweighs the annoyance, though. Izuku is, after all, impossible to hate.

After completing one circuit of the store, Kacchan interrupts Izuku before he can begin on a second. “What happened to the ‘one’ set you wanted, huh?” The man crosses his arms like a brute, biceps flexing handsomely as he pours disapproval into the question.

Izuku tuts at him. “There’s nothing wrong with browsing. Just look at how pretty this one is!” Izuku pulls out the dainty belt and harness set he was looking at, wiggling it around for Kacchan’s judgment.

“Mm,” Kacchan acknowledges, carefully collected as he judges the set. With his nod of approval, Izuku gleefully adds it to his soon-to-be-towering pile of things to try on, heedless of the fact that Kacchan immediately passes it off to the poor retail worker trailing after them.

Kacchan crosses his arms. “Don’t think I don’t realise what you’re doing, baby boy.”

Izuku ought to feel sheepish at being caught out so easily, but it’s to be expected when he’s trying to con Kacchan. Instead, he tilts his head and bats his big, round eyes, the perfect picture of innocence. “But Daddy, what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Kacchan crosses his arms, but Izuku’s got him there. Kacchan wants to see Izuku in this lingerie just as much as Izuku wants to try them on. And if all of this has the bonus of Izuku keeping Kacchan to himself for a little longer, then they don’t need to talk about that, really.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Kacchan says, and Izuku giggles, wrapping his arms around his Daddy’s neck.

“I can think of a few reasons,” he laughs. “Now come tell me how pretty I look in these!”

/-/

The driver has to help them get everything into the car. As soon as they’re in, Kacchan orders the driver to start the car and get them back to his work quickly.

It’s cute that Kacchan thinks they’d be going anywhere near his office if not for Izuku allowing it.

“Are you satisfied now, brat?” Kacchan asks, pulling on his seatbelt only after the car has started moving (ooh, rebellious).

Izuku hums. He takes a long few moments to rearrange the copious amount of bags around him, just because he can. He pretends to think very hard about it before nodding exaggeratedly. “Yes, I think I am. For today, at least.”

When Kacchan groans, Izuku shuts him up with a kiss, and they smile like kids in love against each other’s lips.

/-/

Deku seems to have tuckered himself out during their shopping trip, which is understandable considering the sheer amount of clothes he insisted he try on before making Katsuki buy everything for him. He spends the car ride back draped over Katsuki’s side, giving a docile little mumble every now and then when he sees a dog on the sidewalk or a pretty flower that apparently reminds him of Katsuki’s eyes.

(How can the fucker get even cuter than usual just because he tired himself out being a whiny brat all day? How is that fair at all to Katsuki’s heart? Not to mention his wallet...)

(It��s not like Katsuki can’t afford it, but damn, lingerie is surprisingly fucking expensive.)

Katsuki carefully shakes Deku awake when they arrive, because he has learnt the hard way that if he leaves Deku to doze or wakes him too quickly, there will be hell to pay. So he accepts Deku’s blindly groping hand into his own and leads him into the building, where Izuku says something vague about harassing his friend in reception and stumbles off, bleary-eyed.

Katsuki has some interns come down and transfer Deku’s things into his private car so he can attempt to get some work done before Deku makes it upstairs. Deku usually settles down after a few hours of monopolising Katsuki’s time and attention, but with the mood he’s in today, Katsuki doesn’t like his chances of getting anything else done.

He’s gotten as far as opening up an email from a partner company when the door clicks open and Deku sashays in like he owns the place.

And, okay. Katsuki owns the place, and Deku has him wrapped around his pinky finger, so he does own the place in every way but name. But only Katsuki is allowed to know that, god damn it.

“You look like a bumbling fawn like that,” Katsuki informs him, just to see Deku’s sleepy eyes flash with indignation, and watch his cheeks glow a pretty, flustered pink.

Deku’s response doesn’t disappoint, and his nose even scrunches up like a disgruntled bunny, but Katsuki’s gone and shot himself in the foot because now Deku is stomping up to him in a way that says he means business. Deku collapses heavily and claims the space of Katsuki’s lap, steadfast in the fact that it is his and his alone.

Deku slaps him petulantly on the chest. “Meanie,” he mumbles, and curls up on Katsuki’s lap, nestling his head beneath his chin and settling against him, a puzzle piece slotted perfectly in its place. “I’m tired,” Deku says, as if that isn’t obvious already.

Kastuki huffs, presses a feather-soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Just rest, idiot.”

“‘Mkay Daddy…”

Katsuki strokes his fingers through the softness of Izuku’s hair and cradles him as Deku’s body relaxes into Katsuki’s own. “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Pressed tenderly together, Deku continues babbling quietly to fill the peaceful sunset air. Katsuki nods along and holds his baby securely in his arms until he floats off into sleep.

Clack clack clack. With a watchful eye on Deku, lovely and sleep-soft against his chest, Katsuki quietly gets back to work.

#bakudeku #katsudeku #bnha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #sugar daddy AU #my fic #commissioned writing #commission #post #long post

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444tsumu · 3 years

Text

title She’s My Collar

rating ★ ★ ☆ nsfw content

word count 6000+

warnings time-skip matsukawa, college au, explicit language, humiliation, asphyxiation (choking), nsfw, voyeurism, you guys fuck on someone else’s bed and there’s a surprise at the end ;), a little degradation and a lot of praising, issei has big dick syndrome, also some things are pretty rough but it’s sweet nonetheless (:

tags to block tw/choking, tw/degrading, tw/gettingcaught

author’s note sort of continuation of not his type <3 just a little rougher, raunchier, and fluffier <3 also no beta cause i’m a real bitch and we don’t do those ! if you see a typo, ignore it because i said so >:(

summary it takes him a couple tries to get you wrapped around his finger, but you know what they say: fifth time’s the charm.

Every time you think that things just couldn’t get worse, they always do.

From when you spilled your drink on the floor today and wasted a good $5 on it, to when you tripped while walking up the stairs in front of this really cute guy while walking through campus, all the way to right now: when you were stuck in a dorm with Matsukawa while waiting for Hanamaki’s arrival.

You were supposed to be meeting up with the strawberry blond and working on some homework with your regular group. Regrettably, you knew that would include Matsukawa, and while the time in his car was one you’d never forget, you refused to do anything close to allowing the other three about what was going on.

Sleeping with him for the first time was something that was more than awkward— you could probably call it a mistake if you really wanted to.

That is, if you make the same mistake at least four more times after that.

He knew how you didn’t really like doggy, how you loved when he smacked you across the cheek, how you hated when he stared at you with that infamous expression that secretly drove you crazy, and he definitely knew you still had a hatred for him you just couldn’t see past.

At least, that’s what you made him think.

“Just admit it,” he smirks out at you, leaning against the wall to the left of the both of you and tilting his water bottle in your direction, “you want to make out with me so bad right now.”

Matsukawa had a sick obsession with watching you fluster and fume at his words. He couldn’t tell if it was the furrow of your eyebrows, or the narrowing of your eyes, or the attitude in your tone, but something about all of those just made his skin crawl with pure arousal.

He had thought about those nights more often than he’d like to admit to you. Quite frankly, he hadn’t been able to get himself off for the past week without thinking of the faces you made before you unraveled beneath him. This, he discovered, was a problem.

It’s not like everything didn’t go back to normal, and usually Mattsun loves that. He loves being able to sleep with a girl and they don’t make a big deal of it because relatively speaking, it never happens. There’s always some turmoil remaining between the two enough to get him into some shit he really just doesn’t want to deal with.

With you though, it’s different and it pisses him off. He can’t stand the fact that all he’s been thinking about for a while is just how good you feel around him, and how good he feels when he’s simply just around you. And it was really pissing him the fuck off.

“Bite me.” Your words were dry, and with a roll of your eyes you catch the smirk on his face growing wider by the minute.

“I’d be honored to.” Matsukawa takes a sip of his water and you decide that dying at this exact moment knowing what his jaw looks like when he takes a sip is all you needed to be content.

“You’re such an asshole,” you begin, lazily standing up and stretching enough to make his eyes travel down to the slightly exposed skin between the hem of your shirt and your shorts, “I can’t believe I slept with you before.”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust, and Issei decides that he was really in the mood at this exact moment. “Four,” he grins at you with four long fingers up beside his chest, “four different times, babe.”

If he caught the flustered expression along your face, he didn’t comment on it and for that you were forever grateful. The effect he’s had on you lately was completely and utterly annoying, and you really wish you never knew how good he was in bed so that you could go back to normal— go back to genuinely despising him.

“I regret every single one of them.” The smirk on his face only grew as he looked at your bored expression. You knew he could see right through your words, and he knew as well.

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow mockingly. “It never sounds like it.”

Your eyes widen, and as soon as a mockingly high pitched moan prepares to slip through his lips, you grab the nearest pillow off of Makki’s bed and throw it at his large frame. You almost miss, but hit him enough to cause the boy to double over in laughter. As if you haven’t suffered enough.

“Listen,” his voice presents itself again, and you see him begin to inch his way closer to you with a face still slightly tinged from laughing, “I’m just messing with ya’, alright?”

His large frame throws itself against Makki’s bed next to you, and your body jiggles a bit with the movement. The proximity would have irritated you beyond compare, but you just couldn’t find it within yourself to hate the feeling of his body heat.

“I love it anyways.”

The word love caught you off guard, eyes widening as you stare at him within seconds of the words slipping through his teeth. He was messing with you, Matsukawa was always messing with you.

“Fuck you.” You groan, eyes rolling as you see him get up from the bed as quick as he fell next to you and stretch his lanky frame a few feet away from you.

You could smell his cologne, already being able to recognize it amongst others and you really fucking hated it. You hated the familiarity you had with it, the musky scent of cleanliness, manliness, and a tinge of cranberries. It was your favorite, and you knew that he could tell with the way you hugged at his body when you were on top a couple times.

You watched him smile widely without the happiness meeting his dull eyes, his body taking a seat at the chair decorated with Takahiro’s t-shirts along the backside of it. “My pleasure.”

Your eyes roll and you realize you’re back at square one. No matter how attractive, how charming, and how smooth he was, he would always be the bitchy asshole you just couldn’t stand.

“Aw come on,” he begins, man spreading across the chair and leaning his body against the back enough to emphasize the large space on his lap. He was beckoning for you with a pat on his thigh, emotionless expression returning back onto his face, “don’t be like that with me now.”

You didn’t answer him. You knew where this would go and just how much you’d probably regret it. He’d get you over there with smart remarks, challenge you in ways you just couldn’t refuse, and end up getting his way with you in a room that doesn’t belong to you or him. And you refused. I’m in control of this situation, you repeat to yourself, I’m in full control.

He tilts his head at you, eyebrows slightly furrowing as he leans his body slightly more up to get a menacing stance. His body was large, taking up the entire chair and making the hairs on your arm subtly stand in excitement. I’m in control, stop it.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I don’t feel like doing that.” Matsukawa’s voice was wavering, and you knew that his resolve was cracking. As much as he teased, taunted, and tried to trick you, you knew that he wanted to sleep with you again just as much as you did with him.

“Then don’t, nobody is asking you to.” Your words were slick, your head tilting to mock his actions and stare at him almost innocently. Almost.

He stays quite, his tongue meeting the inner hollows of his cheek and you aren’t sure just how much you can keep this up. Wait for Makki and the others, stay in control.

Your words were no match for Issei, though. Not when his entire body leans back once again and the empty expression finds itself back on his face as it almost always ways. He stares at you, deep enough into your eyes to almost make you silently admit defeat. You wanted him to fuck you again.

“You gonna come over here?” His voice was deep, the dull tone bouncing against the walls as you roll your eyes and dramatically stand up with a huff.

“Uh uh,” his finger waves at you, and you stop in your position of turning towards him, “on your knees..”

You freeze, words slipping through faster than you could stop them.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”

He wanted you to crawl to him, something you could describe as only demeaning, embarrassing, and just too much work to be doing. So you cross your arms, defiance written boldly in your tone enough to make the man a few feet away from you chuckle condescendingly.

“Don’t be such a bitch,” he begins, and right away you find it really hard to not call him one right back, “I just wanted to try something new.”

You scoff at his suggestion. “Trying something new means that this would be consistent. This,” your finger points frantically between the two of you with a poker face in his direction, “is never going to happen again.”

He notices your tone begin to fade, and he knows that all it takes is another little push. You don’t really want to stop fucking him, and he knows that. He knows that he doesn’t really want it either. Not when you have fully managed to ruin everyone else for him, and especially not when he feels like your pussy was meant for him.

“Oh really?” He questions, the octaves in his voice insinuating that he has a trick up his sleeve.

“Really.” You deadpan, and you watch as his frame gets up from its comfortable position on the chair.

You know he’s annoyed with the fact that he had to get up, and you could tell by the way he’s almost reluctant to take a step closer towards you. You stand your ground though, I refuse to let him win.

“Look who gained some confidence,” he taunts at you, and you realize just how smaller you are than him when his frame towers over you with mischievous eyes, “surprised you became that prissy bitch yet again.”

The words would have bothered you before, but hearing the degradation slip off his tongue while staring at you so menacingly was enough to get your thighs to subconsciously quiver. Yet again, the reminder of just how hot Matsukawa could be paints pictures in your brain.

“And I’m surprised you walked up to me like this,” you turn your frown into a smirk, looking up at him through your eyelashes in a way that you know has him biting on his tongue, “you aren’t as much of a pussy as you used to b—”

The words get trapped in your throat almost literally, his large hand finding it’s way onto the smooth arch of your neck and grip it with enough force to make you literally feel the air slip through your nose. He was getting aggravated, and you could tell. It excited you.

“Now, you’re gonna do me a favor alright?” He asks with the infamous head tilt yet again, and the condescending nature behind his tone brings chills down your spine.

“You’re gonna get down on your knees,” his hands squeeze with a pause,” crawl over to me while I sit in that chair,” another tight squeeze and you could feel the blood circulation beginning to slow down, “and beg me to fuck that pussy of yours.”

With a final squeeze, he released you hard enough to send you bouncing against the foreign bed. You felt wrecked already, gasping for air and trying to hide the arousal slowly taking control of your legs.

Matsukawa was smart— smarter than you’d like to admit. Especially now, finally letting it hit you that he gave you an offer you just couldn’t refuse. So with that, you shamingly lowered your body onto the cold floors of the dorm that wasn’t yours.

Almost slow enough to give him some type of revenge, you maneuvered your way towards the hardwood chair. His eyes never left yours, only to watch the curve of your ass and arch in your back move with every step closer to him.

The silence in the room was deafening. Nothing but the pattering of your knees and hands against the cold floor could be heard until you finally reached between his largely spread out legs. This was the most humiliating thing you had ever experienced in a really long fucking time.

He says nothing though, watching as you get comfortable with the position of resting against the calves of your legs. Your eyes remain on his, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed shut almost as if you wanted to make sure he knew you weren’t going to do it. You were not going to beg him.

“Why do you make this so hard?” He asks in an annoyed manner, arms reaching for your hair and softly grasping it enough to control your movements and inch your face all the way closer to his own.

“Just do what I say and we’ll both be happy.”

You want to scoff at his words. You want to tell him to shut the fuck up, get his disgusting hand off of your hair, and tell him words you probably legally shouldn’t even be able to repeat. You really did want to, but you just couldn’t.

Not when the pool between your legs only deepened with every words that came out of his mouth. Not when you were sitting between his legs and smelled the sensational cologne you had found yourself longing to smell throughout the day. And especially not when you saw the curvaceous print of something that made your eyes water.

You just couldn’t refuse him.

“Please.” You mutter in reluctance, and Issei laughs at you in your own face.

“That’s you begging?” He teases, a slightly baby voice with his words making you bite your lip in annoyance.

You open your mouth to say more, but come to a loss for words when he brings your face slower to his and slips his tongue inside. His grip on your hair is rough, lips gnawing at your own with enough hunger to make you believe that if he wasn’t touching you in some type of way, he would have lost his mind.

Your hands reach up to his face clearly, body uncomfortable sitting up to keep up with his own pace until he pulls away from you.

“Get on the bed,” he orders, “don’t make me say it twice.”

You hated it. You hated how fast your body raised itself from the invisible confinement’s the ground and onto Makki’s soft duvet. You hated just how responsive your body was to his commands as much as you tried not to be.

The silence within the four walls was louder than anything else could possibly be, the sound of your heartbeat being drowned out by the sensation of being underneath his gaze. It only took a few seconds, but after kicking his shoes off somewhere within the room, Mattsun’s body rolled on top of yours and laid your body down underneath his own.

His hands clasped onto your wrists as he pinned you below his towering frame. His lips found yours like it was common sense, and the feeling of all of him on you gave your body whiplash. Matsukawa was an enigma, and you wanted nothing more than to figure all of him out the way he did with you.

“Mmm,” you moan out, lips breaking away from his as he hungrily resorts to the bare skin of your neck, “M-Matsukawa..” His name was like the sweet sensation of candy on your tongue, and as much as he hated to hear you call him such a thing, he couldn’t help but feel his pants tighten as the sound of the vowels coming from your mouth.

“We- we can’t.” Your voice was almost soft, the natural raspiness bringing his attention back up from your collarbones and over to your face with his thick eyebrows furrowed.

“We can’t what?” He practically hissed the last word in your direction. You felt the heat rush through your legs even more knowing he was growing agitated with you, and you start to silently question your own sanity.

“We can’t do this.” You repeat, and the faint hint of a smirk makes Mattsun realize maybe you weren’t so far gone.

“And why not?” He teases back, tongue lapping against your jawline and bringing his teeth into the soft tissue with more and more pressure.

You couldn’t think— you could barely keep your own composure when his long fingers started to wander in places it shouldn’t have. You could barely hide the gasp that slipped out when you felt his calloused fingertips softly circle you through your panties.

Nothing in your brain made any sense unless it had to do with the curly haired man in front of you. He had consumed your thoughts, controlled your body, and inhaled every inch of you the minute he allowed a slender finger to slip between your lips and into your embarrassingly wet hole.

You finally came to terms with the fact that Matsukawa had full control over this situation.

He took the second your lips gaped open to stick his tongue in there, saliva slipping off the tip of his own muscle and onto the familiar comfort of the back of your throat. The room suddenly got hotter, your legs suddenly became weaker, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before he got his way with you.

“C’mon princess,” he nudged your head with his own, making your shut eyes glance into his brown irises, “let me hear that smart ass mouth.”

The words make you clench around his one finger, and you try your hardest to bite back the moan. It was almost as if he got off to the thought of humbling you, and you got off to the thought of proving him wrong.

“What smart ass mouth?” You bite back, hands rummaging through his messy locks and bringing his warm frame impossibly closer to your own.

His smirk was lethal, eyes half-lidded and holding that careless gleam you grew to admire. “The one that usually has my dick stuffed in it.”

You wanted to hit him at his words, but the minute he punctuated the final word, another finger slipped into your pussy and began to rotate and scissor back and forth within your walls. The feeling was good, in a way you wouldn’t expect since you were more of a clitoris girl.

He watched you intently, eyes never leaving yours as he moved his hands enough to make you squirm underneath him. This, Issei decides, is a memory he will replay until the day he’s six feet under. He could die a happy man.

At least, as long as he finishes getting to fuck you all the way through.

“Stop messin’ around, ‘Sei..” You plead underneath him, and the empty yet satisfied expression on your face was enough to make him hold his body upright and begin to remove your clothes with a painful impatience.

From your shirt, to even your own socks, your clothes were sprawled around Makki’s room much too far away to be able to get dressed quick enough in case you got caught, but the minuscule details didn’t matter to you: fucking the lights out of Issei Matsukawa was all you could coherently think about.

His now naked torso found yours once again, lips hungrily clashing against one another’s with arms legs tangling with nothing but pure desire. Almost as fast as you had started, you felt him claw at your panties over to the side of your thigh.

“Put it in for me, will ya’?” He nearly growls at you, and you find it harder to breathe even though you’d never admit it to him.

Mocking his lazy smirk, you rub your soft hands down his abs and over to the half erect dick sticking up to the left of bare bare stomach. The tip is leaking, and you almost have to restrain your own body from crawling down there and taking up down your throat with one good swallow.

Before he even gets the chance to open his mouth, you press the throbbing tip against the rim of your pussyhole, and slip it all the way in with no warning other than the small giggle replaying over and over again in his ears.

“Shit..” He drags out into your neck, and the vibration makes you clench around him in arousal.

Issei always filled you up faster than you could focus, and if his extremely big dick didn’t knock the air out your lungs, then the grip he loved having on your throat did when he began to rub his palm against the soft flesh with a tight squeeze.

Nothing but pants were able to leave your lips, and you couldn’t tell if it was how his cock already had you feeling dumb or if it was the really tight pressure on your neck. Whatever it was, it was goddamn euphoric.

“‘Atta girl,” he groans, beginning to pump into you harder and deeper with each thrust, “take daddy’s dick the way I know you can..”

His words of praise make you crack out a moan, and you can’t help but press your legs tightly around his waist in order to get some more closeness between your two bodies.

There was something very wrong with the situation you were in, and you were both well aware of that. Number one, you were fucking in Makki’s freshly washed sheets, and god knows Makki washes his clothes enough to make that last. And number two, you both had never fucked missionary.

Sure, he loved sitting you on his lap and pistoning his dick so far up and deep in there, he sees his tip thrust against your stomach. And sure, the view of you throwing your ass back hard enough with an arch he couldn’t help but bite a fist at was one of his guilty pleasures— but missionary was something neither of you had even dared talked about.

And the fact that you had both just absentmindedly agreed to do such a thing would have been a topic of a very much needed conversation, but the sensation pouring through your veins was enough to get you to forget about such a thing.

One particular thrust shoved within your walls far enough to make your eyes roll back, hands clawing up and down Issei’s bare back in pure sensation.

“S-Shit,” words struggle to string together in your head, and you begin to realize why so many people like fucking like this, “do it like you mean it.”

There was that witty sex talk Matsukawa was just so turned on by. He chuckles at your words, and you think he’s gonna snap back at you with something even smoother. But he doesn’t: instead he begins to slam his large cock in and out of you at a speed that made you scream in surprise.

“You’re so needy, daddy.” The word slips through your moans, and Issei’s ears perk up at the familiarity. It was ironic really, how much your pussy gripped him tightly back in each time he pulled out of you yet here you are telling him that he’s the needy one.

“Really, doll?” He smiles down at you, bottom lip stuck between his teeth as he hears the squelching of your begging pussy get ravished underneath him.

Each thrust gets deeper and slower as the both of you don’t notice, and you’re holding eye contact in a way that you never do unless his face is stuffed between your cunt. This was foreign, but then again, so was the idea of fucking Mattsun until now.

“Mm, fuck— yes, yea you are.” Your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure at a particular thrust, and you feel him smack the side of your throat in annoyance.

He wants you to look at him, so you do.

You open them, and what you see as you’re being fucked back into reality makes your brain stop working. There he was, the light of Makki’s lamp illuminate the droplets of sweat on his forehead and make his hair stick to his forehead. He’s staring deep into you, each thrust making you feel as if his eye sparkle with it. You could barely think, boobs flowing up and down between your pressed together frames and you realize that you’re the reason his body is so pressed against you.

Matsukawa know’s he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be feeling as if he could cum off your expression alone, and especially not if he was literally fucking you at the same time. His thrusts shouldn’t have become so deep, and his eyes shouldn’t have bored into your bedroom ones. He was getting in too deep, literally and metaphorically, and he just couldn’t find the means to pull himself out.

His hand never leaves your throat, and the feeling of each whimper pulsating through his fingers is enough to make him groan on his own. Your eyes leave his for a second, and he feels his stomach do something really weird. So he reacts before he thinks about what he’s doing.

“What are you looking at?”

His tone is condescending, almost daring you to answer as you turn your irises back onto his. You feel his hand tighten yet again, and his thrusts begin to pick up in pleasure.

“Fuck daddy..” You begin to plead, the strength of his thrusts swallowing you whole and spitting you back out each time.

“You feel so good, baby.” His words are strained, and you nearly lose it at that point. The rope in your stomach only loses its resolve, and you realize that this is the quickest you’ve ever been to feeling like you’re going to cum.

His hand moves from inhabiting your throat to taking its position behind the softness of your neck, and the act of intimacy has you looking over at him with wide, fucked out eyes. Issei ignores it (more like forces himself), eyes staring back deeply into yours in a way that brought chills to your sweaty body.

The once silent room transformed into the sound of nothing but clapping, Matsukawa’s groans, and your pants and pleads for a break, mercy— anything at this point to get a break from his relentless strokes.

“Just let go for me, Y/N.”

His words are strict, lips licking onto the lobe of your left ear as the hand once caressing the back of your neck (somehow) found itself pressing onto your clit. You thought it was too much already, each thrust causing a wet slick to stick to your thighs being enough for you— but never for him. And he made it clear once he started to feverishly flick his long fingers against the pulsating nub enough to nearly numb you from the waist down. It was too much.

And that was clear to Issei, especially when he watches as your body literally let go. The tense feeling within your arms was gone, eyes rolling back and moans becoming pornographically dragged out, and Mattsun wished he recorded this. His thrusts were speeding up even more, his body beginning to chase his own high while you were in the midst of your own.

Your legs begin to tremble against his thighs, and he thinks your twitching frame is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Words could barely slip through your lips, his harsh thrusts in and out of your pussy bringing drool over towards the corner of your lips.

You couldn’t tell if him licking the line of saliva coming out of your mouth and spitting it back into your mouth was attractive or not, but you never got the chance to question it. At least, not when he removes his chest from yours as he takes a particular thrust to your cervix and smacks your pussy enough to hear it against the thrusts.

“ISSEI!” Your throat calls out, and nothing but his messy brown hair and intense eyes staring into your soul is real anymore.

Stars begin to form within your vision, and you cum. Hard.

He stops for a while, watching the cream cover his cock with more and more inches being pulled out, and he has an idea. So with that, Matsukawa takes one of his long fingers, collects your creamy discharge, and slips it into the confinement’s of his sinning lips. You watch in shock, eyes barely being able to hold itself open after cumming so intensely.

And right when you thought things just couldn’t get worse (re: better), he grips your chin with those same fingers enough to leave a bruise and manually opens your mouth. You release an embarrassingly loud moan when he spits your own cum into your mouth, taking your tongue back into his mouth and sharing the salty sensation between the two of you.

He begins to pump into you again, and it’s much too soon for your poor pussy to handle.

“Fuck princess,” he begins to moan, and you realize just how vocal he’s trying not to be yet it being with you, “this pussy’s made for me.”

The words make you whimper, hands doing the impossible and gripping onto his sweaty cheeks. You’d never done that before, and you can tell he’s caught off guard by the way his strokes lose it’s animalistic pattern. You press your forehead to his, lips finding itself back onto his as you moan loudly into his mouth.

“Cum for me daddy,” you plead, and Issei’s eyes go wide. “Please just fill me up.”

To make it worse, your legs entrap him within your smaller frame yet again and Matsukawa loses it. He gets lost in the sensation of you soaking walls and the feeling of his balls slapping against your skin enough to start to silently whimper.

“C’mon Issei,” the word is dangerous in this moment, never being used to close to one another’s climax and you realize this has become much more than just a mistake, “show me who I belong to.”

You didn’t know what possessed you to say such a thing, but the feeling of his hips stuttering in and out of you for just a second bring you into a state of satisfaction. He gets rougher though, and the overstimulation of your tight walls being relentlessly molded into the shape of his oversized dick yet again brings your teeth to bite at the space of his shoulder in pleasure.

You don’t know if he hisses in pain, or hisses at the sensation of your hand slipping between your bouncing frames and over to the warmth of your throbbing clit.

“You belong to me,” he groans out, “mine.”

With one last thrust and one last silent scream from your throat, you find yourself unwinding beneath him yet again. You also feel him release into your walls, painting you with his white cum enough to make you feel stuffed and leaking with more.

You both panted for air, Mattsun’s body sprawled against yours in aftershock from what just happened. It wasn’t supposed to get so deep. It was supposed to be a simple hate fuck every now and then to satisfy the two of you enough to relax every now and then. It was never supposed to get possessive.

And you figure he’s thinking the same way when he lifts his head up from resting between the valley of your breasts to look over at you. His eyes are back to being blank spaces, bored expression staring deep at you and blinking expectingly.

“So does this mean..” Issei’s words are drowned out when you hear it— the sound of the door clicking open and slamming against the opposite wall.

Almost as fast as it started, the moment ended with Issei scrambling to get off your body and cover you with the white duvet. There stood three of the people you really didn’t want to see— a shocked Hanamaki, a flustered Iwaizumi, and a beaming Oikawa.

No one said a word, eyes frantically searching the room for any and every detail to the events that just happened. They had finally caught you two having sex, and at one of the worst times possible. Your eyes find Mattsun’s for a second, his own looking over at you and a faint blush covering his ears and making you mentally repeat the word cute for whatever reason.

This was it— and you hated to admit it. This was when the dynamic of your relationship had to change, and something had to give. And it was all those three idiots’ fault.

The ringleader, almost as if being able to tell he’s being thought about, closes his gaping mouth and repeats the actions a few more times before raising a finger and pointing back and forth between the two of you.

“Alright, the most important question…” Makki pauses dramatically, and everyone subconsciously holds their breath to think about the possible answers to the unknown question. We just started doing this, or it’s the first time, or it’s not what it looks like even though it definitely is.

“Who the hell is going to be the one to wash my sheets?”

BONUS.

“Makki, you fucking idiot—”

“Mattsun, I can’t believe you’d hide this from me—”

“Guys..” You whimpered out, voice barely there from the noises you were previously making and eyes glaring at everyone in exhaustion.

“Ow, Jesus Iwaizumi, you know you’re heavy handed—”

“Oikawa, what the fuck are you talking about—”

“I’ve never felt this betrayed before in my life—”

“Guys!” You tried again, and you turn to Matsukawa in search of help but only find him arguing along with them like the idiot he is deep down.

“Stop crying like a bitch Makki, I didn’t even hit you that hard—”

“Bullshit, I feel a bump coming—”

“How can I reclaim your trust? I’ll do anything—”

“Shut the fuck up!” You finally get out, and everyone shuts their mouths to turn towards you in awe.

You stood there, blanket barely covering your naked and flustered body sprawled against the softness of the bed and Makki silently thinks about how he isn’t even in that much of a rush to wash those sheets.

“We can talk once this asshole,” you jab a finger at Mattsun’s thick chest, and you realize you might’ve been down for another round if the other’s hadn’t walked in, “and I get dressed. For now? Out.”

Your voice was raspy, but the seriousness was easy to read as everyone silently agreed and squeezed their way through the doors one by one. Makki was last to go, but you watched as he looked to be contemplating something before shutting the door.

“Not to be that guy, but next time,” he begins, head peaking through the door enough to see the playful grin that practically lived on his face as he stared over at the two of you in awe, “at least invite me if you’re gonna do it on my bed.”

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