Fifty Darker Shades of EraserMic (Shades of EraserMic #2)

Wrap Me Up!

I just wanted to say, before going on, I'd like to thank everyone for humoring this little sequel! And thank you all for 2.8k reads on this! It warms my heart and makes me happy even one person viewed it! So thank you! Until we meet again ❤️

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Hizashi was an overthinker. A meticulous planner when it came to an event whether it was a small get together at their home, a date night out, or a birthday party. It was perhaps the one thing that he and Shouta had long since agreed upon when it came to getting things like special events under control. When it came to date nights they could be on the same wavelength. The same page with one another to leave no mistake of misunderstanding. He liked planning in advance with the assurance that he had the day free.

That he had the time dedicated to it. Whether big or small, he was always more than happy to be overthinking his plans and the circumstances surrounding them. It made it easier to try to keep a foresight in mind when he was making his plans when Shouta was right next to him. Giving inputs to their schedules or bringing up a forgotten appointment could have an impact. He liked to spend hours budgeting, planning, and making reservations. He knew it was merely the reassurance of having a schedule.

A step-by-step idea of how a day would flow. He'd never been strict over his schedule but to have a day planned out, hour by hour, was a comfort. It allowed him to power through a day confidently knowing what was coming next. Shouta liked to tease him that it was merely a secret power play on his part. A control issue of his but he truly didn't see it that way. Since he was young, he'd been very much interested in going with the flow. In having fun. However, sometimes it was better to have predictability.

To know what he had planned rather than dive into unpredictability. Better to know what was coming if he could plan it than to stumble blind into something. For years he'd had to deal with hearing it was a biproduct of his ADHD. That every squirm, fidget and tap of his foot was connected. His anxiety surrounding an unknown schedule to it or a sudden change to a familiar routine. And he had come to agree that it all was possible. He could agree that maybe it all did stem from a mental illness he had no control over.

He had always liked to think of it more as quirks to his personality. Small pieces that simply came together to make him who he was. That he was someone who loved to go with the flow while having a strict schedule now and again. That he liked to have and make timelines of events to follow a flow if need be. It was something he knew his husband appreciated from time to time. Something that he knew Shouta trusted him with. It was perhaps what made that very first time Shouta had used his capture weapon so impactful.

The very first time it had wrapped around him with that tight squeeze. Oh, he'd played it in his head repeatedly. Replaying the scene from the feel of that fabric biting into his waist and arms pining them to his sides. The way it had no give. Not a single way to wriggle free yet when he'd attempted it had merely squeezed him tighter. A grip that had left him with a flutter to his stomach. Squeezing the air out of him on a wheeze. Even the way he'd admired the black locks slithered to float up and the flare of glowing color.

The victorious smirk over Shouta's full lips paired with the wiggle of his jaw when he refocused his attention onto him. The way his brows had squeezed together with the flush of exertion. It had been a scene that kept him up for weeks afterwards. Night after night plagued by the mere snippets of that tight clothing binding him tightly with a bite into him that kept him still. Helpless. The glowing gaze that had kept him from howling out to use his quirk. It had been a scene he would replay endlessly.

Overthink for the smaller things about it all before Shouta had captured him. It had, of course, acted as a catalyst of sorts for his confession to the black-haired teen back then. A catalyst for the first wet dream he'd ever had about Shouta. It had led to a realization for many things about those days he liked to think over. How he had, back then, tended to overthink every interaction between them. Overthink the eye contact, the smiles, the brief touches or how the black-haired teen's arms would shoot out to catch him if he stumbled.