Hanamiya… ABO… thing?

The good news is, my creativity has somewhat come back, in the form of me spending the entire first half of the day furiously writing.
The bad news is, it came back in the form of, uh, this. Which is a Hanamiya x reader weird short set in an omegaverse au. It’s not technically smut, but I wouldn’t call it SFW, either.
I suppose it’s more on the angst/comfort scale, with a lot of sexual tension. I know I’m not selling this well, but I’m still trying to get over the fact that my brain handed me an omegaverse story and that I just went and wrote it.

Word count: 2320
!alpha Hanamiya x !omega reader
Heat dynamics, Angst, Fear, Comfort, Sexual Tension, Thinly Veiled Rape Threats (no actual violence, sexual or otherwise)

You sit in the back of the tiny uni classroom, trying your best to hide.
“Please just come and get me,” you whisper into your phone.

Your boyfriend grunts, barely audible over the sound of people talking and some beat playing in the background.
“Babe, I’m busy.”

Frustration settles into hurt, but you try to keep your voice level.
“Listen, I’m about to go in heat and I need you. I locked myself in a friggin classroom and I don’t know if I’ll make it to my apartment alive if you don’t come over.”

“Then why the hell did you go out?” he sighs, and his words cut like steel. “You should have just stayed home.”

“I had classes,” you say, voice going high with a mixture of anger and pain. “It came up a lot faster than I expected.”

“It always happens faster than you expected,” your boyfriend grumbles, “you always do this. You don’t think it’s gonna happen, because you don’t fucking think. You’re always trying to do things you shouldn’t be doing.”

“Well excuse me for trying to lead an actual life,” you growl.
Before you can say anything else, however, the call clicks off.
You call back. No answer.
Panic rises in your throat and you’re left to stare at your phone, numbly watching the animation of a call failing to be connected. You realise that he’s left you hanging, but it takes a few seconds before it fully sinks in.
You’re alone.
He left you to deal with this by yourself.

You shift and focus on your breathing as you feel a first wave of heat hit you. It runs a shiver down your skin, electricity racing from the top of your head all the way to the ends of your fingers and toes. You clench your abdominal muscles, stifling a low moan.

It is pure, unfiltered desire coursing through you and it is an absolute bitch right now.
You’re pretty sure you can sense a group of people gathering, just outside the door. You’re hoping it’s just your fevered imagination but experience, science even, says otherwise.  Your body, treacherous thing it is, is giving off a sweet, wanton sort of scent, a desperate plea for attention that makes people around you stand to attention.
It speaks of untapped potential, of willingness, submissiveness and in any alpha near you it leads to a hunger that’s hard to fight against.
Whoever came up with this biological marvel was an asshole, you think. You take a breath to compose yourself and spray deodorant in front of you in an effort to at least mask some of your scent it.
It’s useless, probably, but what else can you do. You already know it’s gonna get a lot worse before it gets better, and unless you can find release, you’re basically stuck here all night.

“You alright in there?”
Someone tries the door handle. Thank god for locks.
“Go away, I’m fine!”
“You sure about that?” It’s a second voice, and it sounds leery.
“Get the fuck away!”
You briefly ponder calling your parents. Never mind that they’re in Osaka and you’re studying in Tokyo. How long would it take them to get here? A few hours? Do you even have that long?
Clicking around your phone, you search for something like a help line for desperate omegas. An intervention team for people in heat. Surely something like that exists.

The sounds of a disturbance by the door take your attention away from googling.
You hear a shuffle, and a curse, the kind of aggression that doesn’t bode well.
And then, in the silence that follows: a click.
Someone picked the god damn lock.
You look around for an escape, a closet to hide in, a window to jump out of, even if it’s three stories down.
But your body is far from done betraying you. You freeze, left to sit on a table near the back wall, as the door slowly opens.

You can smell him, long before you see him. A cloud of scent that proclaims, without hesitance, that he owns the place.
It smells of power, of danger, of arrogance.
It smells like trouble and your body responds by aching for it. A thrill sparks through your veins and you clench once more, biting your lip.
Then the last person you want to see walks through the door, sporting a dark smirk and trailing a cloud of dominance.


You’re lost in a maelstrom of hormones, flitting between desire and fear. You know, you are almost certain, that he’ll hurt you if he comes close, and still part of you yearns for it, every back-stabbing hormone in your body screaming to be fucked, no matter the cost.
The more lucid part of you grips the hard wood of the table and scoots back against the cool wall. If you could only lose some of the heat radiating off you, you might be able to think.

With an icy calm Hanamiya closes the door behind him and locks it again, pushing back anyone who still dares linger in the hallway, in that stifling cloud of authority.

You swallow hard, sweat gathering in the dip of your sternum, a drop racing down the middle of your chest.

He crosses the room like a villain boarding a conquered ship, long strides taking him right in front of the table, where he stops. Eyes the colour of milk coffee look down at you, taking in the flush of your cheeks, the twitch in your legs, the sheer desperation in your scent.
His lips curl into a dangerous smile.
“Well, well, __-san. Aren’t you in trouble?”

You try to speak but the words die in your throat as he bends down, one hand resting on table next to you.

“They say it’s dangerous for little omega’s to go out when they’re in heat. Makes people crazy, you see.”

You press yourself against the wall, lips involuntarily parting.

“And that deadbeat boyfriend of yours? I saw him maybe half an hour ago. Going off to some party.”

A knot forms in your chest.
It feels like a lie. The kind of cruel thing Hanamiya would say to get a rise out of you.
But you’re fairly certain it’s true, and that hurts all the more.

“Your alpha’s not coming to help you, is he?” Hanamiya says, voice deep with mock pity. “He abandoned you.”

You shake your head, desperate to protest.

“Pathetic,” he says, looking down his nose at you.
He stills for a moment, apparently savouring the way you squirm and struggle to hold yourself together before him.
“It’s a pity, isn’t it,” he finally murmurs. “Such a sweet smell too. There’s a group of people outside just bucking to take care of you.”

You grip the desk harder, shaking your head vehemently as a cold dread grips you.

Hanamiya’s face folds into something akin to amusement and he reaches out a hand. Slowly, he brushes a stray lock of hair from your cheek, a touch that, despite the fear, despite the panic, runs a shiver of pleasure through you.
His eyes twinkle with mischievous joy as he continues, his finger tracking the edge of your jaw from your ear down to your chin.

It takes everything in you to stifle a mewl, your eyelashes fluttering as you grip the desk harder.
You want to wrap your legs around him. You want to cling on and beg him to fuck you, devour you whole if he needs to.
Much as you hate the thought, your skin crackles with a need to be touched and he knows.
God, does he know. You can see it in the burning of his eyes, the darkness of his smile.

“If only there was some other way,” he coos, pinching your chin between his fingers. “Shall I do you a favour, __? Shall I relieve you of this little problem of yours, hmmm? If you beg, I just might.”
He pushes your chin up, eyes boring into yours as he leans closer.

You force yourself to look away, focussing instead on the way his hair falls off his shoulders when he leans forward, black silk draping down, and you try to find your voice.
When it finally comes, it’s in the form of a desiccated whimper.
“Please,” you whisper, and your throat contracts around the word, impossibly dry.

“Oh?“ he hums, lowering his eyes to look at you almost fondly. “Could you repeat that? I didn’t quite catch it.”

You swallow and try again.
“Please don’t,” you croak.

His eyebrows knit together and his tongue clicks, any semblance of warmth gone from his face in an instant.
With a sigh, he pushes off of the table and rights himself, hands casually shoved in his pockets.
“Stubborn little thing.”
He turns his back and starts to walk out while you gulp air like a shipwrecked sailor washing up on the shore.
“Hanamiya, wait!”
You’re not sure what compels you to ask him, of all people, to help you. Perhaps it’s because in the two years since you started university , you have come to admire his intelligence, if not his attitude.
Perhaps you are desperate, in that moment, to believe that he could at least be bargained with or perhaps it’s simply because he isn’t actively trying to rape you and you’re at the point where you consider that a good sign.
Whatever it is, you can only try, and hope.
“Please, Hanamiya, I…”

He turns around, curious.
“You what?”

You slump.
“I don’t know what to do,” you mutter.
The sheer amount of emotions and chemicals fighting inside of you are taking their toll, and the energy it took to keep yourself together is running dry.
“I don’t know what to do,” you repeat, and the way he looks at you makes any hope you had pack up and flee.
“My heat just keeps coming,” you say, pushing through your distress. “For normal people it’s every three months, just a few days, but with me it’s non-stop.”

Cold clay eyes regard you, and Hanamiya’s face folds into something like disgust.

It’s not enough to silence you, however, the words that have taken so long to get through your throat are turning into a stream, a geyser laid dormant too long.
“No matter how many suppressors I take, no matter what my boyfriend does,” you babble, unhindered by the fact that Hanamiya could probably not care less. “I know I’m supposed to just stay home but I don’t want to live my entire life indoors like some caged bird, so you can call me stupid for coming out here when it’s dangerous but apparently that’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’ve been fighting this shit for so long, and I’m so tired and if I can just make it home, I could…”
You don’t know when the tears started, but they’re very definitely here now, stinging your eyes and adding to the humiliation of whatever spectacle you’re already making of yourself.
Frustrated, you wipe at them with clammy fingers.
“I just…”

“God, stop whining already.”
Hanamiya folds his arms and rolls his eyes. “You’re a mess, I get it.”
He takes a step closer and, without warning, slides his fingers in your hair.
You gasp at the rough treatment, but he pays it no mind, pulling your head to the side without a word.
Then he licks his thumb and dabs it on your pressure point.

“W-what are you doing?” you squeak, startled.
The air around you has changed, a musky scent overpowering everything else in the room.
It’s not unpleasant, but it’s confusing, adding to the whirlwind of smells and emotions already raging around you until it mixes and turns into something else, something almost soothing.

“I’m claiming you,” Hanamiya says, simply, pushing your head up again.
“Putting a big old ‘property of Hanamiya Makoto’ sign on you that no one in their right mind is going to ignore.”
He grins at your shocked face, his voice dropping a tone as he brings his face closer to yours.
“You’re mine.”

Pure adrenaline courses through your veins and you blink up, trying to make sense of it.
His hand in your hair causes static electricity all over your scalp, making it hard to think. You’re a whirling sea, battered by storms but you manage, somehow, to speak.
“I’m not.”

He lets go of your head with a dark chuckle.
“My, you’re high maintenance. No wonder your boyfriend gave up on you.”
You give him a hurt look, but he ignores it, instead reaching into his jacket pocket.
“Make no mistake, __-chan. I don’t do favours without cashing them in. You will be required to pay me back.”
He pulls out a small spray can and hands it to you.
“That scent mark will last for about half an hour. You’d better start running.”

Blatantly confused now, you look at the can in your hand. Pepper spray.
“And this?” you ask.

“That’s for if you don’t run fast enough.“
He grins and turns again. Walking toward the door.

“Uh… thanks,” you say.

“Just remember that you owe me.”
And with that, he opens the door and strides out, not looking back. In the open doorway, you can see the dark figures of a few stragglers, still lingering in the hallway.

With a deep breath, you slide off the table and onto wobbly feet. You take a moment to find your balance, and then you grab your bag and secure it around your shoulder, trying your best to stay upright and exude confidence.
You clutch the pepper spray in your hand and mentally brace yourself before you finally take a step toward the door.
The alpha’s outside lean back as you approach, and you rigidly pass by them, feeling like a deer surrounded by wolves.
Swallowing hard, you keep walking, slowly, deliberately, down the hallway, until you round a corner.

Then you break into a run.


The Aomine now exists

fanfic alert!
I have finally, finally finished (half of) the Aomine fic that I started two years ago (when the KnB fandom was already dying).


Originally posted by kaworubunga-surfs-up-shinji-kun

So if anyone is still into that sort of thing, now is the time!
This is a medium burn reader insert following the meandering path to romance with a boy as dense and arrogant as our favourite blue haired ace.

Big thanks and dedication to @thekuroiookami for finally kicking my ass into gear and getting me to sit down and finish this.

How about gom (maybe plus kagami?) reaction to finding their s/o who suddenly turned back into a child?? Maybe a short drabble about what they will do and stuff? Is this weird hahahaha


Characloud, this ask is the best, it’s not weird at all. You have unleashed a monster. Hope you enjoy this as much as I did.

Note: The s/o is self aware i.e. they have a child’s body, but an adult’s memories.


When you looked back on this someday, you would classify
this as the most surreal experience of your life. It wasn’t going to get much
stranger than you as a child and Akashi in partial disguise, pretending to be
related so you could rob an antiques shop. Maybe it was all a fever dream.

Akashi’s eyes glinted behind metal-rimmed glasses as he
tilted his head to look at you. “Are you prepared for this?”

You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders. “As much
as I’ll ever be to commit thievery.”

You caught a glimpse of a fleeting smile before he opened
the door and walked in. The shopkeeper looked up as the bell tinkled and smiled
at the impending vision of profitable sales. You followed Akashi as he strode
over to the desk, taking in the sight of weird and wonderful knick-knacks. The
lady behind the counter seemed even happier when Akashi’s expensive watched
flashed in the light.

“Good afternoon,” he intoned smoothly, “I wonder if you
could show me any interesting pieces of jewellery. I’m looking for a gift.”

“For your wife, I presume?” She pulled out a tray of rings
and bracelets. “Is the little one in on the secret as well?”

You peeked out from behind Akashi’s leg, ducking your head
shyly. He chuckled and lifted you into his arms so you could examine the trinkets.
“What do you think, sweetheart?”

You leaned forward, gazing intently and then shook your
head. “These aren’t right. Hmm…What about that one? It’s pretty.”

Lees verder

That’s plenty specific, thanks 🙂 I hope you like them!

  • Ok but for starters:
    Kise in the most fashionable ugly christmas sweater you’ve ever
    seen. He looks good. Really good. Even with the smiling reindeer on
    his chest. No idea how he does it.
  • There are at least
    three blankets around Kise and his s/o as they’re cuddled up on the
    couch. There is eggnog, cookies and KFC. And a box of tissues, in
    case either tears up at The Snowman (it’s probably Kise).
  • When the power cuts
    out, halfway through Home Alone, both of them sit there in the dark
    in quiet shock for a few seconds before s/o starts freaking out.
  • The blankets, while
    warm, are not great in a situation like this. Kise struggles to get
    out of his cocoon, not helped by the panicked flailing of his
    beloved. His first instinct is to calm them down, rubbing their back
    and reassuring them that he will figure out what’s going on.
  • He will ask s/o to
    come with him to investigate. Not because he’s afraid of the dark, oh no, but so they’re not alone in the living
    room. Grabs their hand and does not let go.
  • Will use cell phone
    to light his way to the utility closet.
  • Kise does not know
    the first thing about electrical boxes. He just sort of squints at
    it and pouts.
  • Googles ‘electrical
    box’ on his phone.
  • Somewhere in all
    this, Kise has entered Serious Mode. You can tell because his eyes
    have gone a shade darker.
  • If it is determined that the power cut cannot be fixed with the
    switches inside the house, the both of them shuffle to the front window
    to see if it’s a street wide problem.
  • Kise calls the power
    company, voice like syrup, to see when power will come back.
  • It’s a black-out.
    “This calls for candles!” He’s visibly excited by the prospect, not in the least because he owns a mass of tealights and scented candles that his sisters keep giving him.
  • By the time he’s
    grabbed them from his bedroom and lighted them in the living room,
    the power comes back on.
  • *pout*
  • Compromises by
    watching the rest of the movies by candlelight, leaving the hallway
    light on to reassure s/o.
  • “Am I your knight in shining armour now?”


Happy Christmas to you too!
Well this got out of hand.


  • I’ve
    seen this mentioned before, but I really like the thought: Aomine
    being a champion of women’s rights because he has seen how Momoi is
    treated, or even harassed, for the way she looks.
  • When
    they go shopping together, ostensibly for shoes for him, Momoi will
    sometimes have him help her pick outfits. The trick is knowing the
    difference between “Whatever” and “Are you really gonna wear
    that? Whatever.” The first one means it looks good.
  • Momoi
    and Aomine study together and she’s the only reason he even makes it
    through the year. His grades are still awful though, because he
    honestly does not care.
  • Momoi
    has been playing basketball with Aomine since she was little and
    she’s actually really good. If she were in a ‘normal’ team, she’d
    probably be an ace. She just doesn’t know it, because the only
    people she plays with are the Generation of Miracles, and they make
    anyone look like an amateur.


  • While
    these two have always cared for each other, it takes them a long
    time to even consider the possibility of being romantic. Daichan is
    more like Momoi’s brother, and Aomine never even considers Satsuki
    in a romantic way until Imayoshi points put that they’d probably be
    good together. It’s a sentiment several of the Miracles have felt at
    some point or other, but they, at least, were diplomatic enough not
    to comment. Imayoshi does not have these qualms.
  • There’s
    this really awkward phase for a while, where Aomine’s mind starts
    wrapping around the thought of Satsuki as a woman. It involves much
    blushing because holy crap she’s exactly his type.
  • At
    first Aomine tries to pull away from her. If she comes to wake him
    up on the roof, instead of whining, he’ll freak the fuck out. The
    gears in his head are still slowly adjusting to the new situation
    and he is Not Ready.
  • This
    confuses the hell out of Momoi, who complains to her female friends
    about how he’s so mean and why is he not more like Kuroko. Her
    friends patiently, ever so patiently
    sit her down to talk about her unreturned crush. “You’re telling
    me you like him because he gave you a free popsicle? Didn’t Aomine
    get you that teddybear once?” Ahh, but Daichan doesn’t count.
  • It
    comes to a head when the Miracles have one of their joint
    street games and Aomine just reacts very weirdly to Momoi trying to
    steal the ball from him. Finally Kise (because of course it’s Kise)
    just goes up and is all ‘What’s up with you Aominecchi, are you in
    lurrve with – ACK’. He gets a ball to the face.
  • Aomine
    finally sits her down that night to explain the situation. It takes
    Momoi a few more weeks to answer him.
  • Once
    they’ve finally made the decision, though, it feels natural. Like
    they’re still best friends, only now there’s kissing.


  • Aomine
    loves, loves, LOVES watching movies or napping while draped over
    Momoi. More often than not he’ll try to nuzzle her chest. This boy
    is so happy that he finally has a set of boobs to play with.
  • Momoi absent-mindedly running her fingers through his hair while reading
    when they’re on the couch like that.
  • Aomine
    is – by far – the better cook, but he makes a terrible mess.
    After a few fights about this, they come to the agreement that he
    cooks, she cleans, and he has to promise to at least try to limit
    the amount of sauce on the ceiling. They eat out a lot though.
  • Aomine
    remembers Momoi’s birthday, but he’s terrible at gift giving.
    Momoi makes sure to text her wish list to Kuroko, Kagami, Kise and
    even Sakurai several weeks in advance of any event, because she
    knows he’ll ask a friend for inspiration.
  • Momoi
    knows Aomine is a man of simple tastes, so she just gets
    him new shoes or a game or something. He’s fine with this.
  • Momoi
    is confident enough to not get anxious about his love for gravure
    magazines but she refuses to buy them for him. He’ll just have to
    get those himself.
  • Aomine
    goes for morning runs and Momoi makes sure there’s hot coffee or tea
    waiting when he gets back. This gives him such a feeling of well-being that the
    tips of his ears go red.
  • When
    Momoi has a lot of work, he will do his best to return the favour.
    She’ll walk into the kitchen and there’s a random batch of cherries
    in the fridge, or dinner is cooked and the counter has been –
    badly – wiped. None of this is ever spoke of.

even though I’m in my mid 20’s). I’m very passionate at the ONE thing
I’m interested in (one interest at a time), I’m too perceptive
sometimes to the point of being cynical and untrusting. Despite my
childlike tendencies I’m a deep person and thinks and feels maturely.
I think a lot about philosophical ideas. I get hurt or bothered too
easily even if the words spoken aren’t even meant to be negative.
Very irritable and moody and most of the time gets really annoyed
when things don’t go my way. Stubborn. Gets cold and distant when
angry or not in the mood. Very low self-esteem, socially awkward and
lacking in the communication department (I can’t maintain a
conversation apart from the basic greetings!), I’m a loner, quiet (I
can for days without talking to anyone and it doesn’t bother me),
likes to have my personal space without being bothered or demanded of
my time or company, although when it’s a festive mood or I’M in the
mood I’m really talkative if it’s someone I’m comfortable with
(family, friends). I’m cowardly and doesn’t want to step out of my
comfort zone; avoids fears and confrontations as much as possible by
escaping realities (I drown myself in my favorite anime), worrier.
Dramatic. I’m single-minded to the point of being obsessed; I can
only be interested in one thing at a time but when I am, that’s the
only thing I ever think about. But I have short attention span so I
get swayed easily so my loyalty changes as well. My behavior towards
people totally depends on their attitude. If someone is nice I tend
to be much nicer and totally under their command, but if they do
something negative to me or even to other people, the positive
feelings I have are totally negated and even though they weren’t even
being mean to ME I tend to show my bad side to them (I stop talking
to them, glaring). Too much pride, I don’t like people to see my
crying or being hurt, I don’t apologize first (if I even). I hold
grudges, although I don’t tell people what my problem with them is.
They see me being angry, but they can’t tell why. Always appear to
have a no-care attitude and absorbed in my own world, but deep inside
I care a lot (deep inside, but I barely let those caring feelings
out). I like someone who shares my interests, someone who can
understand me deeply. I don’t like judgmental, arrogant, unfair
people. My hobbies are reading, writing, watching anime and horror
movies, sleeping, daydreaming, surfing the net, and listening to
music. I grew up being a ‘child’ all the time so it’s already my
nature (like I can literally roll or lay sprawled on the ground or
jump around the house and it’s an everyday normal thing for me, I
speak babyishly, too – except when I’m outside or with people I
don’t know), but everyone in the family and relatives know I’m a
baby. I’m very simple, conservative, and reserved. I don’t have
interests in girly things like make-up, dresses, fashion, bags,
shoes. I’m an otaku and my interests are anime and writing,
J/K-pop,collecting manga and action figures of my fave anime.

This may sound weird at first, but I think you would make a
great couple with Takao Kazunari!

is, canonically, good with children and we’ve seen that the man would
have infinite patience with your more tsundere tendencies. That stuff
slides off him like water off a good natured duck. He also has no problems with your
obsessive personality, going with the flow of whatever your latest
hobby is. In return, he’ll want you to come watch him, as well.
He likes that you’re spontaneous and make him feel all
responsible, because despite his boisterous personality, he kinda
wants to be a protector. His first instinct would probably be to act
as a buffer for you in social situations, just breaking the tension
with a well place, if stupid, joke. What I get from your description
is that you’re very hard on yourself and he’s emphatic enough to see
that as well. So while he makes little jabs at your expense (he can’t
help himself, really), he will also, almost incessantly, try to build
you up with little silly (or serious) compliments, and he’ll coax you
to try new, fun things, always with him by your side, of course.


For Takao, a perfect evening involves weirdness. Especially if you’re
just having a night in. Since you started dating him, he’s made you
watch ‘The Lift’, a horror movie about a demonic elevator, ‘Sint’,
about a demonic santa, ‘Tokyo Gore Police’, ‘Birdemic’ and every
instance of ‘Troll’ he could find (He wouldn’t stop laughing at the
“They’re eating him, oh my god” scene and you legit thought you’d
lost him for a second there. It was the scariest part of the whole
This evening, he walks into your house with some snacks
and an excited gleam in his eyes.
“Look!” he says, “I
finally found it! It’s a classic!”
What it is, is ‘Manos, the
hands of Fate’, supposedly the worst horror movie ever made, and you
have no idea how he managed to get his hands on what looks like a
legitimate dvd of the film. He spends the evening cuddled on the
couch with you, giggling and occasionally trying to scare you, since
the movie isn’t doing a good job on this front. Once it’s done, he lets you pick the next one, so you can get some actual

And another one

Last week I promised that
more filth was coming, so here it is.

NSFW under the cut to protect the innocent.

ever work on something and the whole time you’re like ‘what the heck
am I doing?’. This is that something for me. It’s the lewdest thing
I’ve ever written (…so far). It has dom Kise and bondage and
humiliation and did I mention dom Kise? I don’t even know, man.

I really like the idea of
Kise having two sides to him, and this story pretty much pits manga
Kise (cold, distant, dead serious) against anime Kise (entirely too enthusiastic)
in the type of bondage scenario I can get behind (holy shit healthy

Ungendered reader

Shades of gold

The ribbon, bright pink
and silky, dug into the back of your neck, not enough to hurt, but
very obviously present as you sat on your knees on the white fluffy
carpet in your living room. It came down into a tie at your front
where it spread out in a series of knots that Kise, after watching a
tutorial only once, had expertly worked open into diamond shapes with
cords looping from your back and crossing in front before reaching
around again. It created the effect of a very elaborate skintight
cage, a bright flash of lines against your skin.
In the mirror
Kise had placed in front of you, it was undeniably beautiful, even as
it started to squeeze patterns in the softer parts of your flesh.