#bluelock angst

[muriscenes]

kissing rin after giving him head, even though he hates it!

inspired by — @itoshigaze :3

Rin's favorite thing to receive from you was your head skills. Every time he won a game, he wanted you on your knees. Every time he lost a game, he wanted you on your knees. You never minded at all. After all, you loved pleasuring your man in that way. But one thing you hated was how he always refused to kiss you afterward.

The idea of him tasting his own cum on your lips turned him off completely. You thought it was stupid. I mean, you always allowed him to kiss you right after he ate you out. So, why was that a huge deal?

Today, you decided that would change. He was coming home around six and he had already told you that he wanted you on your knees the moment he laid down on that bed.

Rin walked in, looking tired from his day but with that familiar spark in his eyes when he saw you waiting in the bedroom. He kicked off his shoes, stripped out of his clothes quickly, and climbed onto the bed. Laying against the pillows, his cock already starting to harden as he spread his legs slightly. You moved toward him without a word, dropping to your knees between his thighs on the soft mattress.

You started with your usual routine. Licking the tip of his cock slowly, tasting the salty pre-cum that had gathered there. Your tongue circled the head, pressing flat against the sensitive underside. Rin let out a soft sigh, his hands resting on the sheets beside him. You wrapped your fingers around the base of his shaft and began rubbing up and down in firm strokes, feeling the veins pulse under your palm. You took more of him into my mouth, sliding your lips down the length until you reached halfway, then pulled back with a slight pop that echoed in the quiet room.

His groans grew louder as you repeated the motion, sucking harder each time. Bobbing your head steadily, hand twisting gently at the base to add extra friction.

Rin shifted his hips, thrusting upward into my mouth to push his cock deeper. The sudden movement made you gag a little, throat tightening around him involuntarily. He grabbed a handful of your hair, fingers tangling in the strands, and used that grip to guide me. He forced you down faster, making you take him deeper with each thrust.

The room filled with the wet sounds of your mouth working on him—slurps and pops mixing with his increasing moans. You could feel his cock throbbing against your tongue, growing even harder as you increased the suction. Rin bucked his hips again, driving into your throat.

Every time he was close to cumming, his right thigh would twitch slightly, the muscle contracting under his skin. So you quickened your pace right then, sucking vigorously and stroking the base with your hand in rapid motions. His groans turned into deeper, more urgent sounds. His grip on your hair tightened, pulling just enough to sting.

With a loud groan that filled the bedroom, Rin came with a loud groan. His cock pulsed hard in your mouth, shooting thick ropes of cum straight down your throat.

You kept your lips sealed around him, swallowing some but holding the rest in your mouth as he finished. His body relaxed, as he released my hair and let his head fall back onto the pillow.

“You’re the best, baby,” he muttered, his voice husky and satisfied. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily.

You kept the warm, salty pool of cum in your mouth, savoring the taste. Without wasting time, you climbed onto the bed and straddled his crotch, positioning your weight on his hips. His eyes opened, and he looked up at you with confusion creasing his brow. You leaned forward, face inches from his.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice uncertain. He placed his hands on your shoulders and tried to push you back gently.

You ignored him and closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a firm kiss. He turned his head slightly, trying to avoid it, but you held his face with one hand and captured his mouth anyway. His eyes widened in surprise. Releasing the cum into his, letting it mix with his saliva and tongues mixing.

Rin whimpered against your lips. “Baby, wait—” he protested, his words muffled. He used his hands to push at my chest, exerting all his strength to create space between us. His legs shifting as he tried to twist away.

You didn’t let him escape as you grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them above his head against the headboard. Your body weight kept him in place, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips. You kissed him more aggressively, forcing your tongue past his lips and into his mouth. The cum transferred fully, coating his tongue and the inside of his cheeks. He squirmed beneath you, bucking his hips upward in an attempt to throw you off, but that only pressed his softening cock against your core.

He resisted hard, turning his head side to side, but you followed his movements, keeping both mouths locked. His breaths came in short gasps through his nose, and his tongue pushed back against yours, then more deliberately as the taste spread. You held him down completely, forcing the kiss until he had no choice but to accept it.

Finally, with a loud gasp, you pulled away, breaking the contact. Strings of saliva and cum connected your lips for a second before snapping. You smiled down at him, feeling triumphant. “See, Rinnie? Perfectly fine.”

Rin laid there, staring up at the ceiling with his mouth covered by one hand. His cheeks flushed a deep red, spreading to his neck. He looked shocked and embarrassed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He wasn’t sure to feel turned on or scared. But his body betrayed him as his cock began to harden again beneath you, twitching against your thigh. The evidence of his arousal was clear, growing firmer with each passing second.

[poetmiu]

when you first moved in, it took sae months to adjust to how lively his house had become.

how his bland and unadorned penthouse was now filled with your belongings, your warm lamps that you bought because you hated the white lighting.

the beautiful lace curtains that now covered the rows of exposed windows. fluffy blankets that complemented his crimson couches, filled with soft and decorative pillows that you adjust in a very particular order. pictures of you and his wedding photos, your bright smile bringing life to his once shallow and empty house.

your vanilla perfume that trailed behind you all the time, slowly seeping into the fabrics of your furniture.

not only did he have to get used to your undeniably amazing taste in decoration, but also your inability to sit peacefully in a messy house.

sae wasn't one to maintain a messy house—he in fact, always made sure it was clean. but he had a horrible habit of tossing clothes on the floor and keeping dishes in the sink, unattended for days on end due to his exhausting schedule.

which inevitably turned into your first fight now that you shared a domestic lifestyle together, as you constantly told him to fold his clothes and do his part of the dishes.

eventually though, things settled down as the two of you finally made agreements on chores, as he finally got used to just how much life you brought into what he called home—just how much light and joy you brought into his life all together.

the penthouse became his escape, not just a place for him to sleep and eat, but a place for him to wind down, a place he sought comfort in knowing you'd always be there—always there to embrace him and smother him with your undying love.

then came your kids.

suddenly, itoshi sae found himself having to get used to the sound of your child's cries in the dead of night—the creaky rocking of the crib as he lulled her back to sleep.

your cries of overwhelming joy as she took her first steps and spoke her first words, "dada."

she always seemed to have a preference towards her father, a preference he never thought would fade.

as she turned three, the house was suddenly scattered with toys everywhere, piles of outgrown baby clothes in her room, and stocks of baby food in the fridge, as she still refused to eat anything remotely crunchy.

what was once just you and him was now a family with a little baby boy on the way.

the second was easier.

sae was now used to the constant pooping and cries; he'd get up in the middle of the night no questions asked, telling you to go back to sleep with no groans or complaints.

sae now no longer had the luxury of waking up to his alarm; instead, he would wake his ten and seven-year-old jumping in the bed, begging for breakfast eagerly.

he no longer had the luxury of coming back to a quiet home; instead, he came back to a house filled with chaos and children's laughter.

something he never knew he'd relish in.

sae was now used to this life, no longer being on his own; he was now surrounded by love, by support, a system he could fall back on if something went wrong.

something he never knew he'd lose—until that night—he never saw a future without you, a future where the death of his lover and only son would be his fault.

it was normal night, he was driving back home after dinner with his parents, his hand on your thigh as the kids argued in the backseat.

soft music played from the radio; he couldn't help but smile.

sae had never felt so fuffilled in his life, like he was actually worth something. like he had so much to look forward to.

and then for a moment—just a moment—sae got distracted, turning his head to the kid as their argument grew, telling them to shut up and deal with it later, and when he turned… it was too late.

all he remembers is you yelling his name, the last thing he ever heard from you, and the collision of the crash; he lost consciousness for a moment before his eyes opened, the loud sirens blasting into his ear as he turned. he remembers the way your head was thrown back—the blood that gushed out.

he desperately tried to shake you awake—the tears in his eyes as his head whipped back to check on his children, the sudden movement sending a shock of pain through his body.

fate is a funny thing, isn't it?

he remembers when you once asked him if he believed in it, and he brushed you off, telling you it was a silly thing.

but now, sae could only laugh.

how fate decided that he would be the one to survive, not you.

the warmth of the home sae spent years getting used to was gone—just like that.

the years he spent pining for you, loving you, being married to you, and raising kids with you—gone like they'd never even mattered.

no, it couldn't be that simple.

fate couldn't be that cruel.

he couldn't be that undeserving of happiness.

now, sae had to adjust to life that had been sucked out of his home.

his crimson couch somehow duller.

wedding photos that once adorned the walls gone because he couldn't bear to look at you.

warm lamps that once made the home welcoming; now unplugged and replaced with his old white lights that filled the house with a sense of melancholy.

your perfume stored away in a box as your scent slowly faded off the fabric of the furniture.

the only remembrance that you had once been here being your personal belongings that sae couldn't quite get rid of, stored away in boxes.

your daughter constantly locked away in her room—somewhere she wouldn't have to look him in the eyes for him to know that she blamed him for all of it.

the house was quiet, empty.

sae was never there; your daughter always returning back to an empty house with only leftovers in the fridge.

the tv that once used to make a home in a living room where a mother and her children would support their football player father through the screen, now empty and lifeless.

[r1nitoshi1]

OCEAN EYES — rin itoshi .

࣪ 𝜗𝒞 ៸ ࣪: The eyes never lie.

Rin doesn’t turn around, leant against the wall, but the corner of his mouth twitches—just slightly—as he hears your stuttered response.

“I-I have a boyfriend!”

Only then do the footsteps that follow indicate the boy’s (that had approached you) departure.

Rin’s hand snakes around your wrist, now that the annoyance is finally gone.

Physically at least.

That boy is still lingering in his head.

Rin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to.

He’s always like this, even if he’s hauling you away a little faster.

The door clicks shut behind you both with a quiet finality. His room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of his desk lamp and the city lights bleeding through half-drawn curtains.

He tosses his gym bag onto the floor with an indifferent thud before finally glancing back at you over his shoulder.

His eyes catch the light just so, obscuring most of whatever expression flickers in those sharp teal eyes—but not enough to hide how they drag down your body like he’s memorizing every inch again for good measure.

“You’re still thinking about it,” he states flatly, “About that guy.”

A pause.

“You shouldn't be.”

“What? No I’m not.” You protest softly, following him over to his bed with gentle footsteps.

With a dry snort, he sinks down to sit at the edge of the bed.

You can practically feel him rolling his eyes despite his expression remaining as flat and unflinchingly indifferent as ever.

He lifts one shoulder in a dismissive half-shrug, face still indifferently cool.

He raises an eyebrow in clear disbelief as you follow him over to his bed, his expression almost bored.

He leans back against the headboard, legs spread out in front of him.

The fabric of his sweatpants stretches taut over his thighs.

He tugs absently at a loose thread on the seam, dark sea gaze flicking up to you again.

A beat passes before he reaches out suddenly, fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweats to yank you forward gently, until your knees bump against his thighs.

His thumb brushes over where some random guy’s words still cling like sweat onto skin earlier today.

“You don’t need anyone else.”

A quiet command more than an observation.

“So stop..thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow—a silent, doubtful challenge.

He's still frustratingly calm, still playing the part of unbothered.

Like you're the only one feeling this charged and uncertain.

His gaze slides back to you—he watches those nervous fingers of yours silently for a long moment before he speaks.

"You can touch me," he mutters finally, not bothering to hide the dry edge to his tone.

“But..you wouldn’t like it. Not like this,” You mutter quietly, “You sound bored. Dry.”

He hesitates; for just a moment, his tracing fingers falter. You noticed.

Something shifts in his gaze, too.

Those dark blue eyes narrow ever so slightly, the slightest hint of annoyance flashing in their depths.

Bored?

He hates when you think that.

Hates that you think you've figured him out.

He hates this—explaining himself, peeling back layers he usually keeps carefully hidden.

But the way you look at him—soft and patient like he’s some puzzle to solve instead of an open book waiting for you to read—it makes his chest ache in ways that piss him off.

“I’m not bored. I’m jealous, okay?”

He lets out a low scoff, his shoulders tensing involuntarily.

"I just…don’t know how to react when others approach you.” His jaw tightens, just a fraction, but then his eyes are softening as he meets your gaze, all vulnerable and open.

Yours.

© -r1nitosh1. don’t copy , translate, repost, without permission. don’t feed my work to ai.

likes, comments, reblogs: much appreciated.

[megurusmuse]

collecting [yandere!reo mikage x reader x yandere!nagi seishiro]

cw: obsessive behaviour, stalking, manipulation, implied kidnapping, isolation, toxic relationship dynamics, nagi is a cat (jk)

based on this request !

>

The coffee shop is unusually busy this morning. You are absolutely certain you put your card, a bright yellow one, hard to miss, in the front pocket of your purse, but it is not there.

You murmur, “Ah, shoot.”

The line behind you is growing, and the barista is beginning to look impatient.

“Uhm…I'm sorry - ”

“Let me save you.”

You look up. Purple hair. Expensive coat.

You hesitate. “You really don’t have to.”

“It’s just coffee.” He smiles gently at you. “Besides, you can owe me one.”

You smile and nod.

When you leave you have exchanged numbers and you walk to the train thinking about the smile mostly, and a little about the card, which never turns up.

Reo texts you that evening

hope the rest of your day was better than the start.

You smile at your phone.

Soon enough, Reo is everywhere in your life and you like having him around. He is become a close friend.

The thing about Reo is that you never have to say anything twice.

You mention a restaurant offhand in October and he books it in November without referencing the conversation, "just I thought we could try this" and it's the right place, exactly the right place, and you laugh and say "how did you know" and he just shrugs and holds the door open.

He knows how you take your coffee. Knows you run cold, appears with a jacket. Knows when you've had a bad week before you've said anything, meets you with the specific food that fixes it.

"You're like a cheat code," you tell him one day. He laughs. "I just pay attention."

>

You meet Nagi on a rainy Sunday, a month after the coffee shop incident.

He's on the couch when you arrive, console in both hands, and he doesn't look up when Reo introduces you.

"Nagi."

"Mm."

"This is her."

A pause in the gameplay. He glances at you once, brief and goes back to his screen.

"Hey," he says, to no one in particular.

You look at Reo. Reo smiles. "He's like this with everyone," he says, guiding you toward the kitchen. "He'll eventually warm up."

And..that he does. Warm up would be a far cry, it's more like an adjustment. Lazying around most days, but with every visit of yours, starts arranging himself closer around you. At first, it's sitting on the couch closer to you, the next he makes space for you on the couch, soon it's resting his head on your lap while playing games.

"It's funny," you say to your friend Hana one day, "Nagi was completely indifferent at first but now he just.. I don't know. Rearranges around me. Like a cat."

She raises her eyebrows. "And that's not weird?"

"It's sweet, actually. Reo's the same. Whatever Nagi wants, Reo gets it for him almost immediately. The moment he shows interest in anything Reo says, "I'll take care of it." I think that's just how Reo is, he reads people, pays that kind of attention to everyone he loves."

Hana asks, "So..do you like any one of them?"

You stir your drink. "Honestly, I dont want to complicate things with them. They have become..good friends you know?"

"Yeah," Hana says. "Makes sense. Karasu seemed interested in you though, just saying."

>

You mentioned the date casually while packing your bag

Nagi stopped playing his game. Reo stopped stirring his coffee. It was the first time you had ever managed to get both of their full attention so quickly.

“A date?” Reo asked.

You blinked. “Yeah.”

“With who?” Nagi asked.

“Someone from my friend’s course.”

“No,” Nagi said.

You stared at him. He stared back. His expression was blank, but his hand had tightened around his phone. You laughed uncertainly. “That wasn’t really a question.” You slung your bag over your shoulder. “I have to go.”

Nagi caught your wrist before you could step away, his fingers wrapped around you loosely, almost lazily, but he did not let go.

“You’re coming back after?” he asked.

You looked down at his hand. “Sei..”

“Are you?” His voice was soft.

Reo leaned back in his chair, watching the two of you carefully. “Nagi,” he said, almost gently. “Let go.”

For one second, Nagi did not move, then slowly his fingers slipped away.

You thought to yourself, maybe h's being insecure.. I should talk to him about this later. You left with an uneasy feeling in your chest. Neither of them said goodbye.

>

Your date never showed up. You waited for forty minutes before checking your phone for the tenth time.

Nothing. No apology. No explanation. Your messages were not even delivering. You were on the way to your home irritated and embarrassed, trying not to take it personally when your phone buzzed

Reo:

Pasta leftovers, you hungry?

You hesitate but the loud rumble from your stomach decides for you. You enters their apartment door. Nagi was comfortable on the couch. He barely looked up from his phone. “Welcome home.”

The silence stretches as you shifted uncomfortably from one leg to another, remnants of previous conversation still lingering in your mind.

Reo enters in the doorway, holding a cleaning towel in his hand. Perfectly dressed. Perfectly calm. He smiled at you. “There you are. How was your date?"

You shrug, voice low, "Asshole never showed up."

Reo hums and brings out pasta from your favourite place, he smiles at you. "His loss. It's from Vini's." He puts the bowl infront you and sits across.

You take a mouthful of it, groaning in satisfaction. "I dont know you do it Reo. You take such good care of me."

He chuckles as he reaches behind him and sets something on the table in front of your bowl. A notebook. Small, dark, well-worn at the spine.

"This is how," he says.

>

You pick it up smiling because, of course, Reo has a notebook.

Your coffee order. The restaurant. Your jacket size. The film you mentioned once, three Tuesdays ago.

“Aww, this is insane,” you say, laughing. “Reo.”

He smiles. “I told you. I pay attention.”

You turn another page. Your smile falters. Your landlord’s name. Your work schedule. The route you take home - the things you never told him about?

Then:

Karasu Tabito. Not a good influence. Cut contact.

Today’s date is written neatly beside it. Your fingers stop moving.

“Reo,” you whisper. “What is this?”

His expression softens. “He was not good enough for you.”

Your chair scrapes against the floor as you push yourself upright. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“We do,” Nagi says.

Your head snaps toward him. His phone lies forgotten beside him now. His grey eyes are fixed on you with an intensity you have never seen before.

“I didn’t care before,” he says quietly. “Where people went. Who they talked to. It was easy.”

He stands. You take a step back and he follows.

“But you keep leaving.” His brows knit together, almost irritated. “Reo says I can’t just stop you because you’ll get scared.”

You look at Reo. He gives you a faint, apologetic smile. “I told him we needed to be patient.”

Your breath catches. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You trust people too easily,” Reo says gently. “You walk home alone. You forget to charge your phone. You agreed to meet someone you barely knew.”

“That is none of your business.”

Nagi frowns. “It is.”

You slam the notebook down onto the table in frustration. Something slips from between its pages.

Small. Rectangular. Bright yellow.

Your card. The one you lost the morning you met Reo.

The room seems to tilt around you. You look at the card. Then the notebook. Then Reo.

The pieces do not fall into place so much as they drop all at once, heavy and sickening.

“You-”

You stagger toward the door, the floor shifts beneath your feet. Your hand catches the edge of the table. “What did you put in my food?”

Your legs buckle but before you can hit the floor, arms wrap around your waist from behind. Firm. Unhurried.

Nagi.

You claw at his hands. “Let go of me.”

He pulls you against his chest.

“Nagi, please.” Your voice cracks. “Please. I’m scared.”

His chin settles against your shoulder. “I know." He murmurs in your ear, " 'msorry baby, we didnt mean to frighten you, yeah?"

He inhales the scent of your neck, "we just couldn't let you leave."

The answer is quiet. Almost absent-minded.

That is worse.

You search for Reo through the blur gathering at the edges of your vision. “Reo,” you choke out. “Help me.”

But Reo is not looking at you.

He is looking at Nagi.

And on his face is an expression you have seen before but never named. The same quiet satisfaction that appears whenever Nagi shows interest in something and Reo says—

I’ll take care of it.

You understand, with the particular clarity of things understood too late.

He had been collecting you for him.

an: too long! sorry! also, my first time writing yandere, be kind please. :) let me know if you want a part 2 to this? i have some ideas as to what the "new life" for the reader would look like. :)

Been saving up for a new laptop for so long — this one's painfully slow and hangs ~45 times a day. Even a small tip would go a loooong way! Support me on Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/yatsurinamikaze

[utwenio]

Growing tired; Itoshi Sae ♡

semi-angst, you both suck at communication and implied fem reader but do as you please (real ones know this is a repost, though tweaked and improved a lil) 1.5k words

self indulgent once again, heh

Edit, p2 is here

You don’t know when or how it started. Your relationship, carefully built and aged with trust, was now slipping before your fingers, slithering away, dropping down to where you didn’t know nor see.

Your boyfriend, Sae Itoshi, whom you once considered the love of your life—even imagining him in your future, matching rings on your fingers was now nothing but a blurry picture, as he himself, became a stranger within the coziness of your relationship.

A forgotten date. You wouldn’t have made a big deal if it weren’t for the fact it was your anniversary where he had asked you to be his, and for him to be yours.

You still remember the surreal memory as if it were yesterday;

He had asked you to stroll with him by the waves, the same beach where he and Rin played as children, where the waves clashed onto their bare feet as they kicked the ball out and about.

When his steps took a sudden stop, turning to you as he took his hands in yours, fingers intertwining as he asked the golden question.

“(Name), It’s weird how you managed to creep yourself within my life.” he huffs as if he were annoyed—though really, how could he?

With clarity, he turns towards you. His expression, something you haven’t been able to read, was nothing short of what he usually showed—what greeted you was utter warmth.

His eyes, which’d been sharp and piercing, melts down to something more human—to someone in love.

“I’ve pushed everything and everyone away for the sake of my so-called dream.” he tinges, but even you could sense the bit of disgust as he says it; maybe he does regret what he’s become.

To think someone so closed off would be willing to open up to you of all people, and for that person to be Sae, the same man who’d been so sure he left the past behind; is nothing but a fool when it came to you.

His fingers brush against yours. Before you knew it, he delicately took your hands against his lips, treating your body like porcelain—like you’d crack with the softest of tension.

“But (name), I can never imagine doing that to you.”

A soft, chaste kiss presses against your knuckles. Your breath hitches, caught off guard. The flesh of your cheeks warm up a pretty pink. The sight of you only leaves him more array.

“Please, please,” he murmurs against your knuckles, nuzzling his cheek against the tender flesh, “be mine. And I’ll be yours, even if I can’t show it all the time.”

Words that once warmed you now left you confused. Did he really mean what he said then, or was he caught up in the moment? Surely, he had pure intentions.

Dinner is nothing but cold. Feeling heavy on your seat, the pasta stares back at you with mockery—the aroma of tomatoes and meatballs linger around the awkward silence.

“You forgot.” your voice cuts through the tension of the dinner table, eyes locked onto your meal, utensils playing around with the meatballs you prepared, especially for today, for him.

He didn’t seem to notice the sharp edge of your voice, not caring to glance at you as he responds, tone usually indifferent.

“I forgot.” he repeats. “I’m a busy person, (name).”

What seemed to be a wave of reality washes over you, the cold realization, where logic catches up with your heart.

This is what it’s like dating him, what it’s like dating the Sae Itoshi, Japan’s crown jewel, their prodigy—whether he wanted or not.

The same man who promised to be sure you felt nothing but loved, nowhere to be seen. Surely, he must be tired.

But then again, he doesn’t care to look your way.

Who sits in front of you isn’t the same man you fell in love with. All that remains is a tusk of a person, a soulless athlete who can’t snap out of his sick, cruel dream.

An athlete who can’t differentiate between reality and the field.

Such thoughts feel wrong. You’re being too cruel to him. Surely, he’s just tired. He’ll come around soon enough.

The first tick. Not only had he disregarded how special this day was to the both of you, he made no attempts to soothe you. No apologies, instead met with the coldness he shows in the field.

“I even..” your lips shift to a thin line, now taking back your words.

You don’t want another argument, especially if your words don’t affect him in the slightest.

Makes you question if they ever did, even.

“Nevermind.” you sigh, the utensils feel heavy on your hands, clutched.

Ever since, the both of you begin to drift further apart. Agonizingly slow, not either of you making the effort to call out the tension, because maybe, deep down, you hoped that for once, he’d make the first move.

But of course, deep down, a part of you knows that you’ve blurred out the truth, that you still had hope that he’d make up for everything—the poor communication, lack of affection and quality time when he’s finally free, when the world didn’t drop their heavy expectations on him.

How wrong you were.

The sound of the clock ticks ominously, a taunt and joke against your tired form; slouched on the couch, dolled up whilst mascara trails down your cheeks.

Everything around you felt like a mockery; the door you had been staring at with that stupid smile beforehand, the mirror you used to touch up your make-up, the cabinet with the heels you would’ve been wearing.

Now it only collects dust and instead brings bittersweet memories.

Your phone lays on the coffee table, how the last message you received from him was another one of his half-assed apologies. You didn’t bother to open the message.

Because you knew you’d just end up worse—a duality of ugly, murky anger to downright nasty sadness.

A hand tugs the roots of your scalp, momentary pain and silent curses all dedicated to the fool; you, for hoping.

Today was your birthday—the one day where he swore he cleared his schedule for, where he apparently made time for you. He even told you to get all pretty for him, that he’ll be picking you up in thirty.

It’s been an hour. You’d know that, knowing you’ve been staring at the clock for each minute you don’t hear your phone ringing.

And of course, he didn’t bother to text you back until five minutes ago—when you'd already readied up for him.

Sorry carino, something came up.

Your brows lower, lips that curl to a frown, etching your soft features as you digest the text, arrayed and confusion melting into something uglier.

I’ll make it up to you, k?

Words couldn’t describe how disappointed you were. Your throat closes, words that urge to spill, simply don’t.

You should understand, just swallow whatever emotion you had bubbling up your chest—you know the demands of being a pro, don’t you?

Despite logic, an overwhelming plethora of emotions that spurs you further, the beads of tears that rolled down your cheeks, your fists curled up against your strands.

Tugging on your ends, you hoped it’d help you. Whether it’s making you forget, that you’d direct your attention on the fleeting pain.

It doesn’t. Makes you feel worse, actually.

What results is your hair turning messier, smudged mascara that rolls down your cheeks, and most importantly, how the little confidence you had left dies down.

Slowly, the ugliness of your own emotions bleak beyond physical boundaries; you’ve slumped, your hair now disheveled on a daily basis along with the dark circles that kiss below.

Your curled up position, shivering, but now because of the cold, but because doubt consumed you whole—where his touch didn’t feel assuring, now devoid of the warmth it used to give you.

God, how’d you end up in such a mess? Was it your fault?

Nothing but some after-thought that only stayed on the back of his head.

A sharp pain presses at your lip, nibbling the flesh—the coppery taste of blood along with the chemicals of your lipstick; your form shrinks.

Your warmth, which you’re now losing, collides with the harsh coldness of the floor as both legs knit up together, pressed against your chest.

Feeling your frame tremble, you finally let yourself go—what could only be described as absolute heartbreak, the room echoes with the sick melody of your cries, nails digging against your scalp harshly.

Nothing but heartbreak seeps out—hatred for the false hope he had given you, the amount of times you’ve always tried justifying his actions.

But most of all, most importantly, how much you hated yourself; for how much this hurt—you were being selfish, weren’t you? Torn between hating and painfully understanding what he’s going through.

Being with someone like him, but rather the fact you believed that somehow, he’d change. Making a huge deal out of what? Stupid (name), crumbling to the pressure of dating a hot-shot athlete!

So now, who's really to blame?

Had been rotting at me ever since I was still in school. Real ones knowwww, I’ll write something new promise 🤞🤞do tell if u want p2, thx

[blessingsinwinter]

SHADOWS THAT LINGER, HANDS THAT STAY

.☘︎ ݁˖ syn : after a run-in with his father, kaiser pushes you away.. only to realise too late that you’ve been carrying the same kind of hurt alone

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ cws : angst, fluff, strained parental relationships, fem! reader | ft. michael kaiser

𓏲ּ𝄢 a/n .ᐟ i fricking LOVE this request. so much that i kinda got carried away and wrote more than usual. but this was such a good prompt hello??

MICHAEL KAISER ─

it happens fast. so fast you don't fully register the shift until it's already there, settling under your skin like something wrong.

one second kaiser is beside you, loose and familiar, his attention half on you and half on whatever he was saying, and the next, something in him tightens.

it's subtle at first: they way his shoulders go rigid mid-step, the way his jaw sets just slightly too hard, the way his eyes sharpen and fix somewhere past you like he's seeing something he wishes he wasn't.

you follow his gaze without thinking and that's when you notice him.

a man you've never seen before stands across the street, far enough away that it should feel like coincidence, except it doesn't.

there's something deliberate in the way he holds himself, in the way his attention is pinned so precisely on kaiser.

when he smiles, it's not friendly or even particularly expressive. it's small and knowing, just off enough to make your stomach twist.

beside you, kaiser goes completely still. he's quiet and tense ─ locked in place like something inside him has snapped into a defensive posture without his permission.

".. what?" you ask softly, nudging his arm in an attempt to ground him, to pull him back to you.

he doesn't respond. he doesn't even blink.

the man tilts his head slightly, his lips moving as if saying something out loud but you cannot quite catch what it was. kaiser does though.

you can tell by the way his expression shifts. it's slow and subtle. recognition settles first, followed by something sharper, something bitter and deeply rooted, and then disgust.

a quiet scoff slips past kaiser's lips, edged with something venomous. "pathetic," he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you.

your brows draw together, unease settling heavier in your chest. "kaiser..?"

but he's already moving. grabbing your wrist ─ too tight ─ and dragging you in the opposite direction without a second glance back.

you stumble slightly trying to keep up, your steps uneven as he drags you along.

"hey, wait.. slow down! what's going on?" you ask, your voice catching somewhere between concern and confusion.

"nothing," he snaps, the words immediate and clipped.

it’s not nothing. you can feel that much in the tension radiating off him, in the way his grip doesn’t loosen, in the way he refuses to look anywhere but straight ahead. something followed you from that moment and hasn’t quite let go.

you don’t push right away. you’ve learned, over time, that there are moments when kaiser is less a person you can reason with and more a live wire, ready to burn anything that gets too close.

still, the question slips out, softer this time, more careful. “…did you know him?”

the effect is immediate.

he stops so abruptly that you nearly run into him, your balance faltering before you manage to steady yourself. when he turns to you, whatever is sitting behind his eyes isn’t meant for you but it hits you anyway.

"why do you care?"

the words hit harder than you expect.

"i just ─" you start but he cuts you off.

“you always do this,” he scoffs, running a hand through his hair in a rough, frustrated motion. “prying. acting like you understand things you don’t.”

your chest tightens at that. “i’m not ─ i just wanted to help..”

"i don't need your help."

there’s something final in the way he says it. the space between you stretching, quiet and uncomfortable.

“.. okay,” you say after a moment, your voice softer now, more careful, as if speaking too loudly might make it worse. “i didn’t mean to ─”

“yeah, well, you did.”

and then he walks away. just like that.

leaving you standing there with your thoughts and that lingering, awful feeling in your chest.

you don’t see him for a while after that. not properly.

the distance that follows isn’t dramatic but it’s unmistakable.

he avoids you. not outright but enough. conversations cut short. texts left on read. that easy arrogance he wears so effortlessly now edged with something colder, something distant.

it would almost be easier if he avoided you completely. instead, he lingers just enough to remind you what’s missing.

and you let him. because you’ve seen that look before. not on him. but on someone else.

by the time he shows up at your door, it’s late enough that the world has quieted down.

you don’t expect it ─ the knock at your door, sharp and impatient. when you open it, kaiser is there. hands shoved in his pockets, expression unreadable, posture stiff in a way that doesn’t quite match his usual confidence.

for a moment, neither of you says anything, the quiet stretching between you, heavy with everything that hasn’t been said yet.

“.. what do you want?” you ask finally, your voice quieter than you intend but more guarded than you can help.

he flinches. it’s small. barely there. but you see it.

“i ─” he starts, then stops. jaw tightening. “i came to ─”

his gaze shifts past you, into your space, and whatever thought he had seems to fall apart mid-sentence.

“.. you live like this?” he mutters instead.

you frown slightly, confused, until you realise what he’s looking at.

the broken picture frame on your shelf. the one you never fixed.

the messages on your phone lighting up again. a name you never saved.

you move quickly, flipping it over before he can see more than he already has but it’s too late.

kaiser’s eyes narrow.

“.. who is that?”

“doesn’t matter,” you say, too fast.

“it does if they keep calling you like that.”

“it’s nothing, kaiser.”

“doesn’t look like nothing.”

his voice is sharp again but it’s different this time. not cutting at you. just.. searching.

“.. it’s my dad,” you admit finally, the words coming out quieter than you expect.

the silence that follows is heavy, settling into the space between you.

“.. he just calls sometimes,” you add, trying to brush it off. “i usually ignore it. it’s not a big deal.”

it is, and you both know it.

“.. he used to show up,” you say before you can stop yourself. “out of nowhere. ruin everything for a while and then disappear again like it was nothing.”

a quiet, bitter laugh leaves you. “.. guess some people don’t change.”

you don’t look at him when you say it. you don’t want to see whatever reaction he’s making, don’t want to watch the shift in his expression.

“.. why didn’t you tell me?” he asks after a moment.

you blink. the question catches you off guard and you glance up despite yourself.

“.. why would i?” you reply. “you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to hear about things like that.”

that lands hard. because it’s true.

kaiser exhales slowly. for once, he doesn’t have something sharp to say.

“.. he found me,” he mutters instead.

your head lifts. “what?”

“my dad,” he clarifies, voice low. “earlier. that guy you saw.”

oh.

“.. he likes doing that,” kaiser continues, his gaze dropping somewhere past your shoulder. "showing up just to remind me of things. like i'd forget.”

you don’t say anything. you just listen.

“he said some things,” kaiser adds, his jaw tightening again. “and i ─” he stops, the rest of the sentence catching somewhere on the way out. “.. i took it out on you.”

there it is, laid out plainly between you.

you shift slightly, arms crossing. not defensive, just.. holding yourself together.

“.. yeah,” you say softly.

another silence.

“.. i shouldn’t have,” he says.

it’s quiet and awkward but real in a way that matters.

“.. no,” you agree softly. “you shouldn’t have.”

kaiser nods once, accepting that without argument. he looks off-balance. like he’s standing somewhere unfamiliar without his usual footing.

“i don’t.." he starts, then exhales sharply. “i don’t know how to deal with that. with him.”

your expression softens slightly because you understand that feeling more than you’d like to.

“.. you don’t have to be good at it,” you tell him gently. “you just have to not hurt other people because of it.”

he winces. fair.

“.. right,” he mutters.

a beat passes. then, quieter

“.. does he still scare you?”

you blink. the question catches you off guard and you consider lying. but..

“.. yeah,” you admit.

kaiser nods, like he expected that answer, like it makes sense in a way he doesn’t need explained.

slowly and with a little hesitation, he reaches out. his hand hovers for a second before settling against yours. not tight or demanding. just there.

“.. next time,” he says, his voice steadier now, “don’t deal with it alone.”

you glance at him, something in your chest easing just slightly at the words.

“.. you didn’t,” you point out.

he exhales quietly. “.. well i’m trying now.”

it’s not perfect. nowhere near smooth. but it's kaiser.

“.. okay.” you hum, fingers curling around his, returning the contact.

kaiser’s shoulders loosen slightly, some of the tension finally leaving him.

he doesn’t pull his hand away even after the conversation fades out.

you shift slightly, glancing toward the dim room. "stay?”

he huffs quietly but there’s no resistance in it this time. “wasn’t planning on leaving.”

you smile, already moving to get comfortable, like this is routine and he hasn’t been distant for days.

he follows without thinking too much about it, dropping beside you, close enough that your shoulders touch.

for a second, he’s still a little stiff like he hasn’t fully let go of everything from earlier. then your hand finds his again and that’s all it takes.

his fingers lace with yours automatically, grip steady and familiar.

“.. next time,” he mutters, half into the quiet, “we don’t wait that long.”

you glance at him, softer now. “.. yeah.”

and the rest of the night was just quiet agreement and shared space. the kind of closeness that doesn’t need to be rebuilt, just returned to.

requests/asks are open! also feel free to chat or message me.

© blessingsinwinter ᥫ᭡ please don't copy, modify, translate or take any of my work.

[yumyumcherryy]

you wake up groggy, like you're fighting inner demons, and nagi’s still there—dead asleep, hair everywhere, drooling on your pillow. ewwie.

you groan, roll over, and that’s when he blinks awake, eyes hazy. “mornin’… you still dying?”

“yep.”

he nods solemnly. “unfortunate.” and then promptly disappears out the front door. you think that’s it—until ten minutes later, he comes back with a bag.

“i went to the store,” he mumbles, setting it down like it’s a peace offering.

you peek inside. and instantly sigh.

inside issss:

one pack of overnight pads (this hoe has no idea wtf that is but the nice lady at the store gave him the right ones)

one pack of tampons (“idk which hole but just in case”)

two chocolate bars

chips

an entire rotisserie chicken.

“a whole chicken, nagi?” he looks so unbothered. “protein.. you’re losing blood”

you just stare. “that’s… not how that works.” “it’s the thought that counts, angelll"

you can’t even argue anymore he looks way too proud of himself, standing there with his messy hair and half-open hoodie like he just conquered the battlefield.

then he sits down beside you and opens one of the chocolate bars, holding it up. “say aaa.” “nagi, i can literally feed myself—” “aaa >:x”

you sigh and take a bite as he smiles, pleased. “good girl.”

you glare, mid-chew. “you’re lucky i’m too tired to hit you.” “yeah, i know.” he grins, leans back, stretching his arms behind his head. “so what now? movies? nap? i can get a heating pad thingy if you want.”

you blink. “you even know what that is?” “not really..but i’ll google it.”

and he does. he actually goes to look it up, sitting there on the edge of the bed, muttering under his breath while scrolling like he’s researching rocket science.

he ends up wrapping your stomach with a warm water bottle inside your hoodie. it’s… questionable. but it’s sweet.

“feel better?” he asks, eyes soft now, the teasing fading into something almost tender.

you nod, leaning into his shoulder. “a little.” he hums, resting his chin on your head. “good. we’ll just keep doing nothing today then.”

and you do. you eat chicken at noon, chocolate at two, nap at three— and through all the cramps and chaos, nagi just… stays.

lazy, gentle, and very confused—but yours.

p.s: i remember when my ex got me a rotisserie chicken and turkey cuz i told him my tummy hurt 🥀 lwk hilarious lmao

[milkistoshi]

Imagine itoshi rin DYING because of the aftermath of your breakup. He’s definitely the biggest overthinker ever because he tries so hard to keep this unbothered idgaf mentality but deep down he does care!!! like

-

He's in AGONY over how much he misses you, but he's doing everything in his power to repress these unfamiliar disgusting feelings. On the outside, he acts like everything's perfectly fine, like it's all totally normal. But everyone around him can see right through the facade. He kicks the ball too hard, snapping at anyone who gets too close and gets ticked off a little too easily than normal. Like Otoya is laughing a little too much, Bachira is too happy today, and why is Isagi breathing so damn loud?. Whatever it is a "Shut the fuck up and play," comes flying out of his mouth, and poor Isagi is just like “I didn't do anything.. :( ."

It’s also the way his eyes flicker to his phone everytime he hears a ding, jogging over to see—expecting, hoping, for a message from you. But it’s never you. It’s always obviously someone else’s phone buzzing from across the room, and the team feels bad so now they’ve all collectively decided to keep their phones on silent whenever Rin’s around.

He’s also really trying not to check your social media accounts, really. He thinks social media is all fake and stupid, he never got the appeal until you forced him to create an instagram account ages ago. He’s buried with unread DMs from team group chats and endless dumb reels sent from the others (mainly from Bachira). But now? instagram has made its way onto his most viewed app because whenever he has the time, he constantly checks your account. One day he notices that the one specially dedicated highlight reel for him is now gone and he ignores that stinging pang in his heart because it’s definitely not a big deal.

But everytime he sees that purple ring glowing around your profile picture he is so very desperate to click on it and hopefully get a glimpse of what you’re up to. His thumb hovers—always so close, but never tapping. He wants to see, he wants to know what you’re doing but he knows you can see that he viewed your story so he never does. Because for some reason that stresses him out like no other, he doesn’t want you to think he ?? cares ?? so he scrolls past, pretending that he doesn’t care.

It’s actually gotten to the point where he considers making a finsta but that’s childish and stupid (he does it anyway). And you’re just like … who is this random person with no profile pic, 0 followers , 0 followings and 0 posts requesting to follow you??

Obviously you decline his request, rin doesn’t even know why he thought that would work in the first place so he opts to just stalking you on his main.

Again he sees that you’ve uploaded another story, his heart is beating—fast. His thumb hovers over your glowing profile picture and he mentally curses at himself because who gets this nervous looking at an instagram story? He feels so lukewarm.

Just this once, he tells himself. But the moment he finally clicks, instant regret floods in.

It’s a story of you, smiling so brightly, laughing with another stupid guy with a stupid love song, and a stupid love heart emoji. He should’ve known better to click. He should’ve kept pretending he didn’t care. But now, he can’t stop thinking about what he just saw and he knows it’s going to slowly eat him alive.