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madamechrissy · 4 months ago

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Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- his chap, mentions of sex/getting turned on, Gojo being an ass tbh, welcome back Jock Sukuna and say hi to bitchy model Samantha lol, some angst and mutual pining, lots of feelings

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazinggg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙

<<<Part One - Playlist - Masterlist - Part Three>>>

Part Two

Your POV

It was odd, being back in your hometown after years of living on your own, but when your family needed help with their bar, and with student loans piling up - teaching did not pay very well - you couldn’t help but come back home for a bit. The shifts at the hometown bar helped, and staying with your parents for just a few months was definitely a life saver.

It’s not exactly where you saw yourself, teaching lay offs all over, now you have a preschool class here and you love it, but it’s definitely not enough to cover everything. You feel so… just upset, that you’re back here at your first job, grabbing beers for familiar faces, people who never left their hometown, and some that have, but came back like you did.

Despite it being Spring, it was freezing where you lived, some cold spurt that brought on snow in March, so many of the town were curling up by the roaring fire, bundled up laughing and drinking to stay warm. The bar had quite a cozy atmosphere, it reminded you of home, truly, you grew up here, from bussing tables and cleaning to serving drinks.

“Hey love, you look amazing.” You see Suguru and Shoko then, Shoko has a cigarette between her fingers, a familiar smile that makes you beam, as you come out from behind the bar, hugging them both.

“I missed you two oh goodness!” You receive a kiss on each cheek from them, as you hug them together.

“We heard you were back in town, how have you been?” Suguru asks softly, you sigh a bit, peering up at the tall man.

“I can’t believe I’m back here. Layoffs.” They frown then. “I heard you all run a whole dentist office!?”

“Sugu is a hot dentist.” Shoko teases, and he smirks a bit.

“Shoko runs the clinic attached to it. She outranks me.”

“Always.” You laugh with the two of them, hands on their shoulders now.

“I’m so proud of you two, what? Doctors, I can't believe that.”

“Hey now, teaching is important.” Shoko brushes your hair back softly, earning your flushed cheeks at her praise.

“They definitely don’t make enough.” Suguru says, earning your sigh.

“You’re telling me. Let me get you all drinks!” You eagerly bounce back, mixing them up drinks, Shoko loves a lemon drop from what you remember, and Suguru always enjoyed a rum and coke.

“You remember!” Shoko winks as you hand her the pretty drink, garnishing it with a little lemon swirl and grinning. The noise of the bar fills your ears, as you lean across the polished bar table, glinting under the soft lights overhead.

“Of course I remember. Gosh, it’s been four years since I’ve seen you all I think.” You all start catching up, but of course it starts to get busier, and you begin to take care of all the customers as Suguru and Shoko start tossing darts at the black and red circled board.

You smile at them, they’d always been the perfect couple, making that longing fill you too much. You fully expected to be married with kids by now, sure it was quite a homey little dream, that white picket fence, maybe two kids and some cute golden retriever, but that’s what you always dreamed of. Unfortunately, your bad taste and men did not end in high school.

“Speak of the devil…” You murmur nervously, when you see him, Ryomen Sukuna looking just as good if not better than high school, he still wears his damn letterman’s jacket from college, where he’d become an all star player, you hear now he’s even going pro.

What’s he doing back home?

He grins over now, red eyes sharp as ever, and you fully anticipate him bothering you, saying something pervy, as he walks across the crowded bar, stopping to talk to almost everyone, he was quite a name here. The only person more famous from your little town - there is a population of fourteen thousand and perhaps four stop lights- was Satoru Gojo.

You’d seen him on the damn cat walk, recently he was on the cover of Vogue, him and some other really famous model, this little smirk on his face that just doesn’t fit the boy you knew. If you thought he was cut before, his body was damn near godly, so perfect it was intimidating, and he’d only gotten prettier, not that Satoru wasn’t always so pretty.

He just didn’t know it then.

You think of him sometimes, hurt initially back when summer break hit after high school, and he refused all your calls, he refused to see or talk to anyone when you all lived so fucking close. You tried everything you could, feeling awful because it was your party and you didn’t know, could you have done more? Could you have shoved everyone out?

You were fully planning to if he’d just given you a moment. Your yearbook to this day is something you cherish, and reading his sweet words over and over, he’d taken over an entire page, with words of love you’ve never felt before. But to say it was all ‘a joke’ and leaving, never accepting a friend request, shit he didn’t even talk to Suguru or Shoko, his other best friends.

Satoru never spoke of his hometown in interviews, and when you saw his mom recently, you learned he’s never come home. You know things were hard on him, brutal even, but you wish he knew just how much you loved him, cared for him, sure it was more of a beautiful friendship, but you also were attracted to him, though you were scared to ruin that friendship.

If he just gave you a damn moment.

A friendship you built your entire life demolished, and you miss him even now, you miss the quiet mornings you two would study at the library, you miss the cup of coffee he’d have for you every morning. You missed the little sleepovers, playing pokemon games together, battling it out on the Wii, the amount of things the two of you shared, gone in a moment.

Sukuna leans across the bar, shaking you out of your reverie, his familiar, arrogant smirk just a little softer as his ruby eyes drape down your body, you’re just in some jeans and a polo, nothing too sexy for the family bar here. But he seems to take pleasure in every slow inch, murmuring your name.

“Look at you, even hotter than high school, shit.” You heat up a bit under his gaze, tilting your head and running your hand across your neck.

“Thank you, Sukuna. You look good too.” You earn his wide grin, as he swipes a hand through his pink hair, snowflakes melting just a bit as he leans his hip against the bar now.

“I’ve wondered how you were doing, aren’t you a teacher?”

“I am, but… layoffs.” Sukuna frowns a bit. “I’m teaching preschool here for now, but it’s…”

“They don’t pay shit.” On this, everyone agrees,

“Mmhmm, but it’s my passion. So here I am, working the student loans off.” You wink at him, and he softens then, resting his elbow on the bar, a hand in his chin.

“So pretty you shouldn’t be working.”

“Oh… no. Not at all.” You clear your throat, something is so different about him, he’s not the asshole you remember, or so it seems. “But just temporary, I’m finishing up a couple classes to teach higher education.”

“You always were smart, you’ll do well.”

“Oh… thank you, Sukuna.”

“Used to call me Kuna you know.” You giggle now, easing a bit, even under his gaze, which keeps darting down your body. “God you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Say that to the freshman fifteen that never left.” Sukuna chuckles then, when you turn and bend over, grabbing a beer.

“Went to your nice ass-”

“Sukuna!” You glare behind yourself, and he’s chuckling. “Here I was thinking you were all sweet.”

“I am sweet, thank you. Shit I’d love to catch up sometime?” You hand him his beer, sighing then.

“I don’t know…”

“Lunch or something?”

Satoru’s POV

Satoru’s stepping into the bustling bar with the most annoying model ever, cock hungry too, who’s clinging to his arm, looking at the little bar in disgust, while he eyes the familiar surroundings. He scoffs as he sees Sukuna’s letterman jacket, so pretentious really, and eyes everyone around, surely… your parents still run this place, he wonders, do you ever come visit?

“It’s so… quaint.” Comes Samantha’s voice next to him, running her fingers along the dusty bar, grimacing, she’s as tall as Satoru in her heels, perhaps one of the few women who he doesn’t tower over. All models were pretty tall, but typically he still had a couple inches, but Samantha was the best in her field, and maybe longer legs than Satoru Gojo himself.

“Yeah, I guess compared to LA.” He murmurs, the surroundings oddly comforting, despite how much he thought he’d hate it here. Something about shivering in the cold and then coming to this warm, bustling bar was…

Homey.

It gnaws at him, as people recognize him, and they begin to all come up, many who used to pick on him. He clings to that pretty model of his tighter, putting on a bright grin and lowering his black Gucci shades, the two of them are decked out in Saint Laurent and looking like a million bucks. Even in public, you had to make sure you were dressed to kill.

“Holy shit…” Satoru sees Suguru and Shoko then, their mouths drop as they come up to him. He's spoken to them a little here and there, but overwhelmingly has not said much since college was over. “Look at you two!”

“Look at you, all preening like a peacock.” Shoko rolls her dark eyes, sipping on a drink as she assesses him and his ‘girl’ who is clinging to him, laughing far too fake to ever be taken for as genuine, grating on his nerves.

“How cute, townies!” Samantha says, tossing blonde hair back, and Satoru scowls over at her.

“Who’s the snob?” Suguru asks boldly, making her gasp as Satoru’s muffling his laughter.

“Be nice.” Satoru warns, hands in the pockets of his red dress pants, a ruby so bright and bold it’s ridiculous for a place where people wear jeans and flannels.

“They’re not nice, Gojo. I don’t like it here!” She’s stomping her feet, and Satoru sighs, shaking his head.

“Go get a drink, hmm?” He turns her and smacks her ass, she cringes then.

“Myself!?”

“Become immersed in the small town, it’ll be good publicity, sweets.” He winks as she pouts and saunters off, ignoring the men and at one point hissing at one.

“She’s on drugs or…” Suguru trails off, and Satoru snorts.

“She’s definitely on a good Adderall / Xani combo. Shit… I missed you guys.” He ruffles Shoko’s hair, and shoves at Suguru good naturedly, Suguru smiles a bit, dark hair even longer than Satoru remembers.

“Sure you did. Come back to visit?”

“Uh… no.” He peers at his phone, sighing now. “Our suite for whatever reason isn’t available, I was stopping here and going to call Mom, since I have no reception whatsoever.”

“Why would you bring her to your mom’s, doesn’t she suffer enough with you as her kid?” Shoko earns Satoru sticking his tongue out, picking up the phone and dialing.

“Toru, sweetie!” Satoru sighs, he loves his mom, but to this day she really treats him like a child, even now.

“Hey mom, cool if I stay a few nights? I have a modeling-”

“You’re coming home!?” Satoru winces, pulling back the phone as Suguru and Shoko laugh.

“Yeah, if it’s-”

“I’ll make your favorite, baby, triple stack pancakes with sundae-”

“No, no, too many carbs.” He hears his mom’s sigh of disappointment, and clenches his jaw just a bit, looking over to see Samantha taking pictures of herself on her fancy phone, throwing up a pose now. “I guess yeah, I’ll eat pancakes.”

“My baby, oh I can’t wait, let me get started now!” His mom hangs up, and he can’t help but feel that fondness, the emptiness he’s had for so long just the tiniest bit filled by her voice.

“She’s excited.” He muses, sighing then. “I need a drink.”

Suguru and Shoko eye each other, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrow, studying their odd expressions. “Yes, you should, bartender she’s amazing.” Shoko’s smiling, and Satoru’s lips purse a bit.

“Hmm, guess I’ll see. I’ll be back.” He pats their shoulders again, heading over and passing more and more familiar faces, gosh none of them left, huh?

He leans against the bar, poking around on his phone as he hears Sukuna, asking then -

“Lunch sometime?”

He snorts, eyeing the tall, big man who used to torment him, now eye to eye with him, and damn near his size. Sukuna blinks in surprise a bit when Satoru eyes him with humor.

“Lunch is friendzone territory, ouch.” Sukuna glares now, fists clenching on the bar, and that’s when…

You see him.

Satoru Gojo.

“Maybe I like lunch.” Your voice shocks him then, he eyes you, wide blue eyes going to the face of the girl he loved.

Your face.

You’re so pretty it makes his heart thud out of his fucking chest, you’re just like you were, maybe a bit more mature looking now, but god it was like a blast from his past, the ultimate memory of you couldn’t compare. You’re so beautiful, this fucking glow around you still, that comfort he has been craving hitting him in one instant, as he just stands there.

Satoru Gojo, who got whatever girl he wanted, was just standing there, staring at you, with his lips parted, you are heating up under his scrutiny, unsure of just what he was thinking, biting that lower lip a bit and shifting. He notices now, that you’re not fawning over him, drooling, like women did, if anything you’re glaring just a bit, your jaw set.

“I… you… here…” He can’t compute a fucking word - stupid, stupid - why did you reduce him to pathetic again, after all these years!?

“Yes, I work here again. I know, it’s not what I imagined either.” Your soft, devastated words attack him, making him feel like you punched him right in the gut, as Sukuna raises a brow at Satoru.

“Friend zone, did you just say that?” Satoru’s sputtering now, before clearing his throat, shutting his eyes and taking a breath.

He’s not some ‘nerd’ anymore.

He’s Satoru Fucking Gojo.

He smirks and leans against the bar, eyeing you slowly, pulling off pretentious shades that make you miss his tortoiseshell glasses. But when those piercing, swirling blue eyes hit you, trailing like Sukuna’s had, you feel so shy suddenly, so nervous around him, after so long. Surely he was looking down at you, surely he was so high and mighty that your life seemed sad to him.

You stand a little straighter now, while the two men, who have changed so much, both eye you, a blast from fucking high school if you ever saw one. “Look at you…” He murmurs your name softly, like a caress- shit his voice is deeper, it’s so sure, so cocky and conceited, not the sweet boy you miss. “You look great.”

“Thanks, so do you.” You manage softly, he’s in some suit worth as much as your year of work you’re sure, open with a vest showing of chest muscles, fuck he has red silk gloves, it’s so ridiculous you almost laugh.

He’s gorgeous but…

Who is he really?

“Working here again, huh?” He means it to be casual, but the way it comes off makes you straighten your shoulders, as Sukuna winces.

“All that money, all those women and you never learned.” Satoru scowls at Sukuna now, while you turn away, giving him a view of a body he’s dreamed of, fuck you’re even sexier now, those jeans sitting just right, is none of you not perfect, not beautiful?

“What can I get you, Gojo?” You ask after grabbing another beer for Sukuna, who takes it with a smile, and he tenses at that.

Gojo.

When did you ever call him anything but ‘Toru’?

But, you all are literally strangers now.

“Martini.” He says, earning Sukuna’s snort, Satoru’s scowl heads his direction once again as you start to get the ingredients together, shaking it up in the gold shaker like a pro.

“Little bitch drink.”

“Beer is disgusting, fuck that.”

Sukuna glares as he sips the drink, and you pour Satoru his martini, garnishing it and giving a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “One martini.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You falter, at his soft voice, at the way he says everything as if it were some caress.

“You’re welcome.” He hands you far too much money then, making you blink. “It’s only ten bucks.”

“Keep the rest, love.” He winks now, and you feel your face heating up, did he think you needed it so badly? Does he pity you?

Does he care?

“Thanks… um, sure on lunch, Sukuna.” Satoru’s teeth clench, like watching history repeat itself. “Even if it’s ‘friend zone’ I’m fine with meeting up.”

“Perfect, here’s my number…” He writes it right on one of the pretty white napkins, and you take it carefully. “I’ll be in town all week.”

“Alright, sounds good.” Sukuna tips you, not the exorbitant fifty dollars Satoru just handed you, but a twenty, with a little nod of his head, as he passes Satoru now, and Samantha comes right up to him.

“Oh look at you, all star for the-” She’s flirting but Sukuna ignores her, winking at you and making you want to giggle, but you barely hold it in. “So rude! Gojo, can we please leave this shitty little bar?”

You scowl right up at the tall, beautiful model who pouts over at Satoru, clinging to his arm, he stiffens, but you see it, clearly they’re… together. “The ‘shitty little bar’ is owned by my family. And you are more than welcome to leave.”

“Oooh, you’re feisty.” She’s giggling psychotically, using her hand to make a clawing motion. “Rawr!”

“The fuck…” You shake your head, sighing as you set back to work, Samantha’s hands running down Satoru’s chest, irritating him to no end.

All he can see is you, and you’re just turning away, the girl he…

He left.

He left you.

No word, no goodbye, and he thought maybe it wouldn’t feel like this, maybe after eight years and endless women in his bed, he could stop feeling like this, stop the love he had. He tried to chalk it up to puppy love, you were the nicest person to him, of course he developed feelings, right?

Wrong.

He watches as you head out from behind the bar as Samantha’s going on and on about some Instagram post, downing the rest of his martini. “We’ll leave in a minute, go wait in the car.”

“I can’t believe we don’t even have a driver, ugh!” Satoru blinks at her, turning her now, watching as you stop and talk to Suguru and Shoko, smiling so sweet, lighting up the whole fucking room.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Oh fine but…” She drags him down by his tie, whispering in his ear then- “I can suck you while you drive.”

What would once excite him doesn’t compute, he just nods and pushes the crazy woman to the entrance of the bar. “Sure whatever.”

“No pictures, please.” She throws on her sunglasses, as curious people wonder just what this woman is talking about, and Satoru feels your eyes on him then, his catch yours across the room. He watches you tense, as he steps closer, and Shoko and Suguru depart, giving you both one moment.

“Hi.” He manages to say, and for once, the pretentious rich model reminds you of him, the boy you grew up with, the one you miss so badly it feels like he’s a dream.

“Hi.” Your soft voice ends him, you’re shifting side to side, Satoru towers over you, making you feel so small then, as he presses a hand against the wall over your head, tilting your chin up with his other hand. Your eyes go wide then, breath catching, heart hammering.

“I’d love to catch up, I am here for a few days, I’ll be at mom’s.” You blink a bit then, looking down, gently taking his hand off your chin by his wrist, the contact making you both pause. For a moment he pictures it, kissing you, making every move he failed at in high school, taking your lips over.

He pictures so much, up to and including you under him, shit maybe now he’d have a chance with a girl like you, maybe he could taste your sweetness, could inhale that vanilla body spray you somehow wear eight years later. Could show you pleasure he bets you never got before, cock aching just being in your presence, he has to will it to go down.

“Your mom, I just saw her.” You ease his hand down, back resting against the wall just a bit, hair falling across your shoulders, you gasp when he brushes it back, another move he had tried and failed at back then.

That night should have been his first kiss.

You should have been his first everything, fuck.

“Could we do dinner or drinks?” His tone reminds you of what he said earlier, so you smile, a little mean glint in your eye.

“Maybe lunch.”

“Lunch!?” He’s glaring, thin white brows lowered, and you giggle.

“Coffee?”

Shit.

“Or is that too ‘friend zone’ for you, Gojo.” Satoru blinks a bit, hand falling, barely brushing your shoulder when it falls, you try to ignore how good it feels, he tries to act nonchalant, not like the fucking world is faded, aside from you. That the entire bar is just an echo, it’s just you.

And you’re furious, he can feel it. “No, no I mean it’s fine. If you want… coffee we can do coffee.” He can’t believe he’s saying this, he brushes his white locks back, winking down then. “We can do whatever you want.”

“Uh huh. Well, coffee then, if you want to catch up I’m surprised, considering it all though.” Satoru’s jaw clenches just a bit.

“I’d like to catch up.” You soften at his first vulnerable statement, the first thing that feels real. “How about in the morning, are you staying nearby?”

“I’m living with my parents for a couple months.” He frowns at that, you suddenly feel so insecure, a rich model right in front of you, just as he said that day- that he’d make it, and you all…

Would just burn out.

Maybe you did.

“Oh, you are, is something wrong?”

“Helping them a bit, big teacher layoffs nationwide.”

“You teach?” His smile is finally genuine, as you nod, so shyly, his shoulders relax, as his hands slip in his pockets once more. “You always wanted to.” Your eyes shoot up to his now, swirling beautiful blue, a hint of the sweet boy you adored.

“You remember?”

“How couldn’t I…”

“I figured you forgot us all.” Satoru gulps down the guilt, as you manage to pull yourself together, sighing. “Come by my parents in the morning, if you remember where they are.”

“How can I forget, it’s across the street.”

“All right then… I look forward to it.” He awkwardly leans down, as you wrap a friendly arm around his waist, inhaling his cologne, much different than the boy who wore axe body spray and always sucked on lifesavers. His hard body against your much softer one feels a little too good, when he rests his chin on your head.

Nothing has ever felt better than holding you in his arms.

Memories swirl for the both of you, but it’s different, Satoru seems like some bold and pretentious stranger, but for a moment you remember. You remember crying in his arms, over this breakup or that, you remember his sweet hugs during study sessions, you remember laughing and watching the dumbest movies. You exhale just a bit, as a big hand presses the small of your back.

Satoru missed you.

He doesn’t say it, he can’t say anything, pulling back and looking at you then, hand coming to cup your face, opening his mouth to speak when Samantha starts shouting “I’m bored Gojo! I’m so bored!”

The entire bar turns her direction, you fall back a bit, as Gojo internally curses, seeing the brat that is his partner crossing her arms in that fur coat. “I’m coming okay, shit!”

“Your girlfriend is bored.” You’re giggling then, you can’t help it, covering your face as Samantha glares.

“Not my girlfriend, jesus. Um… okay, the morning.” You nod, walking off now, past Samantha, who hisses at you like the psychotic bitch she is, making Satoru grimace with Suguru and Shoko walk up to Satoru.

“You fucked that intro up.” Suguru says, snorting as he puts his arm around Shoko’s waist, and she’s laughing.

“Fucked it up bad.”

“Oh like you’re any help.” They just shake their head, eyeing Satoru’s screaming model bestie.

“See you in eight more years.” Suguru’s words sting, as Satoru feels it then, the guilt eating away at him, but Samantha won’t shut up long enough for him to process, he drags her out into the cold, chilled air, seeing you climbing up into what appears to be your SUV, your eyes flicker to him for just a moment, before you shut the door.

“You like townies hmm? Can’t stop eye fucking girl next door.” Satoru’s eyes make even Samantha falter then.

“Who I like is none of your fucking concern. In.” He plops down in the rental, an audi of course, god forbid Satoru Gojo or Samantha would be seen in anything less, on that they are the same.

“You’re so cranky, she’s hot, just… gives those girl next door vibes.”

“Yeah well, she was the girl next door for me. Almost.” He feels her hand now, trailing over his thigh, she leans over and laughs in his ear, making him cringe. “How’d I get stuck with-”

“Let me make you feel so good, should I suck little Gojo?”

“Little Gojo!? It’s not little, Samantha.” He shoves her off, and she pouts again, crossing her arms.

“How’d I get stuck with you is the question, no fun. Now we have to go stay in poorville.”

“It’s the fucking suberbs.”

“Poor. Poor. Poor. Boring, boring.” Satoru almost pushes her out of the goddamn car, no blow job would be worth it, even if it would shut her up for a moment, even if his cock twitches thinking of you.

He pulls up to his home, his mother already has it opened when he walks up, hugging him tightly, kissing his face all over and making him wince. “Mom…”

“My baby, I never thought you’d come home.” She’s got tears in her pretty blue eyes, she visits LA once a year or more, but now the way tears fall from eyes that match his wracks him with guilt.

He could have come back at least once, right?

No, no he couldn’t.

“And this is…”

“Samantha.” She shakes his mom’s hand, tossing back long blonde locks and smiling. “You have such a quaint little home.”

Satoru’s mom blinks rapidly, brows together, this wasn’t a small home, it was four stories and lovely, left to them from Satoru’s dad, but he supposes to a rich, spoiled brat like Samantha, it’s ‘quaint’. “Um, thank you, and you’re staying too?”

“Unfortunately.” Satoru’s mom raises her brows, as Samantha clings to Satoru once again, grinning.

“I get to meet the mom, huh? I’m so special-”

“Let’s eat.”

Satoru finally leaves a snoring, annoying model brat Samantha alone in the guest room, when he walks inside his childhood room, frozen. Time has been frozen, his mother hasn’t changed a single fucking thing, up to and including pictures of you and him all over the walls. He gulps down his emotions, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, undressing carefully.

He sees his old nerdy ass sweater, one you’d gotten him, still folded on his desk, like he never left. His fingers brush the fabric, as he stares at his reflection, feeling like he’s a ghost in his own room. The connections start to build, the mirror he kissed that night, the endless photos and mementos he kept. He eyes that box now, opening a letter carefully, crumbled and faded ink.

My Toru, I hope you have the best day, I can’t wait for the movies!

Toru, can you believe how the year has flown by!?

Do you want to go bowling Y or N

Your new glasses are so cute I love them!

Bad day today, sorry I’m quiet.

Tears fall down his cheeks, he only notices when the blotches form on the ink, all the times you’d write to him every day, passing little notes in class with hearts all over them, brightening his day. He’d kept every single fucking one, and there were so, so many in this tin box, stuffed inside like all of his fucking feelings.

He wipes his eyes quickly, shaking it off, pulling out his luggage with his own clothes and getting dressed in sweats for the night, curiously pushing on the cd left in the player, sighing then. Your favorite song, it’s that mixed CD he was making you, the one he never gave you. Satoru quickly turns it off, the button a resounding click, walking to the corkboard littered with you.

Knock knock knock.

“Come in, mom.” She does just that, peeking her pretty face, still so young looking, so sweet as she smiles at him. “You didn’t change any of it.”

“No, I always hoped you’d come back, at least for a day.” She walks up to Satoru now, seeing the photos he’s staring at now, Satoru and you sipping a milkshake together with two straws, in the middle of a diner. “You two were so sweet, she’s back in town you know.”

“I know… I’m seeing her in the morning.” His mom’s eyes light up, and he laughs a bit. “Don’t get excited, my life isn’t here mom.”

“Part of it will always be.” She cups his face, smiling up at him. “I hope you have fun with her, she has kept in touch all these years you know.”

“She has?”

“Yes, she… misses you. She asks about you when she visits town.” Satoru blinks back emotion, turning away now, clearing his throat.

You asked about him after all this? After he'd gone out of your life for good? What if he just heard you out, what if he…

“I’m tired, mom.” Mrs. Gojo nods, a hand on his back for a moment.

“Good night, Toru.”

“Night.” He lays in his bed, phone blowing up, his agent with details, a coordinator for the show, friends from LA teasing him on having to come back home, but he quickly turns it off, holding a photo of you, the only one he brought.

He gently touches it, sighing, wondering…

Will you like him now, could he be good enough?

While you lay in bed, tossing, turning, fuming damn near at Satoru Gojo’s audacity, sitting up finally, putting on Satoru’s favorite song, on that mixed CD you had been making him, before he disappeared. Your childhood room is the same as it always was, littered with photos of you and Satoru, your best friend that just disappeared, and came back a different person.

You touch a photo, one where he’s grinning so big with his cute little braces, holding up a science award, and you’re so overcome with emotion you have to hold back your tears, touching the polaroid gently. Was that boy in there somewhere, the boy you knew, the one who deserved the world - he seemingly got it of course.

Would he find you so boring? He hung out with celebrities, he walked runways, he’s clearly got a beautiful - batshit insane but- girl on his arm. Was it some pity, did he feel bad you were in a little bar? Your mind can’t handle it all, as you plop down in your childhood bed, mind racing.

Who was Satoru Gojo now?

Ah why'd I tear up when Satoru goes home? Next part we see just how coffee goes lol

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#satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #nerd gojo #nerdjo #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #satoru gojo fluff #satoru smut #divider by cafekitsune

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baepsays · 26 days ago

Text

INSATIABLE ⸻ Demon Gojo

synopsis ⸻ What would you do if one day some sort of gorgeous-looking entity randomly started floating around you? definitely not make a deal with it. right?

pairing ⸻ incubus gojo x reader

cw ⸻ MDNI, NSFW, Alternate Universe—Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe—Different Powers, Demon S*x, Public S*x, Non-Consensual Touching, P0rn With Plot, P0rn with Feelings, Isolation, Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Death from Old Age, Exhibitionism, Manhandling, Supernatural Elements

wc⸻ 15k

a/n: Fingers crossed I do not get jailed again.

PART ONE

This is hard. And so inconvenient.

How long do you have to go like this? Trying to fumble around with your fingers to reach places that you cannot and just wishing there weren't a bunch of creepy apparitions floating around outside of your windows.

Maybe it's time to invest in a dildo or something, because trying to get a boyfriend has been fruitless.

It is not that you were not trying or that no one was interested. But it feels like you attract this very specific demographic of men, and they were all a bunch of creeps. Or just beings from the underworld.

You come from a family of shamans; your grandmother, who was one of the most infamous shamans when she was alive, couldn't pass down her abilities to her daughter, nor did she want your mother to live like she did. Constantly being pestered by apparitions, ghouls, and demons—it took a strong mind to act like any other normal person while being surrounded by such dark things.

And unfortunately for you, you inherited the centuries-old powers that run in your family.

From your memories, you distinctly remember when you first started seeing these things. You were 7 years old, and this kid showed up in your backyard when you were playing all by yourself. And he became your best friend. You hurried home from school to play with him, and he'd always be waiting for you in your backyard. You'd hurry to get off the school bus and run past your mother to run straight to your backyard.

Your mother never really thought too much about it, but when one day your teacher told her that you've not been making friends in your class, spacing out in class, and waiting to go home to play with your best friend—your mother naturally became worried. She never saw you playing with someone. And you've always had so many friends since you were a kid; you loved school. She could not help but wonder what was going on.

That's when your mother sat you down to ask about this friend of yours. Who was apparently sitting right beside you and did not appreciate your mother's tone.

Your poor mother, who was sheltered from these things by her mother her entire life, had no idea how to help you acclimate to these things. Fortunately, your grandmother was still around then; she exorcised your friend without telling you, and for days you were bedridden after crying yourself sick, missing your best friend .

Things were never the same since then; you struggled through kindergarten and elementary school, unable to make friends. And when you did, they were always creeped out by you. It was either you'd bring a friend with you to play with everyone else, who couldn't be seen by others. You'd be petting a cat, again, that no one could see. They'd find you helping a grandpa, who also was not visible to bare eyes.

Around the end of elementary school, your parents finally sat you down and explained what was wrong with you.

And eventually, before you even entered high school, you were named that one creepy kid. The high school kids were more brutal than the elementary or kindergarten kids. The bullying, the silent murmuring, rooms going silent when you'd walk in, getting weird questions like,

‘Hey, can you really see ghosts? Or are you just faking it for attention?’

Rumors were circulating that you'd curse people if they spoke to you. Which did help with not getting asked weird questions. But that meant things became more physical. Your books would be gone before class, the desk would be pushed off to the side, juice spilled on your chair—and even the teachers wouldn't help you. How would they help if they can't even look you in the eyes themselves? So you were left to your own vices, except for this one kid from the class next door to yours. Who would not stop pestering you, saying things like ‘who cares’—when you’d yell at him to stay away from you, telling him how no one would talk to him if they saw you with him. He was the only person ever to stand up for you then, when you would also refuse to stand up for yourself. Back then you found him quite annoying, but now you’d say he is the only reason why you can still think about that time without spiraling.

So your parents moved around a lot for your sake. In the few years of high school, you lived in approximately 7 different places. So when you graduated from high school, you knew you wanted to move out of the country for at least these 4 years of university. The rumors caught up with you one way or another, whether you were in a big city or some small town. So in your opinion it was the best possible solution.

So you moved away. And things were somewhat better; no one came up to you asking whether or not you were faking your powers for attention, but it did not improve your social life. You remained all by yourself throughout college, in an unknown place, miles away from your parents. But you did master how to ignore the floating entities around you.

The more you ignore them, the more they slowly start to pester you less and less.

It was around the time just before your graduation that your grandmother died. And unfortunately, you could not go back home to see her one last time, and neither could your parents fly out to attend your graduation.

Just like that, you graduated all alone. Like you started college all by yourself.

After a few months, you moved back home and found yourself a job with good pay and an apartment in a nice place. Your parents moved back to your mother’s ancestral home and visited you as often as they could. But that didn't solve your loneliness. Parents can only give you so much support, but the lack of a social life can't just be mended by great parents, unfortunately.

At work, people never became comfortable enough around you to call you a friend; you were intimidating to them. It was hard to approach you, and the cloud of gloom that floated around you may not have been visible to them, but it ran a shiver down their spine. So your colleagues kept it short and concise when interacting with you. During lunch you either ate by yourself on the rooftop or went out all alone.

Dating was equally hard. If not harder, you tried almost everything. Meeting new people, which only ended up with creepy men trying to hit on you; online dating, which never worked out; and even meeting some people through your parents, who always brought up the rumors from your past.

No matter what you did, you kept being haunted.

Like right now, a lady kept peering into your room from outside of your windows with this creepy smile while you tried to ignore her as much as you could and focused on the people getting it on on your laptop screen. Fortunately, the talismans all over your apartment kept these things out. But it did not stop them from lurking.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mumbled to yourself, trying to focus on the couple moaning on your screen but getting constantly distracted by the smiling lady outside of your window.

Being unable to focus on your screen and unable to use your fingers precisely, you gave up on trying to relieve yourself, slammed your laptop shut, and went to bed. Defeated and frustrated.

The next morning you woke up to something poking your nose.

You didn't live with any pets. And no one other than you and your parents had access to your apartment. And there are spiritual bindings and talismans all over your apartment to keep entities out. Then why is there a guy floating on top of you?

He has white hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and nothing on his body except basketball shorts. He did not look translucent enough to be an apparition. His poking ceased as you got off your bed to get ready for work, seeming as nonchalant as you possibly could. If this entity is strong enough to infiltrate your home, who knows what else he's capable of?

You headed to the bathroom with him now, walking closely behind you. Before he could come in, you closed the door on him. Which was so helpful; the guy just emerged behind you, and you could feel him standing close to you, holding you by your waist, putting his head on your shoulder. But you couldn't see his reflection in the mirror. From the side of your eyes, as discreetly as you could, you saw him smiling and looking at you in the mirror. Then you saw his fangs peeking, not extremely prominent, but visibly there. And felt his claws digging through your shirt; his entire hand was the color of the midnight sky, which went up his forearms and faded into his pale skin around his elbows.

It was hard to classify this guy; usually entities that manifest from previously alive beings just float around, and if they are brave enough, they try to possess you, which results in them instantly burning due to the locket that your grandmother left behind. Which held a fraction of her life source. The most probable answer is that he is a demon.

It was fairly easy to distinguish apparitions, phantoms, ghouls, etc. But demons, on the other hand, were complicated because they are more deceitful than others. It was easier for them to possess people, form a disguise, or use veils. You only ever had to face one demon in your life, and fortunately it was just a dog. Also, it was extremely friendly to you.

This guy doesn't feel like a normal entity. If he is powerful enough to cross your spiritual boundaries and just touch as he pleases, he is not something you want to mess with. So the best bet is to ignore him until you can figure out what his intentions are.

But it is not easy to maneuver with an guy above 6’3 holding onto your waist and floating around you.

And how are you even supposed to do your daily routine? You can't just not do anything because there is some entity attached to you. Without risking your powers being exposed, you have to get rid of him.

So you tried to recite some spells of protection to get rid of him. Didn't work. Next, you made it seem like you were stretching while the guy was standing still in front of you and trying to follow your movements, and just when he bent down like you just did, you placed a talisman on his back. It burnt away just as soon as you placed it.

You didn't have many choices, which kept your secret safe from him, the fact that you can see him.

Feeling annoyed and becoming more and more anxious, you went to the kitchen; maybe some coffee will help. The water was boiling in the kettle, and the coffee beans made a coarse sound while they were being ground. And the white-haired entity sat on your countertop, kicking his feet like a kid. Perhaps the frustration of last night and this guy showing up was getting to your head, because you reached out for salt instead of the sugar. You are also at fault here for keeping similar-looking products next to each other in similar containers without any labels. Your father definitely would nag you if he saw this.

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Between you almost putting salt in your coffee and the white-haired, blue-eyed entity sneaking his hands under your shirt, you shrieked and your hands jerked up. Which resulted in the salt being thrown at the guy behind you, resulting in his instant disappearance.

Huh? For a being that powerful, it sure is silly that it was the salt of all things that got rid of him.

You really thought he was gone; if not fully, then maybe at least he would not dare to come close to you now. So you made your coffee, with sugar this time, and reminded yourself to rebind your home with stronger protection.

Unfortunately for you, this was not the last of the white-haired, blue-eyed entity that you'll be seeing.

The rest of that day you spent anxiously looking for that white-haired, potential demon. You looked around your desk, under your desk, around the rooftop of your office building, where you usually eat your lunch, and even around the bathroom cubicles. To the point where you were anxiously looking behind yourself while walking down the hallways, walking to the subway station, on the train, and at the grocery store.

And fortunately, except for random apparitions and ghouls, the particular guy with sharp claws didn't show up. Yet still, you didn't get any sleep that night, which was the usual without any melatonin gummies, though things have been a little better for the past few months. Instead of the usual 3 hours of sleep, you've been getting 6 hours! But the worry kept you up until it was 4 AM in the morning, and you felt somewhat reassured that he wouldn't be showing up.

The white fluff of hair and boring blue eyes reappeared around 5:30 AM. Honestly, he appeared way later than you anticipated. Also at a very inconvenient time, which is about to become a pattern with this thing that you've attracted.

Instead of your 7:30 AM alarm, you woke up to a pair of cold hands and sharp nails gliding over your skin. Coldness like you've never felt before, yet burning like hell itself, resided on those fingers. Those hands seemed to have no strategy or plan of where they wanted to run wild; they started groping on your thighs, leaving indents of his sharp claws on the sensitive skin. Just enough pressure to leave marks but not to make you bleed.

And you knew when your eyes snapped open that he was back. It took a lot of holding back to not instantly sit up and throw salt at him; he'd realize that he's visible to you. But the way his hands were creeping upwards from the side of your thighs to your hips, then stomach, and nearly up to your chest—you sprinted towards the bathroom and locked yourself in there.

As embarrassing as it was to have a floating entity hovering in front of you as you tried to get your scheduled toilet routine done, you had no choice but to let him simply exist. This time around he was in a set of pajamas, which was very strange.

Entities, who emerged from human beings, either always were naked or were adorned in clothes they were either buried or cremated in. It was not usual for them to change clothes or reappear after being shunned away. There is a ritual of giving entities clothing or other things—it is a process of making these objects as offerings meant for the specific spirit you want to give them to and then incinerating them at the end so the objects reach the realm of the dead. And since this guy can change his appearance at will, this means your suspicions were correct; this is a demon. And if you are accurate in your guess, this is a sex demon, an incubus.

That is the most plausible explanation, given his behavior so far: touching you, twirling your hair, even sniffing you. But you wish, oh so badly, that you were wrong. It'd be a pain in the ass to deal with a demon, and it'd be a million times worse to deal with a sex demon. Because look at the state of you; what vitality do you have left in you to feed this demon?

Plenty, it can be assumed. From how he basically attached himself to you for the rest of that day.

From showering, with his intrusive hands and stares, barely dodging his perverse attempts. Getting ready for work and rushing out with just some toast with coffee in your stomach and a demon floating behind you, you went about the day by ignoring his entire existence. Especially his hands. Which seemed to have a mind of their own and a sleazy look on his face that could only be explained through one word that you kept repeating to yourself the entire day in agony and rage.

‘ Demonic little Pervert.’

Lying on your bed after an exhausting day of trying to run away subtly from a demon in the hallways, the rooftop where you eat lunch, and even the restroom, which was all just futile; the entity made himself at home in your cubicle, just around you in general.

Never did you ever feel so comfortable in your own skin as the way the demon felt touching it.

And now he is pushing his hands up your wrinkled skirt, trying to unbutton your blouse. So you just turned to your side, with an arm under your head, and stared at your curtains. Wishing for this demon to finally clock out as well and leave you alone. Do demons have working hours like a corporate employee crushed under a hyper-capitalistic system? Most probably not.

Therefore, unfortunately, it means he is not disappearing anytime soon.

If it came down to it, you'd just have to put on a show of trying to come across clumsily and mistakenly spill salt over him. But for now he just lay beside you, facing you, similarly on his side. Smiling from ear to ear and tracing a finger around the features on your face. Your jaw, the bridge of your nose, the tip of your nose, your bottom lip, your chin, and finally the little mole under your eyes. When you thought he was done, his finger poked you in the eye.

“OW!” You shrieked and sat up, covering your tearing eyes.

“YOU HORRIBLE FUCKING DEMON! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” All it took was one poke in the eye, and all your pretenses evaporated.

There was a long pause in the air. Along with some confusion from the pajama-clad demon, whose confused face and tilted head soon turned into an eager and smug audacity.

“Oh? You can see me?”

Shit.

“N-no?”

“Oh, really?”

If even for a second you thought your very poorly blurted-out lie worked. Oh, how wrong you were for that.

In a mere blink of an eye, the demon is above you, and you are pinned down beneath him, with no power in you to move. As if you were paralyzed for some weird reason.

This shitty little demon.

You were, in fact, pinned down by demonic powers, way out of your league of understanding, of the incubus above you. You were rendered nothing but helpless prey to the predator, whom you've managed to lure into your home.

You could lie there and think about everything, trace back your every step, and wonder what exactly had you end up with a demon leeching on you. But that’d require sanity and clarity, both of which you currently lacked severely. Due to the demonic entity and his fluffy white hair, covering those blue eyes, nothing is as dark as electric blue, but more shocking than ever.

“Aw, angel, you ignored me for the entire day when you could've just let me know you were busy admiring me.” His whispers fanned your neck, and his left hand slithered up your thigh as he made his legs comfortable. One right in between your own very thighs, opening them up, despite whatever left protest in you, while his other leg pushed one thigh from the outside. Positively putting you in an unknown, uncomfortable place. But the heat between your legs was growing rapidly.

“Should I assume yesterday the salt was intentional too? Hmm? So mean, angel, aren't you?” The faux hurt in his voice felt slimier than his hand on your throat. Gripping, not choking, yet.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, but I am trying !”

His laugh echoed through your half-empty room. Which truly looked unlived. No furniture other than what was necessary. No wonder you kept attracting these entities with your truly haunted-looking apartment. Even the bed was forced upon you by your parents; otherwise, it would’ve been just a mattress on the floor. And now it is the same bed where you lay helplessly at a demon's whim.

“Let’s become acquainted with each other, yes?” The hand that held his weight was now on the crown of your head, caressing. And the one on your throat made its way under your skirt. First it was just one long swipe over the shape of your pussy, covered under your panties. Then it was a finger pushing itself between your folds; despite the cloth being a barrier between your skin and his touch, it still managed to find your clit, and he pressed down on it. It was enough to make your entire body jerk, having your thighs close down on him.

“Oh angel, are you weak there?” There was no pity in his voice. It was patronizing. Just a lion playing with his prey before mauling it to death.

“Let's see where else you’re weak.”

The hand on your head caressed your head while the other played with your panties. Pulling on it, letting it snap back and cling to your skin, feeling the dampness through the thin material. And you lay there anticipating his next move, with eyes closed tightly shut. Waiting for him to just incinerate those panties off you and take his fill.

But when nothing came after for a long while, you slowly opened your eyes. And you felt your body lighter than how it felt before; you felt the sheet of metal like a heavy veil covering your body was now absent.

And so the demon was gone.

Incubi, or sex demons, are said to haunt people who are sexually frustrated. Because they are a great source of food for the demon.

And as a sexually frustrated, haunted, and isolated person—this should be great for you! Oh, how you wish it could be said things were like that.

Instead it was waking up the white-haired demon under your sheets, with his face between your boobs, hands groping them, while his hips rutted into yours; he was very clearly hard and possibly leaking. You could feel the sleazy smile on his face, even when everything below his nose was buried in your chest, and his eyes looked at you through his white wispy hair. They looked hungry, to say the least, and threatening, to say the most.

“Good morning to my sweet angel.” He tilted his face, and it was now visible, the sleazy, dopey smile on his face that said he'd rather be nowhere other than where he is right now.

“Get. Off. Me.”

“Ooh, now call me a bad boy; that'd just make me cream my pants!”

Before you could sit up and throw a few punches at him and maybe reach out for that salt shaker you put on your bedside table, he disappeared again. It was now just you, in your disheveled bed, your tank top pulled up to your neck, and your wet panties.

Well, he is hot; you have to admit to that. And you are very frustrated, needy, and sensitive. That is all.

The train that morning was disgustingly full. All because of a certain demon. Usually you leave a bit early to avoid the morning rush, but today you have to be crushed in between a bunch of sweaty people in a suit.

In these situations, there are always a few creeps among the crowd. And at this point it is hard to say whether it is your bad luck or some sort of you were the target of one of these creeps.

An older man moved behind you when the next station came, with a bunch more people getting in. When he initially pressed against you, you didn't think too much about it; everyone was pressed against one another whether they liked it or not. The man's intentions only became clear when a hand crept up the side of your thigh.

Unlike the demon's hand, it felt rougher, unpleasant. You felt like throwing up; somehow you couldn't even do anything. You just froze up there. Unable to do anything while some stranger tried to fumble with your belt. It was as if there was something entirely unworldly holding you captive. You looked around; anyone could barely see you in the corner like this. But they should still notice something like this.

And then you looked down; the hands that were trying to take off your belt were translucent. The set of feet beside yours was hardly noticeable.

You got ready in a hurry this morning. In fact, you happened to be in such a hurry that you mindlessly left behind your previous locket. The same locket that protects you from this sort of situation.

“I see you on this train every morning. Yet I can never do anything. Hah. I am lucky today.” You could now feel the coldness of the apparition behind you. Presumably this man somehow died on this train, and unfortunately, like any other entity, you caught his eye.

His hands were almost done with taking your zipper down. That's when you looked to the side, with teary eyes, and you saw the white-haired demon in the overhead luggage carrier. His blue eyes were boring into the man behind you.

“Aw. You're trying to find a replacement angel?” In a flash he was by your side instead of where he was previously.

“H-help me. Please, please.” One of your hands reached out to grab onto the demon, who was now weirdly in a suit. Your other hand grabbed onto the apparition's hand, which tried to creep into your underwear.

“JUST HELP ME PLEASE!” You whisper-shouted at the demon as quietly as you could without alerting anyone around you, and your grip on his jacket tightened.

“Since you asked so nicely, angel.” He flashed you a smile before his gaze shifted to the guy behind you.

“Hah. Yeah, try me, motherfu—” Before the apparition could even finish, the demon lifted one finger towards him, and within mere milliseconds the guy was gone.

Maybe you've taken this demon for granted, given how he acts around you. But it seems like he is immensely powerful, beyond anything or anyone you've ever seen. You've never felt power like this. Why is this demon even trying to feed off of you in the first place? Someone, or something, this string needs more vitality than you could ever produce.

“Wouldn't you kiss your hero as thanks?” Once again, you are pinned to the train's walls. This time against the blue-eyed demon, who just saved you from a creepy apparition.

“I only got in this situation because of you anyway.” You scowled at him, trying to push him off of you, with not much protest to actually get him off this time.

“Aw, how so?” Oh no, he looked adorable with that pout. You need to get a grip.

“If you didn't bother me this morning, then I—ugh. Whatever. What is with your outfit changes anyway?” You tried to whisper-shout at him again and hoped that no one else noticed what a nutcase you must have come off as.

“Hmm? Why? Don’t you like the suit? Want me to come naked next time?” That smirk on his face was doing things to you that you did not agree with.

“No! And stop suddenly disappearing and reappearing!” You felt his hand, which somehow was now on your waist, tighten, and another hand moving up between you two.

“Why? Y’miss me?” You could feel the heat creep up your neck, to your ears, and spread through your face.

“No. But, I can't believe I am saying this, thank you for being here.” His face lit up with a big, toothy smile. And you just had to look at his stupid fangs and his blue eyes and his tail-wait. He has a tail?

“I would've liked a kiss better, but I'll take what I can!” A thin, warm, pointy tail curled up your ankle when you looked down to confirm your thoughts. And indeed it was, as jet black as his hands and claws, a sharp tail. Before you could ask him where it even appeared from? You felt his claw on the waistband of your panties. Pulling on it with one sharp nail and letting it snap back on your skin, making you yelp in the process.

“That is a very pretty shade of blue you have there.” His hands slipped into your panties as the words left his mouth. His eyes trained down between the two of you, where your one hand flew to his wrist to prevent his claws from further slipping beyond the mound of your pelvic bone.

“St-stop!” Your other hand once again grabbed onto the arm of his jacket for support.

“Why? Don't I get my reward?” His head tilted in pure confusion.

“But—I said—” “That's not enough.”

Now that he looked up and stared you right in the eyes, you could not stop him any further. What it was was unclear—the charm of an incubus or your years' worth of frustration—nothing made sense.

You were basically breathless, unable to inhale or exhale anything. The sensation of his claws scratching against the sensitive skin between your legs and the grip on your waist in the crowded train. You could feel how his fingers inched closer and closer under the pad of his finger on your clit, and the sharp end of his claws was digging into your inner thighs and grazing your hole—it was all too much.

“Your, your claws.”

“Oh, that can be fixed in a second, angel.”

You could feel his fingers putting more pressure on your cloth, rubbing it, drawing figures of eight on it. While the rest of his fingers dug themselves into the flesh of your pelvic area. The claws were gone, just like that. Like how his clothes change with every appearance, his tail grows at his whim, and even his claws retract back into his skin.

Honestly, you were not sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. The claws were a good excuse to put a stop to what was happening, unless he did not give a shit about your well-being, which it didn't seem like he did, to an extent. But then again, when you brought up his claws, you genuinely just didn't want them to get in between you and his fingers. Sure, the sensation of the claws was something else, but not worth the bloodbath.

“Aw, look at my pretty pussy, so wet f’me?” He leaned in to your height to whisper in your ears. And you just prayed to whatever was out there that you don't get arrested for indecency in public.

It was truly humiliating. Having your back pressed to the doors of a public train, face turned just enough to catch a glimpse of the demon in front of you and the reflection of your own fucked-up face in the black glass of the doors. You'd rather look at your own humiliating expressions than know what was going on down there.

“Oh, she is so wet f’me, right? All for me.” His fingers were inside of you, two fingers deep, thumb on your clit, other hand on your waist—probably leaving marks—and everything was more visceral than ever.

It was maybe the train full of people almost finding out what you were up to, maybe it was his ink-tinted hands, which felt different than anything you've ever felt, or simply the fact that a demon of all things is making you feel such pleasures.

“Y-you have to—”

“I think you should be more concerned about what you have to do, angel.”

Even though he left the most important part unspoken, it was clear what you needed to do. You needed to cum on his hand in this train for him.

And with motive, his fingers both stretched in different directions inside of you. Pushing your walls and trying to remember every inch of you, memorizing it all. All the while his thumb kept going faster and faster, drawing little circles on it, making sure your clutch on his jacket remained as is.

“OH-Oh. Oh my—fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I am—” It was about time his fingers found the spot on your wall, that textured part of you from within, just around the backside of your clit. He found the spot that had your hands fumbling all over his shoulders, trying to steady yourself. So with the help of his free hand, he placed them on his neck, and they instantly went to his hair.

“I will, please, please, I will.” Your legs were giving out. Another second like this, his fingers pushing that spot over and over, his thumb pressing down on your clit any harder, and you'll fall on this disgusting floor.

“Go on, come on, you can do it, angel, all for f’me, right? You’ll feed me well, right?” His head was down on your shoulders, just too close to your ears; his voice was just too raspy; the whispering, the little huffs of air coming out of his mouth along with groans—it was dizzying.

“Cum on my fingers, won't you?” It was not fair. Holding you basically hostage while also pleading with such command, it was so unfair.

But you did not care about all that when you came gushing down his fingers. More than your usual ten seconds, it lasted probably for minutes, sending shock waves through your body, until you had nothing more to give to his fingers—that made sure to ride you all through your orgasm by keeping themselves mobile.

While you were a twitching, lifeless, drenched underwear-wearing mess, tightly held in his hand, he took out the fingers from your cunt. He did his best to gather everything he could, making you jump in the process. And all of that went right in his mouth.

It was honestly too generous to call it nasty. The way his tongue slipped between those slick fingers and wrapped around them. That long and sharp-looking tongue lapped all of you off his fingers, allowing his fingers to enter his mouth as fast as they wanted to deposit their hard-earned prize. All while his free hand held your face up by the chin, and he looked right down in your eyes while doing all those unfathomable, obscene things.

“So sweet.” You were not even sure if the comment was meant for you or just a general note for himself.

As his tongue cleaned up all that was left over on his hand, you witnessed the sight of his claws growing back, sharp and still equally black as some void, like the rest of his hand.

“You want some?” He leaned down to your face, nose touching yours, eyes blue as ice, before leaning down to kiss you.

It was the first time he kissed you. It was the first time anyone had ever kissed you, other than cats and dogs—but that does not count. You always thought first kisses were too overhyped; it cannot be some magical or whatever thing that people go on and on about.

But the way his lips slotted with yours and the little smile that crept onto his mouth was everything that was wrong with this situation.

This was a demon, pushing his tongue into your mouth, and you were letting him. Tasting the lingering taste of your own cum in his mouth. How his tongue tangled with yours, chased after it, and the subtle taste of his spit. It was unlike anything you've ever tasted before. You could feel his fangs against your tongue and then digging on your lips.

Nothing about this made sense. But it felt so undeniably good. So good that you almost felt as if this was it, this was right. This is what was missing. This is what your toys and fingers could not recreate.

And that did not make any sense.

If someone told you one day you'd have to call into work, informing them that you were too sick to clock in on time from a subway station. With a clingy demon in an expensive three-piece suit attached to your side, you’d probably tell that person to shoot you.

But here you are. Head in your hands, elbows on your knees, and a demon hugging you from the back. Life sure is crazy.

“Just skip work altogetherrrrr, let's go home and fuck.” His face tilted on your shoulder, and he batted his eyelashes, making attempts to coerce you into his wishes.

“Will you fuck off already?”

“You’re hurting meeeee!”

“Good.”

A pout made its way onto his filthy lips while he muttered something that sounded like ‘so mean’ under his breath. And he floated away from where he was previously annoying you to take the empty seat beside you to annoy you. He looked too cute and innocent for a demon. But maybe that is part of the deception. So you sat there with your elbows on your knees, leaning forward in your seat, to take a better look at his face.

Still gorgeous and still evil.

“I am wondering when you're going to leave me alone.” You looked forward at the empty tracks in front of you and the basically empty station. It was already well past 12:00 PM, so at least there was no one to witness you, or what it looked like to bare eyes, talking to yourself.

“Aw. I have been getting rid of pests for you, and this is how you talk to me!?” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat with a more intense pout.

“Wait. You've been doing that before, just not this? Not just today?” His little comment had you sitting up in your seat and moving your body enough to face him.

“Mmhmm. I've been making sure no pest gets to you, you know! Not my fault you forgot your pendant at home. I was bringing it back for you, but I guess some cockroach found you before me.” You just stared at him in silence for a solid few minutes as he smiled at you sweetly.

“You bought my pendant?” You blinked at him in confusion. Just how powerful and how fucking dense is this guy?

All he did was reach into the breast pocket of his jacket to pull out a silver chain with a dangling pendant on it. He leaned forward and reached behind your neck to clasp the chain back on you. With a little kiss on your forehead and a big toothy smile, he yet again disappeared on you.

Since it did not look like you're getting rid of this floating demonic thing anytime soon. It was the best bet to use him to your own advantage.

So this time, you waited for him patiently and eagerly to pop up in your room. After the last time you spoke to him at the station, he didn't show up for the rest of the day. Leaving you to think things through with the newfound information you got from him.

And what better time other than a Saturday night to negotiate a deal with a demon?

“So what do I get in return?” The demon looked down at you from where he was floating in the air, above your head, in just some gray sweats.

“I don't immediately end your entire existence.” You deadpanned, trying not to stare too long at his back muscles flexing from the way he folded his arms under his head. There were faint black lines, resembling strikes of lightning. They ran from the back of his arms, up to his shoulder, from his nape, down under the waistband of his sweatpants, where his pointy tail started and swished around in the air.

“Ok, ouch, angel, and here I was already choosing names for our children.” He pouted and slowly came down to your eye level, with his arms cartoonishly and lifelessly hanging in the air.

“Do not make me throw salt at you.” You leaned back on your headboard, and your hands clutched the pouch of salt.

“Alrightttt. But you can't expect a demon to just do you favors, like keeping pests off of you, and not ask for anything in return.” With a shrug, he continued. “Then I would've been the angel here, right?”

As annoying as it was to look at him smiling like he had you exactly where he wanted you to be, you didn't really have any other choice. Your pendant isn't working anymore; your grandmother's life essence and the effects of her spell are depleting from the pendant by the second, making the pendant’s barrier weaker by the second. And you don't have enough knowledge to do something about this. This annoying, sly, and very gorgeous demon is your only hope.

And unfortunately, he knows it too.

“Ok. You can feed on my life essence.”

“SO WE CAN FUCK!?” You rolled your eyes in defeat as the demon suddenly plopped on your bed with excitement, making you bounce on the mattress in the process.

“IF MY BED BREAKS, YOU'RE MAKING ME A NEW ONE!”

“Oh, no worries, I'll get you a new one every time we break one.” His cheery tone just made the words spouting out of his mouth more filthy sounding.

“You—never mind.”

But you were already too tired to say anything more. So you lay back on your bed, with your arms over your head, trying to push down the headache you could just feel coming over. The demon, on the other hand, lay right beside you on his side, taking it as an invitation to initiate his first proper meal .

But before he could get his grubby claws on you, you sat up on your elbows, making his eyes pop in slight surprise and disappointment.

“Oh right, what am I supposed to call you?” Usually you can perform a ritual, burn a spell, and get the entity's name and some other notable information like when they were born, when they died, type of death, what type of entity they are, etc. and other stuff. And you tried that for this demon as well, but nothing came out. Each time the visions were blank. It made you wonder how bad your luck must be to come across something so terrible.

“Ah! Hmm…. You can call me… Toru!” He smiled wide, looking proud of himself.

“You said it like you just made that up on the spot.” The possibility made you frown. Maybe he is being cautious so you don't find anything about him.

“Nope! That's my name!” He smiled ear to ear, eyes closed, looking like an innocent creature, like he was not even a demon.

“That just sounds more suspicious.” You squinted your eyes at him, while he just smiled ear to ear.

“Oh, come on, I thought our relationship had more trust than that.” He let his entire body fall on you, pinning you down to the mattress under him.

“Firstly, we do not have a ‘relationship’; what we have is a deal . And like hell I'll ever trust a demon.” Even though you rolled your eyes at him with a scowl on your face and tried to push him off of you, his pout just morphed into a smirk.

“Can't trust a demon, but you can let him fuck you, right?”

He pressed his hands, or claws, on either side of your head to hover over you. With that annoying smirk on his face, which made your head boil and stomach tighten. You could feel your chest getting heavier; it was getting hard to breathe normally with a demon over you and his pointy tail wrapping around one of your ankles. You tilted your head away from him, not answering him, letting the tension in the air speak for itself. The anticipation was heavy in the air for what was to come next.

Toru, as he told you to call him, nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. Moving his face up to your jaw, planting a kiss there, and going back down to dig his fangs into the side of your neck without any warning. You shrieked under his constant sucking and biting, while your left hand went up to pull on his hair, and your face scrunched up in something between pain and pleasure.

“A-are you even a demon… or a fucking vampire?” Your right arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. You could feel the flex of his muscles and even his skin that felt too human, too soft, and too warm to touch. He didn't retort to you with a verbal answer, just hummed in the crook of your neck as a smile stretched along his lips.

Once he was happy enough with the marks on your neck, he moved down to your collarbone. After licking the expansion of the bones with his sharp tongue, he moved lower to rip the front of your tank top with a single claw nail. You could feel his nail grazing on your skin, making your back arch off the bed. It felt as if your skin would break any moment and there would be an open wound, but there was not; he was too careful to not have a single drop of your blood flow out of your veins. But if you could see, you'd see a single line drawn from the middle of your chest up to your belly button. And you didn't mind that tingling sensation on your skin, the feeling of being on the edge of an almost injury, or the destroyed shirt under you.

All you could care about and focus on were his lips sucking, biting, and pulling on one of your nipples and one of his hands squeezing and kneading your other tit, while his other hand dug into your skin and pressed you into the mattress.

“Ugh— fuck— Toru.” Everything felt unreal. As an almost twenty-something touch-starved virgin, you were sure that for the rest of your life you'd have to spend it with your hand and vibrator. Yet here you are, under a demon.

“Mmhmm, what does my pretty angel want?” He moved back to place himself between your legs and placed his chin on top of your lower tummy. And both of his arms wrapped around where your thighs met your hips

“Please, Toru.” You were already exasperated, covered in sweat, clutching your sheets, trying to focus your pupils on the demon between your legs.

“Ugh, beg more, I'm so close!” He jokingly moaned and morphed his face into an expression similar to yours. Earning a weak slap on his hand, causing him to giggle while he ripped open your shorts.

“WHY ARE YOU RIPPING EVERYTHING LIKE A DOG?” At that point you felt pissed enough to gather some air to shout at him and sit up on your elbows.

“They’re annoying.”

“ You are annoying!”

“You're so mean to me!” He looked like a dog who just got reprimanded for trying to sneak into the food cabinet. And he nuzzled his face into your panty-covered cunt, then fully burrowing his nose on the mound to take a long sniff as your thighs clenched around his head.

Once he was done taking in your scent and possibly embedding it into your memory, you thought he'd move onto the next part. What, you didn't expect that he'd start licking your pussy through your panties? Not some lacy, sexy, black underwear—but some pastel pink cotton underwear, discolored on the crotch from years of wear and the horrors of periods. He bit your folds, wiggled his tongue between them, and pressed his tongue heavily on your slit. Soaking the panties in your juices and his saliva, he bit your clit along with some fabric of the panties and proceeded to suck on them as much as the barrier between his mouth and your clit allowed him. In conclusion, he was basically eating you out through your panties—like the freaky demon he is.

“J-just, fucking get rid of it.” You pulled on his hair with both your hands, one hand shoving his head further into your cunt, the other trying to pull him away.

“You said not to rip anything off.” His words came out muffled from still being stuffed between your legs.

“Just take them off normally.” You were getting too impatient to even shout at him.

“That's no fun.” Yet he knew just how to provoke you enough to have you reach for the bag of salt under your pillows.

“OK, SORRY, HERE, TAKING THEM OFF!” He sat up hurriedly when he noticed your hands were gone from his hair. “You're no fun.” He pouted and put both of your feet on his shoulder to drag your panties off.

And suddenly you felt too exposed, nervous, hyperaware of his blue eyes boring between your thighs, and hands holding your thighs open. A part of you felt like it was better when he had just left your panties on, and the other part wanted nothing more than Toru back where he was. The picture of the demon’s claws retracting back into his skin, the one last feeling of them scratching the skin of your inner thighs, was what finally made you realize the situation at hand.

You're losing your virginity to this demon, and you actually didn't mind it; you were kind of looking forward to it. It was a bizarre realization. But no more bizarre than having a demon's tongue stuffed in your hole.

Toru’s sharp tongue wiggled around trying to explore every nook and cranny inside of you, memorizing all of it. While his tongue busied itself inside of you, one of his fingers slipped in to help stretch you out more, and his other hand rubbed random shapes on your clit.

“Fuck—fuck. Ugh. There.” You couldn't help but let the groans and moans slip out of you, letting them get absorbed straight into his ego.

Toru hummed in accordance and pressed his tongue up where it had you tightening your grip on his hair. The vibrations from his moans had you twitching. And you could feel something building up, something familiar but a thousand times more intense than what you have ever achieved by yourself.

“I-I am—” You couldn't complete your warning, and yet he hummed like he understood.

He was ready to lap up everywhere that you had to offer. And when you came around his tongue, that's exactly what he did. He didn't leave behind anything that he could have the pleasure of tasting on his tongue. Sure, demons don't eat regular human food, but this was basically his human equivalent to a five-star meal.

“What?” You were either too busy staring into his eyes or just went brain-dead from that orgasm.

“Not done with ya’.” Toru pulled you towards him by one of your ankles, and the sheets under you bunched up.

“God. I've been waiting for this so long, angel; you have no idea.” He pulled your thighs to his sides, and your legs, although feeling like jelly, automatically latched around his waist. “Y’just can't wait, can ya’? Pretty cunt wants me inside so bad. She's feeling empty, huh?”

His sharp tongue went on to spout more bullshit. Like, “Don't even have to show you how to use those legs, huh?” He kept rubbing the tip of his cock at your entrance, letting it slide in a few times, and each time all he had as an excuse was “oops.”

“FUCKING PUT IT IN!” You threw a pillow at him, fed up with his antics and getting edged even before having his cock fill you up. He caught the pillow with his left hand while his other hand finally helped him put the length of his cock inside of you.

“ Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ahh!” Your back automatically arched off the bed.

“There ya’ go. Happy then, angel?” He pushed the entire thing inside of you in one go after throwing the pillow on the floor. His smile got all dopey as he leaned forward and put his weight on both of his hands on either side of you, getting a better look at your eyes rolling back behind your sockets. “You feel so much better than what I imagined, ugh—fuck—ughh, so perfect, my pretty angel.” His right hand came to your waist to rub soothing circles.

“Good heav—”

“Wouldn’t— fuck —hell be more— ughh — appropriate?”

“S-shh—ut up.”

He leaned forward to dive back in the crook of your neck; with his signature sleazy smile on his face, he continued to thrust his hips at a pace where the stretch down there burned, but it also brought you pleasure you couldn't describe. He went back to bite down on your neck as some form of holding himself back, supposedly. Even if he was moving at a pace you couldn't comprehend but felt good with, you could feel Toru, on the other hand, was holding himself back.

“Bite me again and—”

“Threatening me some more, angel?” He murmured in your ear before biting down on your bruised skin once again.

You retaliated by moving up slightly to reach his neck and bit down hard enough to have the raw and metallic taste of his blood bleed out a little. It tasted different than what blood is usually supposed to taste like; you'd know as a chronic lip biter. Sure, it was metallic and salty, and then it was sweet in the beginning and left a bitter aftertaste.

“F-fuck. You want me to pass out or something, angel?” He snapped his head to the left to face you, and in mere seconds his lips met yours. It was no gentle kiss; it was greedy. He was being so greedy with how he licked around your lips, sucked on them, forced your mouth open with his tongue, and slipped that sharp muscle inside of your own mouth to explore every nook and cranny inside, to remember the differences in how you.

“There ya' go pretty, ugh aren't you the prettiest? My pretty angel's pretty pussy—so lethal.” Toru moved around to sit back on his knees.

“Legs up, sweets.” He grabbed your legs together and placed them on his shoulder to thrust deeper and harder like that.

“FUCK. Oh, ugh—”

“Yeah, you like it, huh? Are you happy that I took your virginity? Yes, baby?” He cooed at the state of you, eyes rolled back, littered in marks, and his saliva Everything was a mess around and on you, your hair, the sheets, and you especially looked the most messed up, holding onto the sheets like your life depended on it and sliding up on them from the force of the demon's thrusts.

“Y—yes. YES!”

He giggled at your reply and focused on hitting the same spot that had you thrashing around and digging your nails into his thighs. Your groans and moans filled your little bedroom, echoed on your nearly empty walls, as the movements of his hips got sloppier.

“I—Oh gosh, I—,”

“I know, baby, cum on my cock, angel.”

And so you did; just as his fingers moved to rub your clit, you could feel the knot in your stomach detangling. When he felt your walls clench around him, he threw his head back. He was just as close to his own release, but your satisfaction came first. “Fuck, swallow me whole, you sweet thing.” His hand tightened around your ankles, still hanging on his shoulder, while his other hand moved from your clit to your lower belly to press on it as you came undone. The claws on his hand started to grow as he pressed right under your belly button, and that is probably where everything went blank for you. All you could see were white beams of light in the blur of your room, and your legs slacked off of his shoulder, shaking like you went up five flights of stairs.

“My good girl, look at that angel, shit. ”

The indents of his sharp claws left behind a shape, which could be connected to draw something resembling a tilted heart. Now it's open to interpretation whether it was intentional or not, but given he is a literal demon, there are barely any actions he does without calculating the consequences.

Before you could even realize anything, the demon cock started twitching inside of you, your own twitchy legs tightened around him subconsciously, and he stumbled over on top of you. You held him in your arms as he shot ropes and ropes of his cum inside of you.

“My pretty, pretty angel, goin’ to fill her up, breed her good.”

“You're a demon.” You said to him very matter-of-factly once you found your vision coming back. “So?”

“So, how are you going to get me pregnant?” He raised an eyebrow at you and flopped down on you, then buried his face by your head and tilted his head to look at you with a sly smile.

“Who said demons can't get you pregnant?”

“WHAT?” You almost sat up and shoved him off before he started laughing and pushed you back down.

“Wait, wait, ok, so yeah, it's possible, but it's more complicated than that. So no worries, you won't get pregnant unless I actually try to do that.” He smiled at you and rubbed soothing circles by your side. He looked finally content, like you do after a scrumptious meal.

“More reasons to not trust your ass.”

“Oh, you can trust my ass; touch it if you want real bad.” He said in a playful sing-song voice and ended his sentence with a wink. It made you slap his shoulder, but you couldn't help but let a few chuckles slip out.

Your laughter died down, and everything around you started dimming down too. The weight of his body, the feeling of his tail wrapping around your ankle, his hands holding you tight with his claws back in his skin, and his cum seeping out of you—it was a recipe for deep slumber. And sleep you did; this was after a very long time. Your eyes got heavy to the point you couldn't keep them open anymore. This felt nice; this felt like something you could get used to.

But when in the morning, afternoon to be exact, well past 12:00 PM, you woke up after a full night's sleep, he was gone. It felt like you just went to bed, and without any dreams disturbing your sleep, when you woke up it felt like just seconds had gone by. But he was gone.

Maybe you shouldn't get used to this.

Making deals with a demon never comes without a price.

For you, that cost was probably your sanity. Honestly, what is worse? Entities roaming around you or a demon tiring you out. Not easy to answer, but the feeling of his tongue inside your tongue first thing in the morning, accompanied by orgasms, wasn't such a bad thing.

“I loveee breakfast in bed!” He’d moan in your ear while thrusting into you with full force, like he didn't have dinner the night before. Plus now you get to sleep like a normal individual at night, well, after getting fucked to a puddle of nothing, that is.

“You look so good in this shirt, fuck, I just wanna tear it off of you.” The demon muttered right in your ears while floating in the air just beside you.

You were at your desk, at work, inside of your office building, trying to focus on your tasks for the day, yet somehow every one to two hours the demon would show up to terrorize you. Some days he wouldn't show up during working hours, some days he'd be here for way too long, and some days he'd come and go in intervals. The inconsistency made it harder for you to come up with measures to prevent the demon from trying to let his claws wander anywhere he'd like or run his tongue to spout the most vile things in broad daylight.

“Ughhh, I wish I was inside you right now.”

“You are so focused, it makes me want to bend you over on this table.”

“I want to eat you out right here and have these people watch me. I bet you'll like it.”

The whining was tolerable, but the words that came with it were the problem. To be fair, it was the demon in it of itself who was the problem. But then again, since he has been around, you have not seen a single other entity around you; things have been so smooth, if you don't count the whole demon situation.

But change is always taxing. That's what you told yourself when you suddenly got sick after a week and a few days of having the demon around. He is basically becoming an usual part of your routine; the only reason why he is not is because he is extremely unpredictable. Like catching a cold, you're fine, sucking on a popsicle one day, and the next day your throat is hurting, so you brush it off thinking it'll go away at the end of the day. But it's not; it only gets worse the next day, and by the third day you're bedridden with a high fever.

That's exactly what happened to you.

Figuratively and literally. A demon latched onto you all of a sudden, and now he is freely using you as he pleases, and you are also bedridden, sick from god knows what, counting down your days because it feels like death.

“It’s not that bad, angel.”

The demon suddenly appeared next to you on the bed. And you could feel your temperature about to rise. You were well enough to see a blurry image of his face hovering over yours, but not enough to shout at him or move away. You were in no shape to feed him. And if that's what's going to be happening to you in this state, you might have to soon find a way to get rid of him, or better, think about how you're going to even get rid of him in this moment.

“Oof, you're burning.” Instead of the impact of his lips, you felt the back of his obsidian hand on your forehead. Taking your temperature and assessing your condition. You could barely open your eyes to look at his face, and it looked worried. His brows were scrunched, his lips were jutted out subconsciously, and he looked focused—almost human.

Toru vanished in a flash in your bathroom and then floated into your kitchen. After rattling around in there for a few minutes, he came back with a bowl of water and a cloth, a glass of water, and some meds from your bathroom cabinet. He sat you up carefully to wipe away the sweat covering your body, gently gliding the small towel over your neck, back, arms, face, and belly. He gave you the meds and helped you hold the glass. Then he gently laid you back down and adjusted the air conditioner’s temperature. placed a bottle of water by your bedside, sat down on the floor, and placed his head on the bed to stare at you, like some puppy.

“Do you want something to eat? Some porridge, maybe ?” He looked worried, helpless even, more than how helpless you look right now.

“How are you going to order anything?” You mumbled with your eyes closed, almost drifting away to sleep.

“I can cook!” He excitedly sat up and lifted his head off the bed.

“I don't want to be liable if you use my kitchen to burn down his building.”

“If you keep doubting me like this, angel, I'll cry.” He folded his elbows on the bed to come closer to your face.

“So you want to burn down this building with your tears?”

“Now you're stereotyping me! All because I am a poor little demon!”

“Sure, you helpless creature.” A grin pulled on your lips, and even with your eyes closed, you know there was a similar one on his face.

The conversation died there as you lost your consciousness. And the demon got to work in your kitchen. He found some sad-looking vegetables in your fridge and other things to get to cooking. He also made a mental note to remind you to go grocery shopping. He found no problem working around in your space; at this point he was more acclimated to this apartment than you, and he looked after it better than you. He gathered your dirty clothes you always left scattered on the floor, made your bed, did your laundry, folded your laundry, and cleaned your dishes and the toilet, and now he is cooking for you. If he wasn't a demon, he would be the top contender for the best potential househusband. After about an hour, he was already done.

“Angel? Wake up, eat a little, ok?” He got the little folded table on the side of your bed to place it by your side and put the plate of food on it.

“Mmhmm.” He helped you to sit up and handed you a glass of water.

When you didn't even reach out to hold it and sat there with your eyes closed and hair looking like a bird's nest, he helped you drink some water. And even spoon-fed you the food. He blew on it gently to cool down every bite, brought the glass of water up to your lips from time to time, and then also cleaned up after everything. Like the good potential househusband he is, he did the dishes, set your meds by your bedside table, and tucked you in bed.

“Get well, angel.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, and you swear you heard him mumble something else. But you were too sleepy, and he was too quiet. You didn't even have any energy to ask anything; your eyes were betraying you, and before you made up your mind to ask him what he said, he was gone.

The next few days went by like that. The demon came in more often than usual to take care of you. Because what you thought was just a light cold from the changing seasons turned out bad enough to make you unable to get up from your bed for 4 days. You wish you could take more time to fully recover, but then also you couldn't ignore work anymore. So for the rest of the week, with your own little demon helper, you worked from home. Making that little demon helper feel a little angsty and neglected.

“Let's just go back to the bed.” The demon floated around you like a toddler whining for candy. He has been persistently trying to pry you out of your chair for the last 1 hour, and so far his efforts have been futile.

“I have a lot to do.” You kept your eyes trained on your monitor. The light reflecting off your glasses made it harder for him to gauge whether you were just annoyed at him or being hard on him as usual.

“And I want to do you .” He said that with a stone-straight face after he popped his head between you and your monitor.

“Go back to hell or something.” You tried to look past him and continued typing.

“Do you hate me, angel!?” His face morphed into an exaggerated desperate expression, eyebrows scrunched and both corners of his mouth turned down. He cradled your face in his hands, his claws adjusted to a medium length so they wouldn't scratch you by accident. You noticed that from the corner of your eye and felt something fluttering in your chest.

“You're making me hate you.” You pulled his hands off your face and moved him to the side like a floating balloon.

With a sigh he deflated down on the floor and placed his head on your lap. You looked down at his sulky face and the way his tail thumped on the floor in annoyance. It made the corners of your lips tug. Hesitantly you placed your nondominant hand to pat the floor of his messy, white, pearly hair. And he immediately moved his head towards your touch and looked up at you from where he let his face rest on your lap. His lips didn't move anymore than the usual smirk that always adorned his lips, but his eyes tugged into a smile. You looked away from him and went back to typing away on your keyboard, but you didn't shove him off your lap. You liked the warmth of his face, the way he looked up at you, the way his eyes smiled, and how his hands wrapped around your legs.

The moment was filled with sweet silence. It felt like you might as well get used to this. But like you can't trust a crocodile’s tears, you can't just assume that a demon would be content with head pats. That'd be wishful and naive of you.

First you felt a kiss on your thighs, right on the valley where they pressed together. You didn't think much of it. Then he started sucking on the skin there; it bruised easier than, say, your neck. By the time you barely typed two incorrectly spelled words, he had your thighs parted, face buried in between your legs, sniffing your cunt through your shorts. His arms curled around your knees and kept them open with ease. So now you have a demon between your legs, licking and sucking on your cunt through your cotton shorts.

“F-fucking hell, Toru.” The demon only hummed and looked up at you from where he was positioned on his knees. Your hands were off your keyboard at this point, buried in his hair, pulling on it. He pushed your chair back, and it wheeled backwards while he dragged your shorts off you. In that sudden moment, you couldn't figure out what was even happening when he moved under your desk and dragged your chair forward and went back to the position he was in.

“Ooh. No underwear? Finally taking my advice, angel?” He kept gawking at you, at your cunt. It was better to not wear underwear at home; it felt more comfortable. But not that you'll ever tell him he was right. Toru dove right in, licking at your slit and sucking on your clit like he hadn't been fed in days. Which is not wrong; he has been starving. You were honestly surprised by how much the incubus strained for your sake. It softened your heart. But you won't admit to that as well.

“Go on. You said you were busy.”

You tried your best to ignore the fiend between your legs—eating you out like his life depended on it. It was sort of a discovery for you, seeing him on his knees for you, hidden under your desk; there was this sense of guilt that gnawed at you. But you couldn't help but get wetter with every lick and couldn't help but tighten your thighs around his head as you came all over him.

“So. Now shall we head to the bed, or do you want me to carry you?” He rested his head against your thigh as he licked around his lips to clean up everything you left behind. His smile was soft and his eyes were coercing; there was no way you were about to get out of the clutches of temptation personified, who's kneeling between your legs. With a sigh, you reclined in your chair and reached for the little satchel in your drawer.

“Sorry, Toru.” “Huh? What do you—”

Just as the sprinkle of salt hit his head, the demon disappeared from under your desk. You felt bad somewhat, but it's not like you had any other choice. It'd be easier to deal with a sulky demon than drowning in overdue work at the end of the month.

He didn't show up for the rest of the day.

Not even the next morning for his usual ‘breakfast.’ You thought he was angry with you. And it worried you. What if he was actually angry with you? What if he didn't show up for days? Was he going to be alright without getting his fill for days? Will you be alright without him around? But wait, isn't it better? To not have him around? Sure, you weren't even close to finding a replacement for your pendant or him, but wouldn't it be easier without an incubus always floating around you and whispering dirty things in your ear? Ruining your panties and cleaning up your apartment? Cooking for you and taking care of you when you're sick?

You're really getting off track.

“Hey! Good morning!” Your coworker, Ms. Miwa Kasumi, passed by and greeted you; she was pretty new. Which is probably why she has been the only person in your department to greet you without any obligations and without any stutters.

“Oh, good morning.” You did your best to return her a smile, but you were sure it came off weirder. But she still looked appreciative nonetheless and then started walking beside you towards the meeting room.

“Ugh! I hate meetings first thing in the morning; it sucks!” Ms. Kasumi whined while walking with you. Of course, who would like meetings, especially when their entire department, except for one junior maybe, behaves oddly with them? Working under a big-name company almost always sucks. Especially when it's going through new changes like getting a new CEO. So things have been hectic lately anyway. So on top of everything, imagine walking into a meeting room full of people, where your designated seat is occupied by a sex demon in a suit, who has been haunting you.

“Everything alright?” You froze in the door of the meeting, and Ms. Kasumi looked back to check on you.

“Uh—yeah!” You tried to enthusiastically answer and follow her inside where everyone was already gathered.

“Good morning to my sweet angel!” The demon piped from your seat as you walked up to it and lingered with placing your things on the table as slowly as you could. Giving plenty of time to get off your chair.

“Sit down, Ms. L/n, we're starting.” Your department instructed, and when you looked at the demon with a glare, he patted his lap with enthusiasm and a smirk on his face. You got fully cornered.

“This is punishment.” The demon said as he got comfortable under you. Maneuvering you to sit as closely on top of him as possible.

“I was just busy.” You tried to whisper back to him as nonchalantly as possible while keeping your eyes on the presentation on the screen.

“I know, but you were really mean.” He whispered back in your ear like everything that was happening between you two right now could be heard and seen by everyone.

His hands just toyed with the hem of your skirt at first. And as you got more comfortable with being on his lap, as you let your guard lower—his hands started roaming all over your body. It started innocently with drawing circles on your knees with his sharp nails, then his claws retracted back into his skin, which is never a good sign. His hands went up and up until they were just below your breasts. They stopped there and squeezed them, making you hunch defensively.

“Don't make it obvious, alright, sweets?”

He opened up your shirt and started running his fingers over your collarbones. And soon after pulled your bra down to put your tits out on a show. There you were, in a meeting room full of your coworkers and colleagues, looking down at your lap because you couldn't bear to look up to see the horrors in everyone's eyes. But the demon under you couldn't be less bothered. He played with your tits like he could smell the embarrassment and agony on you, but he could also see right through you. As if he could tell how much this was turning you on.

“What a dirty little angel you are.” He chuckled slightly right beside your ear, placed his chin on your shoulder, and bunched up your skirt. Then he pushed aside your panties, and without any prep or warning, he rammed his cock inside of you. You were on the verge of screaming out a moan; your grip on the hand rest got tighter and tighter as you felt like the room was getting smaller and smaller and hotter by the second.

“Now don't whine like I didn't offer to stretch ya’ good last night, but you threw salt at me, hmm.” The pointed tip of his tongue slipped around the ridges of your ear. “I think you are forgetting that you are dealing with a demon.”

And maybe you were. You were getting confused by his kindness and compassion, so maybe for a while you forgot he is a literal demon. Feeding from, or maybe feeding on, you.

“Distracted? Am I going too soft on you, angel?” Toru noticed how you leaned on the table with your elbows pressed on the surface for your life, but you seemed distracted. You were distracted from the meeting, from the way his hips pistoned upwards into you; you were thinking about something else, and he couldn't have that. You had to just sit there with your lips pressed together and sit there drenched in your cold sweat.

“Look up, sweets, won't you? Don't you wanna see how good I'm fucking you in front of all these people?” His hand gripped your throat, and at that point you were fully hunched over the table. All the while he thrust into your cunt with enough vigor to shake the entire table with you. His balls were basically slapping against your skin, and the tip of his cock was hitting places you did not think existed before.

“I’m gonna fucking cum inside you. Have you dripping with my cum all day? You'll like that, huh? walking around in public while m’cum fucking seeps out of you?” Toru leaned forward and pulled you back towards him by your throat. “But you have to keep it nice and warm inside of you.”

“F-fuc-k.” You muttered under your breath; you were about to orgasm in a meeting room at your office. But in this moment all you knew was that Toru was whispering shit in your ears, thrusting into your pussy, and you were about to cum all over him.

“C’mon, do it. Gush all over me like my good angel.” And like on his command, you came just like that. He bit down on your nape, and soon after came inside of you, like he promised. After he pulled out, he went and shoved everything that leaked out back inside of your pussy with two fingers and a kiss on your cheek.

“See ya’ later angel.” And like that, he was gone. And you were just left there drenched in your sweat and filled with his cum, sitting in your chair confused and scared.

“Are you ok, Ms. L/n!? I've been calling for you for the last 5 minutes.” Your boss asked from the end of the table. You were too scared to look up at him. While contemplating, your eyes landed on your shirt, perfectly buttoned just as it was, and your skirt was wrinkled the exact amount from this morning when you got off the train.

“Yes, sir, just feeling a little hot.” You do not know how you held yourself together to not stutter while replying to him while everyone in the room looked at you weirdly, except for Ms. Kasumi, who just looked concerned.

“Are you sure? Is your fever back? Do you want to step out for a bit?”

“It’s alright, sir; I'm perfectly alright.” You shook your head and told him you were just fine and took a sip of your water to cool down.

“Alright, if you say so.”

He nodded hesitantly and proceeded back to the meeting. As the meeting went on, even though you tried your best to focus on the contents of the presentation, all you could think about was one cunning demon and his cum pooling in your underwear.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT! HOW DARE YOU—WHAT IF—” You held the demon by his collar and shook him back and forth while he just giggled.

“It's ok, angel, they can't see anything.” You stopped in your tracks and pulled him closer to your face and squinted your eyes.

“elaborate.” He sighed and held your hands with his own. “They can't see me and therefore can't see anything I do to you unless I want them to.” You blinked at him, feeling somewhat at ease by his confirmation.

“Are you sure?” He nodded and kissed right under your left eye. “Why would I lie?”

“To make me feel at ease or something.” He giggled some more, and you couldn't help but stare at his blue eyes squinting as his lips stretched. “Yes, but I wouldn't lie to do that.”

“Says the demon.” You snorted incredulously as he snickered some more. But you felt fully at ease.

“You do know this opens up soooo many possibilities.” The demon slyly said while moving his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“You—” “Ms. L/n! Are you there?”

You got cut off by Ms. Kasumi while trying to curse out the demon some more for his suggestion. In a panic, you asked the demon to stay where he was, at the end of a hallway, in front of the elevator, and you walked towards Ms. Kasumi as fast as you could. When you got to her, she just immediately started asking if you were alright and if you needed to go back home.

“Are you sure you're ok?” She really genuinely looked worried.

With some reassurance, she was convinced by your pathetic excuse about the thermostat. Nonetheless, she still offered to take up some of your work and didn't take no for an answer. It was refreshing, really. Instead of people quietly putting more work on you because apparently you are more competent than them or some other excuse, even though they always have something to say behind your back, she wanted to take some load off your shoulders. It was new, but you appreciated that.

once you made sure Ms. Kasumi was gone, you walked back to where you left Toru. When you reached the end of the hall, you took a turn to find him standing in front of the elevator, looking like he was waiting for it to get here.

“What are you waiting for, the elevator or something?” You jokingly said as you went to stand beside him. And the demon, on the other hand, looked fully flabbergasted to see you. It was as if he was seeing you up close for the first time. Then he looked confused and just panicked. Like he was going through too many emotions at the same time. And it made you confused in return. Why is he acting like he didn't make you think that you were about to be on the verge of losing your life just an hour ago?

“Yeah—yeah. I am.”

His voice sounded different. Deeper than how he usually speaks with you, calmer as well, but not really calm in that phony way that you know all too well. You couldn't help but scrunch your eyebrows and mirror his confused expression.

“Mr. Gojo! I found the file!” Just as you were about to interrogate him some more, an exasperated and tired-looking man ran up to the demon with a bunch of files under his arm and one in his hand. ‘Mr. Gojo,’ that's what he called the demon, you know, as Toru. If you were suspicious and confused before, now you are panicking and confused. What was happening, and why did that name sound so famiiar?

“Yeah, this looks good.” Toru—or Mr. Gojo—looked through the file he was handed with a stern and serious expression that you've never seen on the demon. But what surprised you more was when he pulled his hands out of his pockets to grab the file, his hands were not the same glittery obsidian anymore. And that odd anomaly made you look around for his tail, which was also gone. When he turned towards you, who was too stunned and frozen in place to say anything, the elevator doors opened with a ding. ‘Mr. Gojo’ looked hesitantly between you and the elevator while the sickly-looking man, possibly his assistant, looked between you two. He opened and closed his mouth and then just walked inside the elevator with his assistant quickly following behind him.

“See you around, Ms. L/n.” That's all he said before the elevator doors closed between you two and he was gone.

What the fuck is happening?

In your entire supernatural life, you've never encountered anything stranger than this. He had the same cerulean blue eyes, the same shade of platinum white hair, the same features, and the same three-piece suit the demon was wearing this morning. How can there be a man who looked exactly like a demon. Or was the demon disguising himself as this man? But why would he do that? What was his motive? That was all you could think about while aimlessly walking through the hallway to get to your desk. You spent the rest of your day in a trance. Typing at your computer in a daze, making more mistakes than progress. That even your boss noticed. This was not how you work; he has seen you sick, and you always push through it. But he didn't want to pressure you with too many questions and just left you alone.

At the end of the day, Ms. Kasumi tagged you on your way out; she was talking about something. But you couldn't hear anything; you were wondering why the demon didn't show up since you saw his lookalike.

“You know, Ms. L/n, the new CEO is so gorgeous! I ran into him in the hallway today, and OMG, he is cooler than what the rumors say!”

“Mmhmm.”

You disinterestedly nodded along, wanting to get home as soon as possible and put this day behind you. But just as the elevator doors opened, there he was again, right in front of you.

“Hello, sir!” Ms. Kasumi bowed down in front of this, Mr. Gojo. Like he was an important figure, which you assumed by how he walked around with the amount of power exuding off of him.

“Oh—um, you don't have to bow.” He awkwardly shook his hands for Ms. Kasumi to stand straight back up again. All while his eyes remained trained on you, maintaining perfect eye contact. You weren't one to hold eyes with someone, but here you were, refusing to look away first, maybe to find any answers behind his cerulean eyes.

“I assume you are clocking out? Thank you for your hard work. Have a good night.” He smiled at you two, and his eyes finally wavered away from you. You could see a flush of red creeping up his neck under the dim lights of the lobby.

“Thank you, sir! You have a good night as well!” Ms. Kasumi enthusiastically said as you two stepped out of the elevator for Mr. Gojo to step in with his tired-looking assistant.

“If you'll excuse me, then.” Mr. Gojo nodded one last time at you two. Mr. Han walked ahead of you, but you still kept standing in front of the elevator, staring at him shamelessly. And before the doors could close between you two once again, he smiled at you, a smile that reached his eyes, and he looked exactly like the demon you've come to know in the last few weeks.

“Bye, Ms. L/n.”

This was definitely the same guy. There is no way they're two different individuals. They're somehow connected, and you do not know how, but you need to figure it out. As soon as possible.

“See! Like I said, he looks better up close!” Ms. Kasumi enthusiastically looked at you for your agreement while you two walked side by side up to the entrance of the building.

“Who?”

“The new CEO! Mr. Gojo! You are really out of it today, Ms. L/n; please get some rest when you get home.” Unfortunately for Ms. Kasumi, you tuned out everything she said after Mr. Gojo.

There is something weird going on right now. And you, honestly, have no idea what it is. You do not have any clue other than the fact that your new CEO and the sex demon you made a deal with look exactly the same and behave exactly the same and feel exactly the same, but not entirely. And it's giving you a headache. Whatever it is that is going on, you will get to the bottom of it.

But first, you need that damn demon to show up, who's made a mess of your already tiresome life.

PART TWO ⸻> soon!

FIND MORE OF MY WORKS HERE

a/n: dividers by @/enchanthings-a & @/omi-resources. fanart by @/3-aem, lyrics info in image, and other one is just from Pinterest.

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sixeyesonathiel · 3 months ago

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co-parenting? no. co-pettying.

pairing — single dad satoru x single mom reader

satoru is just trying to console his crying daughter over her tragic bangs—until he finds out the kid who roasted her is your son. petty parenting, unresolved feelings, and karmic bangs ensue.

a/n: in honor of me getting bangs again. pt 2 later ig

satoru gojo is seething.

not the explosive kind. no, this is a slow, bitter simmer—the kind only young single dads with too much pride, a permanently furrowed brow, and daughters crying over their butchered bangs can manage. he sits on the park bench like it personally offended him, ice cream in one hand, the other arm wrapped protectively around his daughter, who’s still sniffling beside him. the vanilla scoop is melting, forgotten, dripping onto his jeans. he doesn’t care. he’s glaring at the sandbox like it insulted his bloodline.

"and then he said i looked like a mushroom," she sobs again, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. her voice warbles. her eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. her bangs—god. they're a battlefield. uneven, jagged, more suggestion than style. like she challenged a pair of safety scissors to a duel and the scissors didn’t even try.

satoru bends forward, crouching beside her like he’s about to deliver a sacred truth. his long fingers gently cup her tear-streaked face, the scar on his knuckle catching the sunlight as he exhales dramatically. "you are beautiful," he says, like he means it, like he’s declaring something holy. "you look like a high-fashion mushroom. like... couture fungus. like the kind of mushroom anna wintour would cry over."

his daughter hiccups through a giggle. small win.

he pushes her hair behind her ears, lets out a sigh that feels older than he is. he’s only twenty-two, but the weight in his shoulders says thirty-five. he ruffles her hair. "who was it?" he asks, too calm. that special, terrifyingly pleasant calm dads get when they’re about to ruin some six-year-old’s entire lineage.

"hiro," she says, almost sulking now. "he laughed and said i looked like a button mushroom. his mom picked him up after school. she gave me a candy and told me boys are dumb. she was really pretty."

hiro.

satoru blinks. that's your kid. he stares ahead, almost offended by the realization. the same hiro who offered his daughter a capri sun last week like he was proposing marriage. the same hiro who now, apparently, inherited your pettiness like it’s a family heirloom.

he remembers it all too well.

the way you stormed down the hallway in high school, bangs equally doomed, fire in your eyes, shouting at him for the fourth time that month. you always looked cutest when you were mad. he’d called you mushroom head and dodged a flying highlighter.

in his defense, he was sixteen and stupid and thought the way your face twisted in outrage was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. he was in love. tragically, stupidly in love. he just expressed it by emotionally terrorizing you every fourth period chemistry class.

now your six-year-old is carrying the baton like a prodigy. divine retribution, with extra glitter.

he sees you a few days later.

the playground buzzes with kids and shrieks and parents scrolling phones with mild exhaustion. you’re sitting on a low stone wall near the swings, sunglasses pushed into your hair, drink in hand, scrolling your phone with one finger and the smuggest smirk he’s ever seen. your earrings catch the late afternoon sun. your nails are fresh. you’re the picture of composed pettiness.

"gojo satoru," you say sweetly, like you’re greeting a man you’d happily watch trip over a lego.

the way your mouth curves around his name is criminal. he hates how much he notices that. hates how fast his ears burn. he adjusts the collar of his hoodie, trying to look unaffected.

he gives you a dry look. "heard your kid's been practicing stand-up comedy. at my daughter's expense."

you hum, tilting your head. "is that what we’re calling emotional resilience these days? because if he gets it from anyone, it’s me."

satoru eyes you. his hoodie’s stained with dried syrup, there’s a faint bruise on his temple—cabinet incident. his posture’s a little slumped, like sleep is a distant fantasy. he scratches the back of his neck. his fingers tap a silent beat against his thigh.

"he called her a mushroom."

"a cute mushroom," you counter, not missing a beat. "like, toad from mario. he’s a legend."

you sip your iced latte without breaking eye contact. he scowls.

"you taught him that."

"you say that like i wouldn’t weaponize shared trauma."

the corner of his mouth twitches. your words are sweet and soaked in petty, and it’s driving him insane. you’re too calm about it. too good at this.

"you’re enjoying this."

"oh, i’m thriving," you say, leaning back slightly, letting the breeze catch your shirt. "do you know how many years i waited for the universe to do this? it’s like my karmic investment finally matured."

his jaw ticks. "i was a kid. you were cute when you were homicidal."

you laugh, but there’s a bite to it. "i was feral, satoru. you made me snap a pencil with my bare hands."

"still the hottest thing i’ve seen."

the words slip. he bites the inside of his cheek too late. his eyes flick up, reading your face, then quickly dart away.

you blink, slowly. your lips part, but nothing comes out at first. then you scoff, shaking your head with a little smirk, like you’re filing that away for later.

hiro runs past then, thrusting a friendship bracelet toward satoru’s daughter. it’s neon pink, too tight, barely holding together. she takes it like it’s the crown jewels. behind them, someone’s kid faceplants into the mulch. a mom sighs deeply without looking up from her kindle.

"see?" you say, lifting your brows, voice light but smug. "my kid has more emotional intelligence than you did at seventeen."

"okay, that’s—"

"—true," you interrupt, standing. you stretch lazily, fingers laced above your head. your shirt rides up slightly, revealing a hint of skin. he notices. his eyes snap away too fast.

you glance down, lips curling with practiced sweetness. "how’s it feel? to be on the receiving end of the mushroom prophecy?"

"is this revenge?"

"no," you say, brushing invisible lint from your jeans. "this is me being a good mom. and maybe also petty. definitely petty."

and then—god—you wink. like this is your sitcom and he’s still the fool in love.

satoru groans, slumping on the bench, hands dragging down his face. beside him, his daughter is giggling, her butchered bangs fluttering as she tugs hiro toward the slides.

across from him, your laughter rings out—soft, wicked, triumphant. it curls through the air like the ghost of a grudge with perfect eyeliner, like the echo of a high school hallway where a boy once said "mushroom head" and a girl nearly committed homicide with a highlighter.

god. he’s losing a custody battle against karma. and karma’s wearing lip gloss.

he watches you walk away, heart pounding, throat tight. he never said it. maybe he never will. but god—you still do something to him.

and maybe that's the real punishment.

not the bangs. not the karma.

just the ache of wanting you, after all this time.

#౨ৎ — filed reports #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo crack #jjk crack #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n

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caffeinatedvigilantewriter · 3 months ago

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Ok so Amity gets lots of its funding by hosting a summer camp every year. They host it by the lake in the woods and the local high schools are counselors and head of cabins.

The camp is like a 150 year tradition and it got very popular especially among the rich from around the country.

They kept it going, closing down for 3 summers because of the ghost attacks (the town could have the attacks and the camp running. It would be too dangerous)

They opened it the next year, but with a lot more liability paperwork and that stuff.

This is also the year where Damian Wayne gets sent to the camp.

Bruce went, Dick went, Jason went, Tim went and even Cass went for a year and now it was his turn.

Damian did not want to go. There are no phones allowed, so he won’t be able to communicate with his family. He went anyway. Danny is his head of cabin.

All the senior class members are liminal. With the weird traits and all that shit. They know Danny is phantom but they don’t really talk about it

Shenanigans:

- Danny noticing the faint liminal scent on Damian and kind takes him under his wing to hopefully have Damian feed off of his ecto and get healthier. Damian thinks his head of cabin just gets really attached really easily.

- Sam running the gardens and using her undergrowth powers. Damian think she’s related to Posion Ivy, but evidently does not care when he find out she a vegan and just as passionate about the environment and animals as he is

- Tucker teaches the campers a coding class. 30 fourteen year olds hacking into places they should not hack into. Surprisingly, under Tuckers guidance, they all manage to successfully hack into the Pentagon without detection. Damian glanced at Tucker’s screen and saw that he was not hacking along with them but hacking an organization called the GIW

-Val and Danny teach hand to hand combat and weapons. After the camper learn to use all the weapons, Val and Danny assign one o them (crossbow, knife, bow and arrow, laser gun). Damian is great at all of them, and they let him pick whichever weapon he wants.

- Damian offhandedly mentions that a katana is his preferably weapon. The next week, Danny’s younger sister comes back from her travels with a katana for him.

- dash and kwan run the camp wide games. They have capture the flag and dodgeball (but they changed it to bow and arrow dodgeball to secretly help with the kids aim), but now they added a little tournament.

- each camper uses their weapon and are pitted against each other until there is one winner. Unsurprisingly, it’s Damian.

- the GIW crashes the camp in the middle of the night after getting a really strong ecto signal (Damian, plus Danny, plus the other liminal counselors). The counselors were at a separate location having a meeting or some other shit that doesn’t involve the campers.

-with Damian leading, the campers manage to fend them off. He and the other campers notice that they seemed to be targeting Damian.

-the counselors get back in time to help them.

-Damian doesn’t mention any of this to his family, and neither do the other campers. They all want to come back next year.

BONUS

Damian send weekly letters about what he’s doing at camp but in simple terms so that the Wayne’s think that camp just expanded their activities and Damian’s having fun

BONUS BONUS

Damian, after feeding off of Danny’s ecto for 2 months becomes visibly liminal. He grows a foot and a half taller, gets fangs, can hold his breath for longer, is quieter, eyes start glowing.

The Waynes are slightly suspicious, but they’ve all went to the camp and came back fine, so maybe he just had a growth spurt.

Maybe months later Constantine comes to the Watchtower and ask Damian how long he’s been dead. Damian answers.

“4 months, magician.”

The Waynes are now freaking out because they had no idea Damian died during summer camp.

Cue the rabbit hole into Amity Park, Phantom, Danny, and the GIW

#danny phantom #dpxdc #danielle phantom #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp prompt #dani fenton #dp x dc crossover #batman #cvw fic summaries #liminal damian #damian wayne #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #dash baxter #valerie gray #summer camp au

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neellscapsule · 29 days ago

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you can take the girl out of smallville . . .

kent!batmom!reader who has lived in gotham for years now — married to bruce, mothering too many batkids — but still can't get the origin out of the system.

kent!batmom!reader that stills says "ma'am" and "sir" despite being a high-class lady now. alfred is the only one who doesn't protest anymore. everyone else looks vaguely uncomfortable the first time you call them like that with pure kansas courtesy.

kent!batmom!reader that bakes like crazy. not because your family doesn't take you to the nicest bakeries on town — bruce could buy every single one in the city if he wanted —, but there is something about making apple pies from scratch that makes you totally happy.

dick: “mom, are you stress-baking again?” you: “when am I not stress-baking, sweetheart?” jason (walking past, biting into a muffin): “i see no problem here.”

kent!batmom!reader that is a complete menace alongside damian when it comes to animals. the manor is big, yeah, but there are so many pets that it can seem small from time to time. you both have already put in an exorbitant amount: three gods, one cat, one cow, and a bunny. that not counting all the bats in the cave.

kent!batmom!reader whose's language is filth. crude comparisons, insults thrown back and forth. you could probably make a cowboy blush.

kent!batmom!reader that adores the farm — and drags all the family with her. at least twice a year you herd the entire wayne brood to smallville. first time dick went — ten, only some months after being adopted — he had to run from the chickens. jason, in contrast, fell in love with running around and climbing in the old tractor.

kent!batmom!reader that still carries that thick rural accent, mostly when she's full relaxed. it creeps back in when you're tired. it comes roaring back when you are with clark.

tim once recorded you during a stressed-out ramble when the accent got so thick even alfred paused, blinking, confused.

kent!batmom!reader who will always be a kent. smallville-born. raised under kansas skies and sun. despite what every socialite in gotham wishes you would be. but even they know bruce never stood a chance against that cheeky smile of yours.

#bruce wayne x reader #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #batmom reader #kent!batmom!reader #batboys x reader #bruce wayne x you #platonic clark kent x reader

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carnalcrows · 2 months ago

Text

STUDY ME

pairing: perfect student! male OC x male reader [faceclaim]

synopsis: No one’s ever ranked higher than Haruki Mikage—until you do. You’re new, unsettlingly smart, and partnered with him for a major project. Haruki’s trying to stay composed, but your odd habits, offhanded comments, and freakish talent in the kitchen are messing with his head. He should’ve ignored you. He doesn’t.

content warnings : 18+, academic rivals to something else, reader is creepy-smart and says weird shit unprovoked, golden boy Haruki smokes under pressure, slow burn with freaky tension, blowjob at the end of ch1 (reader giving), reader’s thoughts are not normal, shared trauma over academic excellence, high-school setting, light humiliation kink energy, some bullying, borderline-obsessive chemistry, they’re both unwell but in different fonts. also: the project does get submitted on time. barely.

word count: 3.4k

The paper wasn’t even all the way up on the board before someone in the hallway let out a low whistle.

“Yo, he’s not first anymore.”

The teacher pressed the last corner of the sheet flat against the corkboard with her palm, used a pin to anchor it in place. She stepped back. The crowd surged forward.

Haruki Mikage didn’t move from his desk.

He didn’t have to. He already knew what it said.

He’d been top-ranked every semester since middle school—longer, if you counted the city-wide assessments and mock entrance exams his mother used to post on the fridge like they were participation ribbons. Everyone knew his name. They whispered it before exams, hated him for it after. Professors adored him. Classmates tolerated him. His grades were a forgone conclusion.

But still, there was that whistle.

That murmur again.

The skin between his shoulder blades prickled with something unfamiliar.

He’s not first anymore.

He set his pen down.

Someone pressed a palm to the open door. “Mikage.”

Haruki looked up.

It was Kinoshita from 2-A. Always too loud, always too nosey.

“There’s a new name up there,” Kinoshita said, eyes wide, half in disbelief and half in that messy kind of glee people reserved for perfect students slipping. “You’re second.”

Haruki blinked once.

Kinoshita grinned. “They only wrote the family name. No one knows who it is yet.”

Haruki didn’t answer. He just turned back to his notebook and wrote the date in the top right corner. Kinoshita lingered in the doorway a second longer, waiting for something. A reaction. A twitch. Even a shrug.

He got nothing.

Haruki didn’t even look bothered.

But the tip of his pen was pressed too hard into the paper. Ink pooling.

∘₊✧

He didn’t go look at the list.

Not during lunch, not after school. Everyone else swarmed the board. The hall smelled like shoe rubber and shampoo and stress. A few people snapped photos. One girl squealed. Someone muttered your last name and said, “It has to be a mistake.”

It wasn’t.

Your name was written in blocky black print above Haruki’s, the gap between your scores barely two digits wide—but it was enough. It was real.

You weren’t in his class last year. No one knew who you were. You didn’t even have a photo in the club yearbook. No whispers, no rumors, no posts online. Just a name no one recognized and a score too high to ignore.

That should’ve been the end of it.

One test. One fluke.

People were curious, but curiosity burned out fast here. Unless you were someone interesting, someone visible, someone like Haruki—nobody lasted more than a few weeks before fading back into academic noise.

Except you didn’t fade. You didn’t do anything. You just existed in the background.

Quiet. Distant. Present. Like static. Like a blank space on a page that never stopped drawing the eye.

He should’ve forgotten it.

But your name kept coming up—softly, between other people’s conversations. No one knew where you were from. Or why your name was never on any club roster. Or what kind of person beat Haruki Mikage and then refused to show their face.

Someone in class said you were weird. That you mumbled to yourself. That you drew creepy shit in the corners of your worksheet margins and then never turned them in.

Another said you laughed in the middle of a chemistry lecture, and no one knew why.

Someone else said they saw you eating cold rice balls under the gym stairs, headphones on, eyes closed, mouthing the words to something that didn’t exist.

None of that made sense.

None of it matched the clean, precise writing next to the top score on the midterm report.

But Haruki remembered it anyway.

∘₊✧

The first time he saw you was two weeks later.

There was no grand entrance. You just walked in a little after the second bell, half-zipped jacket, hair a mess, notebooks clutched to your chest like a bribe.

Haruki was already seated. Already organised. Already done with the warm-up quiz.

You didn’t look at him.

You walked past him, past everyone, and sat in the back corner of the room by the window. The only desk that hadn’t been claimed.

You slumped down. Dropped your bag. Took out a pencil that had bite marks in it and started copying notes from the board with a half-lidded stare.

Haruki stared. He couldn’t help it.

There were no rumours about how you looked—no pictures online, no Instagram stories. But this wasn’t what he expected.

You weren’t particularly neat. Or polished. Your uniform didn’t fit right, like it had been ironed two days ago and then slept in. Your fingers were ink-stained. Your collar slightly crooked.

You were pretty. But in a way that felt… accidental. Or wrong. Like a painting flipped upside down.

There was something strange about your face. Or maybe your mouth. It looked like it wanted to smile, but didn’t know how.

You looked up once during the lecture. Your eyes met his.

Then you winked.

Haruki turned back to his textbook immediately, his throat dry.

He didn’t look at you again for the rest of the period.

But he felt you looking.

∘₊✧

The class project was announced the next week.

“Pairs of two,” the teacher said, holding up a glass bowl with folded slips inside. “We’re going to assign them randomly. You’ll have three weeks to put your presentations together. Graded on both content and performance.”

She walked between rows with the bowl.

Haruki reached in, pulled a number: 9.

He waited patiently while the others filed through their slips. Then your name was called.

You pulled yours out. Paused. Tapped it twice against your palm.

You looked right at him when you said, “Nine.”

Haruki’s fingers twitched around his pen.

∘₊✧

He didn’t say anything until after class.

You were still packing up, slow and disorganised. You dropped your folder and didn’t bother to pick up half the papers that slid out. A few had doodles in the margins. They looked like vines. Or veins.

“Haruki Mikage,” he said.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Yeah?”

He stared. Then, “That’s my name.”

You tilted your head.

“I know,” you said. “You're the guy with the stupidly perfect eyebrows.”

He stared harder.

You reached for your bag, smiling faintly. “Are we gonna start working on this project, or are you gonna keep staring at me like I just spit in your bento?”

Haruki didn’t respond.

You laughed softly—barely audible. Like you hadn’t meant to do it.

Then you leaned forward and whispered, “You always look like you’re trying not to judge me. It’s okay. You can. It makes your mouth look sharper.”

His stomach twisted. He stepped back.

You turned and walked off like nothing happened.

Like you hadn’t just said the first thing that’s ever made him lose his breath.

∘₊✧

The two of you met for the first study session in the back corner of the library, because, of course, you suggested it, and of course, Haruki said yes, even though it went against his better judgment, instincts, and every fibre of his tightly-wound existence.

“This is where the ghosts live,” you said, dropping your bag to the floor and immediately sitting cross-legged on the chair. “They’re chill, though. As long as you don’t read anything out loud in Latin.”

Haruki blinked at you over the top of his textbook. “I don’t read Latin,” he said flatly.

You grinned. “That’s good. You’ve got exorcism hands, not summoning hands.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s a compliment.” It didn’t sound like one. But also—it kind of did?

You kicked your leg a little, humming under your breath. Then you reached over and grabbed his pen. Didn’t even ask. Just took it. Twirled it between your fingers like a wand and said, “Alright, Harvard. Let’s get this nerd orgy started.”

“…Excuse me?”

You looked at him innocently. “You’re telling me you don’t think studying is a group kink?”

Haruki did not dignify that with a response.

You leaned back in your seat and tilted your head, staring at him like you were taking inventory of something beneath his skin. Then:

“Have you always been like this?”

“…Like what?”

“Like a boy who was genetically engineered to be the president of every club. Like a human version of whatever’s in those vitamin gummies for your brain.”

Haruki frowned, flipping to the next page of the syllabus. “And you’ve always been like this?”

“Unfortunately,” you replied, deadpan. “I tried being normal once. Got a nosebleed.”

He didn’t believe a single word out of your mouth.

He also couldn’t stop looking at you.

Not in the overt, obvious way. Just… his eyes kept landing on the curve of your neck when you tilted your head back to think. Or the way your lips moved when you mouthed words to yourself under your breath. You chewed your pen sometimes, distractedly.

You had a pretty mouth. Haruki wondered what it would feel like around his fingers.

You tapped your fingers against your leg in a rhythm he couldn’t decipher. You made references he didn’t understand.

“Did you know Freud had a raging thing for eels?”

“…What?”

“He dissected like so many of them. Never found the testes. Drove him insane. I feel like you’re my eel.”

Haruki slowly set his pen down.

“I’m… what.”

“I don’t get you,” you said, voice lighter. Not teasing now. Just honest. “You’re like this shiny, polished, student council-approved perfection android. But then you make these tiny expressions when no one’s looking. Like you’re pissed. Or bored. Or like you wanna scream into a pillow for eight hours.”

He stared. Speechless.

You tilted your head again. “Have you ever screamed into a pillow?”

“No,” he said slowly, carefully. “Have you?”

You smiled. “Only when someone's on top of me.”

Haruki’s brain short-circuited for a second.

You opened your notebook like you hadn’t just dropped a sentence that would require him to pray afterwards. “Okay, let’s start with the thesis breakdown. We can decide if you wanna present or I wanna present, but either way, I get to say the weird part.”

“There’s… a weird part?”

“There’s always a weird part,” you said, eyes sparkling. “It’s the whole point of writing anything. Gotta add the bite.”

He didn’t know what you meant, but his pulse ticked up anyway.

You worked surprisingly well together.

You were smart. Not just academically, but weird smart. You pulled random quotes from obscure films, recalled footnotes Haruki had skimmed past, and made connections he hadn’t even considered. And the worst part was—your instincts were always right.

You were completely unserious about your own reputation, but deadly serious about the work. Which meant that Haruki—perfectionist, ruthless, prideful Haruki—couldn’t even hate you for beating him.

All he could do was sit across from you while you explained why you thought the author used soil erosion as a metaphor for emotional decay and pretend his leg wasn’t bouncing under the table.

When the session ended, you leaned over his side of the desk to grab your drink—and stayed there.

You were too close.

Too casual.

Your hair was a little messy. Your breath smelled like melon soda and mints. And when you pulled away, you laughed like you knew exactly what you were doing.

“I’ll text you,” you said, swinging your bag over one shoulder. “Unless you’d prefer I send smoke signals from the roof.”

“I don’t have your number.”

You blinked.

“Oh. Right.”

You held your hand out. Palm up. Waiting.

Haruki hesitated. Then handed over his phone.

You typed something fast, then handed it back.

The name you saved in his contacts wasn’t your name.

It just said: [threat level: weirdly hot]

He didn’t correct it.

∘₊✧

Haruki stepped out onto the rooftop with his blazer slung over his shoulder, tie loosened just enough not to look sloppy. He didn’t really care if people saw the cigarette between his fingers — nobody ever said anything. Not to him. It was the kind of privilege that came with being him.

Top grades. National mock test finalist. MVP of the volleyball team. Editor of the student journal. The golden boy. Your mother’s favorite. Your teacher’s pride. The one who always knew the answer but never rubbed it in.

And here he was, burning through his second cigarette of the afternoon, hoping it would quiet the spinning in his head.

He hated that it didn’t.

The shouting started before he even made it down the last step.

“Why don’t you just eat somewhere else?” someone hissed.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with this freak show today—seriously, you always pick the corner seat like it’s your kingdom or something.”

Haruki’s foot hit the bottom stair.

He knew that voice. Loud. Entitled. A second-year student from the basketball team who walked around like he owned the school just because he had abs and rich parents. The group around him laughed, but it sounded more like barking.

You were sitting alone, lunch in your lap, face unreadable. Picking at your rice like you couldn’t hear them.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t look up. But your hands had gone still.

Haruki’s voice cut in before he could think about it.

“You talk a lot for someone that far below average,” he said flatly.

Silence.

The air shifted.

The guy whipped around, only to pale when he saw Haruki standing there, jacket off, sleeves rolled, cigarette still burning between his fingers.

Haruki didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

“Keep walking,” he added.

The group scattered. No one apologised. No one even made eye contact. They just fled, like hyenas realising the lion hadn’t left after all.

You glanced up at him with a half-smile. “Wow. My hero.”

“You shouldn’t let them get to you.”

“I don’t.” You popped a cherry tomato into your mouth. “I just added them to the list.”

“…What list.”

You didn’t answer. You just chewed and smiled.

∘₊✧

Later that week.

You opened the door in a loose black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair wet from a shower and sticking to your forehead in damp, clinging strands. You looked cosy in a way that made Haruki’s lungs feel too tight.

“You made it,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. “Wanna see something cool?”

Haruki followed you in, expecting weird posters, weird books, and maybe an Ouija board or something.

What he didn’t expect was—

The kitchen.

Clean. Lived-in. There was a wooden cutting board already dusted with flour. Soy sauce, mirin, and sesame oil lined up neatly on the counter. A cast iron pot simmering quietly on the stove, steam curling like the first exhale of a ghost.

You tied an apron around your waist and turned slightly. “Sit.”

He did.

The scent was unreal.

Rich and savoury. Ginger and garlic blooming in oil, followed by a splash of sake and the quiet crackle of meat hitting the pan. Chicken thighs, if he wasn’t mistaken—bone-in, skin crisping in real time as you basted it with soy and sugar.

The sauce thickened into a lacquered glaze, caramel-dark and glistening. You flipped the pieces with casual precision, face calm in a way he’d never seen in class. Focused. Almost elegant.

You weren’t speaking. Just humming. A low, tuneless little rhythm under your breath.

He watched the way your fingers moved—quick and practised as you sliced scallions into fine curls, sprinkled furikake over the steaming rice. You moved like you lived in the kitchen, like it wasn’t a performance.

The food was simple, but the kind of simple that only comes from knowing what you're doing. Like you’d made this a hundred times for someone you cared about.

No one had ever cooked for Haruki before.

He didn’t realise how tightly he was gripping the edge of the chair until you set the plate in front of him and the smell hit him like a memory he didn’t have.

He blinked. “This is…”

“Chicken nanban,” you said. “I made the tartar sauce from scratch.”

Haruki picked up his chopsticks, swallowed something thick in his throat, and took a bite.

The chicken cracked at the surface, still hot enough to burn, still sweet from the soy and vinegar glaze. The homemade tartar had bits of pickles and onion, just sharp enough to cut through the richness. The rice underneath had soaked up some of the sauce, sticky and warm.

It was stupidly good.

He kept eating quietly. You sat down beside him with your own plate and started scrolling through your phone, legs tucked up under you.

“Why do you know how to cook like this?” he asked finally.

You shrugged. “I like taking care of things.”

“…People?”

“Depends,” you said, tone lazy. “You wanna be taken care of?”

He looked at you. You didn’t look up.

The silence between you stretched like sugar—warm, sticky, slow.

He put his chopsticks down.

You turned to him.

And smiled.

Haruki wasn’t sure what he expected your room to look like, but it wasn’t this.

Simple, mostly. Clean. A little lived-in. The walls were bare except for a stack of books pushed into a crooked shelf, a futon folded neatly in one corner, and a secondhand desk with a few pens left uncapped. A soft hum filled the silence — maybe a fan from the hall or the fridge ticking quietly through the wall.

You tossed your bag down and sat on the floor like you didn’t feel the shift in the air. Haruki did. His skin felt too tight. The space between your bodies suddenly felt loaded.

“So this is where you hide,” he said, trying to sound casual.

You looked at him. Really looked at him. Then shrugged.

“I like quiet,” you murmured. “It’s hard to find in school.”

Haruki didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything at all.

You watched him for a long beat, then patted the space in front of you.

“C’mere.”

He hesitated. You raised a brow. And then he moved — sat down across from you with crossed legs and a heart that wouldn’t stop thudding.

You didn’t touch him at first. Just stared. Haruki stared back. He wasn’t used to that, either — being looked at like he was something to be read, not admired. It made him feel strange. Exposed.

“Haruki,” you said, voice softer now, almost uncertain. “Do you ever stop thinking?”

His mouth opened — then closed. He didn’t have an answer.

You leaned in, slow like a question. Gave him time to stop it.

He didn’t.

So you kissed him.

Just once, at first — a slow press, the kind that didn’t demand anything. Then again, this time deeper. Haruki inhaled sharply, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure where to put them. You pulled back only slightly.

“You can touch me.”

The words were soft. Not teasing. Just an offer.

Haruki’s fingers found your shoulders, then your jaw, then finally threaded into your hair like it made sense.

You kissed him again.

And again.

Until you shifted, pushed gently at his chest. He leaned back onto his elbows, lips parted, breath shaky. You sank to your knees in front of him, palms brushing the hem of his shirt.

He watched, stunned, as your hands moved with practised ease — unbuttoning, unzipping, until he was bare from the waist down. The air was cool against his erection. Your breath was warm.

“Wait—” he managed, voice a little broken. “Are you… sure?”

You looked up at him with the faintest smile.

“Very.”

And then you lowered your head.

The first touch of your mouth on his cock made his breath stutter. He’d never—no one had ever—

He clutched at the sheets beneath him, back arching slightly. You didn’t rush. Just took him in slow, deep, unhurried. Your hands on his thighs kept him steady, kept him grounded.

Haruki didn’t know where to look. Your lips, your eyelashes, the ceiling — nothing helped. His brain was static.

You hummed against him, the vibration sending a full-body shiver up his spine.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands fisting the blanket. “That—wait—don’t—”

But he didn’t want you to stop. Not really. And you knew that.

You pulled back just long enough to whisper, “It’s okay. You can let go.”

And when he did, it was quiet.

His jaw went slack. His head tipped back. Your name curled off his tongue like something reverent. He was shaking.

You swallowed, slow and clean, and wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

Then you looked up at him.

Smiled like it was just another Tuesday.

“You taste like stress and bad decisions.”

Haruki lay there, bare and ruined, heartbeat in his throat.

You stood, grabbed your water bottle, and stretched like a cat.

“Wanna stay for dinner?”

Taglist: @axetivev @yyuinaa @zaynesyumei @sageofspades @onyxmango @puccigucii @the-ultimate-librarian @sooobiinn @sooniebby @i2innie @tintenka1@timaas-blog @darlinqvi @horrorsbeyondreality @rednugget @lysanderplume @leron1108 @kauo-writez @the0ishere @calgurl @kissenturine @bleedingbl0ssom @gayaristocrat @hyppernovva [comment to be added, or send an ask]

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userluhna · 1 month ago

Text

࿔⋆ STILL OURS

dad!hwangjunho x mom!reader

based on this request

words: 980

warnings: post season 3 squid game. hurt/comfort. found family. healing. sudden parenthood.

enjoy! :)

at first, it was overwhelming—more than you ever imagined. you never really expected to be a parent, especially not like this, with a tiny baby suddenly in your life, completely unplanned. maybe you had talked about having kids once, maybe far in the future, but this? this was different. raw and unprepared.

fear wrapped itself around your chest like a tight band, and sometimes, anger flickered beneath it. you and junho argued quietly, a few sharp words here and there, mostly because neither of you knew what you were doing. changing diapers was a mystery, decoding those tiny cries a frustrating puzzle. “i don’t know what to do!” you’d cried out one night, voice breaking in the silence of the bathroom, tears welling, ready to spill. it was nearly 3am, exhaustion creeping in like a shadow. “she’s not even… she’s not my baby. i can’t—i don’t—”

junho’s hands found your face, gentle but steady, wiping away the tears as he searched your eyes. “hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured softly. his own eyes were a bit red—lack of sleep, maybe, or perhaps his heart breaking a little too. he pulled you close, resting your head against his chest. “i know it’s hard. i’m scared too.” he kissed your temple, quiet and reassuring. “you’re doing better than you realize,” he whispered, rocking you both slowly, his voice barely more than a breath. it was a small comfort, but enough to keep you going. neither of you had a manual, but somehow you managed—you bought diapers and cribs, filled the nursery with tiny clothes and toys. all the money you had on that card went to her, never to yourselves.

months passed. you learned. between youtube tutorials and parenting classes, you found your rhythm. you figured out how to hold her without flinching, what her cries meant—hunger, tiredness, discomfort. you recognized her smiles, the way she calmed when you hummed.

she fell asleep on junho’s chest more times than you could count, and he never dared to move. just kept his hand on her back, breathing slow and steady. you, on the other hand, ended up with milk stains all over your shirt at odd hours, rocking her gently until she drifted off. junho would watch from the doorway, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “you’re doing great,” he’d whisper, stepping closer to wrap his arms around your waist, his chest against your back as you rocked yoo-ri. “and looking good doing it.” his voice was rough, tired but affectionate, lips brushing your temple. you laughed softly. “seriously? milk stains and messy hair? junho, i haven’t had a full night’s sleep in months.”

“so what?” he grinned, his lips warm against your skin. “can i call you hot mom now?”

you elbowed him playfully. “ow! that hurts.” he chuckled, “okay, okay. you’re a little menace, just like her.” and the baby smiled, as if understanding every word. she grew slowly, steadily. when she started crawling, junho baby-proofed the whole apartment, eyes never leaving her for a second.

“she’s not going anywhere, love. sit down for a minute,” you told him more than once, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“what if she gets into something dangerous?”

“oh, she will,” you said, and he just stared at her all the more carefully. her first steps were magic. you were playing games in the living room, laughter spilling from her lips, when junho came in, keys in hand, slipping off his shoes. crouching near the door, arms open wide, he called softly, “hi, sweet girl.”

and she stood—wobbly and unsteady, feet barely cooperating. “oh my god, junho!” you breathed, excitement shining in your eyes. “come here, yoori, come to appa.” her little legs carried her to him, and when she reached his arms, he lifted her high, planting kisses on her cheeks, never letting go for a full ten seconds. “you did it.”

she didn’t look like either of you—at least, not exactly. but there was something unmistakably hers in her character, a blend of the two of you. maybe a nose like yours, some soft features that could only be from her mom, but her own little spark that made her unique. you loved her fiercely, fiercely enough to call her your own from the moment she was placed in this room. maybe one day she’d understand, maybe she wouldn’t. but when she turned four, playing with junho, building a little fort in the living room, you walked in holding a positive test.

a new beginning.

you knelt down in front of your toddler, showing her the tiny lines on the stick. her eyes lit up, a huge smile spreading across her face. “i’m gonna be the best big sister!” she declared proudly. and she was—your first child, your heart, the one you chose to raise with every ounce of love you had.

masterlist

requests are open!

#squid game #squid game headcanons #squid game x reader #hwang junho #hwang jun ho #hwang junho x reader #hwang jun ho x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game season 3

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e1e4n0r5 · 2 months ago

Text

Their Little Plaything

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Bullies Cait & Vi x Loner Nerd Reader

Words: 5718

Synopsis: Bullied by 'The Golden Couple' for years, things take a surprising turn.

Warnings: where do I even start?? Bullying/mocking for sexuality (not by Vi/Cait) and social standing, power imbalance, powder is goat, alcohol use (college party), dub-con (r! has been drinking but is not drunk), FFF threesome, virgin reader, oral sex (r! receiving), mild degradation, dirty talk, praise kink, fingering (r! receiving), multiple orgasms, finger sucking (r! performing), talk of sex toys, mild breath play, squirting

Notes: could definitely continue with this!

Everyone knew who they were.

Vi Lanes and Caitlyn Kiramman, the golden couple of Junior year; the star of the football team and the Class President from one of the leading donor families of Piltover University. Though "golden" wasn’t quite the word. There was something too sharp about them, too intense.

Vi was all swagger, with bandaged knuckles and a smirk that dared you to look her in the eye. She lived in ripped jeans, and had a reputation for pit fighting off-campus that she didn’t bother denying.

Caitlyn was the opposite, all tailored clothes and top grades, sarcasm laced with charm. She was born for debate podiums, the kind of girl who could tear someone down with a single eyebrow raise.

Together, they were untouchable.

And you? You were the easiest person to overlook in the whole damn school. You liked it that way.

Shy, quiet, always behind a book or laptop, you’d been bullied your whole life. Elementary school, middle school, high school. And now college. When you’d moved to Piltover Uni, you’d wanted nothing more than a fresh start, a clean break from everyone in your home town who knew you and what an easy target you were.

Which was why it hurt so much when they noticed you. It was the first week of Freshman year. You didn’t even get a week of peace. Opening week, when everyone is just getting settled in, learning the layout of the college, meeting new people. You’d been in the quad getting a free ice cream during a welcome event when you’d seen them watching you. The couple that seemed mismatched, looking you up and down, whispering to each other. You knew what that meant.

It started small. A comment about your clothes. A laugh when you mispronounced something in class. You dropped your books outside class once – Caitlyn just smirked as she looked down at you, stepping over your belongings and heading inside. Vi had just watched the exchange in amusement before heading off to her own class.

They never shoved you into lockers. They never threw drinks in your face. They never put gum in your hair.

Their kind of cruelty was slower. Finer. Death by a thousand cuts.

What made it worse was how beautiful they were. How magnetic. How Vi’s laugh sparked something hot and unwanted in your chest. How Caitlyn’s cool, clever eyes sometimes landed on you and stayed there, and it made you feel seen, like a spotlight you hadn’t asked for.

You’d always known you didn’t like boys, yet another thing for middle schoolers and high schoolers to torment you about. You’d had a crush on a girl in high school, and you thought she’d liked you too. She’d told you she did. So when you’d gone to meet her behind the bleachers, you’d been mortified when what felt like the whole school was there, pointing and laughing at you, like you’d actually thought you’d had a chance with that girl.

Like you actually thought one person would be nice to you.

Since then, you’d learned how to be invisible. No after school clubs, no extra-curriculars, no sleepovers. No friends. Just school and home, five days a week, until you could leave, hoping that college would be better.

But no. You were, once again, in a cycle of school and home. No after school clubs, no extra-curriculars, no sleepovers. No friends. You had taken out a larger loan for a single room with private bathroom in a dorm, as you needed your home to be a safe place if school hadn’t been. You would have loved to live completely alone but you couldn’t afford the rent for a house by yourself, not even with loans. It was fine though, the other people in the dorm didn’t pay any attention to you. Some were loners like you, others just hadn’t wanted to share a room.

Home was safe, even when school brought unwanted attention.

Attention never meant anything good.

It was supposed to be a quiet morning.

Your new Junior schedule gave you a few hours free on a Wednesday morning. You’d found your usual corner in the campus café, tucked away by the window on a small table – so no-one would want to sit with you – headphones on, coffee cooling in front of you, and a half-marked-up textbook on the table. The mid-morning noise faded into the background when you were in your zone like this, just you and a world you could control with highlighters.

At least, until a shadow fell over your table and your headphones were pulled off your head.

You looked up, and your stomach dropped.

Vi put your headphones down on your book, a smirk already tugging at her mouth. Caitlyn stood next to her, arms folded, amusement already shining in her eyes like she knew exactly how this was going to go.

“Wow,” Vi said, peering down at your notes. “Two weeks in and you’re already in love with this year’s books. Didn’t peg you for a highlighter kind of girl. That’s, what, four different colours? Are you studying Piltover history or planning a bank robbery? How much money do you spend on pens?”

Caitlyn chuckled. “At least she saves money by not having any friends to hang out with.”

You hated that she was right, you did have more money than your dormmates with friends. Your heart started pounding in your chest. “Can I help you?”

“We were just talking,” Vi said innocently, sitting down in the chair across from you. “Didn’t know this seat came with attitude.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t trust your voice not to crack.

“Besides,” Caitlyn added, tilting her head, “maybe you should give Vi a few lessons. She could use a tutor to balance out all that muscle.”

“Yeah,” Vi grinned. “You do tutoring, nerd? Maybe we could do private sessions?”

You started to say something – you weren’t even sure what – but then another voice broke through.

“Stop being mean to her,” a voice spoke from the side. You turned your head just as someone came to stand next to you. It was a girl with turquoise hair in two space buns, denim jacket covered with pink and blue buttons.

Vi smirked at the girl. “Powder-”

“Okay, let me rephrase that,” she put her arm around your shoulders, pulling you against her hip, “Stop being mean to my friend, Violet.”

Caitlyn laughed. “You're friends now?”

“Yep, friends, best friends, super close.”

Vi raised an eyebrow at her. “Judging by her face, that's news to her. Besides, Powder, you only started here two weeks ago – how could you have befriended this nerd so quickly?”

“That’s not important, and that's just what her face looks like. We're friends, aren't we?” she asked you.

You blinked back at her. “...Yes? Yeah, we're friends,” you played along, even though you didn’t know what her angle was.

“See, Vi? We're friends. Now, both of you, leave my friend alone.”

Vi scoffed, a flicker of something else in her expression. Not quite annoyance. Not quite amusement. Something you couldn’t read. “Whatever, Powder. See you around, nerd.”

Caitlyn gave you a once-over, then followed, sliding an arm around Vi’s shoulder as they left the café together, talking softly to each other.

You exhaled for what felt like the first time in five minutes.

“Thank-”

“So what do you like to do?” Powder cut in, looking down at you with sudden focus.

“What?”

“Well, we're friends now,” she squeezed your shoulders. “What do you like to do, I'm coming over to your place tonight.”

“Oh. Um...You don't actually have to do that. I appreciate you asking Vi-”

“No. We're friends, it's official. Tell you what, I'll just bring loads of stuff with me and we'll see what we both like! Where do you live?”

You stared at her. “Uh, Dorm 6.”

“6? Isn’t that single rooms?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re a Junior; why aren’t you living off campus in, like, a shared house? Vi and Cait have a house. But Cait’s rich. Is that it?”

You swallowed, nodding. You couldn’t bear to tell her it was because you didn’t have any friends to share with.

“Okay, cool, dorm 6 it is! What time do you finish classes?”

The girl must be unhinged if she really did want to hang out with you.

But somehow, the warmth of her arm still around your shoulders felt…Nice.

Vi and Caitlyn did leave you alone after that. But something else started happening that was worse: they started flirting with you. Well, flirting at you. You were always caught feeling like a rabbit between two hungry wolves, licking their sharp teeth as they circled you.

You’d known why they bullied and mocked you – they were popular, you were not. It was a way to maintain their position in a hierarchy and you were an easy target. But this…The teasing and flirting, winking at you from across rooms and as they walked past you in the hallways, that was truly baffling. What did they have to gain? Just to humiliate you? Seduce you until you gave in and then mock you in front of the whole college? Or some weird thrill they got from making you uncomfortable?

A few weeks of this culminated in Powder confronting them…right in front of you.

You and Powder had developed a real friendship since she stood up for you, spending a lot of time together, in one of your rooms, or around campus. You’d learned on the first night she came over that she was actually Vi’s younger sister, which was obviously why she’d felt comfortable challenging Vi and Caitlyn about how they treated you.

The two of you were standing at your locker, Powder playfully showing you in the mirror on your locker door what your hair would look like in buns like hers, her hands holding your hair in position as she tried to convince you to let her put your hair up.

You were both laughing when Vi and Caitlyn headed your way.

“Maybe a different style? This one couldn't pull those buns off,” Caitlyn suggested mockingly.

“Yeah, definitely not the same hair as you, Powder. Would make the flirting really awkward if she looked like my baby sister,” Vi winked at you.

Not letting go of your hair or even looking at the two other girls, Powder said, “Speaking of flirting, what’s up with that? Why are you suddenly trying to get into Y/N’s pants?”

You blushed bright red. You pushed Powder’s hands out of your hair, not even recognising the stinging in your scalp when some hair caught on one of her rings. Flustered, you flattened your hair back down, your back against your locker.

Powder continued. “I mean, you’ve made her life miserable since you all started here, why change now?”

“They’re…They’re not trying…” you started, your voice thin and unconvincing even to your own ears.

“Oh, darling,” Caitlyn cut in, tilting her head with an infuriatingly smug smile, “If we were really trying, we’d have succeeded by now.”

Vi stepped closer to you. You could smell her cologne – sharp, clean, expensive. “We’re just having fun playing with you,” she said casually, but her gaze lingered on your face, your mouth, a fraction too long.

You couldn’t decide if you wanted to run away or melt into the floor.

“Fun?” Powder repeated, arms now crossed. “Does it look like she’s having fun?”

You looked at her, grateful, but too stunned to speak.

Caitlyn laughed lightly. “Relax, Powder. We’re just giving her a little attention, maybe for the first time in her life. I’m sure she can handle it.”

“She doesn’t want your attention,” Powder snapped, but Vi raised an eyebrow and looked at you directly.

“Are you sure about that?”

You opened your mouth, unsure what would come out. Vi’s voice was lower now, teasing, but almost… curious. Caitlyn looked over at you, amused.

Powder’s glare could have cut glass. “Seriously? You’ve both bullied her for two years.”

“People change,” the taller girl said breezily. “Maybe we realised Y/N’s quite cute when she goes all pink.”

“Makes us wonder what else is pink,” Vi winked.

Your eyes widened, feeling once again like a rabbit between two wolves.

Powder’s voice was tight. “She’s not a game, Vi.”

Vi’s gaze flicked to you again. “We’ll see.” She paused. Then, softer, “We’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

They both walked away down the hallway, like they hadn’t just completely derailed your day.

Powder turned to you, eyes full of concern. “You okay?”

You nodded, but your heart was racing. You weren’t sure what you were feeling. Anger? Embarrassment? Or something much more dangerous?

The Halloween house party was already in full swing by the time you and Powder arrived. The walls practically vibrated with the music, disco lights flickered in time with the beat, and costumed students filled every room like a chaotic sea of glitter, leather, and too much fake blood and face paint.

Powder dragged you through the crowd, grinning like the devil with her red bodysuit and horns. You, less confident, were cinched into a corset for the vampire queen costume she’d talked you into wearing, complete with dark lipstick and eye makeup, a velvet choker, and a cape that didn’t even cover your butt. You’d tried the fake fangs but left them at home when they kept clicking against your teeth. Powder completed the look with a trail of red lip liner out of each corner of your mouth.

You were just starting to take in the atmosphere of your first ever college house party – despite being a Junior. Bopping to the beat near the kitchen, you struggled to find a balance between pulling your dress down to cover more of your thighs, and pulling it up to avoid showing too much cleavage, when Powder stiffened beside you.

“Oh, no,” she said, already glaring past your shoulder.

You turned, and there they were.

The Golden Couple.

Vi was dressed like some post-apocalyptic warrior, chest and wrists bandaged, and smug swagger. Caitlyn stood beside her in a tailored navy dress with high boots and a toy gun holstered on her thigh, somewhere between femme-fatale and Dominatrix.

And both of them were looking at you.

Directly.

They cut through the crowd with practiced ease, as if the party shifted to make room for them. You suddenly wished your cape was longer, your dress covered more, that your corset wasn’t pushing up your boobs, that you’d worn a mask and wig, and even that you’d stayed home.

“Wow,” Caitlyn said first, her voice smooth as silk. “Didn’t expect you to turn up looking like that.”

Vi let out a low whistle, eyes raking over you with no shame. “Y/N,” she drawled. “You’re gonna give the whole room a boner.”

You flushed so fast it was a miracle your makeup didn’t melt off.

Powder stepped in immediately. “Back off. You two don’t get to creep on her just because she looks hot.”

“We’re not creeping,” Caitlyn said with a tilted smirk. “We’re admiring.”

Vi stepped closer, brushing her fingers over the edge of your cape. “You clean up real nice, nerd. Didn’t know you had this in you.”

“Powder picked it for me,” you said. It came out more breathless than you’d like.

Vi grinned. “Oh, thanks, sis. You wrapped our present for us.”

Caitlyn took another slow step forward, joining Vi at your side. “Why are you so jumpy?” she asked, head cocked like she already knew the answer. “You can’t handle a little attention?”

“This isn’t just attention, Cait, and you know it,” Powder snapped. “You’ve made her miserable for years. Now when is this joke going to end?”

“If this were a joke, we’d be laughing,” Caitlyn said, eyes still on you. “Do we look like we’re laughing?”

You couldn’t answer. Your throat felt tight.

Vi leaned in, lowering her voice just for you. “Maybe we wanted to see what it was like when we weren’t just pushing your buttons to piss you off.”

“And maybe we want to see what happens when we push a few other ones,” Caitlyn added, just as low, lips near your other ear.

You froze. Your back was practically against the wall now, your knees felt dangerously loose.

Powder groaned. “You two are the worst. Come on, Y/N. Let’s get a drink.” She took hold of your hand, pulling you away from the two wolves.

Caitlyn smiled, slow and confident as she called after you, “You’ve got options tonight. Just depends how brave you’re feeling.”

Your heart thudded so loud you thought they might hear it over the music.

You stuck with Powder all night, lightly drinking and dancing your heart out. It was your first party in over two years at college, and you were loving it. It took you a little while to warm up and relax, to understand how parties like this worked but you followed Powder’s lead and were soon having the time of your life.

The two of you danced in the living room, got a drink from the kitchen when you needed a break, danced some more, then drank more. You were pleasantly buzzed, but not drunk.

The only dampener on the party were the two girls watching you wherever you went. They stayed in between the living room and kitchen all night, occasionally moving elsewhere to talk to people in your class – some you recognised but none had ever bothered to talk to you. They tried to get closer to you a few times, but Powder always glared them away or pulled you into a different area of the house. You were grateful; as the night wore on and the more you drank, the weaker your resistance got.

You’d been watching them just as much as they had you, and you were getting close to giving in. They both just looked so sexy that night, Cait in her tight dress and Vi with her bandaged wrists and muscles on display. Whenever you looked at Vi, you swore she flexed on purpose! It was a good thing Powder was keeping you away from them, for your own sake.

After dancing for a few hours, you leaned into Powder’s ear. “I gotta pee!” you had to shout over the music.

She nodded. “Want me to come with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Back in a minute!”

You waded your way through the crowd and headed upstairs, having to practically climb over people sitting on the staircase. The bathroom was thankfully available when you got there, locking the door behind you.

You did your business and paused after. You eyed the feminine wipes on the counter. Couldn’t hurt to freshen up a little…For no specific reason, you lied to yourself. Wiping with the toilet paper and freshening up with the wipes, you felt like a new woman. Washing your hands, you looked yourself over in the mirror. Somehow your makeup was still intact, and your hair was pleasantly mussed up but not shabby looking. You looked…hot. Maybe Powder had made the right choice with the vampire corset.

Unlocking the door, you stepped out. And immediately bumped into Caitlyn.

“Oh!”

“Careful, sweetheart,” she soothed, steadying you with her hands on your hips. “Are you okay? Have you had too much to drink?”

You shook your head. “No. No, I’m good.”

“Glad to hear it,” Vi said from behind you. You turned your head and saw Vi leaning in the doorway of a bedroom. “Then you gonna come in here with us?”

“Oh…Um…”

Cait pressed her lips to your exposed neck, short-circuiting your brain. It felt like your brain actually stopped working as your eyes closed on their own and you moaned low.

She chuckled against your skin. “Well, that was easy,” she murmured in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Are you finally ready to give in, darling?”

“I don’t…I don’t know what you want from me,” you said, voice quiet.

Cait held you tighter. “Yes, you do,” she said, and her voice was like velvet; soft, smooth, dangerous.

Vi came closer, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat coming off her. “We all know you don’t want to say no.”

Your mouth was dry.

“I don’t trust you,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to.”

You swallowed. “I should go,” you said, but your body didn’t move.

“Then go,” Cait murmured. “Stairs are right over there.”

You looked from Cait’s parted lips to Vi’s unreadable eyes, her smirk dialled up to something almost...Challenging.

Your fingers touched Cait’s arm.

Vi saw it first. Her smirk widened, just slightly. “Brave girl,” she whispered.

And then with a hand on your chin, Cait kissed you.

Your first kiss.

Not rough, just enough to shut your brain off entirely. Vi’s fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, giving Cait more room to claim your mouth.

They gently but decisively guided you inside the bedroom, Cait’s mouth never leaving yours. Vi shut the door behind the three of you, locking it with a firm click.

The room was dark, lit only by the light coming in from under the door and a streetlight outside the open curtains. It smelled like someone else’s perfume, but it barely registered. The pounding of the music below was a distant heartbeat now, drowned out by your own.

They pressed you against the closest wall, one on each side of you. Cait unfastened the clasp at your throat – the choker Powder had talked you into wearing for the costume – while Vi kissed along your jaw. You shivered.

“Still with us?” she asked.

You nodded, breathless.

“Use your words,” Cait scolded.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, don’t stop.”

That was all it took.

Cait got on her knees in front of you, and Vi wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing just to tease, to show you who's in charge. As if you didn't already know.

Cait paused, then laughed. “Are you wearing cycle shorts?” she asked, pushing your skirt up over your hips.

You blushed. “I didn’t want to flash anyone.”

Vi chuckled in your ear. “Oh, sweetheart, that would have made our night if you had.”

Cait gently eased the black shorts down your legs, laughing quietly again when she finally saw your underwear.

“What colour, Vi?”

She hummed against your neck. “Not black, that would be too sexy. You probably think red is whorish. So, maybe white?”

“Correct,” Cait laughed, stroking the tip of a finger along the seam of your lips.

Your hips jolted as she did, moaning under Vi’s hand on your throat.

“White like a virgin,” Vi snickered.

You froze.

They noticed.

“Holy shit, are you?”

You blushed again, your eyes starting to fill with tears.

“No, no, sweetheart, it’s alright,” Cait soothed, stroking your hips.

“Yeah, it doesn’t change anything. We’re still gonna eat your pussy up,” Vi promised in your ear, sending a shudder through you.

“You’re going to feel so good, darling,” the blue-haired girl swore between your legs. She hooked her fingers in your panties’ waistband. “Can I take these off now?”

You looked into her eyes, then nodded breathlessly.

“Good girl,” Vi praised in your ear. You moaned loudly. “Oh, you like that? You like it when I call you a good girl?” You moaned again.

Cait helped you step out of your shorts and panties, urging your legs apart just a little. Your pussy was neatly trimmed, as pristine as your school record, making Cait smile as she ran a finger between your lips.

You gasped as she and Vi tormented you; Cait with soft touches to your pussy, and Vi at your breasts. With her free hand, she eased your tits free of the corset, letting them spill out over the top of the dress. She played with your nipples, getting a feel for their sensitivity. From your moans and gasps, they were very sensitive. No biting, she noted. Yet.

Cait scooted forward between your legs, and started by pressing small kisses across your hips and mound. Just to get you used to her touch. Like your breasts, you were very sensitive. She squeezed your hips and butt as she kissed you, marvelling at how soft your skin was. She supposed with no social life to speak of, you must have a lot of time and money left over for skincare.

With gentle fingers, she parted your lips, eyeing your clit. She gave it a small lick, making your hips jolt. You gasped as she did it again.

“Hmm, you taste so sweet,” she cooed, giving a few more licks, slowly using more pressure.

You let out a long breath, eyes drifting shut as you basked in the sensations at your chest and on your pussy. So, this is what all the fuss was about. Vi moved her arm out the way a little and bent down to your chest. She took a nipple in her mouth, running her tongue around it as you moaned.

Vi switched to the other side as Cait sucked on your clit for the first time. You cried out, your hand instinctively reaching for Cait’s head. You nervously touched her head, wanting simultaneously to push her away and pull her in closer. Cait used her own hand on yours, guiding you to hold her head to your pussy.

She hummed in approval, licking and sucking on your clit and labia with more confidence. You gasped and moaned, letting out an almost inaudible ‘fuck’ as she held you to her with her hands on your butt, moaning around your clit.

They worked you to a slow, gentle orgasm. Your first one with another person. It was delicate but undeniably amazing, making your body flex between them and the wall. You let out a breath, stroking Cait’s head in gratitude.

But she kept going.

So did Vi.

You were confused. You’d finished, so why were they still going?

Vi sensed your question. “You don’t think we’re done, do you?”

“But…I…?”

“That was just one, sweetheart. We’ve got all night.”

To prove her point, Cait pulled your thigh up and over her shoulder, opening you up for her tongue as she dove deeper into your pussy. You whined, gasping on air as you felt her tongue slide inside your hole. She circled it inside you, then started moving it in and out.

You shuddered, your fingers twitching in her hair.

Vi released your nipples from her hungry mouth, speaking into your ear. “That feel good, baby?”

You nodded and whined pathetically.

“You want her to keep going? Keep eating your little pussy?”

You nodded again.

“Tell her how it feels,” Vi commanded.

“Feels so good, Cait,” you panted.

“Where does it feel good?”

“On my…” you blushed.

“Where?” Vi challenged. “She’ll stop unless you say where.”

“No, no, please, please,” you begged.

Vi squeezed your throat a little as a warning. “Then use your words. Tell her where it feels good.”

“On my…On my…Pussy?”

She chuckled as she sucked on your neck. “Keep going.”

“And my clit?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“It feels good on my clit.”

She nodded. “Good girl. Keep going. How does her tongue feel?”

Cait slid her tongue deeper, making you groan.

“God, it feels good inside me! It feels so good. I never thought it could feel this good,” you confessed.

“Did you touch yourself before?”

You nodded.

“How? Tell us? Tell us what you did.”

Cait latched onto your clit, sucking and flicking with her tongue.

“Shit! I’d…God…I have a toy. A vibe. Just a small one. And I use it on my clit sometimes.”

“Good girl. What else?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing else. Just that,” you said quickly. Too quickly.

Cait stopped and spanked your ass with both hands. You whined. “Don’t lie, darling. Tell us the truth.”

You blushed. “I have some other things too.”

Cait resumed eating your pussy, running a finger around your hole.

“What else do you have?” Vi asked, tugging on your ear lobe with her teeth.

“I-I was horny a few years ago and looking online…”

Vi snickered. “What did you buy?”

“Um…Nipple clamps. And butt plugs. Anal beads.”

They did not expect you to say that.

Cait briefly paused in surprise, but sucked your clit harder and slid a finger into your hole as a reward.

“Have you used any of them?”

You nodded.

“Which ones?”

“All of them.” At Vi’s amused and aroused look, you elaborated. “Just because I’m a bit of a loner doesn’t mean I never get horny!”

“Oh, you little freak,” Vi breathed out in a laugh. “You’re showing us all those things when we’ve blown your mind here.”

Cait worked you towards your second orgasm, adding a second finger when you begged so nicely for it. Your moans started coming faster, your chest heaving as your orgasm built inside you. Finally, it washed over you, your hips rolling against Cait’s face as your pussy clenched on her fingers.

“Do it again, sweetheart,” Vi ordered, holding your throat firmer.

“I-I can’t,” you protested weakly, already feeling another orgasm building when Cait didn’t stop or slow down.

“Yes, you can. We all know it. You’ve got so many O’s waiting in that pussy; we might be here all night.”

Your legs trembled, your supporting leg threatening to give way.

Cait pulled away, making you whine and beg her to return to your pussy, despite your over-stimulation. “Lie down,” she instructed, gently tugging on your hand. They both helped you onto your back on the floor. Cait pushed your legs out and back towards your chest. “Hold them,” she commanded.

When you shakily held your legs behind your knees, she smiled down at you, settling on one side of you. “Good girl,” she praised, rubbing two fingers of her left hand over your soaked pussy. You trembled, then groaned as she slid them into your sopping hole. You almost blushed at the noises you made, but you were too far gone to care.

Cait kept a good rhythm with your pussy, not too fast, just enough to have you moaning like a whore on your back, both of them kneeling next to you and watching you, their pupils blown wide with lust.

Vi pulled Cait in for a deep kiss, sharing your taste on her lips and tongue. The sight of them above you sent you over another edge, gasping both their names as your pussy squeezed and leaked on her fingers.

She pulled them out gently, showing you your sticky juices on her fingers. “That’s what good little sluts do, darling,” she smiled. “You know what else good little sluts do?”

You shook your head pathetically, feeling Vi start to rub her own fingers across your pussy.

“Good little sluts clean up their mess,” she instructed, holding her fingers over your mouth. A sticky drop fell onto your lips, your tongue instinctively reaching out to lick it away. “See? Your body knows what a slut you are. Open up, sweetheart,” she only waited a second before sliding her soaked fingers into your mouth, let out a moan of her own as your warm mouth closed around her fingers. “Suck them clean.”

You obeyed as Vi slid two of her own fingers inside your aching hole. Her fingers were shorter but thicker than Cait’s, giving you a little more stretch. Cait and Vi moved their hands in time, pushing their fingers in and out of your mouth and pussy in a coordinated effort.

Vi started curling her fingers inside you, making you see stars as she hit a spot inside you that made your toes tingle. You choked around Cait’s fingers as she held them deeper in your mouth.

“Good girl, hold them there. Hold them there,” she soothed, watching your eyes leak tears and start to ruin your eye makeup. “Well done, and three, two, one,” she pulled her fingers out, letting you cough and gasp for breath as Vi increased her speed. You wouldn’t last much longer, and they obviously knew that.

“Do it again,” Vi ordered, nodding at Cait’s fingers. “Take her as deep as you can.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, opening your mouth in invitation.

“Oh, isn’t that a pretty sight?” Cait taunted, sliding her fingers inside but not all the way. You closed your lips around her digits, sucking on them as Vi fucked you a little harder.

Vi smiled down at your pussy. “You wouldn’t know you were a virgin, such an eager little hole for us.”

You didn’t have time to blush, as Cait started easing her fingers deeper into your mouth. You coughed again, more tears ruining your makeup.

“So cute,” she praised, rubbing her palm over your lips to ruin your lipstick. She wanted everyone to know what a little slut you’d been.

“I can feel you fluttering on my fingers, sweetheart,” Vi smirked. “You gonna cum for us again?”

You nodded around Cait’s fingers, whining as the band in your pussy started getting tighter and tighter, until it finally snapped. You moaned around Cait’s fingers, then as she pulled them out and you gasped for breath, it felt like another orgasm hit at the same time, making your vision go black as you writhed on Vi’s fingers, squirting over her hand.

Vi slowed her thrusts as you came down, only coming to a stop when you flopped on the floor, arms releasing your legs. She eased her fingers out of your pussy, popping them into her own mouth. “Fuck, you’re delicious,” she groaned as she sucked you off her skin.

You blurrily blinked your eyes a few times, lifting your head. “Do I…Do I do you now?”

They both laughed.

Cait started helping you put your shorts back on. “That’s why we’re headed to your place. You can keep these on for now, just until we get you home.”

“These, though,” Vi smirked, picking up your white panties, slipping them into her pocket, “These are for us.”

The two of them helped you up onto very wobbly legs, Vi supporting you with an arm around your waist.

Cait unlocked the door, and Powder almost fell in.

“What the shit, guys?!”

#arcane #vi arcane #vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #arcane au #arcane violet #arcane league of legends #caitlyn kiramman #caitvi #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn x reader #arcane caitlyn #arcane caitvi #caitvi x reader #their little plaything

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littlebluebird2000 · 3 months ago

Text

Twirling Hearts- part 1

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, school bullying, discussion about food and weight, violence, harassment, eventual smut, mature language, sexual harassment, slow-burn, jealousy, baku always being at the scene of the crime…

summary: Who would've thought that a ballerina and the school's most feared nerd would complete each other so well? Being the new student was never easy—especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High has a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates…

author's note: the lack of fanfic dedicated to sieun is, in my opinion, completely unacceptable. I had to come back from hiatus for him. I’m warning y’all, it’s a long one. there’s a part 2 coming soon, maybe a part 3 if this goes well. please note that English isn’t my first language, so there might be some mistakes here and there. i hope you will enjoy, and if you do, please leave a comment <3

word count: 8k+ ( I know… I went overboard )

part : 1 , 2, 3., 4., 5.

Being the new student was never easy—especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High had a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates.

Your family had helped set up an apartment not too far from the academy and Eunjang High. A single bus route connected both places, making the commute manageable with your tight schedule. Originally from Busan, you welcomed the distance that Seoul offered. Being hours away from your parents gave you a kind of peace you hadn’t realized you needed until it now.

Back home, your father placed suffocating academic pressure on your shoulders, while your mother lived vicariously through your ballet career, projecting her own lost dream of becoming a prima ballerina onto you. Here, in this new city, you could finally breathe a little easier.

To balance both ballet and school, you needed a flexible academic setup. Thankfully, Eunjang High offered a unique mix of online and on-campus classes. A lot of the students there were repeating years or following unconventional tracks, which made the school more lenient with scheduling. It was one of the only reasons why they bent the rules to admit you, despite the school typically being reserved for boys. They needed to fill seats. You needed a compromise.

Although your father wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of you attending a school like Eunjang, there weren’t many better options. This compromise—the odd, messy arrangement—was the only way both your parents could get a piece of what they wanted. As long as you kept your grades up at this so-called “lousy” school and continued to perform well in the online program, your father was willing to compromise to please your mother.

Each weekday followed a strict routine. Mornings were reserved for intensive ballet practice at the academy. From there, you’d head straight to Eunjang High for your campus courses: English, mathematics, social studies, and science. After that, it was back to the academy for evening classes. Your online studies could be completed anytime throughout the week, as long as you met the deadlines. The weekends were yours, thankfully.

Today was the day everything would change.

To say you were nervous would’ve been an understatement. Your stomach was in knots, your thoughts racing faster than your footsteps on the way to the academy. There was a strange heaviness in the air, like something big was about to unfold.

Later, you’d look back and realize—you had every reason to feel that way.

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The morning had started better than expected.

You were pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere at the ballet academy. Though the classes were clearly going to be grueling and demanding, there was something deeply motivating about the environment. It felt purposeful. Focused. The kind of place where real growth could happen.

Your instructor, Mrs. Kim, was a stern older woman with a sharp gaze and impeccable posture—clearly someone who had spent her life perfecting her craft. She wasn’t warm, exactly, and you didn’t expect her to be. But her corrections were precise and never cruel. She was strict, yes, but not out of ego or power—she pushed for improvement… And that made all the difference.

The other dancers were older than you by a few years, likely in their early twenties, and carried themselves with the kind of quiet confidence that comes with experience. They greeted you politely, if a little stiffly, introducing themselves one by one before falling back into an easy rhythm of conversation that didn’t quite include you.

You didn’t take it personally. They weren’t being unkind or intentionally cold. It was just the natural awkwardness that came with a new arrival—especially one as young as you, dropped suddenly into their already well-formed circle. They didn’t know you yet. That would come with time.

At least they were civil. That alone was a relief.

Back at your previous academy, competition had turned the other girls into enemies. Whispers behind backs, sabotaged shoes, icy glares in the mirrors—it was a toxic place that made you question your love for dance. But here? The air felt different. More mature. Healthier. Safer.

You could handle being the outsider for a little while longer, as long as respect remained part of the equation.

And so, when class ended and you washed up quickly, put on your uniform, and gathered your things to head to your first afternoon at Eunjang High, your nerves buzzed with a strange blend of anxiety and cautious hope.

You had survived the first half of your day.

The next part, however—was still entirely unknown

As soon as your feet hit the pavement, a chill ran up your bare legs. The bus doors closed behind you, and you stood there for a second, staring up at the towering gray building of Eunjang High School. It honestly looked more like a prison than a school, with its cracked concrete walls and rusted metal gates. You hugged your blazer tighter around yourself.

You could still hear your father’s voice from last night’s call echoing in your head: “Stay out of trouble. Don’t talk to anyone unless absolutely necessary. These boys aren’t your friends.”

You wanted to believe he was just being dramatic… but as you stepped through the gates and onto campus, you weren’t so sure.

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Chaos greeted you like an old friend

Boys were everywhere—some shouting, others chasing each other through the halls like it was recess, not school hours. Someone threw a water bottle across the courtyard. Another boy ducked just in time to avoid a roll of toilet paper flying through the air. You grimaced at the sight.

You felt your breath hitch. This was going to be hell.

A quiet voice at your side made you turn. “This way.” The speaker was a boy, small with thick glasses framing his face. He didn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, just kept walking, hands clutched to his backpack straps.

“I’m Seo Juntae,” he added shyly. “We’re in the same class—1-5.” You nodded, falling in step beside him, grateful for the guide. At least one person here seemed sane.

“The teacher should be waiting already,” Juntae mumbled as you reached the classroom door. “You’ll be fine, probably.” He gave a nervous little smile and pushed the door open.

Probably?

Inside, it wasn’t much better.

The classroom buzzed with noise. Some students were arguing over who’d stolen whose eraser, while others leaned out of the windows shouting at someone below. A few boys sat on desks instead of chairs, and more than weren’t wearing their uniform properly.

You felt every gaze turn your way as you stepped in.

A few low whistles rang out from the back. Someone muttered something you didn’t catch, followed by a burst of laughter. You fought the urge to turn and leave.

“Quiet down,” the teacher said firmly, standing up from his desk. He was tall and slightly hunched. “This is our new student. I expect you all to treat her with respect.”

He smiled at me. “Please introduce yourself to your classmates.” Swallowing your nerves, you turned fully, facing the other students.

“Hello, my name is (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you all. Please take good care of me.” You said, bowing politely.

The room fell quiet for a moment, then:

“I’ll take real good care of you, if you let me.” Someone said from the back. A few more snickers followed. You flushed but stayed silent, keeping your face blank. You couldn’t say that you didn’t expect that.

“Enough.” The teacher snapped, glaring in the offender’s direction. “Y/N, you can sit next to Yeon Sieun. He’s by the window. Put your bag in the lockers in the back.”

You made your way down the aisle, trying not to meet any of the stares that followed you. The boy you were assigned to sit next to didn’t acknowledge your presence, not even a glance as you slid into the chair beside him.

As you settled into your seat, you quickly adjusted your skirt, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You focused your gaze on the teacher.

You had to remind yourself that this wasn’t about making friends. Your ballet and your studies were your priorities. Everything else was secondary.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to focus on the lesson. The teacher, Mr. Yoon, was talking about social studies—something about historical figures and their influence on modern society. The words blurred together as you tried to push your thoughts aside, diving into your notes with the intensity you’d developed over the years.

It wasn’t easy. The whispers around you, the occasional chuckle, the glances…there was no escaping it. You heard the boys behind you muttering and laughing quietly, but you couldn’t make out the words. You didn’t want to.

The boy next to you, however, remained silent. Yeon Sieun hadn’t spoken a word since you sat down. He acted as if he didn’t care about you at all, like you hadn’t entered the room. You were weirdly grateful for that. The less attention you could get here, the better.

Social studies were now done. Mathematics were next. You sat quietly, shoulders tense, eyes fixed on the chalkboard as you copied the teacher’s writing. You were trying your best to blend in. Head down, mouth shut. Only three classes to go. Just three. You could survive this.

You glanced at the board again, where a string of complicated equations still glared down at you. Math had never been your strong suit. You were going to have to study harder than ever to keep up.

A tap on your shoulder made your heart skip.

You turned slowly, wary.

“Hey,” said a boy with a crooked smile, his tie hanging loose and shirt stained at the collar. “Got another pencil? Mine broke.”

Your stomach twisted. Something about his tone made your skin crawl. Still, you managed to nodded and offered him what you hoped was a polite smile. You pulled a pencil from your case, and handed it to him. “Keep it.”

You turned back around before he could say anything, silently praying that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Another tap. You inhaled sharply through your nose, willing yourself not to react. You turned.

“Got an eraser?”

Without mentioning that there was one attached to the end of the pencil, you just grabbed your spare eraser and dropped it on his desk without looking at him.

Surely, that would be enough.

But you felt it again. A third tap.

Annoyed now, you spun halfway toward him. “What?”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Can I get your number too?”

A burst of laughter came from behind him. His friends fist-bumped like they’d just witnessed something brilliant.

You blinked, the question hitting like a slap. Your lips parted, but no words came. You just turned back toward the front of the classroom, disgust curling in your chest.

Pig.

The snickering didn’t stop. The teacher, annoyed at the growing noise, shushed them harshly.

You stared at the board, eyes blurry with shame and frustration. You should’ve known. Of course he didn’t want a pencil… You clenched your jaw and forced yourself to keep writing.

When the bell rang for lunch, the teacher dismissed the class and left before most students were out of their seats. You packed slowly, hoping the room would clear before you had to walk through it. As you reached for your last book, a shadow fell over your desk.

You could read his name tag now.

Hyoman.

He loomed close, too close. “So,” he said, voice low and smug. “You’re gonna give me your number or what?”

You looked up. His posture reeked of arrogance, and the heavy scent of sweat made your nose twitch. You pushed your chair back instinctively, putting space between you. “I don’t give out my number,” You said firmly but politely, smoothing your skirt and standing.

A chorus of oohs erupted from his friends and Hyoman’s grin vanished.

He stepped closer, and something in his eyes changed. Gone was the teasing gleam. In its place was something colder. More entitled.

“You’re gonna give it to me though,” He said, voice sharp. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”

Your pulse spiked. Hands clammy, you forced a calm expression. “I really can’t. I’m sorry.” You lowered your eyes, trying not to provoke him further. “Please, excuse me.”

You tried to step around him, but he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you back, hard.

You gasped, pain flaring at your scalp. Your back hit his chest and you froze, heart slamming against your ribs.

“Listen here, bitch,” He snarled, his mouth near your ear, breath hot and sour. “You don’t get to say no to me. I was nice. Now you give me your number, or I’ll take it out on you in ways you won’t like.”

Still frozen in shock, your breath was caught somewhere in your throat. You were just about to cave—just about to say something to make it stop—when a chair scraped loudly against the floor. The sharp squeal cut through the chaos like a blade.

“Don’t cross the line.”

The voice was quiet. Almost too quiet, but something about it made every sound in the room stop.

No yelling. No rage.

Just a thread of quiet authority that made the air go still.

You didn’t dare turn to look, still locked in Hyoman’s grip. But the tension around you shifted.

“Fuck off, Yeon Sieun,” Hyoman spat. But his voice faltered at the end, cracking under pressure. Still, he yanked harder on your hair, and you let out a strangled sound as fresh pain bloomed across your scalp. “It’s none of your business. Stay out of it.”

A pause.

Then, calmly, Sieun said, “This is your only warning.”

Click.

The sound was soft, like a pen snapping into place.

Strangely, the sound alone was enough to make Hyoman freeze behind you. His entire body stiffened like a wire pulled too tight.

No one laughed. No one moved.

Click.

Again. That sharp, quiet snap.

Someone whispered, “Shit” under their breath.

And suddenly, Hyoman let go of your hair. Just like that. He shoved you away roughly as if to save face, but there was fear flickering behind his eyes now. You stumbled forward, catching yourself on the edge of a desk, one hand going to your aching scalp. “I was just playing,” He muttered, voice small and strained. His hands lifted in mock surrender, but it was all performance now.

He walked away quickly, dragging his pride behind him as his friends trailed after him.

Blinking away tears, you now took the chance to look at the student who had came to your help.

Yeon Sieun stood there like he hadn’t moved at all. His uniform hung a bit too loose on his frame. His dark hair fell into his eyes, shadowing the expressionless mask he wore.

But it was his eyes that caught your attention.

Sad. Hollow. Tired.

Not the kind of tired from a long day, but the kind carved from sleepless nights and things too heavy for someone his age to carry. He looked distant, detached, like he wasn’t really here at all. The pen in his hand was held like a weapon.

With a slow, almost mechanical motion, he slid the pen into the inside pocket of his blazer. Without sparring you a glance, he turned, walking toward the door as if nothing had happened.

“Thank you.” You said before he left completely, your voice unsteady, barely more than a whisper. “Thank you, Yeon Sieun.”

He paused. Without a word, he turned slightly, just enough to acknowledge you with a sharp nod, then left.

And that’s how everything began.

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Most of your days were now spent going to ballet classes and hanging out with Sieun and his friends whenever you weren’t busy with your online classes. You would eat regularly with him, Juntae, Bakua, and Gotak. Even though Sieun didn’t talk much, you appreciated his calm presence, especially since the others could be a bit … much. Not Juntae though. He was a sweetheart.

It only took a few days for you to feel like you fit in with the group. While your father might disapprove of your new found friends, these guys had shown time and time again that they had your back in a way that none of your previous 'friends' had.

Five months had passed since your arrival at Eunjang High School, and things were going better now. Your ballet classes were going smoothly, you were doing well in your online classes, and now that you were close with Baku and his friends, no one dared to bother you. Plus, they were all terrified of Sieun and his pen. After hearing the stories from Gotak, you couldn’t say you didn’t blame them.

For the school classes, everything was fine, except for mathematics, which wasn’t surprising. You were very thankful that Sieun was taking some of his time to help you study. More than once, you would found yourself staring at him instead of listening to his explanation.

He was rough around the edges at first, but once you really started to know him, it was clear that he hid a lot of what he really felt.

It felt like a small victory every time you managed to pull even the faintest smile from him. You were sure you'd seen it twice. Once for real, and once when the corner of his lips twitched like it wanted to. It was rare, fleeting… but beautiful. Seeing even a glimpse of happiness on his face—however brief felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

There was a quiet heaviness that always clung to him, a kind of sadness that never quite left his eyes. You remembered the night he opened up—told me about his old friends and how everything fell apart. You knew he hadn’t told you everything, only the outline of it, the parts he could bear to say out loud.

Sieun didn’t open up easily, and you didn’t push him. But even from that glimpse, you could see how deeply the guilt had rooted itself in him. You wished you could take some of that weight off his shoulders. Maybe if enough people kept on reminding him that it wasn’t his fault, he might start to believe it too. Someday.

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You met up with Baku and Gotak at your usual spot near a quiet corner shop downtown. The air had a sharp bite to it, the kind that crept under your clothes and settled in your bones. The sky was a dull, steely gray, and the wind whipped through the streets, rustling the fallen leaves that hadn’t yet been swept away. The chill in the air was a clear sign that winter was closing in fast.

You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, trying to trap in whatever warmth you had left. “I hate the cold,” You mumbled, already shivering as your breath came out in faint, misty clouds.

Baku laughed. “I can warm you up if you want to.” He teased, dancing towards me like a complete fool.

“Gross! Get away from me, you big brute!” You halfheartedly exclaimed, giggling a little as you pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” A voice said behind you.

You turned quickly, the smile still lingering on your face until you saw Sieun standing there beside Juntae, his expression unreadable but eyes fixed on us. There was a flicker of something in his gaze. Confusion, maybe, or something else you couldn’t quite name. You stepped to the side a little bit, creating a circle with everyone.

Gotak shrugged. “Nothing special. Just Y/N breaking Baku’s heart again.”

Baku whipped invisible tears from his eyes. “If this goes on, I might actually start to think that you aren’t interested in me, Y/N. Stop pushing me away.”

You only hit his arm, a smile of amusement still tugging on your lips. “You’re stupid.”

Sieun suddenly coughed and adjusted his hoodie on himself. You looked at him then, but he avoided your gaze, looking to the side with a bored expression on his face.

Juntae, bless him, stepped in before things got awkward. “Does anyone want anything in the store?” He asked pulling at the fogged-up lenses of his glasses with one hand.

“No, thank you.” You declined politely, looking down. You were suppose to follow a certain diet for ballet, and you were already toeing the line with the calories you’d allowed yourself for the week. Thankfully, the food at the cafeteria had healthy versions. The real issue was back at your apartment were snacks were always within reach and boredom made them way too tempting. You were trying hard to get it under control lately. “I’ll wait here.”

“Can you bring me some shrimp crackers?” Pleaded Baku, bathing his eye lashes dramatically. “I’ll pay next time!”

Juntae nodded, a small smile on his lips as he entered the shop. “I don’t know what I want. I’ll go have a look.” Said Gotak, entering as well.

Sieun stood next the entrance of the shop. For a split second, he looked straight at you. His eyes, dark and tired, held yours for a few seconds longer than you expected. Your breath caught a little, but then he glanced over your shoulder at something—or someone—and the moment broke. Without a word, he turned and stepped into the shop after the others two.

The cold wind nipped at your face, but it wasn’t what made you shiver. You stood there, arms wrapped tightly around your body, watching the door slowly swing shut behind him.

You turned back towards Baku, who looked like he was seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“What is it now?” You asked, already dreading his answer.

“I’m just wondering if I should ask him if he’s carrying a pen with him tonight.”

You recoiled, looking confused. “What? Why would you ask him that?” Your voice rose in disbelief.

He gave a dramatic shrug, puckering his lips like he was trying to look thoughtful. “Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because he just gave me the look.”

You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, trying to preserve whatever warmth you had left. “The look? Really?” You rolled your eyes. “What does that even mean?”

Baku grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come on, Y/N! You know exactly what it means. It’s that thing his eyes do when he’s trying not to lose it. Just for a second, it’s like you get a peek inside his brain. His eyes were practically screaming at me.”

You scoffed, tilting your head to the side. “Yeah? What were they saying then, oh great Eye Whisperer?”

He smacked his lips, pretending to deliberate. “Hmm… I don’t know if I should tell you. It might scare you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes again. “Just admit you’re making things up and talking out of your ass.”

He snorted, raising his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. You asked for it.” He leaned in dramatically, crouching slightly to meet your gaze. “I think our little Sieun has a big, fat crush on you and he was mentally murdering me with his eyes earlier because he was jealous.”

You stared at him, heart skipping a beat, mouth slightly open until you quickly shut it. “Stop speaking nonsense,” You muttered, shoving him hard in the shoulder. He stumbled back, unfazed, laughing so hard he had to wipe actual tears from his eyes this time.

“It’s not funny, Baku!” You exclaimed, still flustered. “You can’t say things like that.”

He calmed down a little bit. “It’s true though. I’m not lying.” He shivered, pulling his hoodie tighter. “Everyone sees it. He’s not exactly subtle, Y/N. Around you, he… speaks. That’s already saying a lot.” He wiggled his brows at you.

“He speaks to you guys as well, don’t be dramatic.” You looked away, trying to focus on the foggy shop window instead of the chaos Baku had just stirred in your chest. “You’re reading too much into things.” You muttered, but even you didn’t sound convinced.

It was true that over the past months, Sieun and you had gotten a bit closer. It just felt easy talking to him. At first, he’d simply stare blankly at you while you rambled on about your day at the academy. He wouldn’t say much…just the occasional nod as if he were barely listening. He seemed completely unapproachable, like there was some invisible wall around him that you could never quite break through. But slowly, you chipped away at it. By the end of the second month, he actually started listening. He’d sometimes ask questions, offer advice where he could. He even started helping you occasionally with mathematics after you broke down in tears over your mock exam grade.

Since then, even though he still mostly stayed quiet and distant, his presence never left you feeling completely alone. It was strange, but also comforting.

Your cheeks burned now, and it wasn’t from the cold. “Can we drop this, please?” You said as Baku was opening his mouth again. “He doesn’t treat me any different.” You spoke firmly, now too shy to meet Baku’s gaze. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he might see something in your eyes that you weren’t ready to face yet.

Before Baku could say anything, the door to the shop creaked open, and the rest of the group stepped out, carrying bags. Juntae handed Baku a bag of chips, and without missing a beat, Baku ripped it open, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. He spared you a quick look, his grin still wide. You shifted uneasily, still feeling the weight of his teasing.

“Let’s go everyone.” Called Gotak, already heading towards the karaoke room with a purposeful stride. “Let’s not stay outside longer than we should.”

The walk between the karaoke room and the store was short, but with Sieun walking silently by your side, it felt much longer. The air between you two was thick with unspoken words.

You tried to focus on the sound of Gotak and Baku’s bickering when you felt something press into your hand. Looking down, you saw Sieun offering you a piece of triangle Kimbap along with a hand warmer pouch.

He kept his gaze straight ahead, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

“Sieun,” You said softly, touched by his quiet gesture. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied nonchalantly, not meeting your eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets, maintaining his usual cool composure.

You decided to put the hand warmer in my pocket, saving it for when you would head back home . “I’ll give this back to you though.” You returned the Kimbap piece in his opened hand. “I can’t eat it.”

He stopped walking, and finally, his eyes met yours. For the first time in a while, you noticed how much better he looked. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t as prominent anymore, thanks to Juntae’s magnesium supplements. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, his expression slightly confused. “It’s the flavor you like, no? Spicy chicken?”

Always so observant.

“Yes, it is,” You replied, walking again and feeling his presence beside you. “But I can’t eat it tonight.”

“Oh.” He furrowed his brows. “Are you not feeling well? You should have said so if that’s the case. We could have rescheduled.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, feeling suddenly uncomfortable talking about this. “It’s not that. I’m pretty sure I’ve gone over my calories for the week. I can’t eat anymore today.”

Before you could take another step, Sieun’s hand landed lightly on your forearm, stopping you in your tracks. The look on his face was incredulous, the biggest expression I’d seen from him in a long time, if ever. It was almost enough to make you laugh.

“You can’t be serious right now, Y/N.” He said, his voice low and almost… protective?

“Sieun,” You sighed, exasperated. “I’m not starving myself. Calm down. I’m just counting my calories to stay on track.” You suddenly felt a little uneasy , like you were exposing too much. “You know I’m a ballerina. It comes with the hobby.”

He only blinked. “I understand that, but a single piece of Kimbap won’t make much of a difference anyways. If your body feels hungry, you should eat. Everything is good in moderation.” He handed you back the black triangle. “Please.”

Reluctantly, you took the food and put in inside of my pocket. “You win.” You rolled your eyes, trying to act as if you didn’t care, but deep down you were touched by his concern. He was always acting so cold, but he was warm-hearted. “ I’ll eat it at the karaoke.”

Your heart felt strangely lighter now, though you still couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was the simple act of him caring, even in the smallest way. You smiled to yourself.

“What are you guys talking about?” Ahead of us, Baksu had also stopped his walk and had turned around to watch us. His eyes were sparkling with amusement and you hoped that he would keep his mouth shut.

Without responding to his question, Sieun and you both continued walking, side by side, your steps quiet as you neared the karaoke building.

Once you were close enough, Baku threw his arm around Sieun’s shoulders, pulling him close in a playful manner. He was grinning like a cat who had just found a mouse. You went ahead of them to enter the establishment, not wanting to hear the nonsense that was sure to come out of his mouth. You climbed the stairs rapidly, eager to join your other two friends and escape the awkwardness.

“So, I don’t get any of your precious Kimbap?” Baku teased in Sieun’s ear, his voice light, but with that edge of knowing exactly how to push Sieun’s buttons. “I thought we were friends, man. You’re gonna make me beg for it?”

Sieun stiffened, but only for a second. He didn’t answer, his face completely blank of emotion. He on gave a single glare as he shrugged Baku’s arms off with a slow, effortless motion.

“Don’t touch me,” he said flatly.

Only Baku could see the faintest flush spreading across Sieun’s neck.

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The triangle Kimbap was indeed delicious. You ate it in three single bites. While Juntae, Baku, and Gotak were singing their hearts out, Sieun and you were relaxing in the seats behind, content with watching. The room was dim, lit by rotating colored lights that swept across the walls in soft pulses—pink, blue, green—giving the whole place a dreamy glow. The screen was huge, displaying lyrics in bold font, while a score in the corner judged every note. You giggled at Gotak’s poor attempt at the Wonder Girls choreographer for the song “Tell Me”. His shoulders bounced like jelly, and Baku’s dramatic backup dancing wasn’t helping.

Sieun let out a quiet breath beside me. Not quite a laugh, but close. His arms were crossed, eyes half-lidded in his usual indifferent way, but you caught the subtle curve at the corner of his lips.

“You know,” You whispered, leaning a little closer, “You almost smiled just now.”

He glanced at you, and for a second, our eyes locked in the flickering lights. His expression was unreadable, but not cold. Just… careful.

“I didn’t,” he said softly.

“You did.”

He looked away, pretending to be more interested in the screen than you. “You’re imagining things.”

You giggled softly at him, eyes sparkling.

You let the silence hang for a while, watching the others collapse in laughter as Juntae hit a tragically off-key note and the karaoke machine scored him a humiliating 58. Your shoulder brushed lightly against Sieun’s, and you didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

For a long moment, you just sat there, side by side in the dim, glittering room, the noise around you fading into the background. The others were loud, off-key, ridiculous—and perfect. But here, in the stillness between songs, with the soft lights brushing his cheek and his presence warm beside you, something delicate hung in the air.

A feeling of melancholy suddenly came over you. You hadn’t felt this kind of friendship, ever. You never felt understood. Not at home. Not at school or at the academy… But here, with your friends… You had found your people.

Beside you, you felt Sieun shifted and you look over to see him already staring at you. His eyes… you could get lost in them. You cleared your throat, leaning slightly to make sure he heard over the loud music. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “What about you? You seemed somewhere else.”

You shrugged, taking a deep breath in. “It’s nothing. I’m just being a child.” You took a sip of water.

Sieun was silent for a while. He just kept looking at you, quiet, unblinking—like you were something worth paying attention to. It made your heart beat faster

“You can tell me, if you want. I’m the least likely in this room to go around telling everybody.” He finally said, shrugging his shoulders.

A small delicate laugh escaped you, and your imagination could have fooled you into seeing a softness entering Sieun’s eyes. You looked down suddenly embarrassed.

“I was just being sappy.” You muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Letting out a deep breath, you finally let the words spill—the ones you’d been holding in for far too long.

“I’ve never really had friends like you guys before.” You said quietly, eyes fixed on the screen ahead. “It’s… kind of a new feeling. Being around people who don’t just tolerate me but actually enjoy having me around. It’s nice.”

You bit your lip, hesitant but too far in to stop now. “With my parents, I always have to be this perfect version of myself. The one that follows every rule, never talks back, never messes up. It's exhausting. I feel like I’m always performing for them. But here… I can actually make my own choices. I get to be me—no filter, no pretending.”

Your gaze drifted from your lap toward the others now, to Baku laughing about something with Gotak, Juntae nudging him with a bag of snacks in hand. “It’s the first time I don’t feel like I have to shrink myself just to fit in. It’s a relief not to always be worrying whether I’m too much or not enough.”

You hadn’t noticed the sting in your eyes until a tear slid down your cheek, then another. Startled, you wiped at them quickly, hoping Sieun hadn’t noticed. Your voice came out a little bit shaky, rushed. “Sorry. Told you I was being a child.”

Sieun didn’t respond right away. You expected silence—maybe one of his usual non-answers—but when you looked back at him, he was still watching. There was no judgment in his expression, no awkwardness. Just… stillness.

And his eyes.

They held so much sadness, so much depth, like the ocean. You stared too long. Long enough to forget what you had just said. Long enough to forget we were in a room filled with singing and ridiculous dancing. All you could see were those ocean eyes.

“I know that feeling,” he said at last, voice low. “Being around people, but still feeling alone.”

Your throat tightened. “It’s exhausting,” You whispered.

Sieun gave the tiniest nod. The glow from the karaoke lights painted faint purples and pink across his skin, and for a moment, you thought he looked almost unreal. His hair fell slightly into his eyes, and he didn’t bother fixing it.

He was pretty. So damn pretty.

“Do you ever feel like… no one really sees you?” You asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Sieun turned his gaze away briefly, as if the weight of the question was too much to meet head-on. Then, with the softest voice you’d ever heard from him, he said, “All the time.”

You reached over without thinking and lightly touched his sleeve. “I see you.” You said.

His eyes flicked back to mine—just a flicker—and something unreadable passed through them. Not quite surprise. Not quite disbelief. Maybe both. But underneath it, there was something tender. Shy. His lips parted like he might say something, but then Baku’s voice echoed through one of the microphones.

“Lovebirds in the back! You’re making us single people look bad!”

You jumped, pulling your hand away from Sieun’s arm like you’d been caught doing something forbidden. Heat bloomed across your face.

You were about to protest, but Sieun, for once, beat you to it. “Shut up, Baku,” he said, still calm but with a rare hint of embarrassment. His ears had gone red.

Baku only snorted. “Touchy!”

Juntae frowned between bites of leftover chips. “What did I miss? What happened.” Gotak blinked, eyes darting between Sieun and you.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, and Baku seemed to suddenly have some sympathy for you.

“You didn’t miss anything.” He said to both Gotak and Juntae. “False alarm. Let’s not make it weird.”

Without any more explanation, Baku marched forward and quickly cleaned up the trash left on the table in front of Sieun and you. The former was still glaring at him.

Noticeably, Baku made sure to take Gotak’s leftover ramen along with his chopsticks.

“I’m not risking my life tonight.” He whispered to you two, but mostly to Sieun with a wink.

Baku turned back around, snickering to himself. He gave Juntae’s shoulder a playful shake, hand already reaching for his bag of chips. “Back to the important stuff—karaoke and salty junk food.”

Gotak and Juntae still looked mildly suspicious, but Baku had already grabbed a mic and queued up the next song, dramatically clearing his throat.

With a resigned shrug, they both let it go, and soon the room was full of singing and laughter again—as if nothing strange had happened at all.

When Sieun’s knee brushed yours again, you didn’t move away.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The group was still lingering outside the karaoke building, debating whether to get late-night ramen or just call it a night. Baku, as always, was still hungry.

“I’ll be right back,” You said quietly, pulling away from the circle. “I need the restroom.”

Juntae gestured vaguely. “There’s one beside the café next street—they let us use it last time.” You nodded.

“Don’t get murdered,” Baku called after you, half-joking.

“I’ll try not to,” You muttered with a laugh.

The city was quieter now, the glow of signs reflecting off the pavement. You turned down the narrow path between the karaoke place and the café, leading to the next street. You quickly head for the door with the bathroom sign.

That’s when you heard it.

“Well, well. Didn’t expect to see you here alone.”

You froze.

That voice—it sent a ripple of nausea straight through you. Slowly, you turned.

It was him. Hyoman.

From school.

He was leaning against the wall like the world owed him something. “I heard you were into ballet.” He said, looking me up and down. “Guess that means starving yourself and hanging out with losers, huh?”

You clenched your jaw. “Leave me alone, Hyoman.”

He stepped closer, not listening. “Or what? You’ll twirl away from me?”

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. “You act all quiet and high-and-mighty, but I know what girls like you are really like. You think you’re special. But you’re just fake.”

“Let go of me” You snapped, trying to pull back, fear creeping in.

He didn’t.

A smirk curled at his lips. “You still pretending to be all graceful and perfect?” he sneered, stepping closer. “Still playing the innocent card, huh?” Your eyes filled with tears, and panicked grounded you in place.

“You think just because you hang out with Baku, you’re safe now?” His eyes raked over you repeatedly, colder this time. “I bet under all that discipline, you’re just waiting for someone to mess you up a little. Isn’t that what you dancers want?” My throat tightened again.

“Let go of me,” You said softly, your voice trembling, breath caught in your chest. “Please.”

He leaned in, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “C’mon, just a little fun. Don’t act like you’re too good for it.”

And then, like lightning—

Sieun.

He grabbed Hyoman arm and yanked him back with so much force that the boy stumbled and hit the wall behind him with a grunt. For a moment, Hyoman looked stunned.

“She said to let go.” Sieun said. His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t have to be. It was sharp. Direct. Steady in a way that made the hair on your arms rise.

Hyoman pushed off the wall, sneering. He stumbled a little bit, and you suspected that it wasn’t just because of the alcohol. “What, you gonna fight me? You’re just some freak who never talks. You think being quiet makes you scary?”

Sieun stepped forward without hesitation and shoved him again—harder this time. “Try touching her again,” he said, “and I swear I won’t just push you.”

Sieun’s eyes burned with something raw. Not anger, exactly. Something more dangerous..

Hyoman backed off, scowling. “You’re both crazy,” he muttered, spitting to the side before stalking away.

The silence he left behind felt suffocating.

You stood frozen, staring at Sieun. Your chest was still tight, adrenaline spiking through you.

He was breathing heavily. The fury slipped from his face when he saw your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stepping closer.

You nodded, but it was a lie. The moment you met his eyes—soft now, worried—you cracked.

“No.” You whispered.

He didn’t hesitate.

Sieun stepped forward and pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you like it was the most natural thing in the world. He held you—not too tight, just enough to remind you that you weren’t alone.

And you broke.

The tears came fast. Hot, angry sobs that you couldn’t hold back any longer. You clutched his hoodie in your fists and buried your face against his chest. You couldn’t stop shaking.

Sieun didn’t say anything. He just stood there, solid and quiet, letting you fall apart in his arms. For someone who rarely showed emotion, he held you like he’d done it a hundred times. You melted into his warmth.

That was when you heard footsteps.

“Y/N?” Baku’s voice called, too cheerful at first, until it dropped with concern. “Y/N, what happened?!”

The rest of the group came into view, Juntae and Gotak behind Baku, who stopped mid-step when he saw you in Sieun’s arms.

Gotak blinked. “What the hell…?”

Juntae looked concerned. “Wait, is she crying?”

Baku’s eyes narrowed as he looked around. “What happened, Sieun?”

Sieun didn’t move. He kept holding you, shielding you with his body from the boys’ growing panic. You didn’t lift my head, not yet. You didn’t want them to see you like this.

“She’s okay now,” Sieun said, voice flat but firm. “Someone crossed a line. It’s handled.”

The others were still trying to piece together what had happened, but something in Sieun’s tone, something cold and sharper than they were used to, shut them up.

Baku muttered under his breath, something about looking for whoever did it. But he didn’t press further.

Sieun’s arms didn’t move until your breathing calmed. And even then, he didn’t let go until you gently pulled back, cheeks still damp.

There was no judgement on his face when you backed away.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The walk back to the karaoke room was quiet.

No one asked questions. Not even Baku, who usually couldn’t stay silent if his life depended on it.

Sieun didn’t speak.

He just stood beside you in the quiet night air, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable as always—but there was a tension in his posture, like he was still on edge.

“I think I’ll go home,” You said finally, voice hoarse from crying.

Sieun looked at you, then gave a small nod. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

But he came anyway.

The city lights flickered around us as we walked. The only sounds were the occasional passing car and the soft rhythm of our footsteps. You kept your eyes on the ground, the cool breeze brushing against your cheeks, hand warmer between your palm. You didn’t feel like talking, and Sieun didn’t push you to.

Halfway home, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His shoulders were slightly hunched, like he was carrying something heavy.

“I’m sorry,” You murmured.

He looked at you, confused. “For what?”

“For ruining the night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, tone even. “Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” Wind ruffled through his hair.

“I was scared,” You admitted after a while. “Not just in the moment. Scared he wouldn’t go away. Scared no one would come.”

You let out a quiet breath, the words catching on the edge of your hesitation before you finally spoke. “I know you were scared too. But you still stepped in. You chose to protect me.” Sieun didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at you directly—but something in him shifted.

His expression remained unreadable, but his shoulders eased, just slightly, like some invisible weight had loosened its grip. “Thank you,” you said, gently.

There was a pause.

Then, barely above a whisper, Sieun said, “I’ll always protect my friends. No matter what.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence, but it wasn’t the kind that made you feel alone.

When you reached your door, you turned to him and gave a small smile. “Thank you… for everything.”

Sieun stared for a second too long. Then, awkwardly, he nodded, eyes flicking away.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

And before you could step inside, he added—barely above a whisper, “Text me when you’re safe in bed.”

You blinked. “You want me to text you?”

He rubbed his neck, trying to look nonchalant. “I just… want to know you’re okay. That’s all.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile softly.

“Okay”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

That night, you kept my promise and texted him.

[10:42 PM] In bed. Safe.

There was a long pause before his reply came.

[10:47 PM] Okay. Sleep well.

Simple. Distant. But it made you smile anyway.

You curled under the blanket, still feeling the ghost of his arms around you, the way he had pulled you close without hesitation. It stayed with you long after you closed your eyes.

You dreamt of him.

Of Sieun.

Not the quiet, cold version of him the world knew. But the one you saw tonight—the one whose eyes burned when he saw you hurt, whose voice sharpened when he defended you, whose hands didn’t shake when he held you.

In the dream, we were alone again. But it was warmer somehow. Softer.

You stood beneath a streetlight, the city blurred around you. He stepped close—too close—and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered just slightly against your skin, and his eyes… they were locked on mine like I was the only thing that existed.

And then—his hand slid gently to your jaw. His thumb brushed your cheek.

He leaned in.

His breath touched yours.

And just before your lips met, you—

Woke up.

Your eyes snapped open. The room was dark and quiet, the covers twisted around your legs. Your skin felt hot and sticky.

You sat up slowly, pressing your hands to your cheek.

It had been so vivid.

Too vivid.

You groaned quietly and flopped back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

What was wrong with you?

It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just—

But the image of his eyes, the sound of his voice, the way he held you like you were something precious… You pressed your palms against your eyelids. You knew, no matter how hard you tried, you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon.

You were screwed.

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