Get To Know Me Better . . . 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐆 : 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 : 𝐒/𝐇𝐄𝐑 : 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐙𝐀 : 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐆𝐒.
You Better Not . . . send me requests with extreme kinks : get careless around this blog as it both features mature and fluffy themes : send in hate : do anything you're aware of being bad and might/will cause other people to be offended in this blog : copy any of my works.
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 : #saetomic (features all my creations) : #saetomic rambles (features all my talking and some fic recos.) : #saetomic responds (features all my responses).
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You sat on your shared bed with Kaiser, slumping over while holding your phone. Your face reflects back at your phone screen as you opened your camera app.
"Mihyaaa," You whine with a sniffle and an endearing pout you always wear whenever you're near the verge of tears. "I look like a damn egg whenever im—achoo! sick..."
"It's okay, baby. You're my wittle eggy after all." He whines back at you, reciprocating your pouting.
"So you mean that I'm your third egg..?" You blink up at him beside you. you sounded way too serious for the words that have just left your lips.
He breaks into a soft chuckle that left you pouting a bit more than before.
You were just about to defensively—softly hit him on his bicep for laughing at you. But who are you to scold the one who's currently taking care of you?
He sat beside you, gently wiping the edges of your mouth with clean, recently plugged tissues. You move pathetically, avoiding his touch. "Don't move, dumbass. You don't want to smell like puke right?" He deadpans, his brows subtly furrowing.
"But you're making me feel worse—"
"I'm not trying to do that. I'm trying to make you laugh."
"It's not working, mihya..."
"Well, I'll make it work soon."
Please kindly avoid plagiarizing my work, feeding it to ai, etc.
A/n: I fell sick with a migraine and repeatedly thrown up this exact same day. So I decided to cope and imagined that mihya's taking care of me.
Nobody who I am 'close' or live with knows just how scared I am to enter a relationship.
Have I? No.
Then why? Because why not.
The farthest I had fucked myself into a 'relationship' was into a situationship with a classmate I liked for a few months. It was shit. And I'm not going into details because it makes me feel like shit for even talking to him.
Because what do you mean? Like literally. You sleep with another person you like and 'love'. May it be romantically or in a 'fluffy and sweet' way. But you could never know what they're exactly thinking.
And you could never know when they're going to leave.
Do I find myself sounding rather 'pathetic' right now as I write this? Yes, but I feel shameless right now.
I don't like the thoughts of naturally memorizing the feel of the bare, naked palms of someone's hand intertwining with mines. Yes it makes me feel 'warm' and all soft—it makes me tear up every time I read something familiar and associated with affection (specifically at night, around 1:30-3:48AM—you could tell just how much I've suffered because I remember exact schedules).
And I don't want to be left longing for someone that once held me close as I cry in their arms. I despise showing vulnerability too. Because mostly, I've grown up with one of my parents turning it over me whenever I act all 'mean and toxic' towards them—even though I solely have the purpose of standing up for myself.
Yes, I do long for human connection, someone holding me close and all those romantic bullshit. But I hate feeling feelings.
And I tell you—again, I hate feeling feelings. I hate feeling sad, I hate feeling my chest tighten whenever I weep, I hate anger even more, and even smiling and reacting makes me cringe internally.
I don't backread the texts I sent a day ago. I cringe. I feel angry towards myself for reacting. Because as far as I know ever since my parent raised me, they always—always had criticized me for how I mostly react.
And mostly? I feel like I'm such a shitty person for acting all angry after letting my feelings get into me. But did I even attempt on controlling myself? Pathetically no. And this is also what I fear within myself if I ever actually get into a relationship.
What if I lash out on them? What if I resent them?
I know this truly was a problem within myself because I observed myself.
I say that it's pointless to argue and then be happy with them the day after. What was all those hypothetical shouting and yelling for then? You're telling me I exerted my words, my vocabulary, my everything only for it to be made up a day after?
Especially within my parents as I remember; they fight. They yell. They argue like wild dogs.
And it's strange—when it comes to me that they make up after a few days. Like how are you guys now okay even as one of you told me that 'I feel their love getting colder and colder' just a day before? And that you kept a small pocket kn—ife when I was a child—covered by your pillow case after you both argued and you told me that you were preparing to k—Ill them? What? What's the point?
By now, I barely comprehend how this whole passage connects to my very first sentence within this post.
rin swears he’s not doing it. it’s stupid, embarrassing, “he’s not some showboy” but the second you tease him, challenge him, or even hint that he’s scared? game over. he turns off the lights. puts on ‘pony’ with criminal intent. at first he’s stiff and annoyed, but when the beat hits… those hips start moving. slowly. controlled. eyes locked on you the whole time. he unbuttons his shirt with slow fingers, hips rolling just to watch you squirm. when you gasp, he smirks like he’s won. “thought it was stupid, right? but you look like you’re about to cry for me, baby.”
barou? absolutely not. “i’m not some male stripper” he barks and storms off…until you say nagi would probably do it better. now he’s shirtless, glistening abs on display, doing slow body rolls like he’s hunting you. serious. intense. aggressive. you try to laugh, he growls. “stop laughing and watch me.” you don’t make it out of the room. his lap swallows you whole before the beat finishes.
kaiser doesn’t need to be asked. in fact, he suggests it. walks in wearing sunglasses and a smirk like he’s born for this. fully choreographed. mirrors involved. shirt halfway open. hip rolls so filthy you nearly slide off the couch. he grinds into you with control, leans in close, murmuring, “you get a private show… only for you. say thank you.” you do. on your knees.
reo acts shy and says, “ugh, babe, that’s so embarrassing…” he’s lying. he practiced. he shows up in gray sweatpants and nothing else. grabs a chair. does dangerous things to it. he laughs when you gasp, then gets real close. “you like that, angel? i can do more…” the lap dance he gives you should be illegal. and the things he says while doing it? worse. so much worse.
nagi’s too lazy to stand. he sits on the couch and starts grinding in place. somehow… that makes it hotter. his thighs spread. his hand slides down his abs. he tilts his head lazily and says, “i don’t wanna dance… but i can move my hips like this.” you’re melting. eventually he does get up, just to push you against the wall and grind into you there instead. you asked for it.
“oh? you wanna play?” chigiri teases. hair up. shirt open. body smooth and dangerous. his movements are fluid, almost sensual. his hips roll in sync with the music as he stalks toward you like a predator. he sits you down, straddles your lap, and whispers, “can’t take your eyes off me, huh?” you don’t answer. your jaw is on the floor.
isagi tries to act confident but bursts out laughing halfway through. still, he won’t quit. “i started it. i’m finishing it.” and then suddenly, one move hits too hard. hips snap, shirt flies off and he’s biting his lip. you choke. he grins. “wait… did you like that? shit, hold on, lemme do it again—”
kunigami takes it seriously. full playlist. practiced the night before. watches the movie. and the moment he starts moving, you feel it. he rolls his hips slow and deep, dragging his shirt over your head to blindfold you. runs his hands down your body like it’s part of the choreo. “didn’t know i could move like that, huh?” you’re speechless. he’s not done.
this man, shidou btw, doesn’t dance. he performs. strobe lights. sunglasses. shirtless and slick. he humps the floor. slaps his own ass. throws fake bills in the air. he points at you mid-thrust like, “you’re next.” you’re laughing and drooling all at once. “c’mon, baby! let me put on the collar and bark too!”
hiori starts off shy. blushes while asking, “am i… doing this right?” then the beat drops and he moves with this surprising control. every hip roll is smooth. every look is smoldering. his shirt slips off his shoulder and your soul leaves your body. “i… i practiced a little,” he admits, flustered. you’re already on your knees.
Your lips doesn't waste a single second, the warmth of your every breath trailing on his neck.
𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 just got home from an interview, his fingers finding his tie quickly, loosening it just enough for him to feel oddly free. He about to kick off his shoes until he saw you walking near him like the usual.
"Hi, liebe—" (love) He says with an easy grin, his gaze softening immediately after he saw you.
Smooch.
His warm hands trail up to gently cup the back of your head, his other hand wrapping around your waist.
"so eager, hm?" He leaned enough to press a kiss on your temple, chuckling softly as your fingers find purchase with holding onto his shirt, your eager lips pressing wet! tantalizing kisses on the blooming rose inked on his neck.
"Missed you so much, Mihya..." You said before one of your hands scavenge to hold onto his tie—teasing him and leading him into the sofa, a smug smirk appearing on his face as he watches you make your move.
It didn't take long before you find yourself kneeling between his knees. He sits on the couch comfortably, his legs spread enough to accompany you, then leaning his back against the soft cushions. His eyes look at you with something tempting—knowing and dangerous.
His fingers intertwine with the soft locks of your hair, then snaking down just right to tenderly cup your face, making you look up at him.
"Take your time, Häschen." (bunny) His words roll off the tip of his tongue smoothly before his fingers part away from your skin.
The heat of your mouth finds solace connected to him as your tongue then tips out to give a few experimental kitten licks—his breathing hitching as he looks down at you, his gaze half lidded.
Smooch. Smooch. Smooch.
"Quit teasing, liebe." His hips arch by the slightest as he felt your lips brush faint kisses onto the leaking tip that blushed an adorable shade of pink. His words were very much contradicting with what he said earlier: "take your time—" but who would remain patient? Especially with your damn mouth playing with him.
Your tongue licks up a stripe—from the shaft and onto the head, your eyes never leaving his gaze. His head tilts back, his hand carding through your head again.
Then, you slowly take him, your lips warm and soft as you wrap around him, slowly but surely taking him in until his leaking tip bumps at the back of your throat.
Your hands wrap around the length of which you couldn't take—your head then slowly beginning it's routine of bobbing up and down.
"S—schieße—" (shit) he shakily breaths in, his hips arching and craving for the warmth of your mouth everytime as you pull away and then go down again and again.
His mouth parts as he seems to murmur some things within his foreign tongue, his hips twitching as it raised up as if to chase for the heat of your throat.
"'m 'bouta cum, l—liebe, sch—schieße—!" His words break and cut into parts as moans uncontrollably escape from his mouth, his grasp on your hair tightening, pressing you closer against his cock.
"M—mngh—" The warmth of his load then floods your mouth—filling you we'll enough that: as you slowly pull your mouth off him, some of him seeps past the crevices of your lips and onto your chin.
"Swallow." He breathes, gulping thickly as his eyes find how your throat bobs as you take him in.
"good fuckin' girl." His hand—the same one that carded through your hair now cups your face, the pad of his thumb brushing affectionately on the skin of your bottom lip, glistening with his slick.
@saetomic for the love of God, don't plagiarize my work.
A/n: finally posted after... Idk? Thank my horniness for making me write this.
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You rest your head against his chest, ear landing just right above a beating organ. His hand lands against yours entwining, the other wrapping around you.
"if you let me, I would kiss every Inch of your skin." Soft and genuine words left your lips, your fingers slowly tracing every vein on 𝐒𝐀𝐄'𝐬 hand. His skin is calloused and hard — repainting his hardwork through the years.
"what...?" You hear him almost immediately say. "Do it then." He challenges, taking the bait.
You started off with kissing the back of his hand — tender, careful, and slow. The skin of your lips brushing, signing devotion into the tissue. His eyes followed your every move, brows furrowing subtly as he blends into focus.
Then followed was his wrist — skin pressing against the thumping vein. Your fingers carefully wrapped around his forearm, holding them firm yet gently as you mark your promises.
"ehh.. I thought you were joking..."
"well, are you complaining?"
"...no."
"that's good."
You continue your path, his breathing hitching occasionally.
A/n: plagiarizing my work is not welcomed... Oki..? Happy new years, by the wayyy!!
michael kaiser x reader — packed lunches and handwritten notes
a dedication to my muse, michael kaiser, where i write a series of short oneshots to count down the coming of his birth.
─may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.
m.f
content: kaiser and his court of jocks love to pick on you for your supposedly childish packed lunches, but you aren't blind to his quiet gaze that lingers a little too long on your mother’s handwritten note. it’s blatantly obvious that he’s never received one before, so you decide to make one for him, hoping the small action quells the envy in his heart!
word count: 4.9k
a/n: reader's mum is the kind of mum i aspire to be, also bc this one is super long, the next few ones are going to be much shorter (uni is super busy rn as well), happy reading! <3
advent masterlist | day three | day five
oneshot tw: kaiser is lwk a bully, he’s a shithead, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader loves her mum/readers mum loves her too, bullying, kaiser ragebaiting, reader crashing tf out, lwk enemies to lovers if u squint, reader is super sensitive
It didn't take a full blown genius to figure out that Kaiser was an absolute shithead.
Even someone with the intelligence of an idiot could see that much, hell, even you— a self-proclaimed optimist who always tried to see the best in others— could see that.
If anything, you knew first hand how much of an insufferable asshole he was.
As patient as you tried to be, there was only so much bullshit you could tolerate before you lost your sanity. But for your mother's sake, you tried to keep your frustration at bay. That, you did.
Even when Kaiser pulled on your pigtails, mocking you for the childish hairdo that were the work of your mother's deft fingers, you stayed put. When he spread groundless rumours about you, hoping to damage your reputation that was already beyond the realms of salvation, you dismissed it. And when he intentionally stepped on your loafers, scuffing the shoes that were previously polished to perfection by your mother's meticulous care, you let your rage simmer. He could call you names and exclude you out for all you care, you weren't about to give in to his persistence.
At the end of the day, Kaiser was just an insecure bastard that fed off of people's misfortunes to make himself feel better. The kind of grade A asshole that probably sought attention from his peers because he didn't receive it at home. It was infinitely better to ignore that kind of thing than give it your time of day.
And that's what you did.
Even now, as Kaiser and his court of jocks surrounded you in the dining room and poked fun at you for your supposedly childish packed lunch that was lovingly prepared by your mother, you made a quiet show of plugging your ears shut with your fingers. His words often soured your appetite, and thus, it was vital to take precautions against them. A modern solution to a modern problem. You didn't mean to toot your own horn, but it was quite innovative if you did say so yourself.
Kaiser, on the other hand, didn't find your solution very innovative. If you weren't shaken by his words, than surely there had to be something else that would get under your skin.
And since your hands were so preoccupied with blocking out his words, they wouldn't be fast enough to react to whatever he threw at you.
Without warning, he grabbed your lunch bag from the table and motioned for his goons to stay on guard. Kaiser studied your unfazed expression for a short moment before snooping inside with a thoughtful hum.
"Is it another rocket shaped sandwich, or is star themed one this time?" His voice drawled out with mockery, grating at your nerves that were running haywire.
This… was fine.
As long as he didn't trash the food your mother painstakingly made for you, then it was fine… Even if he mocked you for your childish preferences, it was okay. There was no need to get all defensive. You exhaled softly, unfurling your tight knuckled fists. Hurry up. Make fun of it and just go on about your day. There was no need to cause unnecessary trouble for your mother. The seconds stretched long as he taunted you, but you were used to it. As long as you waited it out like you always did, everything will be—
"Huh? What's this piece of paper?"
Your head snapped towards him— namely the paper in his hands— against your will. The unconscious slip didn't go unnoticed by his sharp eyes, and you knew- you knew with a single glance at the blooming epiphany in his expression that you had dug your own grave. His eyes curved with mirth as his smirk grew infuriatingly large. "Oho? Have I finally managed to ruffle your feathers?"
"Don't—" Your desperate words were cut off when his underlings abruptly held you back from retaliating.
Clearing his throat rather theatrically, the gesture capturing the attention of the gathering crowd, he unfolded the paper with melodrama. "My dearest Y/n…"
You couldn't hear his voice over the relentless pounding of your betrayed heart. Gaze growing blurry with an onslaught of frustrated tears, a single thought occupied your racing mind. How could he be so cruel? What could you have possibly done to deserve his cruelty? You always kept to yourself, you've never once bothered him— nothing. You couldn't recall doing anything to him, so why? Why… was he so cruel?
Dammit! Hot fury crawled up your spine as you watched his mouth blabber thoughtlessly, how the hell were you supposed to remain quiet when he was insulting your mother like that?!
In one swift movement, you stilled in the tight grasp of his lackeys, the ceasing of your squirming had them unconsciously lower their guard and loosen their grip on your arms. In that split second of their misjudgement, you jumped at the opportunity. Teeth bared, you chomped down on the arm of the lackey on your right with the aggression of a feral beast high off of steroids. It was almost satisfying to watch him reel back in agony, but you didn't revel in it, not yet at least.
You wasted no time attacking the other guard-dog who didn't expect his co-worker to go down so pathetically quick. This time, you swung at his head with your freed hand, clawing at his eyes with zero remorse when your palm connected with his surprised face. The gasps of horror from your audience went ignored by you, you weren't finished yet. Not when that bastard was still standing—!
Your ferocious gaze landed on him over on the side of the table. You couldn't make out his expression, not when his hair fell over his face and covered majority of it. Not that you cared, he could be crying for all you care, you still weren't forgiving him. Grabbing the closest thing to you— an opened carton of milk— you held it tightly in your hand as you spoke through clenched teeth. "Give it back."
He flinched briefly hearing the tightness in your tone but collected himself quickly. Holding it high and out of your reach, he dangled the note about as bait and invited you to a challenge. "Come and get it."
You didn't need to be told twice.
Pulling your arm back with surgical precision, you threw the carton without hesitation— confident you wouldn't miss your mark.
Your aim was impeccable, commendable even.
The carton landed right on his head, and the contents comically poured out and streamed down his surprised face with quaint mockery.
The milk bomb was only supposed to catch him off guard. It wasn't aimed to cause any real pain, not when you had another one coming just for that specifically. In his minuscule moment of stupor, you climbed on the table and used it to give you a boost.
Unhesitatingly, you leapt towards him with outstretched hands. He must've not expected your rash movements, you could tell that much from his widened eyes and gaping mouth. Your hands clawed at his shoulders to steady your landing as your legs tightened around his torso to prevent him from shoving you off.
Bracing yourself for the soon-to-come impact, you pulled your head with clenched eyes before abruptly swinging it back down to meet his. You butted heads— quite literally— the noise echoing tumultuously in the hall that fell silent amidst your one-sided brawl.
Before darkness could sweep you into slumber, your fading vision faintly made out the ground that grew close. Ah, you must be falling. Well, it was no surprise really. The impact must've knocked Kaiser off his balance, and now, you were both going to fall head first to the hard ground.
The raging pounding in your head ceased suddenly and was replaced with strange warmth. The adrenaline was covering for the pain it seemed, and it would ultimately cover the pain of the fall to come as it was doing right now.
You closed your eyes, welcoming the darkness with open arms. He'd probably take most of the brunt since he would fall first, well-deserved, you thought.
What you didn't expect, was that he would end up taking the whole brunt of it.
The strange warmth that embraced your head wasn't from the adrenaline. No. It was from his large hands, protectively bracing your head from the impact that was to come— but never came.
Not to you at least.
Kaiser always won.
It wasn't fair, but it was the truth. And the truth always stung.
The boy may have been an asshole, but he was charming— a smooth talker. The type of guy who could turn the tide on you with pretty words and clumsy theatrics. He knew how to cleverly flip a situation on his opponent and avoid accountability.
That's the kind of person he was.
And it was because of that, because of his conniving personality that Kaiser had gotten away with everything he'd done for as long as he did. No peer he harassed could retaliate against him, not when it meant fighting a losing game. Just like that, every witness of his misdeed became a quiet wallflower in his extensive collection. Every teacher turned a blind eye to his wrongdoing and became the bystander they always reprimanded students for being. Everyone was wrapped around his dictating finger, because who in their right mind wanted to fight a losing game against Kaiser?
Nobody.
But then, there was you.
A vindictive rebel in a world that was filled with compliant bastards.
You were unworthy of his attention at first, and yet, had managed to unintentionally pique his interest with your packed lunches.
For some odd reason, the crusts of your sandwiches were cut off. It bothered him, why was the best part of the bread missing? There was another thing as well, the skin of your oranges were always peeled, even the membrane had been carefully removed. Since when did supermarkets start selling pre-peeled fruits?
A quick trip to the supermarket made him confirm that they did not sell pre-peeled oranges.
His dissatisfaction urged him to continue his furtive investigation. Kaiser was determined to get to the bottom of whatever this was. He lurked around you during lunch, watching you with keen but curious eyes as you contently indulged in your packed lunches. They were arranged in those kiddie, compact containers with different compartments that separated everything. The meals themselves were always healthy and balanced, with some of kind of whole grain carb that was the focal point of the picturesque meal as the fruits and vegetables along with the protein accompanied the main dish.
Everything was either shaped or cut into something… cute.
It was organised and meticulous, but undoubtedly childish for someone of your age. It just— didn't make sense.
And that's when he began to notice everything else about you. Your hair that was always neatly done in some kind of style with pretty hair-clips, your uniform that was always crisp and carefully ironed, your loafers that were always polished to perfection— it didn't add up.
You were anything but neat or orderly. If anything, you were clumsy, messy.
When school hours would come to an end, your uniform was always creased, and your hair was always loose and reminiscent of a bird's nest. Even your loafers were always muddy or scuffed. So how?
How was it that the next day you'd come to school all pristine again?
He wasn't the only one buzzing with unsated curiosity, even your peers had found it bizarre. If you were so bad being tidy, who the hell was keeping you all prime and proper?
Kaiser eventually found out. It was your mother...
Your mother was the one responsible for you childish, but undeniably cute packed lunches. She was also responsible for your neat uniform, and your pretty hair, and your lustrous shoes.
For the first time ever, Kaiser had lost... You, won one over him.
That's why, he couldn't stand the mere sight of you. And that's how, you became his prime victim.
It was satisfying, watching you endure it despite the quaint fire in your gaze. For the first time ever, you couldn't run to your mother with your tail tucked between your legs and cry in her embrace about it like the little baby you were.
Well, that's what he originally thought would happen…
You promptly beat that notion out of him.
And in true comedic timing, his concussed head stung with the remembrance of your unprovoked attack. Fuck, you ended up hitting him harder than he imagined you would. Was your forehead built of stone or something? It was fitting, your head was hard and you were just as hard-headed. Who else would be brave enough to lunge at him over the table and knock him down like some wild bull? Well, he did wave your note about like it was some red fabric… so he should've at the very least anticipated it.
With a self-deprecating sigh, he craned his neck forward to the other two that were a victim of your violent practices. They looked traumatised beyond reasoning, he could tell from the way they shook in their seats, clearly still perturbed with what had conspired earlier. Kaiser didn't blame them, it was the first time anyone had ever retaliated to his bullying, and so aggressively at that... You've never reacted to his taunts before, so seeing you blow up was definitely something. And all for a little note at that?
"Hah—" A noise of amusement slipped past him unrestrained, startling the two lackeys that were the picture definition of mortified. Ignoring the way they flinched at his ludicrous glee, his gaze wandered to the principal's office and beyond its glass windows.
Your figure— slouched with helpless defeat— greeted him.
It was his win.
The sight warmed his heart as he imagined it would, but it was short lived. He couldn't revel in it, not when chaos ensued at the main entrance of the school building.
Casting a mildly irritated, sideway glance towards the interruption that had cut his merriment short, his brows briefly twitched with intrigue when they landed on a woman that stood tall and poised with unwavering determination. An immovable force undeterred by the vice-principal's empty threats.
"Ma'am! You have to follow the Academy's protocols. You can't just appear like this—!" The vice-principal choked on his breaths as he tried to catch up to the unyielding woman. "Please calm down!"
"Calm down?" The mysterious woman finally paused in her furious strides and turned to face the cause of her frustrations, her expression grew with outrage as she mocked the man with a venomous sneer. "You expect me to calm down when my child is concussed?!"
"She's awake and stable, she's fine—" His careless attempt to quell her growing anger was in vein, only fuelling it even more.
"Where is my child..?" Through clenched teeth and trembling fists, her voice echoed in the hallway with quiet clarity. When her questioned was left unanswered by the man, she exhaled deeply to soothe herself— the self-reassurance for nought as the silence stretched. "Where is she?! Where is my—!"
"In the principal's office."
It was almost comical how fast her head snapped towards him when he responded.
It was even more laughable how quick he answered her.
Kaiser didn't tremble under her scepticism like the others did, in fact, he met her hardened stare head on with an amused one of his own. Beneath his mirthful facade, lay a calculatingly cautious boy. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. This mysterious woman— with her fiery gaze that was eerily familiar— it was obvious who she was.
The realisation settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. It couldn't even have been that long since the principal called to inform your mother of your sorry state, just how fast must someone drop whatever they were doing to appear so quickly?
"Not even a 'thank you'?" He leaned his head back hoping to conceal his slipping expression as the taunt fell off his tongue with practised ease. "A bit ungrateful, aren't you?"
The woman payed his words no mind. Instead, she rushed off to the principal's office across the hallway without a moment's hesitation. He could've been lying about your whereabouts, but it seems that desperation made people yield in the face of their foes. Kaiser wasn't too bothered with her lack of gratitude, he wasn't expecting a response, not when he was sure that she figured out who he was from his injuries, but—
"Y/n!"
Kaiser tried to tune out your tearful reunion, he truly did. But his treacherous heart, consumed with envy, urged him to sneak a glance.
A mistake.
The sickening sight that greeted him gnawed at his stomach, filling him with unbridled rage.
"Mama..?"
It was disgusting.
Kaiser may have won the fight or whatever it was, but as your mother ran to you, as she embraced you with gentle hands and kissed your injured head with trembling relief, as she wiped away at your ceaseless tears and whispered her tender words of affection to you, Kaiser knew—
He knew immediately that he— that he lost.
My dearest Y/n, huh...?
Yeah... it really was disgusting.
My dearest Y/n,
Stop being a baby and eat the crust on your bread. I cut it out this time but I won't do it again next time.
angry and fed up, your mother >:(
p.s. being stern really doesn't suit me, does it? i'll probably keep cutting the crust forever. mommy loves you too much to not <3
The lines between his brows creased as he read over the letter— your note— again.
The ink may have been smudged with grease and the paper may have been folded with haste, but the text— the words were written with thought, with affection. They were embedded with your mother's love as were your crust-less, rocket shaped sandwiches.
With a defeated sigh, he smoothed out the creases on the note that were a result of his endless fidgeting. A person like him couldn't comprehend it.
Yeah, a guy like Kaiser wouldn't get it.
He couldn't even define the bizarre emotion that crept up his throat nor did he bother acknowledging it… Well, he may have refused to do so, but with the way his fingers flattened out the sheet with unbelievable softness, every movement mapped out with careful consideration— there was no lie in his actions. Only the undeniable truth.
He may not have realised it yet, or maybe he did and he was just playing the ignorant fool, but Kaiser was coming to terms with his defeat against you.
Even the usual crowd that flocked to him were evidently avoidant. They watched him from afar with pointed judgement, sharing hushed murmurs amongst themselves that reached his ears despite their pathetic attempt at quiet whispers.
What a spectacle it must be.
His lone figure had replaced yours at the dining table that seemed to stretch longer than he remembered. A sick twist in fate truly.
It was nothing though.
Kaiser was familiar with silence. The boy was no stranger to solitude.
Silence was his father's mercy.
It was a blessing he cherished with gratitude. This was truly nothin—
A dull thump put a pause to his ceaseless thoughts. The noise was followed by his pained grunt, a result of the sharp ache that shot up his temple— the same spot that was still sore from when he'd taken the impact of the fall earlier that week. Gasps of horror surrounded him, the expressions they sported was a familiar sight. One he couldn't just forget, not when it was the same as the time he'd been attacked with no remorse.
There was only one person bold enough to attack him with no fear. Only one brave fool amidst these cowards that rebelled against his absoluteness— you.
His hand that carefully cradled your note scrunched with instinct, a poor attempt at concealing his uncharacteristic longing. Pursing his lips to school his expression into one of indifference, he cast you a sideway glance to gauge your reaction. "Was a week of suspension not enough for you?"
You didn't rise to the bait, not that he expected you to, he knew first hand the length of your patience— and it was long. Instead, you casually took a seat beside him with unneeded sauce and carelessly threw something in his vague direction. He could only blink at your impudence, since when were the two of you buddy-buddy like this? The questions he wished to inquire fell short on his tongue however, the disbelief from your laid-back nature silencing his usually snarky comments.
"…."
When you made no move to explain yourself, Kaiser's shoulders remained tense with guarded caution. Quaint excitement crawled up his spine as his gaze fell from your indifferent expression to the lunchbox before you. He peeked over your shoulder with bated breaths as you busied yourself with opening Pandora's box. What would it be this time? Last time it was a constellation inspired Michelin-star deserving lunch, would it be a spring flower garden inspired one this time?
"So, are you… uh— gonna give it back or what..?" You finally spoke, expression contorting to one of hesitance as you stumbled on your words, an unbecoming sight that visibly stunned to him. When he responded with feigned ignorance in the form of more silence, you begrudgingly gestured to what you slapped him with earlier— a suspiciously lumpy-shaped, black plastic bag— and let out a melodramatic huff. "There's one in there for you so give back mine."
You weren't an idiot, nor were you blind.
Sure, there was a time you'd been blinded by rage not too long ago, but that day— that day when your mother embraced you tightly, when she cradled your face with delicate reverence and whispered words of consolation, even if your gaze had been blurry with the manifestation of your relief, you didn't miss it. You couldn't miss it. The way his stare had lingered on you both, quiet envy glinting in his intense gaze as he physically tore his gaze away from the emotional reunion.
Kaiser didn't have that. He didn't have what you had.
You figured that out when the principal's attempts to contact his parents were unsuccessful.
That's why, you took it upon yourself to give him that.
"Oh, wow."
Your head snapped up from your lunch to see what had caused such a dumbfounded response from him.
"It's like, playing spot the difference or something. On extreme difficulty at that..." He muttered with confused hesitance as he peeked inside the contents of the black plastic bag and then looked over to your pretty pink lunch bag, the note written for him held carefully in his hand.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" Completely missing the sarcasm in his tone, your face twitched comically with unbridled puzzlement. "There is a clear difference."
"Oh, yeah? Pray, do tell me this clear difference you're seeing." He drawled out with mock encouragement, mildly amused by your insistence to correct him.
"Mine's made with love," you pointed to your perfectly packed lunch and then gestured towards the pathetic excuse of a 'lunch' he had, "and yours is—"
"Let me guess, mine's made with hatred?" He interrupted with a matter of fact tone, waving about the piece of paper that was addressed to him with unbelievable amount of spite. It was nothing like your mother’s affectionate letters, the one you wrote for him was one born from the hatred you harboured for him.
You fucking insecure bastard,
I hope you rot in hell you unwanted piece of shit. I don’t care if you don’t have a mother, stop being a fucking cunt to others who do have one. I hope you choke on the worst part of the bread, the fucking crust, and I hope you get poisoning from the pesticide residue on the orange peels.
Disrespectfully, with the most unkindest regard ever, Y/n. 凸ಠ益ಠ)凸
p.s. i’ll give you the crust of my bread forever from now on because my mom thinks i outgrew my dislike for them… can’t disappoint her (╥_╥)
His heart hammered in his throat, that meant more lunches and notes for him, right?
"Uh, I was gonna say pity, y'know, because you don't have a loving and caring and present mother, or father, like I do."
"…."
What a way to leave him speechless, you really did have a way with words that was similar to rubbing salt on an open wound, didn’t you?
"Why?" You leaned towards him with delighted eyes, a big grin on your face as your voice rose with a lilt of hope. "You're not happy with it?"
"The contrary actually." He met your simper with a tight smile of his own, taking a bite of the insulting 'lunch' you so lovingly, prepared for him. It was satisfying to see how you immediately deflated when he didn't fall for your pathetic bait.
"Tch."
"Disappointed?"
"Pissed off actually." You corrected him with no shame.
It sucked he didn't like the scraps you gave him, especially after everything you went through to acquire them. Your mother, ever so emotional, almost shed tears when you told her she didn't need to cut the crust of your lunch or peel the skin of your tangerines, something about her baby growing up too fast.
The truth was, you needed the crust of the bread and the orange peels to feed Kaiser...
"I like bread crusts." He spoke reverently in the midst of devouring the so-called lunch you brought him.
It was new, all of this, was new to him. Even if you had brought him a pile of dog shit, he probably would've eaten it with zero complaints— actually, wait no.
"And the orange peels?"
"They're a bit bitter."
You reeled back with a mildly disturbed expression as he chewed on the tangerine skin you added simply for the joke of it. He was more pitiful than you initially thought, yikes. Your gaze drifted off to his loose tie and his untucked shirt, if he had a present mother like you did, she wouldn't let him reach this state of untidiness.
Without warning, you grabbed a hold of his tie and yanked on it tight, pulling him close and shortening the distance of your proximity. Choking from the sudden tugging, his eyes grew wide as your nose brushed against his. You paid it no mind, not when his lopsided tie took up most of your attention to. Your attempts to 'fix it' weren't very successful, something Kaiser decided to give his two cents on.
"You’ve made it worse."
Your levelled gaze flew up to meet his intense one, the retort you planned to voice out dying on your tongue when you noticed stray strands of his unkept hair obstruct his annoyingly pretty face. Overrun with impulse, you let out a deep puff of air, the wind of your breath blowing away the strands that prevented you from seeing his face fully.
With clumsy and rough hands, you pushed the hair out of his face, tucking the frizzy strands behind his flushing ears. Your effort to tidy his hair in vein, for all you achieved was an even bigger mess that he didn't bother pointing out this time.
Not this time.
If anything, he seemed pretty pleased to be at the mercy of your ministrations, you could see that much when he visibly slumped in your hold.
Kaiser chased the lingering warmth of your calloused hands as he nuzzled into your palms much like a touch starved stray. He blinked slowly, taking in your arguably endearing expression, your eyes concentrated but earnest and he thought back on it, on everything you've done for him. You fed him, though they were scarps you foraged out of pity, it was still something. You even wrote him a note! Though it looked more like a death threat rather than the encouraging ones your mother gave you… But you still did that for him- for him... His first ever handwritten note.
And now, you tried to fix his uniform and neaten his hair, and even though it wasn’t really great, he still leaned into it nonetheless.
It was like, like you were ticking off some sort of mental checklist.
You were showing him the joy of the things he previously picked on you for having. They were all small acts of service your mother did to express her love for you, and now, you were doing them all for him. Him. Granted, you both weren't exactly buddies, so they weren't done to such a high standard, but it was still- it was still something.
Then, did that mean you would also— his eyes fluttered close much like a dainty maiden as he rather eagerly pointed to the bruising on his forehead.
"Go ahead and kiss my injuries better."
"…."
It was almost offensive how your face scrunched with unbridled disgust. Rather than being met with the sensation of a soft peck that was rumoured to be an all-healing panacea, he was met with a harsh forehead flick that rebooted his faltering nervous system into overdrive.
"I only kiss those I like. You're not one of them if you haven't realised that yet."
“Ah, and you make lunch for those you love?” He perked up with hope. This had to be a roundabout way of saying you loved him!
“That’s not even what I—! Ugh! You’re so insufferable!” You crossed your arms and turned away from him. “Keep that up and there really will be no more lunches.”
“How come? Is your love for me seriously that fickle?” He whined, toying with the ends of your hair, not quite pulling on it, not this time, just— just twirling the lock around his finger subconsciously.
“No. It’s not because of that, it’s because I’ll hit you again and get expelled this time round.”
“So you’re saying your love for me isn’t fickle?”
“Oh my God! You’re seriously… impossible.”
Yeah, you seriously were going to get yourself expelled if he kept this up.
You walked over the concrete path showered lightly with overgrown weeds and grass, the cold chill of the crisp air caressing your skin like a soft lullaby. Each step you took seemed to fill your sense of hearing along with the leafy field crackling gently, a few street lights accompanied with warm light guiding you to where you and Michael both agreed to meet up.
You almost would've mistaken him for a bush if he did not call your name out. And as much as you are used to it, he was always soft with your name escaping his mouth.
You turned, spotting him just around the corner.
In the same black, oversized jacket you are too aware he always wore. "You are basically blending in with the herbs, you know..." You start, a small smile tugging at your lips already.
"sorry, am I just that good?" He replies, shoving himself beside the edge of the wooden bench to leave space for you.
"too good to be true. Maybe that."
Then, the seconds of silence lasted to a minute. The silence this time was not suffocating but rather a relaxing one —like even the quiet can write out your thoughts and send it to whoever you desire, a bouquet of blue roses along with it.
Not long after, you find him looking up to the sky — the same one that can portray one with pinks, blues, and oranges. And not only that you find that he's admiring the stars, but also you find yourself admiring him.
Distracted, you did not even notice that he stopped, his irises locking with yours.
Insanely flustered, you turned your head, forcing your gaze off him as you forcibly cleared your throat.
"i—" you were about to excuse yourself on why you were staring at him like a fool but—
"it's okay." He can't hide the small tug of a smile at the edge of his lips.
You swear he moved just a little bit closer.
And once more, the silence stretched. This time, not rather calm, especially with your heart feeling like it's about to jump out, the sudden heat flooding your face.
"it's interesting how these stars—you know, constellations used to guide our ancestors?" He starts, his voice casual and soft like the wind caressing both of your skin.
"yeah?"
"I wanna know if these can guide me to the right person, too."
Silence.
Then, he chuckles, sheepishly, as if realizing the weight of the situation like his science experiment is failing. "..If it will ever be possible.." He adds, a bit too shy and quiet this time.
"but you know..." He sounded a bit too hesitant, his head turned away as if fearing to look. You can see the subtle pinks tinting his ears. it's cute. He is cute.
"I feel a very, very strong gravitational pull between the two of us. Might as be two stars colliding, yes?"
You did not know what to say. You did not have to.
He finally took the courage to finally face you, his cheeks flushed adorably red.
Then, your name spilled out his lips, soft like jelly.
", I like you. Hell even love you..."
He feels both relieved, finally spilling out the confession that he was practicing weeks ago (it was supposed to be more "fancy").
"y—yeah.. this is unexpected and it's okay if—" he was already biting the inside of his cheek, mentally preparing for what's about to come.
"you like me?"
He nods almost immediately — "uhh n—no! I love you. Like a lot!" He corrects you just a second after he nodded.
The stay of both of you in the park lasted hours, in the same bench, under the starry night, and with the same shared feelings you both were desperately trying to hide.
A/n: got inspired by the fact that I was sitting outside our porch admiring the stars for a few hours. Happy reaaading!
Another desperate thrust from the poor, overstimulated man below you—𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒.
Your hands press against his chest to stabilize yourself, gently fondling his pecs, which earns you a strained whimper from his self abused lip. "You're such a good boy aren't youu..?" You lean close, lips forming syllables on the sensitive skin of his earlobe.
He nods, hands scrambling to hold onto the sheets. He throws his head back against the soft pillow, tears staining the pillowcase. You tenderly, affectionately wipe those droplets off with a swipe of your tongue, his body shivering upon contact.
"please.. wan' more than thiss.." he whispers, head still thrown back. You grab his chin, forcing him to hold irises with yours.
"baby, you're near rolling your eyes." You comment, chuckling like it's just something casual to say. "Don't tell me you get so messed up just by this." You press your forehead against his, letting the tip slip in your warmth.
His hips immediately thrust up, you pin him down with your hands.
"that's bad, baby." Immediately pulling away. "Sh—shit... 'm so—rry!" He hiccups, whimpering out apologies. "Yeah, yeah." You pause, "but since I'm feeling sweet today," you align his length, finally letting him seek warmth in you.
"I'm so sweet to you.. right?" You smiled, a smile that makes him shiver. "Yes..mmh—" you slowly go down, a synchronized moan leaving the two of you.
A/n: have a nice day! Thanks for reading.
@saetomic plagiarizing my work is not welcomed.. Oki?
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You and 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐎 meeting after years passed by was unexpected.
Or as you thought so.
You both met at kindergarten; a place where crayons, crumpled colored paper, and snapped pencils from sudden classmate outrage are casual.
You still remember how he let taped up your broken crayolas With the cause of his guy friends "unintentionally" bumping into you and then stomping on your precious medium.
"hey, it's okay." He says while his gaze remains on the half fixed medium. You sat beside him at the chattering playground, other children from the other sections running around with some sliding down the slides and some sitting on the swings with their parents guiding them.
Your tears were still yet stopping, hiccups leaving your trembling lip. "I'm fixing them, alright? You don't have to worry." He reassures, hand already moving to find the two remaining.
Minutes pass.
You finally calmed down.
"there we go." He hands you your pencil case, filled with the fixed crayons and your worn-out pencils and eraser. "Don't cry, okay? Call me whenever you need help." He stood up from the grass, patting both of his hands clean against eachother.
You always wonder why a good guy would be friends with bad people.
Growing with eachother was memorable. You both stuck into eachother like glue every since that encounter. You believe to call him whenever in need.
"you don't have lunch?" You cock a brow, a bit taken aback as he was always the one offering extras to you.
You were just about to open your lunchbox, your fingers freezing to stop by its locks. He denies, "I already ate. Lunch came early to us." He offers you candy. You reluctantly took it. "Thank you.."
He offered. You took. You also gave him a portion of your food.
You both enjoyed the afternoon with golden rays hitting the two of you all's faces just right, you even comment on how his hair had gotten longer, each sway of the air making his bangs caress half of his face, hitting his eyes—him wincing making you somehow laugh. He does too.
"do you want me to cut your hair? For free. I still owe you for fixing my crayons." You say, both serious, half a joke. "I don't trust you." He replies with eyes narrowing jokingly.
"You trust me calling you whenever I need help though?"
"fine."
That's how you ended up in his place, large crinkled plastic covering his back and torso—an ugly attempt for copying a hairdressing cape. "Jeez, I look so chopped.." he dryly mutters, running fingers on his yet-to-be-cut hair. "Yeah, now cherish the last moments you'll have with that cut." You hold the scissors—not even the ones suitable for cutting hair.
"are you gonna shave my head bald?"
"dude, what."
Suprisingly, you managed to cut it "professionally" though laughter kept on erupting repeatedly by how he kept on sneezing with his shortened strands circling the air. "Gosh, you sneeze like you smoked volcanic ash." You comment with stomach hurting from too much giggling. "You're overreacting. Just cut my hair, freak." He calls you a name, lacking bite as a stupid grin displays on his face.
Those memories managed to keep you intact—though barely, you held a special place for him in your heart.
You lived the last remaining weeks with him, sneaking late at night, dismissing your parents repeated sermons. "Just for a friend." You say while trying to defend your state.
You left the city at 16. You really didn't remember much rather than with the last memory of you two running on the heated sand of the beach—the wind rustling crisp with the oceanic waves hitting the shore, calming and cooling the granules and painting it dark beige.
"I'll miss you" he whispers, voice plastered with plastic smiles, trying to dismiss the hurt. "You already are, idiot." You chuckled, dry unlike the usual cheer. Your words are lacking bite.
You both exchanged numbers to communicate, but as both a working student and with your academic responsibilities, you barely managed to talk to him—leading you to give him a final message; explaining why you're doing this and that you wish life to be better to him. Then after that, you blocked him. Heart heavy with guilt.
After all that, everytime you walk past a park, children running around the same age as you both met—your heart aches with the same hurt, bile piling up in your esophagus as tears threaten to fall from your waterline.
Exploring the foreign city doesn't help, too.
Each time, even if it's only a subtle wash of the wave hitting the shore, you can't help but drift back to when you both were running around, feet hitting the heated granules, dust sticking on to both of your calves.
You always gulp heavy feelings down, stomach growling with unsaid words.
So when you finally returned, the neighborhood still intact and frozen in time—unlike you, with heavy bags under your eyes, cold hand grasping the strap of your duffle hanging from your shoulder.
You look like you lost hope I'm humanity. You really do.
With that, some children passing by; you remember were babies before you met as you and him explore the neighborhood one last time, gives you suspicious looks as if you're some criminal.
You dismiss them, dragging weightless feet with a heavy heart beating inside your chest. You observe the way some trees had been cut down with birds chirping on some chopped up trunks.
When you arrived at your childhood house, you still view the engraved letters of both of your initials on the wooden, worn down door. You reminisce about how your parents scolded you for that, tabito hiding from the corner bushes of your property.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Cold knuckles press against the same wood, an unconscious sigh escaping past your lips.
You were welcomed. You didn't feel warm, nor home.
You took the opportunity to go out after unpacking your things. And luck was reaaally on your side today. It was raining. But it's not like the downpour you used to enjoy with him. You took your umbrella with you, slinging a shoulderbag on your shoulder, the other holding the umbrella.
Limbs walk towards the same path on where you remember going to; a cafe. Where you and tabito used to hang out whenever you both had assignments to do—all because your parents disagreed for anyone to come over, "it's a hassle."
The wind catcher rustles as you open the cafe's glass door, tired eyes acknowledging the warmly lit environment.
For some reason, you locked eyes with someone serving, three cups on a black tray—wait. "Why does this guy look familiar?" You muttered to yourself, eyes narrowing for a second as if quizzing.
You instead take a seat, dismissing the fact that he might just be someone with the same haircut; "beesidess, it's chopped. Not like what I created, right?" You talk to yourself. in result, some customers side eye you as if you're bald and is with a note stuck on your back, "side eye this person if she has crazy bedhair".
You ding the bell on the center of your table, attempting to brush off their calculating gaze with an excuse of calling costumer service.
The same "familiar" waiter came back after a minute passed by.
"Yes ma'am—" the voice also sounded the same. The same moles underneath his eyes and—
Before you could even bite your tongue to physically stop yourself, "tabito?" You call out, catching the eyes of others once more. Now, if you're mistaken here.. you might just be a laughing stock at this point.
Your eyebrows furrow, expecting yourself to be hallucinating. You don't even trust yourself anymore.
But, instead of the "stranger" asking if you're alright or if mentally deranged, he laughed. Really laughed; throwing his head back with the same familiar grin.
"jeez," he starts, breathless from laughing. "I was waiting or you to notice, freak" and just with judging how he speaks and casually calls you names without bite—you're finally sure. Really, reaally sure.
You then got your drink—instead ordered it to be taken out instead. He left early, requesting and reasoning ha manager that there was "emergency at home". Come to think to it, you are his home.
"so.. how was your trip?" He asks, too casually, still in his work uniform. You both are in the parking lot, behind his own car. "I thought I was hallucinating.." you confess, quieter, taking a small sip off your cup. "Nothing changed about you. I swear." He chuckles, before another carefree laughter escapes the two of you like the old days.
Oh how much you missed this.
A/n: I wasn't expecting this to be soo long (for me, at least). Here's your request, anon!! :D I'm so happy to serve you. Mild angst ig?
@saetomic plagiarizing my work is not welcomed.. Oki?
hi hiii, i'm not sure if you've ever written for him and if you'd even want to, but could i request a story with karasu please :') he's so underrateddddd. maybe something suggestive? tension and yearning.. that type of thing haha. if you don't want to write for him, more sae is good too! tysm
Hallo and ciao to you too! You're so sweet with the way you asked & so considerate with my options. And yes, I'll write karasu just for you.
I'll set the link in this same post if I finally post it. (and I just realized you sent this ask a day ago—im so sorry for neglecting you 😔)
Another desperate thrust from the poor, overstimulated man below you—𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒.
Your hands press against his chest to stabilize yourself, gently fondling his pecs, which earns you a strained whimper from his self abused lip. "You're such a good boy aren't youu..?" You lean close, lips forming syllables on the sensitive skin of his earlobe.
He nods, hands scrambling to hold onto the sheets. He throws his head back against the soft pillow, tears staining the pillowcase. You tenderly, affectionately wipe those droplets off with a swipe of your tongue, his body shivering upon contact.
"please.. wan' more than thiss.." he whispers, head still thrown back. You grab his chin, forcing him to hold irises with yours.
"baby, you're near rolling your eyes." You comment, chuckling like it's just something casual to say. "Don't tell me you get so messed up just by this." You press your forehead against his, letting the tip slip in your warmth.
His hips immediately thrust up, you pin him down with your hands.
"that's bad, baby." Immediately pulling away. "Sh—shit... 'm so—rry!" He hiccups, whimpering out apologies. "Yeah, yeah." You pause, "but since I'm feeling sweet today," you align his length, finally letting him seek warmth in you.
"I'm so sweet to you.. right?" You smiled, a smile that makes him shiver. "Yes..mmh—" you slowly go down, a synchronized moan leaving the two of you.
A/n: have a nice day! Thanks for reading.
@saetomic plagiarizing my work is not welcomed.. Oki?
"oh." You start off, amused with the sight you just caught in your's and 𝐒𝐀𝐄's shared house's living room. You stop mid step as you watch your daughter—who possessed your hair, his teal eyes; this time with the shine like yours.
Sae's sitting on the couch, face deadpan as his child clip ribbons onto his hair—each one with a giggle that he probably won't admit; warms his heart.
"papa!" The little girl starts, her voice all excited and proud. "You look so pretty!" She chimes, a wide grin plastered on her face. His mouth can't help but twitch at it's corner, a small smile appearing on his face just with seeing his daughter happy.
"thank you." Sae says as his hand reaches out to pinch her cheek affectionately.
You attempt to grab your phone to snap a really quick picture—Snap!
The shutter echoes—though faintly, the father doesn't miss it. His head turns to where the sound came from, his little daughter following right after.
"Mama, it's you!" She exclaims, immediately running towards you—hugging your leg.
You chuckled sheepishly, caught red-handed with your phone still held by your hands.
"were you taking a picture, mama?" She asked, lashes fluttering as she looks effortlessly adorable.
Sae's gaze remains soft, a soft smile on his face. "I—uh.. I did, yes." You admit, the earlier embarrassment fading away as your daughter tours you forward to her handiwork, sae's hair colored with mini ribbons.
A/n: first post, lewl. Still have a lot of assignments though 💔
@saetomic. Don't feed, copy, translate, cross post, to any other media.
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"do you seriously not feel anything after all of that?" 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 deadpans, curling himself on the leathered couch as you're slump over, hand moving fast as if the pen has a timer of when to disappear.
"last one." He can hear you mumble, almost to yourself as you subconsciously subtly rock back and forth.
"jeez, you're scaring me.." concern coats his words unlike his usual teasing.
Stacks of books stand on the table, paper heavy with neon highlighters threatening to hurt ones eyes if to peek.
Silence passes.
Papers shuffling cuts through the boring air.
"there's something called "rest", you know." He starts once more, this time a lot more quieter.
Finally, you turn your head towards him.
"what?"
"what? I'm saying you should take a rest." He pats his thigh, signalling you to come over.
You in the right mind would tell him to stop and that it's too corny.
But the heavy tension of the upcoming exams resting on your shoulders mentally is wearing you down.
So you give in. Surprisingly.
He lets you rest your head against where a major organ thumps, the beat steady and is bringing you warmth. His fingers gently run off the trails of your hair, careful like he's afraid you'll disappear.
"here we go. Rest well, bookworm." He whispers, watching heavy eyelids rest close as you melt. His words lack the usual arrogance and bite, only comfort and soft loving left behind.
A/n: appreciate Shakespeare for possessing me real quick. Nerd reader because I feel like bookworms (like me) needs stress relief after studying tons of shit. Anyways, my boring ass got 85% on a minor subject (could've done better.)
@saetomic plagiarism of any of my work is not good, Oki?
Another desperate thrust from the poor, overstimulated man below you—𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒.
Your hands press against his chest to stabilize yourself, gently fondling his pecs, which earns you a strained whimper from his self abused lip. "You're such a good boy aren't youu..?" You lean close, lips forming syllables on the sensitive skin of his earlobe.
He nods, hands scrambling to hold onto the sheets. He throws his head back against the soft pillow, tears staining the pillowcase. You tenderly, affectionately wipe those droplets off with a swipe of your tongue, his body shivering upon contact.
"please.. wan' more than thiss.." he whispers, head still thrown back. You grab his chin, forcing him to hold irises with yours.
"baby, you're near rolling your eyes." You comment, chuckling like it's just something casual to say. "Don't tell me you get so messed up just by this." You press your forehead against his, letting the tip slip in your warmth.
His hips immediately thrust up, you pin him down with your hands.
"that's bad, baby." Immediately pulling away. "Sh—shit... 'm so—rry!" He hiccups, whimpering out apologies. "Yeah, yeah." You pause, "but since I'm feeling sweet today," you align his length, finally letting him seek warmth in you.
"I'm so sweet to you.. right?" You smiled, a smile that makes him shiver. "Yes..mmh—" you slowly go down, a synchronized moan leaving the two of you.
A/n: have a nice day! Thanks for reading.
@saetomic plagiarizing my work is not welcomed.. Oki?