#Distance Learning Student Expectations

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞

✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader

✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)

✧ wc: 13,544

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!

“You want me to teach you?” 

The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike. 

But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—

“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?” 

Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully. 

Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“ 

And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.” 

But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,” 

“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision. 

“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,” 

You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“ 

“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens. 

“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“ 

“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?” 

You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble. 

And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here. 

“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,” 

You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head. 

“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone. 

“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours. 

“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?” 

And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal. 

“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks. 

“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?” 

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was. 

“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?” He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?” 

“Of course,” 

He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone. 

And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened. 

“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,” 

Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend. 

“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin,  “is something interesting about my hands?” 

Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,” 

“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,” 

“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?” 

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?” 

This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away? 

“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?” 

A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”

And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids. 

“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?” 

And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.  

Fuck. 

“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,” 

He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,” 

Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew. 

His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek. 

“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“ 

“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other. 

Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.

“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“ 

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?” 

And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp. 

He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,” 

“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?” 

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,” 

Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either. 

His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense. 

“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,” 

“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,” 

And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“ 

“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body. 

“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod. 

“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“ 

“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash. 

Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more. 

But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji: 

Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)

You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—

Why did you still want more? 

When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so. 

And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him. 

“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“ 

“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“ 

“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“ 

“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“ 

“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?” 

“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“ 

“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?” 

“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?” 

She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,” 

“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs. 

“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?” 

“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned. 

God, what the fuck. 

“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,” 

“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.  

“We don’t have to—“ 

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—

“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but— 

“Sounds perfect,”  he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—

And it seemed he was here to stay. 

“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,” 

“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes,  holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms. 

“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,” 

“For?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“ 

“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face. 

He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips. 

“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“ 

“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?” 

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“ 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,” 

You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you. 

But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.  

“I didn’t think I was either.” 

“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,” 

If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him. 

And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!” 

You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“ 

“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?” 

That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie. 

But you can’t. 

“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“ 

“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.” 

“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse. 

And he knew no one else would ever feel this good. 

How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you. 

“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips. 

You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute. 

“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“ 

And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him. 

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,” 

And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—

He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed. 

“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap. 

“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty. 

He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling. 

It was his favorite thing. 

“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“ 

“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“ 

“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in. 

“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?” 

And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other. 

“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties. 

His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth. 

“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,” 

“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.

“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away. 

“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy. 

“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it. 

The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,” 

And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side. 

His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face. 

“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head. 

“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“ 

“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep. 

He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek. 

“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection. 

He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.  

His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him. 

His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same. 

He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop. 

Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—

Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back. 

What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did. 

He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now. 

“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair. 

He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?” 

Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?” 

The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside. 

“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket. 

It had been like this since that night. 

You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.  

Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back. 

And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it. 

“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him— 

Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship. 

You never wanted to risk Yuji like that. 

But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were? 

And now you know what you wanted to do. 

As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out. 

“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips. 

“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?” 

And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth. 

“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl. 

Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs. 

You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears. 

Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow. 

“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“ 

And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips. 

“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words? 

Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to. 

And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much. 

He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket. 

He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his. 

“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“ 

“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“ 

He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike. 

“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,” 

His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“ 

“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later. 

How long has it been? 

You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place. 

Great. 

It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him. 

Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him. 

No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this. 

But you weren’t made to let this break apart. 

You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped. 

“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?” 

“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about. 

“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember. 

It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him. 

“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,” 

“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“ 

“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip. 

“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours. 

“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?” 

“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“ 

“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,” 

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“ 

“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“ 

“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,” 

You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“ 

“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach. 

“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“ 

“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,” 

He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?” 

Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart. 

Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself. 

“I didn’t want to bother you—“ 

“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say? 

He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone. 

It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you. 

“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?” 

“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence. 

“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you,  “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days. 

When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.  

And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt. 

He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new. 

You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking. 

“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side. 

“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that. 

You were in love. 

The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on. 

It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself. 

And he deserved more than that. 

He deserved more than you. 

And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that. 

“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home. 

“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks. 

“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall? 

So you do, letting your hand fall away from his. 

“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“ 

“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion. 

“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same. 

“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“ 

“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him? 

But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“ 

“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street. 

What just happened? 

The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it. 

Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay. 

But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again. 

You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks. 

“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,” 

Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“ 

“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher. 

“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.” 

And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t. 

Not yet. 

You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place. 

And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands. 

“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet. 

“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his. 

“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his. 

And maybe things could get back to normal. 

“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,” 

And you smile, “I love you too—“ 

“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression. 

“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“ 

“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“ 

“Yuji—“ 

“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name. 

“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“ 

“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”

“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off. 

“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“ 

Fuck it. 

You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji. 

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,” 

“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?” 

“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“ 

“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“ 

“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.” 

Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little. 

Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life. 

“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.” 

“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“ 

His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends. 

“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“ 

“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“ 

“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed. 

“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?” 

He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,” 

You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,” 

“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again. 

And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.

He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan. 

He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,” 

You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?” 

And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head. 

“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you. 

“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath. 

“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays. 

And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.” 

“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,” 

And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again. 

And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much. 

You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release. 

And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin. 

“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss. 

“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,” 

“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“ 

And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back. 

“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your 

He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“ 

And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp. 

“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides. 

You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling. 

“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again. 

“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“ 

You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,” 

And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit. 

Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“ 

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words. 

And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“ 

“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,” 

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips. 

“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you. 

“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“ 

“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“ 

And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead. 

“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,” 

“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss. 

“And you always will.” 

“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her. 

“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,” 

“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“ 

“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“ 

She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.” 

“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,” 

And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.” 

✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.

✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Heylo my maggotsies... I'm sorry to do this but I have a thing that I really, really need to do (thank you Ash for helping me realise that) but I'm terrified to. so well. I'm going to make one of the posts (Neil reblogged me a couple of days ago so I feel pretty safe making one now since he only lurks by once in two weeks so this is as good a time as it gets to make a post and not expect many notes, yes I'm an overthinker and I'm actually scared of this getting notes).

Sigh. Here goes.

...I'm scared of even typing it.

Nope okay I can do this let's go.

If this post gets 1k notes, I'll look up jobs in design and film making that don't need a college degree.

2k notes, I'll sign up for an Alliance Francaise course so I can have another language on my CV, and I'll find a course that teaches me how to use design software.

5k, I'll look up distance learning alternatives, because just talking about physical college yesterday made me spend the whole morning and afternoon today in and out of nightmares screaming. Fuck.

10k, I'll tell my mum that I can't do the offline college. She's been talking to me about it, but I've been dodging because I'm not well-off and I really need to be earning and idk how to do that without college and I feel so guilty.

15k, I'll officially back out from the college (does that count as dropping out, if it hasn't begun? maybe half. i am a college and a half dropout, my 11th grade self would hate me and my 10th grade self would refuse to believe it).

I don't know what I'll do then. I don't know how to live as trans here in India, I don't know how to earn enough to be able to help my family, I don't know what I'm good at and I'm so fucking terrified. But. I spoke to @random-doctor-on-the-internet last night (I love you Ash you're such a fucking amazing human) and they made me realise that well maybe landing in a hospital with steroids to relieve an allergy attack because of exam stress isn't normal and so.

Well. Here I am. I know I can't do it, but I'm scared to risk everything, it's just not something people do here, dropping out. But also (TW s**cide statistics mentioned below the cut)... And so I've just. Got to do it, got to save myself and say no to college (cue say no to school, kids joke). Somehow be brave enough. And yeah.

To quote a financial express article: "In an alarming situation, a total of 7,62,648 suicides were reported in India between 2018 to 2022, Of this student suicides account for 7.6% at 59,239". Maybe if more people did say fuck you to the system here, that wouldn't be the case. That number could have been 59,240 (aside from everyone who wasn't counted and hushed up), that could have been me, and I don't want to put myself in that situation again. You know? Yeah.

[everlastingserenitys]

virgin nerd!zayne and virgin nerd!Caleb

featuring (seperate): zayne & Caleb

cw. p in v, making out, raw, reassurance, submissive!!!, c��mming inside, creampie, semi public (Caleb), masturbation

a/n. just a little thirst lol

virgin nerd!zayne who didnt know how he got in this situation. but here he was. his large figure loomed over you, he was breathing heavily as he looked into your beautiful eyes.

all he did was invite you over for a project you two we're assigned to do, but one part of the project contained for you both to touch each other, and while zayne never felt the touch of another woman he didn't think he'd overreact this bad.

virgin nerd!zayne who hesitantly leaned in, his lips inches away from yours.

his hot breath coaxed your soft lips before he silently begged for him to take you. to your surprise, you didn't expect this type of question coming out of his mouth.

and so, you agree.

virgin nerd!zayne who let out a shaky sigh before he captured your lips into an intense kiss, his tongue sliding right through your lips, as he tasted every inch of it.

he knew he shouldn't be doing this but the constant times he caught you staring at him, made him feel something in him. he fantasized about you so many times, and now that you were with him, he took the opportunity to fulfil his dreams.

with the knowledge of what he's been learning the past few years from his medical class, he assumed he knew what he was doing, so he hoped he was making you feel somewhat good.

a few seconds pass and virgin nerd!zayne pulls away from the kiss, panting like he just ran a marathon. he pulled himself away from you and rested his frail fingers on the belt of his pants.

a soft whine escaped his lips before he unbuckled the belt in a quick movement and letting it fall to the ground, letting a clack echo through the room.

he swiftly removed his boxers and his searing, dripping cock sprung out of him. zayne lifted your hips to align himself with you and in a quick movement he pressed his tip against your soaking entrance.

"I think...I–ngh?!" zayne had already got the tip inside you and he already felt like he was going to cum, his hips slowly rocked back and forth as pleasure was rushing through his body.

"zay--go faster!" you whine, rocking yourself against him in a quicker movement and he tried to tell you to slow down but his vocal chords suddenly stopped working.

a loud moan escaped his lips, and thats when you felt it...

he came, right. inside. you.

"s-sorry! I couldn't hold back..." he apologized quickly, and tried to pull away, but for some reason he wanted more. so instead of fully pulling out, he sucked in a deep breath and thrusted himself in you, this time deeper than before.

you felt as if your pussy was going to rip off from his large length suffocating and stretching you out further, and further. you instinctively grab onto his arms and dug your nails in his biceps, trying to keep up with his rhythm.

"zayne! 'm gonna c-cu--mmgh" you tilt your head back and release your hands from his arms, resting them to your sides. zaynes eyes watched as his and your cum pooled out of your cunt and he pressed his finger against your clit, stretching it out watching the whole mess you two made.

a soft smile was plastered on zayne's face before he leaned in, planting small kisses on your face.

virgin nerd!caleb who was apart of the photography club. he would go to that club after school, every. single. day. and only take pictures of his muse, his only girl.

but one school day you weren't here and caleb was a little concerned. now, usually, he would never want to visit your place without letting you know. but he needed to do his daily ritual for taking pictures of you.

so he snuck into the deans office and looked through the files of the students at the college, his fingers slid through every file until he finally found yours, bingo!

he opened it up and pulled up the address on his phone, the walking distance was only a few minutes away. so, Caleb put the file away and walked over to your place.

but he was met with disappointment when he saw that your whole house was pitch black, his lips dropped to a frown and he headed back to the school, going to the printer room to pick up his previous photos of you.

when virgin nerd!caleb opened the door, he was met with a surprise he did not want to see.

you, leaning against the printer as you flipped through the dozens of prints, and Caleb prayed it was not the pictures of you.

you lift your gaze from the papers and look at Caleb, an eyebrow raised when your eyes tilted down to the camera Caleb was holding, and thats when Caleb knew he was fucked.

"I- listen, um.." Caleb stammered, but he couldn't bring himself to make an excuse, there was no point anyway. you pushed yourself off the table and strut towards Caleb, who was still shaking in fear (and pleasure)

"what do you do with these photos, hm?" you ask, pressing the multiple photos on his chest. but when your fingers barely made contact with his chest Caleb let out a quiet whine and shoved the photos in his pocket.

"I don't...do anything I swear!"

"you sure? then you're telling me you just take these photos without fantasizing about me? or pleasuring yourself to these?" you tease, poking at his chest again. but Caleb couldn't deny it, he did sometimes jerk himself as he looked at the photos he taken of you. he didnt know what captivated him to take pictures of you.

"sorry" Caleb frowned, lifting his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he continued to avoid your gaze.

"so what do you think about while you look at them, huh?" you ask, a hint of curiosity laced your voice. Calebs face flushed and he continued to look down as he fidgeted his camera between his fingers.

"uh...I don't know if I should say it here..."

"if you can't say it, then why don't you show me?"

Calebs eye's widened and he looked up at you, his eyes filled with surprise and he asked if you're being for real. and when a single nod left you, caleb placed his camera on the table and brought you into a desperate kiss.

his fingers slide through your hair and god, he didn't even know how to kiss but the feeling of you against him made him feel soo horny. he rubbed himself against your lower abdomen and a groan escaped both of your lips.

"Caleb!"

the sound of his name escaping your lips made Caleb's heart beat quicker. he pulled away and glanced around the illuminated room before pulling his pants down, pulling his cock out as he stared at you.

he wrapped his fingers around the creamy head of his cock and he stroked himself in a slow, deliberate movement, as his eyes were locked on you. your eyes dart from his slow movements on his cock to his desperate eyes, which looked like they were seeking for something more.

"please.." Caleb whispered, he pulled his fingers away and stepped towards you, grabbing onto your hips as he pushed you against the desk. you moan and slip your fingers under the waistband of your pants, pulling them down for him.

Calebs eyes filled with lust as he noticed your laced panties on display for him. when your pants dropped down to your feet, Caleb slid his fingers under the laced fabric and he pulled them down, watching the wet mess pool down you.

he shuddered before pressing his tip against your soaking pussy and in a quick movement he thrusted himself into you. his cock was stretching your tight pussy and you grabbed onto the desk as Caleb continued to push himself into you.

"Caleb- rock your hips! d-don't just keep pushing yourself in!" you warned, rocking your hips against his. Caleb obediently listens and he rocked his hips back and forth.

his cock fit perfectly in your pussy, and moans filled the room as Caleb quickened his pace in you. "am- am I doing it right? ngh." his voice stammered.

"p-perfect!" you arch your back in pleasure and Caleb was already trying to hold his release but the second your fingers slide through his hair, Caleb let a groan of pleasure escape out of him and a spur of white mixture sprawled out of him.

"thank you.." he muttered, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug.

this is just a practice and for some reason I rlly like the photography idea... kinda wanna make a whole fic about it lol

[szarina]

❝ A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶ SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS bullying + university au + heavy bullying + degradation + humiliation + threats + blackmails + she/her pronouns + sabotage + bribes + blow jobs + cunnilingus + name calling (slut, whore, being called pig related names) + noncon + dubcon + dacryphilia + penetrative sex + implied spanking + anal sex + double penetration + nonconsensual recording + DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

NOTES. it's been long since i've paid attention on this one and for @bimbosandbubbles, vanny. thank you for inspiring me to finish this one. semi part 2 here. part 3.

SYNOPSIS. evading your bullies isn't a good idea so they take you to learn your lesson.

at the start of your uni days, you expected life would open a new path for you. meeting new people from different cities or in the international, new experiences and a way for you to start a new life with a degree after college but you shouldn't have planned anything for yourself as life had different plans for you. to mock you and spat at your face for being naive.

stuck in the endless game of cat and mouse with the university's golden duo.

his bright blue eyes peering behind his dark glasses while he watch the busybodies of students walks through the busy hallways of the university. searching for a certain someone that has been the sole enjoyment of his for the last few months. the only one who have lasted them for so long.

spreading his long arms at the back of the bench. legs spread in an inviting manner as he leans back, head thrown back. looking at the person sitting besides him.

“suguru, are you sure she'll show up?” gojo whines, asking the dark-haired male with the same footing as his in the university. looks and popularity-wise.

taking a puff from his cigarette, geto turns his eyes to him before looking at the students coming out for their next classes. blowing out the smoke before replying to him. his purple eyes glints.

“patience, satoru. she will show up.” anticipating the return of their favorite plaything. you could such be a tease at time like this.

it was time. your eyes rapidly searching for them. hoping to avoid the duo that everybody have singing their names. you don't want to deal another humiliation nor degrading remarks coming from them. you prayed. prayed and prayed, hoping someone will hear your pleas. clutching the straps of your bag tighter as you step outside of your class.

you began to made your way to your next class. you were glad many students were still present and crowding the hallways but you could never be so sure. passing the crowd with an apology to your lips as you occasionally bump into them but you keep your guard up, avoiding to look in the courtyard. you keep your sight straight ahead but you could feel your eyes tear up when a sudden shove from a busy student hit you. the collision making you look in the direction where the duo was waiting for you.

even at the distance, you can see geto's eyes fixated on you. a smirk curls in his lips. shooting you a playful smile at your direction.

your prayer wasn't heard that day.

scrambling into your feet and pretends you didn't see him. making yourself blend in the crowd and disappeared into the place where you only know. your heart beating a mile per minute, running away from them.

“there she is, satoru.” geto called out to his friend. making gojo straighten himself up and looks where geto is looking at. you're running away from them. how sad. how stupid.

thinking you could easily escape them and blending in the crowd. clever girl. they thought but they couldn't miss you. like predators marking their prey to be devoured. they know you more than you know yourself. exchanging looks and geto smirks while gojo chuckles. fuck, you interest them more.

two cats letting the mouse escape and corner it again before they can fully escape in their grasp.

looking around, you made sure there's no one following you. no signs of the white hair and dark long hair best friends lurking around. taking the more quiet place that students use as shortcut when in a rush.

you just wanted a peaceful college life. not being a playtoy for the duo who passed you around like you were some cheap whore. you want to ask someone to help you but how could they help you. some attempts were made and the good souls who believes in you where blacklisted from the university for some unknown reasons.

you didn't know how much power gojo held and the words coming from geto's mouth enticing people who hang from his every word and realizing it only at the end.

gojo satoru is the only son and the heir of a multi-million company. who made a name for himself in the campus. the pretty boy who have different arm candies hanging in his arms weekly.

geto suguru who you doesn't know much but made himself popular along with gojo in the campus. charming he is and had a fan club made for him and to his best friend. they're the best if people were asked about them.

and you. you were just nothing but a toy to them. a past time when they're bored and you're left like nothing when they're done with you.

they won't follow you, do they? looking behind you to check and you almost let out a breath of relief. you barely escaped geto earlier. your nerves still working you up.

“i didn't take you the type to ditch us, (y/n).”

you almost jump, making you stop in your tracks as you look up in front of you. hand in his pockets while waving the phone in his other hand. a grin in his face while stepping closer to you.

with every step he take, you took backwards. not wanting to face him or geto. you don't want anything from them. tentatively taking your steps backwards. you just could blend again with the crowd. your mind formulating a thousand escape plans. you only look at him in contempt. a last chance of bravery against him.

spinning your heel and you made a run for a life. you could taste the escape in your lips. away from him. away from the people who made your life hell.

flashes of light blinded you for a second before realizing you were stopped. the tight grip in your arm, the smell of cigarette clinging into his shirt. it almost made you gag.

“nice one, suguru. (n/n) thinks she can escape us.”

there was a stinging sensation behind your eyes. the hope you're once clinging ripping into shreds. falling once again to the madness this two seeks for the pleasure of their own entertainment.

geto pulls you closer to his. wrapping his arm in your shoulder. your back against his chest while his hand went to cup your jaw. raising your head to meet his smile. you sure could punch him if you have the guts but looking at his face, you couldn't deny that geto suguru is attractive. maybe it's the lightning or how his hair is elaborately tied in a bun where the other locks of his hair is loose underneath and the single strand of his hair falling down. acting like bangs in his face. the warm light of the sun illuminating his face like halo. it's almost— godly.

you felt stupid for admiring one of the people in your life who made it hell. it's a realization how small you felt, how powerless you are with this two and they remind you of it every single time of your life.

your lips is curled up in a frown and gojo take notice of it. the latter grinning and walking forward where his friend got you trapped.

grasping your chin in his slender fingers, blue eyes inspecting your face behind his dark glasses. leaning closer to brush his lips to yours and the immediate reaction earns a laugh of amusement to his. tucking back your lips and moving your head to the side. blinking back the tears and he'd be lying if he didn't like the tears on you.

you weren't special. you're nothing worthy of praise nor attention but you do give them a hell of a time. you didn't even look or close to the numerous bitches they had fucked. they were naturally submissive which they like and the worst is they got clingy which is incredibly annoying for them. skanky bitches like them think they can have a piece of them. thinking they're now hotshots for sleeping with them when they're just holes for them to fill and to leave.

you — you got a fight in you. they wouldn't tell you that aloud. they didn't need to shape a bitch for them. bitches are made for them and you, even a dozen times they break you, you're still standing up and perhaps they could keep you longer until you submit to them and throw you away like a trash. follow them like a lost puppy that is still coming back even kicked and worship them at their feet. they needed you to break.

your eyes betrayed you, no. it wasn't tears instead it was the impalpable glare you have given to someone and not just to someone. it was one of your bullies.

his shit eating grin turning into one of a coldest lines forming in his lips before turning into one of a condescending smile. an immediate silence taking over and geto didn't missed that despise being behind you. harshly yanking your arms he was holding and earning a whimper from you.

“ah, ah. what's that? acting brave now are we? who taught you that or perhaps we didn't teach you enough what happens to fat slut like you acting up? mmm?” he hums. closing his eyes as his lips crooks into a smile. his bangs covering one side of his eye and the other opens or both. you couldn't tell when his bangs is covering the other.

“suguru, don't be like that. we've been just too lenient at her and now — acting too brash. we don't want this for our pet suguru, do we?” gojo tuts. tapping his fingers to your cheek, eyes locking to geto. the eye contact generating the sickest of punishments they can sentence you to.

“please — i-i need to go....” your voice stumbling at the words and your false courage starting to crumble. you couldn't think how stupid you were for glaring at gojo. he deserves it and it's not enough. you thought. bitter memories starting to surface while you think of all the humiliations you had to endure by his hands and if you were getting punished which was already placed into you, you should have glared at his friend too.

gojo tuts.“nuh uh, where do you think you're going? this is what you get for avoiding us. you need to learn your place.” the snow white haired boy jeers at you.

suguru only smirks, grabbing your arm to drag you from wherever they wished to punish you. gojo following suit whilst humming a tone from a random song.

you ended up in a vacant classroom in where the area is currently renovated and staff and students alike are forbidden to enter minus the construction workers who were taking a lunch break. giving the duo the time to punish you in their own ways. you can feel the bile rising in your throat and the familiar sparks of tears stinging behind your eyelids. your heart quickening its beats from the nervousness and the shame you have to face on or it will never end. it never ends.

“strip.” the black haired male ordered you. seated in one of the chairs in the vacant room. his friend is also comfortably seated too. a huge smirk plastered on his face, resting his head in his palm while those blues in his eyes glints in anticipation.

“n-no.” you stammer out. your hands trembling. clenched in fists in your back.

geto fakes a frown. twirling his phone in his hand while he types the password in his phone.

“no? such a shame if the whole uni would see what kind of a slut you are. you look good in this one, pretty i might say. taking satoru's cock so well. hm?” tapping the phone in his fingers while showing you a clip of a video they had previously filmed from the past sessions. both had a copy in their own phones. they may never say it but it's a video they treasured whenever they misses you. “poor mommy and daddy. they will know how much of a slut a daughter they had raised.”

“you can't do that. you have no right.” there's a sound similar to a whisper in your voice. a cruel smirk etched in his face, looking at your helpless state. they know the power they hold. what would you do report? ask the others? too bad, they'll never believe you as long they're around. people worship them. what's the power of a peasant against them? nothing.

“he can, (y/n)-chan. just one tap away and the whole world will see you for who you really are. a slut who's desperate of attention. now, follow suguru's order or we'll post it.” satoru warns. playing with the arms of his dark glasses. the action making you see a peek of what's under them.

and just like that, like a puppet you obey them. your hands trembling along with your vision blurring from the tears that started to spill from your eyes. forced to follow what they ordered to you. you couldn't risk to be find out. knowing full well that you would just be shamed even it's not your fault. who would believe you after all? you were an unfortunate being that got thrown in a tiger's den. you think of your parents — who worked so hard for your education. if hardwork and determination would reward you along with their sacrifices. you will be the first one to graduate in your family. you just have to endure it. give in to their demands and maybe — just maybe. it will end faster and you could wallow in shame on your own.

retracting your arms and you unhooked your bag slinging in your back. placing it on the nearest table. there's a soft thud along with the taps of their shoes in the wooden floor. impatiently waiting for you to completely strip of your garments.

your head hung know as you hesitate to reach out for the lower buttons of your blouse. your fingers wobbles as the buttons enter the holes of your blouse. one by one. the buttons coming undone and you blinked back the tears again but no matter how many times you blinked the tears came running down your cheeks.

you couldn't run. not when the fate of your education and dignity are stored in their phones — or maybe. you'll let them and disappear forever — away from their hungry gazes and hands that turns filth whatever they touches.

a pair of blue and purple dances at your snivelling form. that look suits you better than being a stubborn bitch you are. all bark and no bite. who's the the loser now?

it's getting quite annoying how you slowly take your clothes off and the modesty of it. a red long sleeved blouse and underneath it a black tank top paired with a long black denim skirt that preserves and gives you the impression of being a modest and goody two shoes person. boring. they make sure to put in mind what clothes you are allowed to wear for immediate contact.

satoru sighs but it's closer to belching. growing impatient as he taps his shoes in the floor before standing up and walks towards you.

he holds the tops of your shirt before tearing it up. the last buttons flying away as they got ripped. you panicked and grasping his hands to stop it but he's stronger than you. easily pulling your arms away as he yank your shirt. the action resulting in your skin burning and welts starting to form where the cloth had touched your skin.

“no! no — please! i—i'll do anything you want but not this!” you cried, hands squirming to take it away from his tight grasp. “tsk. too late.” gojo taunts. turning his head to look at geto who was enjoying the view. “suguru~, lend a hand will you? little mousy-chan is real stubborn today” asking his friend nonchalantly.

geto shakes his head, cupping your jaw harshly that it started to hurt and leaves bruises to the skin. forcing you to raise your head to look at him. “this wouldn't happen if you were obedient. we could have shown you mercy and instead what did you do? running away from us like a squealing pig. accept your punishment.” his pupils darkening and you watch it through your glossy eyes.

“a bad, bad — bad girl, you are. who taught you this? ahh, maybe it's mommy or daddy. run away from the big bad wolf eh. it's that what they taught you. they're wrong. you're a swine who lures men at your undesirable self.” he continues to sneer at you.

you didn't know what's hurting at this point. your body or your soul. you didn't know. you couldn't even shield yourself from the spite of their hatred and disgust for you. if you were really this ugly and undesirable for them. why would they bother for it. you know it wouldn't be difficult for them to get their dick wet. girls swoon and was more than willing to give their body for them and if they want another to give the same treatment you receive, they can. a much more appealing person for their taste. a far cry from what you are.

he lets go of your jaw, the sound of your tank top being ripped from the back resonating in the room. geto grabs your head, your face pressing on his chest while he holds you to avoid interrupting his friend who was having the time of his life tearing your clothes off. your bra following suit. your denim skirt being tugged away and that made you cry even more, leaving you only in your panties.

gojo continues his torment at you. slapping and pinching the muffin top in your waistline. chuckling while his fingers digs marks into the skin. amused from the fat of your body jiggling and swaying with the assault it was taking.

his eyes twinkling in pure glee and it returns to normal meeting geto's gaze at him. looks are exchanged, a quiet agreement that they both fully understand what it meant coming for you.

geto places his hands into your shoulders before pushing it down, forcing you to kneel with no consideration for the bruises that will later bloom. gojo watches in pure amusement while his friend manipulates you into his will. this is what suguru is. his true colors in full display.

geto is not the person you want to be messed up with. striking in the place where you don't expect it. nothing can hinder suguru when getting what he desires and a shame for those fuckers who tried to help you. what they did get? blacklisted from the university with a anomaly he conjured up.

flickers of sunlight and dust mingles in the room. gojo shakes his head watching as his friend switched his charismatic demeanor into one of a sadistic. “suguru, don't get too hasty. i thought you were the cool one here.” he said nonchalantly, eyes hungry with desire and need from raking through your half naked figure. kicking your torn clothes strewn in the floor.

“i don't tolerate defiant bitches who can't follow rules and begs for mercy from their mistake.” his voice cool with hint of malice behind them. “i should put you in your place, (n/n). ” he smirks, relishing on how hope simply vanishes into your eyes.

“now don't be like that to me, (y/n). please me and maybe i'll change my mind.” his eyes narrows down at you while you're in the verge of tears. your lips are wobbling. faced with suguru's crotch and you regret looking in his eyes. a silent plea for him to change his mind. a condescending smile only and you received your answer.

you blink back the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes while you reach for his belt loops. shaky hands unbuckled his belt and you were shook that you were fumbling and when geto took a breath, you quickly managed to unhook the loops and pulling the zipper of his pants down.

you never wanted to make it worse than it was when geto would show his impatience towards you and in your situation you can only obey.

he's huge. always was. the outline of his cock is pressed against his boxers. “i presume you won't be needing my help to get it out, princess.” his tone velvet smooth with a hint of impatience dripping in it. you accepted your fate when you tug his boxers down. his cock springing free and it slaps to his abdomen. “suck.” he orders you with no hesitation and you think you could cry at this moment and then you remembered how cruel the two are when disobeyed especially the male above.

you take a experimental lick in the tip of his cock before enveloping it with your tongue. you feel him shiver. a grunt can be heard next as you swallow half of his cock. bobbing your head in a slow motion while you stroke the other half of his cock.

suguru stare at the scene below him. his cute piggy taking his cock in your mouth. he places his hand behind your head. forcing you to look at him and it makes his cock throb more at your mouth. your round cheeks in display and your lips wrapped around his cock and that teary gaze of yours meeting his own. “take more of this cock, princess.” tapping your cheek and you obediently followed. he let out a curse as you take him deeper. closing his eyes for a brief moment and he returned to watch you take more of him. “you can only follow an order if you're being threatened. might do more of this—shit—haaah.” grunting as you fondle his balls.

satoru watch in pure amusement as you take his friend's cock. slobbering all over it as you suck him deeper and he's a little jealous. not used in his spotlight being taken by someone and suguru was no exception and your attention should be also on him. his blue eyes peering through his glasses. he watch as your round face struggled to swallow more of his friend's girthy cock. drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as you bob your head back and forth.

gojo shudders at the blood rushing in his cock. he began to palm his cock through his pants. groaning and the little puffs of breath he was taking. unable to contain his excitement he pulled out his cock. stroking his veiny cock in a slow torturous manner as his cum dribbles down from the tip of his cock.

“suguruuu~” geto winces at the call of his name. eyes half-glaring at his friend for interrupting the haze he was in of your mouth sucking him. “you're not the only one allowed to fuck (y/n)-chan's mouth. sooo let me have her mouth.” gojo smiles at him and suguru scowls for a moment before giving your mouth to suck satoru's cock.

gojo grins. “f-fuck... suck me more...” the white haired boy stutters. burrowing his dick deeper in your mouth making you gag but he didn't care. feels too good to notice that you're almost choking on his cock as tears appeared in the corner of your eyes. your other hand still occupied jerking suguru's length.

the duo loves nothing more than this. their cute, little toy being used by them. you spent the last minutes alternating between their cocks, both covered by your spit. you were currently sucking him off and suguru groans at his impending orgasm and satoru isn't doing good either but before their orgasm bursts. they made you stop.

“open wide baby.” gojo pants. both of them pumping their cocks in unison before shooting their load in your mouth. spurts of their cum dropping in your tongue and some landing in your face. “what do we say after giving you our cum?” his face remaining passive as he reminds you and if you answer it wrong, this will last longer.

“t-thank you.” you shyly mutters. voice low and sounding so obedient. that seems to satisfy suguru as he replied with a hum. holding your jaw between his thumb and index finger. swiping the sticky cum glazed in your face with his thumb, he smeared it in your face and without further adieu you swiped the cum in your lips with your tongue. the bitter taste of their cum coating your taste buds and it would linger for days to come.

“you could be such a good girl, you know that, sweets.” satoru commented. admiring your face covered in cum. “even you could be such a bitch sometimes and you choose today to act up and we know what happens when you break a rule, you get punished.” squishing your round cheeks before staring at you dead in the eye with his blue eyes glimmering more than ever. “and punishment starts now.”

breathing is not the same as it was anymore. you sat in suguru's lap uncomfortably. your ass stinging, covered with handprints as it starts to form welts. air became lacking as suguru continues to kiss you.

“mmm...” the small sounds is all you can manage while suguru shoves his tongue deep inside. it's been minutes and this punishment gets worst as the clock ticks.

suguru can be gentle as he is rough. the dried tears sticking in your cheeks are the evidence of it and your much demure attitude after a spanking does the trick of it so he's rewarding you of kissing you until you're breathless. your soft lips perfectly melding in his and suguru enjoys every minute of it. you taste of the sea and something sweet or it just could be him. licking your tears before this. it was humiliating to you while he savors every minute for it.

geto smirks in the kiss when he hears gojo speak. “she's so fucking wet, suguru.” gojo laughs. watching as slick flows in your dripping hole. your thighs are spreaded by him and preventing you to close your legs away from his gaze. “all that spanking got you, hah. i barely touched you.” mocking you as he laughs. your body tensed and geto noticing the change in your body chuckles. “getting shy, are we? let satoru do what he wants and maybe we're going to be gentle to you this time.” it wasn't much of a request but an order. you simply nodded. “good girl.” suguru mutters before dipping again for a another kiss. holding you closer to him while his hand in your back gripping the rolls on it and the other hand in your breast. his finger brushing to your stiff buds.

satoru let suguru have his fun and so is he. what's in front of him is going to tastier and he can't wait to dig. parting your thighs wider, satoru first bestowed a chaste kiss to your doughy thighs. making sure they are given equally the amount of being worshipped by him. he won't say it aloud but your thighs are his favorite. smooching the expanse of your thighs and sometimes resting his cheek to your thigh just to feel that softness over it. he will get both of them to squish his cheeks or crush his head. he doesn't care.

a smack sound can be heard as satoru took his first lick to your fat pussy. humming in delight for diving back in. his tongue lapping in your sweet heat and more obscene noises grew from his desperate feats of licking your slit with his tongue. alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue to get more of that goodness.

your plush body jerks involuntarily. all the places with the extra bits jiggling at the sudden intrusion of his tongue. moaning in the kiss where suguru had you locked. “mmm...hah—mmm...” is the only sound you can produce as suguru licks your tongue and going back again to take your lips in his. drool covering both of your mouths. eyes half-lidded and you're drunk in this haze and you take a peek of satoru in between your legs. his white hair moving so gracefully as he slurps loudly the juices spilling in your cunt. his large hands holding firmly your thighs. sinking in the softness of it as your thighs gets bigger at being squish. the flesh spilling in his thick fingers.

satoru let goes on your clit with a loud pop before you can cum. your whines muffled by suguru's lips on your own and satoru chuckles. wiping the juices covering his mouth. “i got on her pussy first, suguru.” satoru reminded him and the man in front of you smiles. “no need to remind me, satoru. i'll take her ass.” he nonchalantly commented and your widens. squirming in his lap to get off but suguru clutches your flabby arms in his hands. “don't be scared. it will feel good like your pussy does.” he convinces you but you don't want it. “who cares about that, it's part of the punishment.” suguru growls and that puts you in your place. accepting what they decided for you.

“hey, suguru. frightening our dear (y/n)-chan will get her holes tight. you might want to loosen her.” gojo commentated whilst rubbing your slit with his fingers.

geto tsk. visibly annoyed, a rare occurrence for gojo to see his friend like this. “satoru, punishment is punishment.” the purples in his eyes darkening and gojo shrugs. “whatever. i still get to fuck her fat pussy.” sticking out his tongue towards suguru.

it was painful to swallow the lump in your throat that never existed again and again. your hands are clammy while the duo began to position themselves to you. satoru slapping your ass before hooking his arms behind your knees and his hands holding the back of your thighs hoisting you up. wrapping your arms in his and the other in suguru.

the black haired beauty holds your ass. suguru spreading your ass cheeks and the tip of his cock prodding at your tight hole. “please, geto. not in there please. i—i'll do any—mmph” the sharp thrust of his cock interrupted your plea. making you cry at the burning sensation in your hole. clenching your fist in a tight manner. your eyes hot and warm tears came rolling down your cheeks from the pain like rivulets. “and what? you'll do anything. too late now, sweetheart.” suguru examines your face as it twist again in the thrust of satoru's cock in your cunt.

“fuck!” satoru curses out. chuckling at himself. “the only good thing in you is tight pussy of yours.” your velvety walls clenching around his cock. “are you crying?” satoru teases taking a mental note of your tears.

both of them adjusts their hold on you. beginning to move their hips in an upward motion to thrust their aching cock in your warm holes.

it burns. everything stings with every move. your muscles begging to rest as it tears from how they stretched your muscles and your limbs put in a uncomfortable manner. this is how your day supposed to go on. why you must be in this position. unwilling and unlucky to escape this kind of situation. you're always in trouble with this two and maybe if you weren't so fat for this two to mock and make fun of you wouldn't be here.

mistaking the tears in your eyes as being overstimulated which is true but you're troubled with the inner turmoil of yourself so you get lost and the two began to harshly pound their lengths deep inside you. groaning and throwing at curses.

satoru rests his forehead in your shoulder and behind his glasses, his eyes, the prettiest shade of blue seems to shine in astonishing sight of your pudgy belly. squished together and like dough being stacked together. jiggling at the impact of their thrusts in you and his sight lowers. his cock disappearing inside your pussy as it glistens and the wet squelch it was making, it was simply music to his ears. biting the junction of your neck. he stare at suguru who's smirking at the sensation of your tight hole gripping his cock. “she feels so good, suguru—ahh.. this pussy's trying to choke my cock.” satoru commented.

“you hear that, you feel so good.” suguru holds your jaw forcing you to look at him. “open your mouth, baby.” parting your lips at his order, suguru spits on your mouth. a glob of his spit hitting your tongue in which you didn't hesitate to swallow and suguru smiles. “good girl.” he praises.

hard muscles are a contrast to your soft body. sandwiched between their bodies while they keep their pace steady in bullying your holes with their cocks. a moan is ripped from your throat when satoru hits the spongy spot in your cunt. knowing what he had done, satoru grips your thighs firmly as he angles his cock inside. hitting that spot repeatedly until you can't stifle the sounds coming from you. involuntary moans come spilling from your mouth and gojo swells with pride that only him, well both of them. he and suguru could make you moan like that. how did he know? silly to ask that. they're the only ones who had fucked you since you started college and the first to take your virginity. they didn't even allow men to approach you.

suguru wanting you to make you feel good like satoru does have to speed up his thrusts usually than what he always do. it's not even a work up from him. his desire for your asshole to only know the shape of his cock and he's the only one who can fuck this ass of yours.

“'too much. too much.” you babbled. the pleasure and pain is getting overwhelming for you to take. instead in pitying you it earned a chuckle from the two. “since when did it became too much for you, huh? you're a slut. sluts don't go to tell that it's too much. all they can do is shut up and take it.” satoru taunts you.

gojo hisses when your cunt squeezes around him. the creamy white ring forming in the base of his cock as you came. “shit! she came suguru.” satoru said in amusement and even he's like that he's getting close too and so is suguru. they exchange looks briefly before putting their strength in reaching their end.

you can't speak. they've taken your ability to speak. you can only moan in silence as you feel another orgasm bubbling in your abdomen again. you're going to cum and it's going to be more intense than the last one. you feel them both. hot and throbbing. the veins in their cocks making ridges in your soft walls. taking and molding their very shape.

harsh thrusts are back to back being blown to you. the tips of their cocks hits deeply as they can before releasing their loads. both groaning as spurts after spurts of their cum are being loaded inside of you. never did you felt to be so full and warm until they've released their loads inside of you. hot and sticky.

it took a few more thrusts before the both of them had ridden their high. handsome as they are and wicked even after fucking their favorite plaything. removing your arms around their shoulder. you slowly descended on the floor. both of their cum escaping your holes. dripping and staining the cold hard floor where you sat. you ignore them and you know the drill after being fucked by them. it's time to leave and slowly, you began to gather your clothes. your blouse are useless. tattered and shredded and it won't cover you. you're lucky your denim skirt are still intact.

reaching out for your bag to get the spare clothing you packed for when it happens. you grabbed the wet wipes. patting where their release had stained you, mostly in your face. a stream of tears you didn't even notice falling from your eyes got you wondering why the floor below you is getting wet. the realization dawning into you and you can only cry silently. dressing yourself and trying to be more decent.

satoru and suguru busied themselves fixing their clothing. not leaving the sight of their toy cleaning their self. suguru crouches down to meet your position. “crying after what you've put yourself into.” he commented. “pathetic.” satoru mutters as he watch you beneath him. “try not to defy us again, okay? it would be much worst than this one.” there's a hint of softness in his voice and maybe you could convince yourself that he wasn't a jerk from the way he spoke but you know better. they had humiliated you until you hated yourself. degrading you like you were nothing a dirt and not a human being.

“i understand. i'm sorry.” you say. bowing your head in shame for being disobedient at them. for not following simple orders. “good.” his only response to you.

“can i please go now?”

suguru hums and with that, you slowly made your way outside. your bag tightly secured in your back with your ripped clothes, you left without saying a word again with tears streaming down your face.

when you disappeared from that door, the duo both left at the building. going on with their lives again as the golden boys of the university and you were left with nothing, not even a shred of your dignity.

satoru reviews the newly recorded of you being impaled by their cocks. feeling hard again from the way your pussy wrapped around him along with your soft body pressed against him. “the best, satoru.” suguru commented after seeing what his friend is watching in his phone. “send it to me.” whipping his phone in a second and quickly typing.

your phone buzzes. alerting you with a message. you were wiping your tears after you nearly trip. absentmindedly wandering in the campus and if it wasn't for you almost tumbling you wouldn't break out from your stupor. more tears rolled in your cheeks, dripping down in the screen of your phone after you've read the message.

suguru: see you later.

[astrolook]

🚀✨Jupiter’s Transit: Time for a Glow-Up or a Wake-Up! 💫👀

Note: These are my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years, so take what resonates and leave the rest. Let me know in the comments if this hits home! This is based on Vedic astrology, so it might feel different from other systems. These are general interpretations and would change according to what planets are in those houses. 😊✨

Jupiter enters Gemini on May 14, 2025, and will stay there until October 18, 2025. After that, it briefly moves into Cancer for a couple of months. This post will focus on the May 14, 2025 - October 18, 2025, Gemini transit. Just 2 days to go! Also, long post!

For Aries Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 3rd house and aspect your 7th, 9th, and 11th houses.

3rd House: Expect a lot of short trips, new friendships, and opportunities to get your voice heard. It’s a great time to make purchases in your favor, meet new people, or even consider a move to a new place. If you have a sibling, your bond can grow closer.

7th House: This aspect could bring new romances into your life. For those focused on their career, it’s a favorable time for partnerships and receiving local support in your professional endeavors. If you wanna start a business or any career change, Jupiter will widen your horizons and says YES! GO FOR IT!

9th House: Jupiter’s aspect here may open doors for foreign travel, higher education, or trading. Moving abroad or going on faraway vacations could also be on the horizon.

11th House: Expansion of your social circle is likely. Great connections are on the way, along with more time spent online learning new things. If you’re considering online courses, this is an excellent time. It’s also a good period for starting a YouTube channel, podcast, or live-streaming (especially gaming, if that’s your thing). For bloggers and influencers, expect positive growth. Long-distance relationships may also blossom during this time.

For Taurus Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 2nd house, with aspects to your 6th, 8th, and 10th houses.

2nd House: This transit can bring potential financial growth, including gains through family, property, or selling goods. If you’re in sales or business, this is a great time to boost your income. There’s strong potential for accumulating wealth, but Jupiter here can also make you spend freely, so watch your expenses. Investments and savings both have long-term benefits now.

6th House: If you’ve been struggling in your career or are unemployed, this aspect can bring job opportunities or helpful connections. For those in toxic work environments, things may either get worse (pushing you to make a change) or finally shift for the better. Students may find career-related support or internships opening up.

8th House: This aspect may spark interest in the occult, hidden knowledge, or taboo subjects. It’s a good time to explore deeper topics, but also a warning to be mindful in intimate relationships, as Sagittarius in the 8th can bring sudden, intense connections, including risks like STDs. Prioritize your well-being.

10th House: This is a very positive influence for your career. Whether you're employed or self-employed, growth and recognition are possible. It's also a great time to pursue learning, training, or certifications that support your professional path.

For Gemini Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 1st house, with aspects to your 5th, 7th, and 9th houses.

1st House: This transit can bring positive shifts in how you see yourself and how others see you. It’s a great time for personal growth, confidence, and visibility. You may be drawn to leadership or management roles. However, Jupiter can also make you overextend, like taking on too much or indulging too often, especially with food or stress, so take care of your health and energy. Your voice holds power now, so use it wisely.

5th House: A great time for creative pursuits and reigniting old passions. If you've been waiting to start something artistic or expressive, this is your cue. For those married and hoping to conceive, this transit is favorable for a healthy pregnancy. Romantically, new connections may enter your life, some with long-term potential. Dating might feel overwhelming or rewarding depending on how you approach it.

7th House: Partnerships, romantic or professional, can flourish now. Trustworthy collaborators may appear, and serious relationships can begin or strengthen. It’s a good time for making commitments.

9th House: Opportunities for long-distance travel, higher education, or working with international clients may arise. Some may consider moving in with a partner, eloping, or planning a destination wedding. Spiritually and mentally, it’s also a time of expansion and learning. You can even get your voice heard through activism or supporting the unfortunate.

For Cancer Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 12th house, with aspects to the 4th, 6th, and 8th houses.

12th House: This is a deeply spiritual and reflective time. You may feel drawn to solitude, healing, or even exploring or settling in foreign lands. It's a period of inner growth, dreams, and gaining insight into your future. However, it's not ideal for new commitments in love or business. Some may experience endings, like breakups or divorces, but these can ultimately feel freeing and bring long-awaited closure or peace.

4th House: Expect improvements in home and family life. You might spend more quality time with loved ones or invest in property, furniture, or home upgrades. Emotional bonds with family members, especially children, can deepen. Inheritance or family wealth may also come into the picture.

6th House: This aspect can stir up emotions at work or in school environments. Challenges may arise through hidden enemies or betrayal, so stay alert and guard your energy. This aspect can teach you who’s truly on your side. At the same time, it can push you to improve your daily habits and health routines.

8th House: Sudden gains, inheritance, or exposure to deep, transformative topics are possible. You might find yourself drawn to occult studies, psychology, or unconventional communities (like spiritual groups, support circles, etc.). Take care of your mental health, as emotional intensity may rise; this can be a time of healing or overwhelm, depending on how you handle it.

For Leo Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 11th house, with aspects to the 3rd, 5th, and 7th houses.

11th House: This is a great time for expanding your reach and being seen. Whether you’re into blogging, YouTube, podcasting, activism, or social reform, you could gain more visibility and even grow your follower base. People may see you as a leader or someone with wisdom and clarity. Your goals feel more achievable now, and support from influential circles is likely.

3rd House: Expect stronger local connections and support. You might spend more time with siblings, friends, or in your neighborhood, or even move to a new area. Social outings like restaurants, concerts, shopping, or clubs could increase. Communication improves, and networking opportunities grow.

5th House: A great time for dating, romance, and creative expression. You may get into new hobbies, watch a lot of films, or explore your artistic side. If you’ve been wanting to start a passion project or even learn something new, like a language or coding, this is the time. It's also a positive aspect for pregnancy or planning a child.

7th House: Jupiter’s aspect here can bring serious romantic prospects or deepen an existing relationship. In a career, it’s a good time for forming partnerships or collaborations that have long-term potential.

For Virgo Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 10th house, with aspects to the 2nd, 4th, and 6th houses.

10th House: This is a powerful time for your career. Jupiter here can bring recognition, promotions, or the opportunity to start something new, like a business, blog, or startup. If you’re job hunting, you may land a role with better pay and visibility. Leadership skills are highlighted, and others may start seeing you as a figure of authority or inspiration. Big moves in your professional life are very possible.

2nd House: This aspect supports financial growth, especially through career opportunities. It’s a good time to focus on saving, investing, and building long-term financial stability.

4th House: Favorable for real estate, relocating, or investing in your home. You may also feel emotionally more connected to family, and it's a good time to nurture those relationships, especially if you're younger or living with family.

6th House: New work connections are likely, especially with people from different backgrounds or fields. Some of these may be valuable allies, others not so much. Stay discerning, especially in competitive or high-pressure environments.

For Libra Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 9th house, with aspects to your 1st, 3rd, and 5th houses.

9th House: This transit opens doors to foreign connections, clients, and opportunities to earn through international means. You might find yourself speaking or learning another language, traveling, or engaging with global platforms. It’s a great time for higher learning, spiritual growth, or expanding your worldview.

1st House: Expect a boost in self-confidence and presence. If you’ve been feeling low in self-worth, this aspect can help restore a sense of purpose and pride. You might also feel inspired to invest more in yourself, like your appearance, goals, or personal development.

3rd House: Your voice carries farther now, literally and figuratively. Whether it’s writing, singing, or speaking, this is a powerful time to share your ideas. Travel or relocation could also be on the table. If you’ve ever wanted to turn writing or music into a career, this aspect supports that.

5th House: Creative energy flows in, rewarding past efforts and reigniting passions. You may finally get recognition for the work you’ve done in previous years. It’s also a great time to start new hobbies or creative pursuits that could eventually evolve into a profession.

For Scorpio Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 8th house, with aspects to the 12th, 2nd, and 4th houses.

8th House: This transit can bring sudden events, like unexpected inheritance or money, deep transformations, or even going viral (for better or worse). You may feel drawn to explore intense topics like human suffering, psychology, or the hidden layers of life. Toxic relationships may fall away, making space for new partnerships that could also become an additional source of income. It’s a powerful time for healing and reclaiming your worth.

12th House: This aspect may trigger deep introspection or even an existential crisis. You might feel low or isolated at times, but solitude here brings growth, not punishment. It's a good time for spiritual work, rest, and understanding your inner self on a whole new level.

2nd House: Financial gains through foreign currency or foreigners, joint investments, or property sales are possible. This is a favorable time for managing finances, especially in areas involving partnerships or passive income.

4th House: Unconventional people may enter your personal life, whether as romantic partners or collaborators, your family ends up embracing. You could be drawn to alternative lifestyles, such as age-gap relationships, interracial relationships, same-sex partnerships, minimalist living, or even being a stay-at-home partner.

For Sagittarius Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 7th house, with aspects to the 11th, 1st, and 3rd houses.

7th House: This is a major green light for serious relationships. You may meet a potential life partner, enter long-term romantic or business partnerships, or experience more balance and success in existing ones. You could find yourself taking the lead in partnerships or attracting people who elevate your status and growth.

11th House: A great time for expanding your social network, especially online. You may join new communities, explore different cultures, or form valuable friendships and connections, even if some are short-term. This is also a highly supportive period for launching an online-based business or side hustle. Expect opportunities to gain profits and stand out in digital spaces.

1st House: You’ll feel more driven to take life seriously and commit to long-term goals. This aspect can bring a shift in self-image, responsibility, and how others perceive you. Confidence gets a boost, and there may be a change in status, personally or professionally.

3rd House: You might find yourself living in a multicultural setting or becoming friends with people from a wide range of backgrounds. Hobbies like online gaming, content creation, or language learning could lead to new connections. This is a fun and stimulating time to express yourself and explore new interests.

For Capricorn Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 6th house, with aspects to the 10th, 12th, and 2nd houses.

6th House: This transit highlights health, work, and daily routines. If you’ve been struggling with health issues, there’s potential for recovery, but if you’ve been neglecting your health, Jupiter might amplify existing problems. It’s also a mixed bag for your career, as some may face setbacks or job loss, while others could land new roles or promotions. Consistency and discipline will be key.

10th House: This aspect brings momentum in your professional life. It’s a good time for job hunting, career changes, or stepping into leadership, but expect a few early delays or challenges. Boss moves are possible if you stay focused and don’t give up.

12th House: This can be a heavy emotional time. Feelings of loneliness, isolation, or endings (like breakups or divorces) might surface. But Jupiter here is trying to teach you that solitude can be healing. You’ll realize your inner strength and learn how to stand on your own. Be cautious with health and travel issues, like back pain, overexertion, or travel-related stress or accidents may arise. Hospitalization is possible if you're not careful.

2nd House: Finances may fluctuate. Jupiter expands whatever it touches, so if you’re doing well, expect more gains; if you’re struggling, it can exaggerate losses. Budget wisely and save for the future to stay grounded.

For Aquarius Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 5th house, with aspects to the 9th, 11th, and 1st houses.

5th House: A vibrant time for creativity, self-expression, and passion projects. Whether you’re pursuing a career in the arts, media, sports, or any field that makes you stand out, this is your moment to shine. Applause and recognition may come your way. It’s also a favorable time for pregnancy, romantic interests, and being admired for your talents.

9th House: Opens doors to international opportunities, foreign clients, studying abroad, or spiritual exploration. You might start trading in foreign currency, connect with teachers or mentors abroad, or even enter a long-distance relationship that brings growth.

11th House: Expands your network, especially with people from different cultures or backgrounds. Touring, cultural exchanges, learning a new language, or engaging in online platforms can be rewarding. If you’re in a digital or online-based career, this aspect supports major growth.

1st House: Jupiter’s blessing to your ascendant boosts your confidence, personal growth, and social standing. You may feel more seen, respected, and aligned with your purpose. It’s a time to take yourself seriously, and others will too.

For Pisces Ascendant, Jupiter will transit your 4th house, with aspects to the 8th, 10th, and 12th houses.

4th House: This transit brings emotional focus to home, family, and your sense of inner peace. You may reconnect deeply with loved ones or feel the need to cut ties with toxic family dynamics. It’s a great time to support and care for your close circle but be mindful of emotional overwhelm. Buying property or making your living space more comfortable is also likely.

8th House: Some may face sudden shifts in family members' health or even loss in rare cases. This aspect also stirs deep introspection and curiosity about the hidden or taboo, think therapy, occult, or healing work.

10th House: Favorable for career growth, though it may feel intense or heavy at times. A strong push toward foreign or remote work is likely. You might also take on more responsibilities that push you to step up in your profession.

12th House: Spiritual detachment becomes a theme as you may explore holistic healing, solitude, or unconventional belief systems. Some connections may fall away as you move toward a future more aligned with who you’re becoming. This is also a powerful time to prepare for relocation or engage in meaningful connections abroad.

Wanna dive deeper into your chart's layers? ✨🔍 DM me for a full astrology reading, a 5 or 8-year marriage report, detailed synastry, or a kundli matching breakdown 🌙💬 Check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐💖

[gayerthanevertbh]

teacher's pet

chapter i: give me what i want

n.r masterlist | teacher's pet series

summary: you start your first day at university and meet the enigmatic professor romanoff in your russian literature class. instantly captivated by her presence, you can’t stop thinking about her—even during a phone call with mj, where you pretend everything’s normal. As you reread anna karenina and scramble to finish the essay she assigned, you realize something’s already shifting inside you: you want her to notice you. maybe even like you.

pairings: professor!natasha romanoff x student!reader

warnings: nothing much, but you could feel the tension between them from this chapter.

author's note: yes i had this drafted a long time ago, i'd say a few weeks? so i hope you guys like it. x

It didn’t always feel like this.

You used to know who you were. Sharp. Focused. Always top of your class — the kind of student who didn’t just chase grades, but conquered them. So when you told your mother you got into NYU, she lit up like she’d been holding her breath. Your best friend barely blinked.

“Of course you got in,” she said. “You’re smart.”

Like it wasn’t a compliment. Like it was just a fact.

Still, you were proud. You are proud. Even if you don’t know what exactly possessed you to enroll in Russian Literature of all things. Maybe it was the challenge. Maybe it was the part of you that couldn’t stand to do the expected. You’ve always been good at learning fast — you figured this wouldn’t be any different.

And then there was her.

Professor Romanoff. Students called her a legend. Cold but brilliant. The kind of woman who could quote Chekhov like scripture and cut your argument in half with a single glance. You looked her up, obviously. Found articles. Interviews. Even a guest lecture she gave with Professor Stark — the engineering icon — who seemed almost cautious around her. That only made you more curious.

You push the door open on the first day and there she is, already seated behind her desk. A paper in hand. She doesn’t look up, not fully — just a flick of her eyes in your direction.

“Take a seat,” she says, voice low. “We’ll begin shortly.”

Okay. So she’s not warm. But she’s not a monster.

She’s wearing a deep plum coat, the fabric tailored to her form like it was made for no one else, and a black pencil skirt that hugs her hips and cuts neatly at the knee, revealing just enough of her legs to look powerful without seeming like she’s trying. Her heels are quiet on the floor, but commanding. Her hair is red — real red — the kind that doesn’t need lighting tricks or filters to stand out. It falls in soft, deliberate waves that frame her face like a painting, too polished to be accidental. There’s something about the way she moves, the way she occupies space without asking permission, that makes it impossible to look away. She doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t need to. She has presence, the kind that demands attention without raising her voice. You don’t know if what you’re feeling is admiration or something more dangerous, but somewhere beneath all your logic and perfectly built ambition, there’s a part of you — quiet, curious, pulsing — that wants to get closer. Maybe it’s attraction. Maybe it’s awe. Maybe it’s both.

You settle into a seat near the back of the room, close enough to catch every word the professor might say, but far enough that if she were to call on you, you wouldn’t be front and center—exposed. It’s a safety net, this distance. A silent prayer that you won’t be noticed until you’re ready. The classroom itself doesn’t offer much comfort. The hardwood floors echo every step, amplifying your uncertainty. The windows are tall and narrow, letting in thin streams of light that do nothing to warm the space. At the back wall, shelves sag under the weight of thick, old books—their spines faded, their titles barely legible—like relics from another lifetime. You shift in your seat, the wooden chair groaning beneath you, and begin to glance around at the others.

Your wandering gaze catches a pair of eyes already locked on you. A girl sits a few seats away, isolated. She’s striking—black eyeliner drawn with such precision it could slice, sleeves stretched past her fingers like armor. Her expression is unreadable, her stare unwavering. It isn’t exactly threatening, but it isn’t welcoming either. It’s the kind of look that evaluates rather than judges. She’s not smiling. She’s not blinking. You turn away, quickly. You don’t want to read into it, but your skin prickles anyway. Something tells you this semester will be more than just lectures and essays.

Then, the room goes still. Like it’s holding its breath.

Professor Romanoff rises from her seat at the head of the table, and the atmosphere shifts immediately. She doesn’t need to speak for the room to pay attention. Her presence commands it. She has a way of standing that feels… prepared. Like she’s fought battles no one in this classroom could imagine and walked away victorious, if scarred. You swallow hard as her eyes sweep the room. “Alright, let’s begin,” she announces, her voice low but firm, brushing over everyone—then landing squarely on you. You flinch, just slightly. “As you may know, I’m Professor Natasha Romanoff. I’ll be teaching Russian Literature this semester. I’m surprised to see so many of you here, honestly. Not many want to study Russian these days. But those who do… might gain something rare from it.”

You can’t look away from her. The way she moves across the room isn’t casual—it’s deliberate, as if every step, every glance is calculated. Her eyes catch yours again, briefly. And then she turns. Just like that. She looks away like it means nothing. But to you, it does. It stings. As if you were reaching for something and had your hand slapped back. You remind yourself it’s just the first day. You’re reading too much into everything. Still, you feel foolish for hoping she might see you—really see you.

Her voice slices through the silence again, heavier now. “Russian literature is not here to soothe you,” she states, her tone sharp but strangely elegant. “It doesn’t comfort. It doesn’t reward. If you want happy endings, transfer to American Lit. I think they’re doing The Great Gatsby this semester.” A few students laugh—nervously, more at each other than at the joke. You don’t. You’re too busy watching her write something on the board. Her handwriting is clean, controlled.

PAIN IS THE PRICE OF TRUTH.

She faces the room again, and her eyes seem to flicker in the low light. “Russian writers gave us some of the greatest works of the human condition—and some of the darkest,” she continues. “This class won’t be about identifying metaphors or discussing plot. It’s about what these stories demand from you.” She lists names—Dostoevsky, Akhmatova, Chekhov, Bulgakov—each one pronounced like a sacred invocation. Her voice is smooth, but not soft. It carries something beneath the surface: reverence, maybe. Or a personal history.

Then she turns the question on you all.

“Has anyone here read Anna Karenina?”

Your heart stutters. You have. Mostly. Enough to discuss it, if needed. You lift your hand, slowly, half-wishing someone else will beat you to it. No one does. It’s just you. Eyes swing toward you—some surprised, some unreadable, some silently pleading what are you doing? But it’s too late to lower your hand. You’re exposed.

She notices you instantly. Her gaze lands like frost.

“You have?”

You clear your throat, trying not to sound too eager. “One of the greatest literary works of all time,” you reply, rehearsed and overly formal. You immediately regret how polished it sounds. It doesn’t feel like you.

One corner of her mouth lifts—not a smile. Something else. “Is that your opinion,” she asks, “or the internet’s?”

The room exhales. You feel it in your bones. Laughter without sound. A kind of collective shift of attention. You force out a quiet chuckle. “Maybe both,” you say. “It’s a beautiful, tragic love story. Very... human.”

Romanoff steps closer, her heels a quiet percussion against the floor. “So you sympathize with Anna, then?”

You nod. “She was trapped. Miserable. In a cold marriage. She falls in love, and she’s punished for it.”

Romanoff tilts her head slightly. “Interesting,” she murmurs. “And yet Tolstoy didn’t seem to think she was the hero.”

The words land hard.

“She abandoned her child,” she continues, her voice still perfectly calm. “She spiraled. She gave in to obsession. Paranoia. And eventually—she threw herself under a train. Is that the character you admire?”

You can’t answer. Your mouth opens, then closes. There’s no mockery in her voice—that’s what makes it worse. She’s not humiliating you. She’s making you realize you’ve only skimmed the surface. You feel stupid. Small. You look down.

“I—I thought that was the point,” you offer weakly. “That it was… tragic.”

Her eyes narrow. “It was,” she says quietly. “But whose tragedy?”

Silence again. The class feels like it’s vanishing around you, and you’re the only one left in the spotlight. You glance down at your desk, your hands clenching around your pen. When you look up, she’s still watching you—calculating.

“Be careful,” she says. Then she turns back to the board. “Sometimes, literature reveals more about the reader than the characters.”

You can’t breathe. It’s like the air has shifted. You can’t remember anything about Anna Karenina now. Not one scene. Your mind is blank.

She writes again.

Assignment: Three paragraphs. Choose a passage that unsettled you. Tell me why. Not what it means. Why it made you uncomfortable. Due next class. No exceptions.

No welcome. No syllabus. Just a demand for vulnerability.

The class remains quiet, even after she sets down the chalk. No one checks their phone. No one whispers. You glance around. Everyone’s still, like waiting to be dismissed from a spell. You’re not even sure if you want to leave.

You pack your notebook slowly, slipping it into your sling bag. You rise and begin walking toward the door—but then her voice cuts through the air like a command:

“Stay. I want to talk to you.”

You freeze. You curse under your breath. What did you do wrong?

You turn around slowly and meet her gaze. This time, her eyes are less ice—more fog. Still unreadable, but not as cold.

“Y-Yes?” you stammer.

She closes her book, leans back against her chair with a quiet sigh. “Where are you from?”

You blink, thrown by the question. “Queens,” you reply, tightening your grip on your bag. “Did I… do something?”

She gives a small laugh, waves her hand. “No. Not yet.”

Yet. That single word coils around your spine. What did she mean? Were you destined to fail? Or to surprise her?

You give a nervous smile. The kind that’s more instinct than confidence.

“What’s your name?” she asks, a little softer now.

You tell her. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

She nods. “You were the only student today who recognized a single Russian author. That’s rare. I was... surprised.”

Your gaze drifts to the worn copy of Anna Karenina resting on the corner of her desk, its spine creased like it's been opened a thousand times. The sight of it catches you off guard, tightening something deep in your chest. It’s not just a book—it’s a mirror, a quiet echo of longing and ruin. You feel a flicker of something—recognition, maybe, or sorrow dressed as affection. A smile teeters on the edge of your lips, but you catch it before it escapes, swallowing it like a secret. Somehow, smiling feels too vulnerable, too honest. So instead, you look away, pretending it didn’t mean anything. But it did. It always does.

“Do you like this book?” she asks.

You hesitate. “Yes. One of the greatest pieces of literature I’ve read.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Because of the scandal? The affair? The suicide?” Her voice teases, just a little. “Go on. Enlighten me.”

You’re not sure if she’s being sarcastic or sincere, but either way, you want to answer. You want to say it’s the desperation you admire, the unraveling of a woman who wanted too much. You see parts of yourself in Anna’s conflict. Her recklessness. But instead, you say: “I liked how conflicted she was. It felt... human.”

“Human,” she repeats, the word soft but weighted, like it carries more meaning than she’s letting on. Then she hums—a low, thoughtful sound that settles between you. You’re caught again in her stare, pinned there like something fragile in a glass case.

Your eyes drop, searching for escape, and land on her hands. They’re veined and delicate, elegant in their age, each line etched like a story half-told. She touches the book in front of her—Anna Karenina—with a reverence that feels intimate, almost holy. As if the pages hold confessions only she’s allowed to hear.

And then, for just a moment, something impossible flickers through you.

You wonder what it would be like to be held that way. To be seen not just for what you are, but for everything you’re trying not to be. To be looked at with quiet understanding, with restraint and reverence and that same aching softness. It terrifies you. It tempts you.

And just like that, the thought slips away—but not before it leaves something trembling behind.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Y/L/N. Good luck with your next class.”

You nod and slip out the door, letting it close softly behind you.

Once outside, you exhale like you’ve been holding your breath the entire time. Something about her unsettled you—but also, something about her pulled you in. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the way she speaks. Maybe it’s what she hides. Maybe you’ve never felt this alive in a classroom before. You’re not sure what this is. But it’s already begun.

“How was your first day?”

“Not bad,” you say into the phone, your voice soft as your fingers flip open the book in your lap. Anna Karenina, again. You’ve read it before—more than once—but tonight it feels different, heavier somehow. “How was yours?”

“Y/n, you know I’m fine. I’ll always be fine,” MJ replies, her voice laced with that familiar teasing fondness. You can practically hear her smile. “But you? You get anxious. You overthink. You go into full-on spiral mode.”

“Not this time,” you say quickly, maybe too quickly. “No. I’m good. I met Professor Romanoff today.”

There’s a beat of silence before MJ responds, her voice suddenly sharper. “No shit?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, the corners of your mouth twitching upward despite yourself. “She’s my Russian Literature professor.”

She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I still don’t get why you picked that class. Makes me think you’re just indecisive.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe you are indecisive. But it wasn’t just curiosity about literature that made you choose it—it was something else. A feeling. An impulse you haven’t fully named. Something about her name on the faculty list drew your eye, and your gut twisted in that way it does when something is about to change.

Maybe you just wanted to see her. Observe her. Understand the chill behind her voice, the precision of her movements, the warmth she conceals under the weight of her intellect. But you can’t say that out loud. Not to MJ. She’d laugh, or worse—she’d see through you. See how your thoughts are already running too far, too fast, down roads you’re not supposed to go.

“I heard she’s pretty,” MJ says casually.

Pretty doesn’t begin to cover it.

“Yeah. You’re right,” you reply, forcing a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. “When I first saw her, my jaw dropped. I wish she hadn’t noticed.”

MJ snorts. “Well, I hope not. Anyway, I gotta go. Peter wants to study with me.”

You say goodbye, listen to the line go dead, and then sit there for a long moment, the book resting on your chest. You don’t move. Your eyes trace the ceiling, your thoughts distant. You wonder—quietly, cautiously—what Professor Romanoff would say if she knew you were rereading Anna Karenina the same night you met her. Would she be pleased? Would she smile at you like you mattered, like you intrigued her?

And more importantly: why does that matter so much to you?

You don’t know. But the need to be noticed, to be liked—no, not liked. To be seen by her—it swells inside you like something shameful and electric. You feel foolish, but also helpless to it.

You remember the essay. The one she assigned, due by morning. Panic pricks at the edge of your chest.

You scramble out of bed, the book falling shut on the mattress as you rush to your desk. You fumble through the drawer, pull out a blank sheet of paper, and grip your pen like it’s the only thing tethering you to solid ground.

All you know is this: you will not stop thinking about her. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Probably not for a long time.

TAGLIST: @aru-son @ihartnat

[kannouo]

Ticklish?

fandom: obey me pairing: demon brothers & dateables x gn!reader warnings: suggestive on asmo's part summary: in which they find out you are ticklish. prompt by anon: The brothers + dateables reaction to the MC being ticklish because ik most of them are menaces about it A/N: lol rest in peace. good fucking luck mc. also i swear to god i know there's more to satan's character than his love of cats it just fits guys pls forgive me

LUCIFER

• Lucifer likes to appear as this super-serious macho man figure who, although he has his moments of going along with his siblings' antics, isn't a very playful guy. He's unlikely to find this out because he was trying to tickle you. Rather, it'd be by complete coincidence.

• When he offered to teach you to dance in the privacy of his room as classical music played in the background, you weren't expecting his hand on your waist to bother you as much as it did. Try as you might, you can't hide from him how you're biting your lip and stifling a giggle.

• "Is something funny to you?" He asks, unamused. You shake your head.

• "No, sorry. It just... tickles a bit."

• The only reaction you get in the moment is a hum and a nod. You're admittedly a little suspicious, but mostly grateful the dance lesson continued normally until you were able to return to your room.

• He's so unbothered by this new information, in fact, that you may even dare to think he'd all but forgotten about it when a few weeks pass by. Little did you know, he remembered. He was just storing it away for later use.

• Even the student council's representative of the human world was not immune to falling into Satan and Belphie's schemes, it seemed. After a failed attempt to capture a pic of a sleeping Lucifer, you find yourself trapped between him and the wall as he looms over you. You desperately hope that, just maybe, Satan or Belphie would come to your rescue — but alas, you had been left abandoned in the lions' den.

• "Bold of you to attempt to sneak up on me in such a vulnerable state," he clicked his tongue, agitated. "I'd assume you would know better by now."

• "I'm sorry, I—"

• "'Sorry'? Yes, you will be." He closed in on you.

• The shrieks that emanated from Lucifer's room that night could only be described as unholy as he unleashed his brand-new punishment on you. Out of everyone in the House of Lamentation, you hadn't expected the mighty first-born to be the one to tickle you half to death, but it was effective. If that was what was waiting for you, you were more than willing to give Satan and Belphie the cold shoulder the next time they suggested a new, ingenious prank to play on Lucifer. Sorry guys. It's not worth it.

"Come on, MC, this'll be our best work yet," Satan trails after you you down the hallway, clearly not keen on letting the matter go. He had taken the liberty of convincing you of the Anti-Lucifer League's newest escapade, as Belphie apparently refuses to be of any help. "We've planned it all out. It won't go wrong this time. I swear." You turn to look at Satan, catching a glimpse of Lucifer a short distance away over the fourth-born's shoulder. All it took was a knowing smirk and a mildly threatening gesture with his hands for you to turn pale. "MC?" "...I'm good, Satan, thanks."

MAMMON

• Unlike his older brother — Mammon would absolutely find this out on purpose.

• He's the spiritual eldest when it comes to playing around with his siblings, so he's experienced in tickle-fighting. You, unfortunately, only realised this while wrestling with him, when he suddenly starts tickling your sides to gain the upper-hand. It works, and now you're flailing around beneath him.

• "Hah! Take that!" You hear him laugh triumphantly above you as you struggle to force his attacking hands away from you. "Ya give in?!"

• "Yeees! You win, you win!"

• After your rather humiliating fake-wrestling defeat, he only gets more annoying with abusing your weakness as the days go by. As he learns all of your worst spots, he gets more and more bold, until not one day can go by where you aren't tackled and tickled to tears by the Avatar of Greed.

• Eventually, you're going to have to set some ground rules with this guy, because he just will not stop. For weeks after that initial incident, you find yourself constantly on edge no matter where you are, because he could be anywhere. Just planning the next tickle.

• Sure, it can be fun at first, but he always manages to take his play-fighting just a little too far. You don't have the same tolerance as his brothers, being a human and all, and he needs to remember that.

• Being tickled by Mammon is nowhere as unfair and torturous as it is with Lucifer though, mostly because unlike his older brother, Mammon is ticklish too. This means you can fight back and potentially even gain the upper-hand. It's unlikely you'll win in a chase, however — no matter if you're the one running or if he is — he's just too damn fast.

• He's the definition of being unable to take what he dishes out. Not only does he cry 'uncle' as soon as you land on a weak spot, but he'll be super pouty and embarrassed afterwards too. As if he wasn't the one who initiated it.

"Mammooon..." You poke his cheek, trying to provoke any sort of response. He huffs and turns his head away, but still doesn't say a word. "Mams... Babe..." "That ain't fair," he finally speaks, his cheeks tinging with red. "Ya can't call me that when I'm tryin' to be mad at ya." You can't help but smile at the demon before you. "I'm sorry for tickling you, Mammon." "Yeah? Well... I think I'm owed some compensation for that. 5,000 Grimm, at least!"

LEVIATHAN

• Levi wouldn't find this out on purpose. Or, rather, at all. At least not on his own.

• He freaks out and backs away every time his hand manages to accidentally brush against yours when he hands you something. He apologises profusely and feels like the absolute perverted scum of the earth when he happens to bump into you in the hallway. He refuses to hold hands with you beyond intertwining your pinkie fingers together, because anything more than that is too lewd for him.

• So yeah. He's not going to tickle you. Not even accidentally.

• He only ends up finding out when he catches you and Mammon having a tickle fight in the living room one day, to which he promptly leaves before either of you can notice him. Both to quell the jealousy bubbling in his chest, and to avoid Mammon roping him into his shenanigans.

• After that, he... does nothing, really.

• See, here's an interesting fact about the Avatar of Envy: He's ticklish too. Very ticklish. And his siblings, especially Mammon, tease him for it all the time. He absolutely hates it and it's just not funny to him. So even if he was able to touch you without taking 6000 points of damage to his psyche, he still wouldn't tickle you, because he understands how it feels.

• Instead, you could say that you two form an alliance of sorts. You defend him when one of his brothers (MAMMON) starts chasing him — using your pact if you have to — and he allows you safe refuge in his room if somebody is after you. His door has a lock on it after all, and knowing the consequences of trying to force their way inside the resident hermit's safe abode, your pursuer is unlikely to look for you in there.

• He might make fun of you a little for it, but that's the most he'll do. He won't lay a finger on you. Good guy Leviathan.

You restlessly chap on Levi's door, moving back and forth on your toes as you desperately hope for him to let you in. The seconds count down before your attacker will find you, when finally... Click. The door unlocks and you grab the handle, swinging it open and nearly hitting Levi in the face in the process. "Sorry, sorry!" You profusely whisper-yell apologies as you shut the door behind you. He locks it, and you can finally breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you... You saved me..." Levi's cheeks burn red at your words. "Y—yeah, well... don't make a big deal out of it, normie. If you're staying in my room, then you're playing games with me too while you're here, okay? So... make yourself useful or I'll kick you back out!"

SATAN

• Maybe this is just me, but have you ever had a cat on your lap that just won't stop moving around and it sort of tickles? Yeah.

• A simple date to a cat café went from good, to better, then to worse in a very short span of time. Most of the kitties were awake and lively, wandering around and allowing you to pet them. So when one of the cats jumped up on your lap, both you and Satan were ecstatic, cooing endlessly at the little ball of fur that had made itself at home on your legs.

• The only problem was, the cat seemed to be unable to find a comfortable spot. You were trying to stay still, you really were, but the cat's paws constantly moving against your thighs made you really need to move around in your seat. Satan noticed how you had to force yourself to stay put by gripping onto the table in front of you, and he also noticed how you were biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot, but he didn't say anything at first.

• The first time Satan tickles you, it comes completely out of nowhere. To you, at least. Some exams were coming up and you agreed to let him tutor you, but the material was just so boring, and Satan's delivery of it certainly wasn't helping to keep you engaged...

• You were abruptly brought back to reality by a sharp jab to your side. You jumped and looked around, as if searching for the culprit, only to see Satan, with his eyes narrowed at you. "Pay attention."

• "I was!"

• "No you weren't," he poked you once in the side for each word to enunciate his sentence, and then grabbed you by the waist to prevent you from escaping. "Are you going to listen to me now?"

• "Ye-ees!"

• "Are you sure?"

• Satan's kind of a dick about it, to be honest. He'll tickle you to convince you to do things with him. You don't want to partake in his newest prank against Lucifer? Uh... yes you do, remember?

• He's also a hypocrite. He is ticklish but he hates it just as much — if not more — than Levi. So if you do it back to him, he'll shove you off or yell at you.

"Fi—fine! Fine!" You yell, and Satan's attack on your sides ceases. He looks down at you with an eyebrow raised. "You'll do it?" "Yes!" You nod furiously. If getting him to stop meant agreeing to prank call Lucifer, you suppose you'll just have to do it. "Now get off!" "Good," he smiled and moved off of you from where he had you pinned. "Now, about the plan I had prepared..."

ASMODEUS

• ...You know the deal. There is going to be a struggle keeping these headcanons SFW.

• He can find out one of two ways: the first being that he was doing your makeup and somehow found out by brushing too close to your neck or jawline, the second being that you two were leading up to... other activites.

• We'll be going with the former for my own sake lol. He realises what your reaction was for after the first time you tilt your head away from him, and can't help but tease you for it right away.

• "Oh darling, how did I not know this before? Are you keeping secrets from me? ♡"

• Somehow, Asmo ends up being one of the worst for how he takes advantage of this. He will tickle you anywhere at any time and for any reason.

• If he thinks you're not paying enough attention to him, he'll tickle you so you're forced to focus on him. If he sees you using makeup wipes on your poor, delicate skin, he'll tickle you as a "warning" to never do that again. Eventually he just starts making up reasons.

• You can tickle him back, but he enjoys it and will try to use it to lead into sex. So, unfortunately, that won't work to dissuade him.

• Don't think for a moment he's embarrassed or ashamed of his behaviour in public settings, because he isn't. He has no qualms with tickling you in a restaurant with strangers around, and doesn't care how much attention you end up attracting. It's hell.

• He's another boy you're going to have to set boundaries with at some point just because of how frequent it is. The tipping point came when he squeezed your leg in the middle of a student council meeting and you hit your knee so hard on the table you were convinced you broke something.

• He'll back off if you tell him to. You just need to actually tell him to, otherwise he won't realise how much it bothers you.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry..." Asmo pouts as he gently rubs your aching knee. "I didn't realise you'd react like that." You huff and turn your head away from him. "Don't turn this on me." "I'm not!" He shakes his head and leans forward to look you in the eye. "I swear! I just didn't know that'd happen. Can you forgive me, honey? I promise you I won't do it again. I can't have you bruising that beautiful skin because of me..."

BEELZEBUB

• Beel, similar to Levi, isn't likely to find out on his own. For different reasons, though.

• Beel isn't afraid of physical touch, but he is scared of hurting you. He's so big and you're so small. He's fully aware of his strength, and even if he has good control over it, he tends to treat you like how one would handle a delicate China plate. It's not that he doesn't touch you at all, but he's so careful when he does that he probably won't even unintentionally find out that you're ticklish.

• The only way he'd find out is if he stumbled across you in the midst of a (usually very one-sided) tickle fight with one of his brothers. In which case, he will usually step in to save you.

• As the second-youngest, he's used to being teased in a similar manner by his older siblings. So if he sees you pinned down, he'll intervene so you can catch your breath and get away.

• If you run to him for protection, much like Levi, he'll take you back to his room and won't let anyone else except Belphie inside until it's safe to assume whoever was after you has given up. You don't have to, but if you thank him by bringing him a few snacks from the fridge later, he'll be happy.

• Such a sweetheart and probably won't ever tickle you. He really doesn't want to upset you.

• The only time I can see him tickling you is if you're having a bad day and he decides you need cheering up. He'll be sat next to you, staring intently at your frowning face as the gears turn in his head. He doesn't know what your day was like or why you're so peeved, but he knows he wants to see you smile again.

• He'll scoot closer, trap you in a hug with one arm and use his free hand to (very carefully) tickle you until you give in. He'll apologise, but as long as that smile is back on your face, he's satisfied.

• "Do you feel better?" He asks, a sweet smile on his face as he pats your head. And you have to admit, you do.

You could swear you saw Beel's eyes sparkle as you offered him the box of chocolates in your hands. You were saving them to eat yourself at some point, but... seeing as Beel valiantly defended you from Asmo earlier, you figure he at least deserves this. He manages to pry his eyes away from the chocolates to look at you. "...Why?" "Because you saved me from Asmo earlier," you explain and hold the box of chocolates closer to him, urging him to take them. "This is my 'thank you'." Finally, he takes the box from you. "...You didn't have to." Despite his words, he opens the lid and starts devouring the chocolates inside so quickly that you don't even have time to remind him to take the wrappers off.

BELPHEGOR

• There are a few scenes in-game where he tickles or tries to tickle the MC, so yes, he'd absolutely find out very quickly.

• Belphie is not only a little shit — he's also spoiled and likes getting his way. So, like Satan, he'll tickle you to convince you of things. Usually it's when he doesn't feel like doing dinner duty or cleaning his room, or if he can tell you're hiding something from him.

• The first time he tickles you, it's because he had an assignment due the next morning. One he had procrastinated on for weeks. You had reminded him time and time again to start working on it as the deadline approached, but he ignored you, and the situation he's in now is, quite frankly, his own fault. So even as he whines to you about how sleepy he is and tries to butter you up so you'll do it for him, you don't give in.

• That is, until he has an idea. With an exaggerated pout on his face, he moved up behind you and wrapped his arms around you in a hug, lazily slumping against your back. Just as you were about to scold him, you felt him start to ruthlessly tickle your sides.

• With his body weight on you, there was little you could do. And even as you fell to the ground, he simply followed you, taunting and teasing you the whole time. When he thinks you've had enough, he hovers above you with a smirk on his face.

• "So? Do you feel like doing it now?"

• Little fucker. He cuddles with you later to "thank" you, but you're still salty about it.

• Like most others on this list, you can get him back. He's the baby of the family so of course he's ticklish. Expect him to use dirty tricks to win any tickle fight you initiate, however. Like "giving in" only to immediately attack once you stop, or using the fluffy end of his tail to catch you by surprise.

• Beel tends to come to his rescue a lot as well, so beware of that.

"I—I give! I giiive!" You smirk in triumph as the youngest demon brother surrenders beneath you, and you let up your tickling assault. You roll off of him, fixing your ruffled hair. "See? That's what happens when you challenge me," with your back turned, you're too busy congratulating yourself to notice Belphie slowly sitting up behind you. "Anyway, you need to— AH—!" You shriek as you're tackled down to the bed again, cursing as Belphie grins down at you, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic light. "Belphie! That's cheatING—!!" And so, it starts again.

DIAVOLO

• Diavolo likely finds out in a similar fashion to Lucifer. Only it might be at a ball rather than in a secluded area.

• He's confused at first. He knows what tickling is, but being extremely sheltered, he's never received much affection like that in his life. As a result, it takes him a moment to put the pieces together. Once he does, he smiles fondly down at you and apologises, and that is that.

• ...For now.

• What he didn't show right away was just how giddy this discovery made him. What an adorable trait to have! And one he had to see more of. He'd missed out on tickle fights his whole life — he had to wonder what they were like?

• He made a mental note to experiment with this information the next time you came around to the palace. And that he did.

• Literally yells "tickle fight!" before pulling you close and going to town. You have to yell for him to be gentler, because inexperienced as he is, what should tickle actually kind of hurts at first.

• "Ah, I'm so, so sorry," he relaxes his fingers a little, no longer digging into your skin. "Is this any better? My sincere apologies."

• His apology would seem a lot more genuine if he didn't continue to tickle you while saying it.

• That, and he doesn't quite understand the concept of a tickle fight. What he's doing to you is more like a tickle beat-down. It's so one-sided it's almost comical. Unable to fight back or escape, Barbatos has to come and tell him to stop before you piss yourself.

• This was fun! He decides completely on his own. We should do this more often! He says, as you are gasping for breath on the fucking ground.

• After this first experience, he incorporates more minor tickling into your daily lives. Instead of trapping you like the first time, he'll sneakily poke you while walking by, and then look back at you with a wave and a completely innocent smile on his face.

"MC? Apologies, you seem to be in the middle of something. It won't take long," Diavolo smiles as he enters the empty student council hall. Indeed, you are in the middle of sorting some letters, but it isn't as if you can deny an audience to the Demon King. "I have a question for you. It appears... as if you've been avoiding me lately. Why is that?" You blink, trying to discern if he was serious. The look on his face said yes, he was. "...Diavolo, whenever we sit next to each other, you keep reaching over to tickle me." He meets you with a surprised expression as if this is somehow news to him. "I did not know it was such a problem," He confesses. "Very well, then. I'll stop. If I do, will you start sitting beside me again? I quite miss it."

BARBATOS

• He already knew. Lol.

• He officially "finds out" for the first time when he just happens to walk in on Diavolo tickling you half to death and saves you from his grasp. In reality, he already knew this was going to happen and planned to show up just in time to clean you off of the floor once Diavolo had his fun.

• You're thankful he showed up, though. If not for the fact he rescued you, then for the tea he served you afterwards to ensure you wouldn't have had an entirely terrible experience that day.

• As for what he does with this information? Well, not much. At least, it doesn't seem like it to you.

• Barbatos knows how to be sneaky with how he uses this to hear you laugh throughout the day. He'll brush his hand against your skin while reaching for something, "accidentally" touch your back and make you jump while walking by you, and it will always seem unintentional. At first, that is.

• Red flags start to raise when these accidents seem to happen multiple times, every single time you're around him. He knows when you're starting to get suspicious too, and that's around the point he stops even trying to pretend like it isn't intentional. He'll keep doing it, but flash you an infuriating, coy smile after each time.

• Now it's war.

• If this is the game he's playing, you might as well participate.

• The only problem being... it's Barbatos. He knows when you're planning something and exactly how you're going to execute it. You can't even land a hand on the bastard.

• And even if you did somehow manage to (AKA he lets you), you genuinely have no idea if he's even ticklish. He won't react to anything you do to him, but he also won't give you a straight answer if you bluntly ask him if he's ticklish or not. He just looks at you with that signature poker-faced smile. And with that, he turns and walks away. YOU NEED ANSWERS.

• Eventually you become convinced that he isn't actually ticklish at all, but he lets you think he could be because he enjoys seeing you so determined to catch him off-guard.

"B—Barbatos!" You jerk your body away as his hand "somehow" manages to pinch your side while reaching for the utensils drawer next to you. He smiles. "My apologies, it was an accident." He says, and you call bullshit right away. With a newfound desire for revenge, you latch onto his side and start to tickle, but frown when he doesn't react at all. In fact, he simply opens the drawer and takes out a few of the cutlery inside like he initially intended to do, as if you aren't even there. He meets your eye with another, slightly more amused smile, before turning and leaving the room. You stand there, dumbfounded. Though... you could've sworn you saw him flinch a little when you first touched him.

SIMEON

• Simeon is also ticklish and is another example of someone who knows how it feels. He's not likely to tickle you often.

• That's not to say he doesn't find it amusing or cute — he absolutely does — but his first thought when the back rubs he gave you with the intention of being soothing turned ticklish wasn't that he should take advantage of it, rather that it's just something new he now knows about you.

• Simeon won't ever intentionally tickle you because it's, well, mean. He'll only do it if he gets "permission", meaning if you do it to him first.

• He enjoys seeing you smile and laugh, but he doesn't ever want to go too far. Most of the tickle fights you initiate are won by him — don't let his appearance and sweetness fool you, he's still much stronger than you are — but they also don't last long. He'll stop, apologise, and offer to make up for it with anything you want.

• "Sorry, sorry," Simeon smiles as he helps you back to your feet, brushing your hair out of your face. "Are you alright? Come on, let's sit down together. No more tickling, though."

• He... tries to be a protector of sorts if Solomon or anyone else is after you. I can't say it works out well for him though, and whoever was after you just ends up with two victims instead of one.

• Bless him for trying. At least you're not suffering alone.

• When you come around to Purgatory Hall, depending on your friendship with Luke, you two may have playful tickle wars that go on. He won't interfere, but Luke does tend to use Simeon as a shield or claims that you're "bullying" him. Simeon never takes it too seriously and you can usually continue your playful tickle-attack uninhibited.

You lay, breathless and sweaty on the floor. You stare up at the ceiling as you pant for air and slowly sit up, wiping at your forehead. You turn to the man sprawled out on the floor right next to you, the both of you having just endured the same tickle-attack by Solomon. "...Are you alright?" Simeon slowly turns his head to look at you and meets you with an exhausted smile. "Yeah, I'm fine... you?" "...Yeah." You sigh. Silence fills the air for a moment, interrupted only by your heavy breathing. "...Wanna get him back?" As angelic as Simeon still is... even he can't refuse that offer.

SOLOMON

• This shady sorcerer absolutely finds out on purpose.

• After one too many times where you've outright banned him from the kitchen to prevent some kind of national tragedy, he decides he's owed some kind of penance. So the one time you allow him in the kitchen while you cook — under strict supervision — he sneaks up behind you and...

• "Solomon!" You squeal, nearly dropping the ingredients in your hands as he hugs you from behind and uses the position to start furiously tickling you.

• "What? Why are you laughing?" He asks cheekily. "You better be careful. You don't want to ruin dinner, right?"

• After the first incident, it gets much, much worse.

• He'll tickle you at any time, anywhere, whenever he feels like it. It doesn't matter how busy you are or how important what you're working on is, he will interrupt you out of nowhere to tickle you until he's satisfied. Prick.

• He thinks it's funny to tickle you in inconvenient or inappropriate settings, too. If you're sat in front of or next to him in class, you can expect him to start repeatedly poking you or enchanting a few items to tickle you as you desperately try to hold back any reactions because then you'll be the one embarrassing yourself.

• He's also ticklish, but will go to great lengths to avoid you ever figuring that out. Probably drinks some kind of potion that dulls his sensitivity before seeking you out to tickle you just in case you try to get revenge on him.

• Of course, you can still catch him when he's unprepared. And when you do, it's war.

• At least Purgatory Hall is never boring with you two around.

You stare down Solomon as you face one another at opposite ends of the dining table. He's grinning at you, and every now and again tries to rush over to where you are, at which point you circle the table to keep the distance. "You can't keep going forever." He taunts. "Watch me, motherfucker," you curse, but it's true. You're already out of breath. He tries to charge you again and you react quickly, hurrying back around to the other side of the table. Just as you do, however, he changes direction. You're unable to turn around in time and he catches you, damn near lifting you up into the air with how he grabs you. "Solomon! Stop it!" "You started it," he argues. "Now suffer the consequences."

[thedensworld]

When Love Kills | W. J

Pairing: Wen Junhui x reader

Genre: mafia au!, exes au!

Type: angst, fluff, action, smut (mdni!)

Word count: 12k

Summary: Love is a double-edged sword—one for a kiss and one for a kill. Jun was meant to do one thing: uphold his family’s ruthless legacy. But everything changed when he met the woman he loves.

Jun arrived in South Korea after six years, returning to a place that felt strangely like home. The city had changed—skyscrapers seemed taller, neon lights brighter, and the streets more crowded, all moving at a relentless, breakneck pace. Yet the air held a sense of nostalgia, a reminder of the time he first set foot here a decade ago, learning the language, understanding the world of business, and tasting a freedom he rarely experienced back home.

The driver navigated the bustling roads, eventually pulling up at a high-end hotel where Jun would stay until his work was done. A simple task, at least in theory—secure the prime minister’s daughter.

Ji Jaekyung, the prime minister, had quietly forged an alliance with a rival syndicate in South China. Betrayal was something Jun’s father could never tolerate, and he had ordered his son to ‘take care of it.’ But Ji Jaekyung was a cautious man, his daughter a carefully guarded secret. No photographs, no public appearances—she was a ghost even in this hyperconnected country. Yet Jun had his ways.

A single bank account—the one receiving regular transfers from Jaekyung—had led Jun to her. A small apartment in a quiet neighborhood, nothing extravagant, almost too ordinary. Tonight, he stood across the street, watching through the café window. She was there, laughing, her short hair framing her face, eyes crinkling with joy as she spoke with someone—a boyfriend, perhaps? That would make things more interesting.

Jun’s gaze lingered, a strange pang tugging at his chest. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected to feel anything at all. But there was something familiar about the sight of this city, a memory buried beneath years of distance.

Back in his hotel room, the city lights spilled through the tall glass windows, casting a cool glow. He should be focused, preparing his men for tomorrow's briefing, but his mind refused to stay on task. His thoughts wandered, retracing old memories of this city—the late-night walks, the crowded markets, the warm, humid summers.

And most of all, the girl he met one summer night. You.

He hadn’t thought of you in years, and yet now, in this familiar city, the memory of you felt too close, too vivid. The taste of yout laughter, the warmth of your touch—it all rushed back with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

But that was then. This was now.

Tomorrow, he would have to forget sentiment. His father had given him an order, and sentiment had no place in this world.

Jun woke up in the morning with a dull ache of desire, a boner—one night in Seoul, and already his dreams were haunted by memories of you. He sighed, glancing down at the unmistakable evidence of his thoughts. His hand reached for his phone, fingers dialing quickly.

"I’ll be late for the meeting," he informed his men, voice steady despite the heat pooling in his chest. "Something urgent to take care of. Very healthy, I assure you."

He leaned back against the pillows, letting his mind wander. "Y/n…" he whispered, the name a ghost on his lips. Memories rushed in uninvited—one summer night in college, the first time he saw you.

It was the beginning of summer break. Jun and his friends had decided to blow off steam at an arcade. The place was alive with flashing lights and laughter, but nothing captured his attention like the girl on the dance game platform. Long hair swaying, laughter bright and infectious, you danced with a carefree joy that seemed to pull all eyes toward you.

"This is Y/n," one of his friends had introduced, nudging him. "She’s an art student."

Art student—that explained the wild creativity in your movements, the way you painted the air with every step. But what lingered most was your scent, a subtle sweetness that seemed to linger even when you weren’t near, an intoxicating memory.

One date became two, then three, and soon, he found you in his bed, bare and vulnerable, the world beyond those sheets forgotten. For the first time, Jun felt himself attach to someone—truly, dangerously. And it was you.

You held him with a warmth and softness no one else could replace—a touch that seemed to whisper comfort, a presence that wrapped around him even in the coldest of nights. If he ever met you again, he would make sure you knew that nobody else had ever taken your place. But there was one problem—he didn’t know if he would ever meet you again.

"Y/n, where are you?"

*

Jun waited in the shadowed corner of an old, abandoned building, its peeling walls and broken windows a testament to forgotten days. His fingers drummed lightly against the worn leather of the chair’s armrest, impatience simmering beneath his calm exterior. His people were on their way, and they had clear instructions.

"Bring her alive. Don’t you dare touch her," Jun had ordered, voice cold and precise. At least not before he arrived. Killing her immediately would be such a waste. There was so much potential—so many ways she could be useful. And if there was one thing his father valued, it was Jun’s efficiency. He never wasted anything. He never left a trace.

The creak of the rusty door pulled him from his thoughts. Jun stood as three men entered, one carrying a figure slung over his shoulder like a sack of rice—unconscious, her limbs hanging limply.

"Money first, then we’ll hand her over," one of the men demanded, his voice gruff.

Jun’s gaze slid to his right, where Minghao stood with a quiet, composed demeanor. A silent nod from Minghao, and Jun gestured for the money to be handed over. One of the men seized the briefcase, snapping it open and greedily flipping through the crisp bills.

They set the girl down on a dusty chair, her head lolling forward, long dark hair cascading over her face. But as Jun stepped forward, a chill ran down his spine. Something was wrong.

"Are you sure this is the right girl?" Jun’s voice was sharp, a sliver of suspicion threading through his usual calm.

"She's the only one there," one of the men replied, barely looking up. "Exactly where you told us."

Jun’s jaw tightened. The girl he had seen last night had shoulder-length hair. This one… He reached out, brushing a few strands aside—and his world seemed to freeze.

Familiar features stared back at him, pale and unconscious but unmistakable.

"Y/n…" he whispered, the name escaping him like a secret he had tried to bury.

Ji Y/n. His ex-girlfriend. The woman who had vanished from his life six years ago.

"What’s wrong, boss?" Minghao’s voice cut through the tension, but Jun barely heard it.

His chest tightened, a storm of emotions crashing against his resolve—shock, confusion, and something he didn’t dare name.

He forced a steady breath, eyes never leaving your face. "We’re going to stay here longer than expected," he murmured, his voice betraying none of the chaos inside.

*

The drive back to his hotel was tense and silent, the hum of the city outside muted by the weight of his thoughts. In the back seat, you lay slumped against the leather, still unconscious, your chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm—a reminder that this was real. That you were real.

Once inside his suite, Jun dismissed his men, locking the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, staring at your figure on the king-sized bed, trying to process the chaos in his mind.

Six years. Six years of unanswered questions, of searching without knowing he was searching. And now, you were here. But why? How?

Stepping closer, he leaned over you, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The softness of your skin was the same, the gentle curve of your lips unchanged. Memories threatened to overwhelm him—the laughter you shared, the nights tangled in each other’s warmth, and the sudden, aching emptiness when you disappeared.

His jaw clenched. He needed answers, but he wouldn’t get any while you were unconscious.

He turned away, forcing himself to think logically. First, he needed to make sure you were unharmed. Jun grabbed a damp towel, gently wiping away the faint traces of dirt on your cheek. Your breathing remained steady, your pulse calm beneath his fingertips.

But who were you now? What had brought you to this dangerous world? Are you the daughter of Ji Jaekyung?

Jun leaned back against the wall, his gaze never leaving you. For now, he would wait. Because the moment you opened your eyes, he would demand every answer you owed him.

Morning light filtered through the hotel’s thick curtains when you finally stirred, your head pounding, ears ringing. A dull ache spread through your body as consciousness returned in fragments. Flashes of memory hit you—the door of your apartment bursting open, three towering men storming in. You thought it was Jena, your friend, coming by. But then rough hands grabbed you, muffled your screams, and darkness swallowed you.

A familiar voice pulled you from the fog of confusion.

"Awake already?"

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the bright room. Clean sheets, a spacious layout—luxury everywhere. Panic tightened in your chest until your gaze landed on the figure leaning casually against the wall.

"Moon Junhui…" you whispered, disbelief lacing your voice.

A faint smile played on his lips. "So you do remember me."

You pushed yourself up on the bed, the silk sheets slipping from your shoulders. "Where am I? What is this—"

"A hotel room. My hotel room." He stepped closer, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, an unsettling calm in his eyes. "Relax. You’re not going anywhere… yet."

Silence thickened between you, tension simmering beneath the surface.

"What is Ji Jaekyung to you?" Jun’s question cut through the air.

You frowned, your heart pounding faster. "What’s wrong with him?"

"So, he’s not your father?"

You hesitated, then nodded slowly. "He… he is my father."

Jun’s gaze sharpened, a dangerous curiosity in his eyes. "You don’t sound so sure. Your father passed away when you were sixteen, Y/n. So tell me… which one is a lie?"

Your breath hitched, the truth clawing at your throat. Six years of running, hiding, trying to forget. And now you were trapped—trapped in a room with the one person you never thought you’d see again. The one you once loved… and you tried to hate.

He moved toward you, and you instinctively scooted back, your back pressing against the headboard. But before you could retreat further, his hand caught your wrist—not harshly, but firmly.

"Relax," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your arm, where a faint blueish mark had begun to form.

Jun’s eyes darkened. "Why would you defend yourself against men twice your size?" His thumb traced the bruise lightly, his touch almost gentle despite the situation.

You didn’t answer, your throat tight, a mix of fear and stubborn pride keeping you silent.

Jun sighed, pulling out his phone and calling for room service, his tone cold and commanding. "Bring a first aid kit. Now."

But as he ended the call, his gaze lingered on you—intense, unreadable. Memories you tried to forget flooded back—his touch, his voice, the warmth you once craved. And you hated how, even after six years, he still held something in your chest—an ache you couldn’t ignore.

*

"Now, you’re going to tell me—who is Ji Jaekyung’s real daughter?" Jun’s voice cut through the quiet of the room, sharp but calm as he watched you finish your breakfast.

He had tended to your bruises himself, his touch surprisingly gentle, ordering room service to bring you a warm meal. He hadn’t said much, letting you eat in silence while he took a shower. But now, standing before you in his neatly tailored suit, his patience was gone.

"I’m his daughter," you replied, your voice steady.

Jun chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "I dated you, Y/n. I knew your family. Ordinary people. They weren’t part of any political circle, let alone connected to Ji Jaekyung."

You met his gaze, unwavering. "I told you, I’m Ji Jaekyung’s daughter. If you have anything to do with him, then do it to me."

Jun’s expression didn’t change, but there was a brief flicker in his eyes—something like frustration or disbelief. He said nothing more, simply adjusted his suit jacket and stepped away. Moments later, you heard the door click shut behind him.

Silence settled around you. He was gone, leaving you alone in the spacious, luxurious room. A chance. Maybe your only chance.

Just as you stood, a voice cut through your thoughts.

"I’m Minghao, Mr. Wen’s right-hand man."

You froze, turning to see a young man leaning casually by the door. He had a calm, almost disinterested expression, but his gaze was sharp.

You sighed, leaning back against the plush chair. "You mean Moon Junhui?" you corrected, using Jun’s Korean name.

Minghao’s lips twitched slightly, a hint of a smile. "Yes. He went out for a business meeting and left you with me. You’re not allowed to leave without my supervision."

Your hands clenched in your lap, a mix of frustration and resignation washing over you. That man—he hadn’t changed at all. Still controlling, still calculating.

And yet, even now, your chest tightened with a confusing ache—anger, fear, and something else you refused to name.

Jun returned to the hotel room as the evening sun cast a warm, fading light through the curtains. His suit jacket was the first to go, discarded over a chair, his gaze immediately falling on you, curled up on the bed, still asleep.

"Did she say anything about Jaekyung?" Jun asked, loosening his tie.

Minghao, who stood by the window, shook his head. "No, sir. She insists she’s his daughter."

Jun’s lips curled into a faint smile. "I believe even his real daughter would rather disown him," he muttered, waving Minghao off. "You can leave for tonight. I’ll be going alone."

Minghao nodded, slipping out quietly.

Jun walked over to the bed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at you. A moment of quiet hesitation. Then he leaned down, gently touching your shoulder. "Wake up. I’ll drive you back to your apartment."

You stirred awake, blinking against the dim light. His words barely registered, but you nodded, getting up slowly. In the car, the silence stretched between you two, thick and tense. Jun’s eyes remained fixed on the road, his expression unreadable.

At your apartment, you fumbled for your keys, and Jun followed you inside without asking, his eyes scanning your modest living space.

"Who's this? Your boyfriend?" Jun asked, picking up a framed photo of you with a younger man, both of you smiling brightly.

"So you like them younger now?" he teased, a hint of something bitter in his voice.

"Not your business, Jun," you muttered, already searching for your phone, checking if you missed any important messages.

A sudden knock at the door cut through the tension. "Y/n, are you ready? We need to be there before the Prime Minister," a man’s voice called out.

Panic surged through you. You spun around, grabbed Jun by the wrist, and dragged him into the kitchen. "Stay here. Don’t make a sound."

You rushed back, smoothing your clothes, and unlocked the door with a bright, apologetic smile. "Sorry, I fell asleep. I’ll be ready in 15 minutes."

"Got it. Don’t take too long," the man replied, his footsteps fading down the hall.

You turned to find Jun leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You need to go, Jun."

"Going somewhere with the Prime Minister, are we?" he drawled, his tone laced with amusement. "So tell me, are you his daughter or his mistress, Ji Y/n?"

Your patience snapped. You tried to step past him, but his hand shot out, catching your wrist. His touch was firm but not painful, his eyes searching yours. The heat of his presence was too familiar, too close.

"Let go," you hissed.

"Make me," he challenged, his voice low.

In a swift motion, you stomped on his foot, and he grunted, instinctively letting you go. You didn’t spare him another glance, marching off to your bedroom to get ready.

Behind you, Jun leaned against the wall, rubbing his foot with a mix of pain and reluctant admiration. "Still got some fight in you, huh?" he muttered under his breath, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

*

Jun watched you all night, his car parked discreetly across the street. He saw everything—from the moment you stepped out of the sleek black car, escorted into a high-end restaurant, to the late hours when an older man led you into a lavish hotel lobby.

His jaw tightened, fingers gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. His chest twisted with a mix of rage and disgust. He had pieced it together, or at least he thought he had. Ji Jaekyung was using you, presenting you as his daughter to entertain his clients—perhaps even worse. The thought sickened him.

By the time dawn brushed the city with pale light, Jun was already waiting in your apartment, a storm of emotions swirling beneath his calm exterior. The door creaked open, and you stepped in, your makeup smudged, hair disheveled, exhaustion written all over your face.

"Tell me," Jun's voice cut through the quiet, cold and sharp. "What is that bastard making you do?"

You froze, surprise flashing across your features before you frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Ji Jaekyung," he spat the name like a curse. "What is he making you do? Is he forcing you to entertain his clients? To sleep with them too?"

Your expression twisted with shock, then fury. "Fuck you, Jun. It’s none of your business!"

"None of my—" He stepped forward, his towering presence making the small space feel even tighter. "It becomes my business when I see you being treated like—"

"Like what?" you snapped, your voice rising, tears stinging your eyes. "Like a tool? A pawn? How the hell did you even here?"

"Don’t twist this, Y/n! I’m trying to help you, but you’re too stubborn, too damn prideful to admit you need it!" His voice escalated, fingers twitching with the urge to shake you awake.

"By accusing me of being a whore? By making me feel even smaller than I already do?" You tried to push past him, but he blocked your way, his glare unwavering.

"I’m not letting you walk away from this. Tell me the truth!" he demanded, his voice like a thunderclap.

"Get out of my way, Jun!" You shoved him, but he didn’t budge. His anger, his judgmental gaze—everything overwhelmed you.

"I won’t! Not until you—"

The sharp crack of your palm against his cheek silenced him. The room fell still, the sound of the slap echoing. Your chest heaved, tears spilling freely now.

"I’m tired, Jun. I’m so damn tired," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I don’t need your judgment. I don’t need your pity. And I don’t need you."

After leaving South Korea six years ago, Jun had learned how to mask himself. He buried the version of himself that only Seoul had known—the carefree, warm-hearted boy who once believed in love. In his father’s world, there was no room for softness. He trained relentlessly, sculpting himself into a weapon, a businessman, a strategist. He drowned himself in work, in power, in everything that would keep his mind too busy to think about you.

But tonight, as he watched you being paraded like a mistress—escorted by a man old enough to be your father, vanishing into the shadowed halls of a luxury hotel—every wall he built crumbled. All the effort to forget you was worthless. Because seeing you like that didn’t just hurt—it enraged him. You were his lover, and you were never meant to be anything else.

The phone in his hand felt like a lifeline, his father’s voice crackling on the other end. "It’s taking longer than expected to find his daughter," Jun reported, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"I’ve managed a few business matters here well," his father replied, almost dismissive. "Honestly, it would be easier to end him than to keep searching for his daughter. The man’s a coward—paying someone to pretend to be his child."

"I know. Ji Jaekyung is a damn snake," Jun muttered, jaw clenched. But now, a new resolve burned in his chest. He wasn’t just going to finish his father’s mission—he was going to save you, even if you didn’t want to be saved.

"Listen to me, Y/n," Jun's voice was sharp, cutting through the suffocating silence. He turned to face you, his expression a fierce mix of anger and desperation, while you stood there with tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Jaekyung has a lot of debt with my family in China. He promised his daughter as collateral for the deal, and he broke that promise. If you keep pretending to be his daughter, you’re walking straight into danger. Real, unforgiving danger."

His words struck like a whip, each one leaving a mark, but before you could even process them, Jun stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a thunderous bang. The sound echoed in your chest, leaving you alone in a silence that felt louder than anything else.

*

Your mother was murdered the night you left Jun.

The call came from the police, their voices cautious and clinical. They informed you that your mother had been found dead in her apartment. They tried reaching your brother, Seungkwan, but you knew they wouldn’t succeed—it was nearing the KSAT, and Seungkwan usually buried himself in his studies outside.

The first piece of evidence they found was a security camera recording of a stranger leaving your mother’s place in the dead of night. A dragon tattoo was visible on his arm—a dragon you recognized. The same ink Jun bore on his back.

"It's from a Chinese crime syndicate," the officer explained, his voice tinged with grim seriousness. "We suspect your mother may have been involved with them."

But you knew better. Your mother was no involved to the syndicate. And you couldn’t let Seungkwan know. He had worked so hard, pushing himself to become a police officer so he could catch the person who killed your father. Another tragedy would shatter him.

It all spiraled into a tangled mess. Your parents had once worked for Ji Jaekyung, and both were killed by people with that dragon tattoo. Now Jun, with the same tattoo, had shown up—searching for Jaekyung’s daughter.

One night, a man in a sleek suit appeared at your door 6 years ago. His expression was as sharp as his attire.

"Ji Jaekyung wants to meet you."

Seungkwan was asleep, exhausted from his studies, so you left quietly.

The proposal was straightforward: become Ji Jaekyung’s daughter. Smile, play the role, and he would pay you enough to support Seungkwan’s dream of entering the police academy. No further explanations, just one threat:

"Or else, we’ll have to do something about your brother."

That was the leash around your neck.

From that moment, you were a hostage in a game far beyond your control. You learned about Long Wei, the syndicate Jaekyung was tangled with—the same syndicate responsible for your parents' deaths. You thought you could uncover the truth by diving into this chaos, but instead, you were trapped deeper.

You hated all of it—the politics, the business, the way innocence was trampled for power. But you had no voice, no power. Just a thin, fragile line of survival with a bullet always aimed at your head.

"I brought chicken!" Seungkwan's delighted voice filled your apartment, a burst of warmth you didn’t realize you needed. You looked up from your laptop, seeing him still in his uniform, clearly fresh from his shift.

"You didn’t even change," you noted, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

"Figured I had some clothes here anyway," he quipped, already darting into your room. "Don’t start without me!"

Moments later, he emerged in a faded pajama set he had once left behind, immediately joining you at the small dining table where you’d set out the chicken and a few cold beers.

"My shift was a nightmare," Seungkwan grumbled around a mouthful of chicken. "Two separate thefts in one shift! Why do criminals love my schedule? Seriously, is it me?" He gestured dramatically, his expression an exaggerated mix of exhaustion and outrage.

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension you’d been carrying. "Maybe they just love giving you a challenge."

"Chicken is the best stress relief," he declared, tossing another piece into his mouth.

But your laughter faded when your phone buzzed, and you saw the caller ID—Ji Jaekyung’s assistant. A sense of dread settled in your stomach. The man wanted you at a meeting with clients tomorrow. Seungkwan’s eyes darkened as he recognized the name.

"I’m annoyed," he muttered, throwing his fork into the chicken box, his mood dampened.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your hand reaching for his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We have to get through this."

Seungkwan’s jaw tightened. "If only our parents hadn’t worked for that bastard, we wouldn’t be stuck in this mess—especially you."

A thick silence settled between you, rage and sadness lingering like an uninvited guest at your table.

"I promise, I swear," Seungkwan’s voice trembled, his grip on your hand tightening. "I’ll catch everyone who made our lives this hard. I won’t let them win."

*

"You have a beautiful daughter, Mr. Ji."

The familiar man across from you smiled, his words smooth but laced with something darker. So, this was how people like him played their games—one meeting with Ji Jaekyung, a pleasant exchange of words, deals sealed over expensive wine. And in the end, it was always the innocent who paid the price.

Just like your parents.

Would you be next?

Jun tilted his head, watching you squirm in your seat, your gaze fixed on the ornate carpet beneath you. Beside you, Ji Jaekyung wore a pleasant smile, sipping his wine with the ease of a man who controlled the room.

"Your visit was rather surprising, Jun. I was expecting one of your uncles, actually. I can't believe they sent the serpent himself," Ji Jaekyung mused, swirling his glass.

Jun chuckled, his voice light, but his eyes sharp. "I apologize if my visit seems a bit impolite. I was just playing around in the city—feeling nostalgic."

Jaekyung nodded, a smile never leaving his face. "Ah, nostalgia. I heard you graduated here. My daughter is an alumna of the same university."

Jun’s gaze shifted to you. "Is that so?" he murmured, leaning back with an air of casual interest. "You're very secretive about her for someone so beautiful."

Ji Jaekyung’s hand moved to your hair, brushing a strand behind your ear with a touch that felt cold rather than comforting. "She is beautiful. I simply want to protect her. You know how it is—enemies can be unpredictable."

"That's very fatherly of you," Jun said, his smile unwavering. "Do you consider me an enemy?"

Ji Jaekyung laughed, the sound loud and full, yet hollow. "Of course not. You're practically family. I know your grandfather, your father, your uncles... No, you could never be an enemy."

Jun’s smile widened, though his eyes never softened. "Since we’re practically family, may I take your daughter with me tonight? I find myself feeling a bit lonely here in Seoul."

Your eyes widened, a jolt of shock running through you. He had trapped you with a simple question—one that Ji Jaekyung couldn’t refuse without appearing rude, and one you couldn’t reject without risking angering either man.

"Of course, of course," Jaekyung agreed with a chuckle. "I’m sure my Y/n doesn’t mind. You don’t mind, right?" His gaze shifted to you, a smile masking a warning.

The weight of your fate pressed against you like a stone. You were nothing more than a pawn in their game, your life a currency exchanged with a polite smile. And maybe that was all you were meant to be—something to be used, polished, and displayed, but never truly free.

*

Jun drove in silence, the city lights spilling over the windshield, their glow a pale wash against the dark leather interior. The gentle hum of the engine filled the void between you, but it did nothing to calm the storm in your chest. Every breath felt sharp, every heartbeat a painful reminder of how your world kept spiraling out of control.

Your gaze remained fixed outside, the blurred neon signs and bustling sidewalks passing like ghosts. But your mind wasn’t in the present. It was wandering, lost in the echoes of a time you had tried so hard to forget.

Six years ago, you were different—bright-eyed and hopeful, your world centered around love and simple dreams. Jun was a part of that world, his laughter a melody you cherished, his touch a promise of comfort. But then everything shattered. Your mother was murdered. Your father’s name was stained with secrets and blood. Seungkwan was left clinging to his dreams of justice while you were forced to live as someone you weren’t.

Was it all a lie? Was Jun just another player in this twisted game? Even then, when he held your hand, whispered sweet promises—was he already playing a role? Was everything a calculated move, leaving you to fend for yourself in this nightmare?

The ache in your chest grew unbearable. You wanted to scream, to demand answers. But part of you was terrified—terrified of hearing the truth, of confirming that the one person you once loved was just another betrayal.

The car eventually slowed, pulling into the familiar driveway of the grand hotel where Jun was staying. He stopped in front of the entrance, but neither of you moved. He let out a quiet sigh, fingers tapping against the steering wheel in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

You didn’t respond. Your fingers dug into the fabric of your dress, knuckles white. You had nothing to say to him. Nothing that wouldn’t break you further.

After a long moment, Jun stepped out, moving around to open your door. Ever the gentleman, even when his actions felt like cruel mockery. You stepped out, your legs feeling like lead, and followed him into the grand, silent lobby. The warm, golden light of the chandeliers felt oppressive, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness pooling in your chest.

The elevator doors closed around you, trapping you in the suffocating silence. You stood beside him, his reflection in the mirrored walls a ghost haunting your thoughts.

When the elevator chimed, you stepped out without waiting for him. But he followed, his footsteps quiet but ever-present. He opened the door to his suite, and you walked in, each step feeling heavier than the last. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and polished wood washed over you.

Your hands moved mechanically, a reflex born from nights of forced smiles and silenced pride. Your fingers reached for the zipper of your dress, pulling it down, the fabric slipping off your shoulders. Cold air touched your skin, but you didn’t feel it. You were numb, lost in the hollow routine you had perfected—a doll performing its part, a daughter sold for survival.

But just as you began to let the dress fall, a strong, calloused hand caught your wrist.

“Stop.” Jun’s voice was sharp, cutting through the suffocating silence. His grip tightened, his touch burning against your skin.

You looked up, your hollow eyes meeting his. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was clenched, a faint tremor in his grip. Anger radiated from him, his dark eyes stormy, but beneath the fury, something else lingered—hurt, desperation.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice low but shaking with barely contained rage.

“What do you think?” Your voice was empty, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “This is what I’m supposed to do, right? Isn’t this what you wanted? What he wanted?”

“I never—” His voice broke for a second, but he quickly composed himself. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t you dare think I’m like them.”

“Then why did you take me?” Your voice rose, trembling, your chest heaving with a rush of anger you didn’t even know you had left. “Why, Jun? Is this your revenge? Is this how you prove your power over me?”

“Revenge?” He scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “You think this is revenge? Watching you—watching you reduce yourself to this?” He released your wrist, but the heat of his touch lingered, burning against your cold skin. “This isn’t you, Y/n. This was never you.”

“Then who am I, Jun?” you shot back, your voice cracking. “A liar? A puppet? A pawn in your sick game?”

“No.” He took a step closer, his anger palpable, but there was something else—pain, raw and unhidden. “You’re the woman I—” He stopped himself, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Damn it, Y/n. You’re not some doll for them to play with. Not for him. Not for me.”

“Then what am I?” Your tears broke free, hot against your cheeks, your voice desperate. “Because this is all I know now, Jun. This is all I’ve become.”

A thick silence fell between you, your breaths heavy, your tears blurring your vision. His fists were clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if fighting to keep his own emotions in check.

You stood there, trembling, your arms wrapped around yourself like a fragile shield. Jun’s presence was overwhelming—tall, intense, his dark eyes fixed on you with a mixture of shock and anger. But you couldn’t stop. The dam had broken, and the words poured out like a torrent you couldn’t control.

“My father… he was killed. By people with those dragon tattoosn. And I thought it was just a coincidence, I thought… I thought I could escape. But I couldn’t.” Your voice wavered, your breathing coming in short, frantic gasps. “I met you, and for once, I thought I could be happy. But then… my mother—my mother was murdered too. They said it was the same people. The same syndicate. Your people.”

Jun’s eyes widened, his brows knitting together. He tried to reach out, but you stepped back, your voice rising.

“Don’t touch me!” you cried, the tears streaming down your face. “Don’t you dare touch me, Jun. I was a fool. I thought I could protect Seungkwan, that I could find a way out. But I ended up becoming Ji Jaekyung’s puppet. I became his fake daughter, a plaything for his clients, all because I had no choice. And now you—” Your voice broke, a sob escaping your lips. “Were you part of it, Jun? Were you always part of it? Did you know everything?”

“Y/n, stop—” he began, but you cut him off.

“Stop what? Lying to myself? Pretending that you’re different from them?” You laughed bitterly, your knees giving out as you sank onto the cold floor. “I don’t know who you are anymore. I don’t even know who I am. I’m just a pawn in their game—a doll they pass around. And you… you might be just another player.”

Jun moved towards you, but you curled into yourself, hiding your face in your shaking hands.

“Did you use me, Jun? Did you ever care? Or was this all a game to you? A way to keep me under control? To keep me as a bargaining chip?” Your voice was hoarse, your body trembling uncontrollably. “Because that’s what I’ve become—someone they use, someone you might have used too.”

“Y/n, no,” Jun’s voice was rough, desperate. He knelt before you, reaching out but hesitating, his hands hovering in the air. “I swear, I didn’t know. I didn’t—”

“Then why?” you looked up at him, your tear-filled eyes pleading. “Why are you here? Why are you pretending to protect me?”

“I’m not pretending.” He leaned forward, his own voice breaking. “I never used you. I never lied to you. I… I didn’t know about your parents. About your mother. I swear, Y/n.”

Your vision blurred, your breathing ragged. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe those desperate, pained eyes looking back at you. But the darkness around you was suffocating, and trust was a luxury you no longer had.

“Then what are you, Jun?” you whispered. “A savior? Or just another monster wearing a kind face?”

His hands finally found yours, his touch warm, but you couldn’t feel it. You were drowning, trapped in a whirlpool of doubt, fear, and grief.

“I’m someone who won’t lose you again,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Not to them. Not to anyone.”

Jun’s arms held you tighter, his embrace warm but desperate, like a man trying to keep you from slipping away. His hand cradled the back of your head, his lips pressing against your hair as he whispered, “Y/n, listen to me. I swear to you, I didn’t know. I didn’t know they would hurt your family. I didn’t know you were trapped like this.”

His voice trembled, yet there was a firm resolve beneath the fear. “I swear, I’m not a part of Jaekyung’s schemes. I came here to deal with him, to bring him down for everything he’s done—not just to you, but to everyone he’s destroyed.”

You leaned back slightly, your tear-streaked eyes meeting his, searching desperately for any hint of deception. Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Are you telling me the truth? You’re not lying to me again?”

“I’m not lying. Not now, not ever again.” Jun’s gaze never wavered, his thumb gently brushing away your tears.

Your fingers tightened on his shirt, fear and desperation clawing at your chest. “Then save me, Jun. Please. I can’t do this anymore."

Jun’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears, his touch so gentle that it sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them—regret, longing, and something deeper, something that had never truly left even after all these years.

And then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t a hesitant kiss, nor a cautious one—it was a kiss of desperation and yearning, of a man who had lost you once and was terrified of losing you again. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that sent warmth flooding through your chest, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as though he needed you to breathe.

You melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as though he was the only solid thing in your crumbling world. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him, and you felt the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

Jun’s kiss softened, the fierce urgency giving way to something deeper, something that spoke of all the years of regret, the nights spent wondering if he should have come back sooner. His lips trailed over yours, slow and tender, as though memorizing the shape of your mouth, whispering promises with every touch.

Your hands slipped up to his shoulders, and you felt his muscles tense beneath your touch. But he didn’t pull away; if anything, he pulled you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair, his forehead resting against yours as his lips moved softly, lovingly against yours.

“I missed you,” he breathed against your lips, the words a quiet confession. “I never stopped thinking about you, never stopped loving you.”

A soft, broken sound escaped your throat, and your fingers tightened on his shirt. “Don’t leave me, Jun. Please… promise me, don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” he whispered, and you could hear the promise in his voice, the desperate need to be the man you could trust again. “I swear, I won’t.”

His lips found yours again, slower this time, savoring each second, each gentle press, his hands cradling you with a care that made your heart ache. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, a silent vow that you weren’t alone anymore, that he would stand with you, fight for you.

And for the first time in years, in his arms, you felt safe.

*

Jun's sleek, black car sliced through the bustling city streets, the quiet hum of the engine a sharp contrast to the tension hanging in the air. Minghao sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed ahead, but his voice clear and steady.

“Her parents worked for Ji Jaekyung for a long time,” Minghao began, fingers drumming lightly on his knee. “Her father, Ji Ho-seok, was a lawyer—he worked for us. Her mother was a housewife, quiet but smart.”

Jun leaned back against his seat, his jaw clenched as Minghao laid out the twisted history. The dim overhead light cast sharp shadows over his face, making the anger in his eyes even more pronounced.

“So, Ji Ho-seok wasn’t just a victim of his own honesty,” Jun muttered, his voice low and edged with rage. “He was framed. Jaekyung made him a scapegoat, painting him as a traitor to Longwei so they would take him out.”

Minghao nodded, his expression grave. “That’s right. Jaekyung manipulated the narrative. Ho-seok’s death wasn’t just an accident. It was a calculated move. He convinced Longwei that Ho-seok was a threat, a liability who might expose their business dealings in Seoul.”

“And then he didn’t stop there,” Jun continued, his fists tightening. “Six years ago, he found out about Y/n. He used her—forced her into this fake daughter role to exploit his connections. And when her mother tried to protect her…”

“Jaekyung had her killed. Made it look like another syndicate move, but it was all part of his plan,” Minghao finished. “He knows that Y/n’s survival means his control over her. The moment she tries to escape, he can turn everything against her.”

Jun’s chest heaved with barely contained fury. The woman he loved had been caught in this twisted game for years—used, threatened, and forced to play a role that trapped her.

Jun strode into the safe house with Minghao and a group of guards trailing behind him. The cold, metallic hum of the place seemed to amplify the shock on the faces of the Longwei members stationed in Seoul. Their whispers died down immediately, replaced by a tense, suffocating silence. It wasn’t every day that their young boss appeared without warning—especially not with that fierce, unyielding glare in his eyes.

“Everyone, listen up.” Jun’s voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and authoritative. “I want this man found by tonight.”

Minghao stepped forward, holding up a clear, high-resolution image of a man—his features hardened with age, but the distinct dragon tattoo on his forearm was unmistakable. The room seemed to shift, the guards exchanging uneasy glances.

“This man killed Ji Ho-seok fifteen years ago,” Minghao announced, his voice steady but intense. “He was one of us—Longwei. But he betrayed that honor the moment he became a pawn in Ji Jaekyung’s game.”

Jun’s gaze swept over the room, his jaw clenched. “I want him alive. No excuses. No mistakes. If he tries to run, you make sure he regrets it.”

The men nodded, already pulling out their phones, making calls, and exchanging brief, whispered instructions. They knew better than to disappoint Jun—especially when his voice carried a darkness they rarely heard.

Jun stepped quietly into the hotel room, the soft click of the door almost drowned out by the city’s distant hum. His eyes immediately found you—sitting by the window, wrapped in one of the plush white robes, your knees drawn to your chest. Pale morning light filtered through the glass, painting you in a soft, ethereal glow, but your expression was distant, lost somewhere beyond the bustling streets below.

“You’re back.” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it carried a weight he couldn’t ignore.

“I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone.” Jun closed the door gently behind him, shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair. His gaze never left you, taking in the way your fingers absentmindedly traced invisible patterns on your knee.

Silence stretched between you two, but it wasn’t the comforting quiet you used to share. It was heavy—thick with questions, with fears, with everything left unsaid.

“I thought about everything… about how this started. How one decision ruined everything,” you murmured, your voice cracking just slightly. “I feel like I’m drowning, Jun… I don't even know if there’s a way out.”

He crossed the room in a few strides, kneeling beside you. His warm hand reached for yours, covering your cold fingers. “There is. I swear there is. And I’ll make sure you’re free from all of this.”

You looked down at him, searching his eyes, desperate for even a flicker of certainty. “You promise?”

“I do.” His voice was steady, his grip firm, grounding you. “I’ve already started. Minghao is tracking the man who killed your father. We’ll get answers. And I won’t let Jaekyung touch you again.”

Your eyes stung, a tear slipping free despite your best effort. “It’s just… I keep thinking you’re going to disappear too. Like I’ll wake up, and you’ll be gone… just like everything else.”

Jun’s hand moved, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. Not now. Not ever.”

His forehead pressed gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I lost you once. I won’t lose you again.”

*

You met Seungkwan at a quiet, tucked-away cafe far from the city center. He was already there when you arrived, his uniform jacket draped over the back of his chair, his face pinched with worry. The moment you sat down, his sharp gaze settled on you.

"You look tired," he noted, his tone softening just slightly. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

You offered a weak smile. "Sleep has become a luxury I can't afford."

Silence hung between you as you stirred your coffee, the warmth seeping into your fingertips. Finally, you took a deep breath, bracing yourself. "Seungkwan, I need to tell you something."

His expression tightened, and he leaned in, immediately alert. "What is it?"

"It's about Jun. He... he’s here. And he promised to help me. To help us escape from Ji Jaekyung," you whispered, watching his reaction closely.

Seungkwan's face darkened, his jaw tightening. "Jun? Your ex, Jun? He's with Longwei. He's part of the syndicate. The same people who ruined our family."

"I know," you admitted, struggling to keep your voice steady. "I know what he is. But he promised me, Seungkwan. He’s not like the rest of them. He’s trying to help."

Seungkwan leaned back, crossing his arms, his disbelief painfully clear. "Help? A man from the same group that killed our parents? That controlled Jaekyung? How can you even believe him?"

"Because he’s different!" Your voice broke, drawing a few glances from nearby tables. You forced yourself to lower your tone, tears burning in your eyes. "Because I have no one else to turn to. Because I’m so tired, Seungkwan. I’m tired of being Jaekyung’s pawn. I’m tired of living in fear, of pretending, of wondering who will be next—us, our parents, everyone we love."

Seungkwan's expression softened, but the tension didn't leave his shoulders. "Sister…"

"He promised me, Seungkwan. He promised to protect me. I know how this sounds, but I trust him. Maybe I’m a fool, maybe I’m desperate, but I need you to believe in me. Just this once. Please, understand."

Seungkwan ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky sigh. "And what if you’re wrong? What if this is just another trap? What if he’s using you like everyone else?"

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice a bare whisper. "But I’d rather take a chance with Jun than keep living this nightmare. I can’t do it alone anymore."

Silence stretched between you two, only the faint clinking of cups and murmurs of the other patrons filling the air. Finally, Seungkwan leaned forward, his gaze soft but still cautious.

"Then let me help too. Don’t keep me in the dark. If you trust him, fine—but I’ll be watching. And if he betrays you, I won't hesitate."

A small, shaky smile tugged at your lips. "Thank you, Seungkwan."

"I just want you safe. That's all I ever wanted."

You stepped out of the cafe, the cool air brushing against your face, calming the lingering ache in your chest. The black sedan parked by the curb seemed almost out of place in this quiet neighborhood, but the tinted window rolled down as you approached, revealing Jun's familiar, composed face.

"How was the talk with him?" Jun asked, his voice steady but his gaze searching.

You slipped into the passenger seat, closing the door with a sigh. "He’s skeptical, but I told him everything. He’s worried, but… he’s willing to trust you. For now."

Jun's lips curved slightly, a trace of relief in his expression. "That’s a good start."

The car smoothly pulled away from the curb, and for a while, silence filled the space between you. But Jun’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, a quiet comfort you didn’t realize you needed.

"Let’s take a break today," he suddenly suggested, glancing at you. "There’s a place I want to take you."

You blinked, a hint of surprise in your eyes. "Where?"

"You'll see."

The cityscape gave way to quieter streets, familiar corners, and warm nostalgia began to seep into your chest. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized where you were—your old university district.

The car stopped by a small, colorful alley with photo booth stations lining one side, neon lights flickering in the daylight. Memories rushed back, the laughter, the warmth, the days when everything was simpler.

"We had our first kiss there," Jun pointed to a particular photo booth, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You remember? You were so nervous, kept laughing to avoid looking at me."

Your lips curved, a small laugh escaping. "And you kept teasing me until I got so annoyed that I pulled you down and kissed you first."

"Best surprise of my life." He chuckled, a softness in his gaze that made your heart ache.

Jun led you down the alley, his hand still holding yours, and he insisted you both take a new set of photos. The first shot captured your shy smile, the second was Jun leaning close to kiss your cheek, and by the third, you were both laughing, caught in that familiar, carefree feeling.

As the photo strip printed, Jun pulled you aside to a small cafe next door, the same place you used to visit after classes. He ordered the same iced coffee you loved, and you shared a slice of cake by the window, the warm sunlight painting gentle patterns on the table.

"You know," he murmured, watching you take a bite. "I thought I lost this feeling... That simple happiness of being with you."

Your fingers tightened around the cup. "I thought I lost you."

Jun leaned forward, resting his hand on yours. "You never did. And I won’t let you go this time."

Warmth spread in your chest, the weight of fear and doubts momentarily melting away. This was Jun—the Jun you loved, the one who made you feel alive. And for the first time in so long, you felt like you could breathe.

Jun drove with one hand on the wheel, the other gently holding yours. The city’s noise faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythmic whoosh of waves as the beach came into view. The golden hue of the setting sun stretched across the sky, its reflection dancing on the water’s surface.

He parked near the empty shoreline, and together, you stepped out, letting the cool breeze brush against your face. Without a word, Jun pulled down the back bunk of his car, and you both settled on it, facing the endless sea. His jacket draped over your shoulders, enveloping you in warmth as his arms wrapped securely around you.

Silence fell comfortably between you, the soothing crash of waves filling the space. The sky melted into a fiery orange, then a soft purple, stars slowly emerging one by one. But as the darkness grew, so did the weight in your chest.

Finally, you leaned against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. Jun’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, cutting through the quiet embrace of the evening. "Why did you leave me?"

Your breath hitched, eyes fixed on the waves crashing against the shore, a rhythmic reminder of how time never stopped, even when your world crumbled.

"I didn't leave, Jun... I was forced to disappear." Your voice trembled, the bitterness of the truth catching in your throat. "After my mother was killed, Ji Jaekyung came to me. He knew everything—who I was, who my family was, how vulnerable I was. He gave me a choice, or at least pretended to. Play his daughter, entertain his clients, and in return, he'd keep Seungkwan safe. But I knew it was never really a choice."

Jun's hold around you tightened, his jaw clenching against the side of your head. "And you couldn’t tell me? You couldn't come to me?"

A faint, sad smile curved your lips. "How could I? I didn’t even know if I could trust you back then. After I learned about your family’s connection. Everything became a blur, and I was scared. I didn’t know if you were part of it... if you were just another trap."

Silence stretched, heavy and cold. Jun’s fingers trembled slightly on your shoulder, his breath warm against your temple. "I would’ve torn the world apart for you… if you had just told me."

"Would you?" You whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Or would you have seen me as a burden—a weakness in your world of power and secrets?"

Jun leaned back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes fierce, filled with a pain that mirrored your own. "You were never a burden. You were everything I wanted… everything I thought I couldn’t have. And I was an idiot to let you go."

Your hand reached for his, intertwining your fingers. "Then don’t let me go this time, Jun."

"I won’t," he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead, a promise sealed in the warmth of his touch.

Jun's strong hands gently lifted you onto his lap, and once you settled, he cupped your cheek with tenderness, his thumb brushing your skin as if you were the most delicate porcelain. His other hand began a slow exploration, starting at your thigh and gliding with a featherlight touch beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers traced every curve and dip of your body as he leaned in closer, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

"You're mine, Y/n," he murmured against your mouth, the words a gentle command. His hand slid to the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss with a fervent intensity. "Say you're mine," he urged, his fingers dancing up your thighs, lingering at the curve of your waist before tracing the outline of your stomach.

You gasped his name, a soft moan escaping as his fingers brushed against your most sensitive spot, teasing and exploring with deliberate slowness. His lips never left yours, devouring you with a passionate hunger as his fingers slipped inside, moving with a steady, rhythmic intent. Captivated by the sounds you made, each soft whimper and sigh, he began to undress you, the cool night air whispering over your bare skin.

Your fingers moved with urgency, unbuttoning the last remnants of clothing between you both until skin met skin. He lifted you effortlessly, laying you back against the soft, worn cushions of the car's backseat. Spreading your legs, he positioned himself between them, his gaze locked on yours.

"Tell me each name that bothered you," he said, his voice a low promise. "I'll show them that touching you means messing with me."

With infinite care, he entered you, and the world around you seemed to disappear. The warmth and tightness enfolded him, and in that moment, there was only the two of you, cocooned in each other's embrace, with the gentle sound of waves lapping in the distance, an intimate symphony to your shared solitude.

*

Twelve men sat rigidly on the cold, metal chairs, fear starkly painted on their faces. Thick ropes wound around their torsos, binding them to the chairs, their wrists tied behind their backs, rendering them helpless. The dim light overhead cast a sickly glow, accentuating the sweat beading on their foreheads. The room smelled of damp concrete and something darker—panic.

Jun stepped into the room, Minghao trailing behind him with a steely gaze. Jun’s sharp eyes scanned each terrified face, lingering on the man he recognized—the one he saw that night, leading you through the hotel lobby. Rage simmered beneath his calm exterior, a silent storm brewing.

He remembered your voice, trembling but steady, each word a needle prick against his chest.

"What did they do to you?" he had asked, his jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving yours, desperate for the truth.

"Everything... They did... everything."

The quiet crackle of the burning charcoal snapped him back to the present. A thick metal rod, its tip glowing a fierce orange, sat on the smoldering heat, a twisted promise of pain.

"What should we do to them, boss?" Minghao's voice was steady, but there was a tension beneath his words, a coldness matching Jun’s simmering fury.

Jun's gaze never left the men, especially the one he recognized, whose face had turned ghostly pale.

"For whoever laid their hands on her," Jun’s voice was calm, almost emotionless—a chilling contrast to the violence in his words. "I want them to touch that." He pointed to the searing metal rod, the heat radiating from it like a promise of hell.

Minghao nodded, signaling to the men holding the rod. They stepped forward, the fiery glow reflecting in the captives’ wide, terror-stricken eyes. Some thrashed against their bindings, whimpering and begging, while others shut their eyes, murmuring desperate prayers.

Jun’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the screen flashing with a familiar name—Ji Jaekyung. He signaled Minghao to keep an eye on the captives before stepping away, his expression unreadable. With a swipe, he answered, his voice calm but guarded.

"Mr. Ji," Jun greeted, leaning against the cold wall.

"Jun, my boy!" Jaekyung's voice carried a forced warmth, laced with a hint of tension. "I haven’t seen my daughter since yesterday. She’s not answering her phone. I thought you two would be together. Care to tell me where she is?"

Jun’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. "She needed some fresh air, Mr. Ji. I figured she'd enjoy some time away without all the... usual pressures."

Jaekyung chuckled, though the edge in his laughter was clear. "Fresh air? That's sweet of you, but you know how dangerous this city can be. Especially for a young woman like her."

"Don’t worry, she’s in good hands."

"Good hands, you say?" Jaekyung's tone turned sharper. "I hope you're not forgetting our arrangement, Jun. You understand how important my daughter is to me... and how unpleasant things can get if something happens to her."

Jun’s fingers curled tighter around his phone. "Rest assured, Mr. Ji. I always take good care of what's mine."

A brief silence stretched between them before Jaekyung's voice softened again, but the threat lingered beneath. "See that you do. I expect her back soon, Jun. Don’t disappoint me."

The call ended, and Jun lowered the phone, his gaze darkening. He looked back at the room where the captives were. His grip on the phone was so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Minghao," he called out, his voice cold.

Minghao approached immediately, reading the look in his boss’s eyes. "Jaekyung’s getting anxious?"

"He's getting suspicious." Jun’s voice was low, almost a growl. "Have someone follow him. I want to know every move he makes. If he sends anyone to look for her, I want to know before they even leave his doorstep."

Minghao nodded, already typing instructions to his men. "And the men here?"

Jun’s gaze returned to the captives. His voice was ice. "Continue. Make them talk. I want to know everything they did to her. And I want them to feel what it means to lay their hands on her."

With one last glance at the room, Jun stepped out, his mind racing. He needed to protect you, and to do that, he needed to stay two steps ahead of Ji Jaekyung.

*

Jun’s car sped through the city streets, neon lights casting fleeting colors across his face. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he dialed the secure line to his father. The call connected after a few rings, and a deep, authoritative voice echoed through.

"Jun?" His father's voice carried the weight of decades of power. "Is something wrong?"

"Father," Jun began, his voice steady but tense. "I need your permission to eliminate Ji Jaekyung."

A sharp silence filled the line, followed by a low, incredulous chuckle. "Holding his daughter isn't enough? Have you lost your mind, Jun?"

"No, Father. I've seen enough." Jun’s voice remained firm. "Ji Jaekyung has tainted the deal further than Longwei expected. He’s using our name, manipulating our men, and worst of all—he's exploiting innocent lives. He uses a false daughter to shield his business, dragging her into a world of filth."

His father’s silence deepened, the weight of his contemplation almost palpable through the phone. "Are you certain this isn't personal?"

"It is personal too," Jun admitted without hesitation. "But even without the personal part, his actions have become a liability. He hides behind our name, but he’s a snake, corrupting our reputation."

"Jun, killing an ally can bring consequences. The balance in Seoul will shift. His partners, his clients, they might turn against us. He just needs a warning."

"But if we keep him, he’ll turn them against us with his lies and deceit. I can handle the fallout. I will clean up every trace."

"Would you stake your position for this decision?" his father asked, his tone now sharp, testing.

Jun didn’t hesitate. "Yes. If you give me your approval, I will do everything. No one will ever trace it back to us."

A slow exhale echoed from the other side. "Very well, Jun. But remember, this is your choice. If you fail, it’s your head on the line, not just his."

"I won’t fail, Father."

The call ended. Jun's jaw clenched as he tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. The weight of what he was about to do pressed down on him, but it was a weight he was willing to bear.

The car pulled up to the hotel, and Jun stepped out. His expression remained cold, but beneath that exterior was a storm of determination. He was going to protect you, no matter the cost.

*

The television screen in the hotel room flickered to life, its glow casting a pale light over the dimly lit space. You were curled up on the bed, staring blankly at the screen, trying to distract yourself from the whirlwind of emotions inside you. But then the program shifted, the tone turned urgent, and a news anchor appeared, her face a mix of shock and professionalism.

"Breaking News—South Korea's Prime Minister Ji Jaekyung has died in a tragic car accident earlier this evening. Authorities report that his vehicle lost control on a mountain road before crashing into a ravine. Emergency responders arrived on the scene, but Ji Jaekyung was pronounced dead on arrival. The cause of the accident is still under investigation, but preliminary reports suggest a possible brake failure. This sudden loss has sent shockwaves throughout the nation."

Your breath caught, and the remote slipped from your hand, clattering against the floor. A cold chill spread through you as your eyes widened. Ji Jaekyung… dead?

Your thoughts raced—was it truly an accident? Could it be connected to Jun? You remembered his words, his quiet but fierce promise to protect you. You covered your mouth, trying to suppress the mix of fear and relief flooding your chest.

The screen continued to show footage of the crash site—flashing lights, twisted metal, and officers cordoning off the area.

"The Prime Minister's office has yet to release an official statement. Reports indicate that Ji Jaekyung’s car was traveling alone, and there were no other passengers. The investigation is ongoing."

Your heart pounded against your ribs as the door clicked open. Jun stepped in, his sharp suit barely wrinkled, his expression unreadable as his eyes immediately found yours. He saw your pale face and glanced at the television.

"You did this," you whispered, a mixture of disbelief and shock in your voice.

Jun's face softened slightly, his steps careful as he approached you. "I told you I would protect you."

You stared at him, tears pooling in your eyes. "Did you… was it really an accident?"

"It was necessary," he said, his voice gentle but unyielding. "He can never hurt you again."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and your legs gave way, but Jun caught you, pulling you into his arms. His hold was firm, grounding you as your mind struggled to process everything.

"You… you killed him," you whispered against his chest.

"Yes," Jun murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "And I'd do it again to keep you safe."

The weight of everything crashed down on you all at once—fear, anger, betrayal, and an overwhelming sense of relief. Your chest tightened, and a sob tore itself free from your throat.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of Jun’s suit, twisting it as your body trembled. A wretched, broken cry escaped your lips, raw and unrestrained. Tears streamed down your cheeks, soaking into his shoulder as you buried your face against him.

"I-I thought… I thought he'd never let me go," you choked out, the words barely coherent between your sobs. "I thought… I thought I’d lose everything—Seungkwan, you—"

Jun’s arms tightened around you, a steady, protective embrace. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to hush your cries. He simply held you, letting you release every ounce of fear and pain you had bottled up for so long. His hand moved gently, cradling the back of your head, his other arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you.

"You’re safe now," he whispered, his voice steady, a calm in the storm of your emotions. "No one can hurt you. Not anymore."

Your sobs grew louder, uncontrollable. Years of suffering, of living under someone else’s shadow, of being used, manipulated, and threatened—all of it broke free. Your knees buckled, but Jun held you, sinking with you to the floor.

"I was so scared… so tired…" you cried, clinging to him. "I don’t want to be afraid anymore."

"And you won’t be," Jun murmured, resting his cheek against the top of your head. "I promised you, didn’t I? I will protect you… no matter what it takes."

You didn't know how long you cried—minutes, hours—it all blurred together. But through it all, Jun never let you go. He stayed, a silent, steady presence in the chaos of your breaking heart.

*

Life changed swiftly, almost ruthlessly. You followed Jun to Guangzhou, leaving behind the shadows of Seoul for the neon-lit city bustling with life. Jun was a name whispered with both fear and respect here, a man painted as the villain in countless stories. But to you, he was never a villain—he was your hero. The man who pulled you from the jaws of despair, who held you when you were broken, and who taught you how to survive.

Guangzhou was a different world. Jun's life was a world of negotiations done in half-lit rooms, whispers exchanged in crowded clubs, and loyalty measured in blood. You learned quickly that being Jun’s partner wasn’t just about standing by his side—it was about keeping up, about becoming strong enough to protect yourself and everything you held dear.

He introduced you to Minghao, who taught you self-defense. Hours spent in a private dojo, where you learned how to disarm a knife-wielding attacker, how to break a grip, how to move swiftly and strike precisely. Every bruise, every ache became a reminder of your growing strength.

Jun didn't just shelter you; he prepared you. Over sleek mahogany tables filled with maps and documents, you learned the art of strategy—how to anticipate moves, how to read people, how to negotiate. You became a quiet but sharp presence in his meetings, your observations valued, your voice heard.

"You’re not just my woman, Y/n," Jun whispered one night, his fingers tracing along your jaw as you lay in his arms. "You’re my partner. I need you to be strong. Strong enough to stand by me… and strong enough to protect yourself when I can’t."

And you became that.

Yet, being Jun's partner meant facing danger. You felt it the night a black sedan rammed your car, your body jolted against the seatbelt as your driver struggled to regain control. You heard it in the sharp, cracking sound of gunfire in a dim alley one evening, Jun’s arm pulling you against the wall, his body shielding yours.

You saw it in the cold glint of a knife pressed against your throat when you were kidnapped by a rival syndicate. You remembered the terror, the way your voice didn’t shake as you spoke to the man holding you, buying just enough time until Jun stormed in, his men dismantling the enemy with calculated precision.

But Jun, like he promised, was always there. When you were dragged out of the car wreck, he was the first face you saw, his voice soothing you even as blood ran down his cheek. When you were taken, he didn't sleep until you were back in his arms.

Your life was a dance on the edge of a blade, a world where chaos and calm intertwined. But in every shadow, Jun was your light. In every storm, he was your shelter. He was a villain in the stories of others, but to you, he was a savior.

Amidst all this, a call came from Seoul—Seungkwan’s voice on the other end, trembling but determined.

“I did it, Y/n,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I found him. I found the man who killed our parents.”

Your heart raced, the room around you fading into silence. “Seungkwan… where is he?”

“I have him in custody. He’s confessed. Ji Jaekyung set it all up—made him do it, made him kill them to cover his tracks.”

A cold rage settled in your chest, but also a twisted sense of relief. The ghosts of your parents had haunted you for so long, their deaths an open wound that never healed. Now, that wound had a face. A face that could finally be punished.

“Y/n?” Seungkwan’s voice softened. “Are you okay?”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but a small, determined smile touched your lips. “I’m okay, Seungkwan. Because you did it. You brought justice to them.”

Jun noticed your tears as he entered the room, his gaze softening as he knelt before you. “What’s wrong?”

You met his eyes, your hand reaching out to grasp his. “Seungkwan found him… the man who killed my parents.”

Jun’s jaw tightened, his fingers threading through yours, offering his silent, unwavering support. “Then we’re one step closer, Y/n. To finally ending this nightmare.”

Or maybe, one more nightmare.

The grand hall of Long Wei's headquarters was a spectacle of opulence—crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over a sea of influential faces. Laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air, but a sharp tension cut through the room as a man grabbed you, a knife pressed against your neck. Gasps rippled through the crowd, fear seizing those who watched. The man’s voice trembled as he shouted threats, his grip on you shaky, his eyes wild.

“Everyone back! I swear I’ll—”

But his voice faltered when he noticed the subtle change in the air—an eerie calm, an odd sense of confidence. You stood perfectly still, your breathing steady, your gaze unwavering. The knife against your skin was a cold whisper, but fear didn’t cloud your eyes. Instead, there was something else—annoyance.

Jun stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the marble pillar, a glass of wine still in his hand. His head was tilted slightly, a slow, amused smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t rush, didn’t shout. He simply watched, his eyes locked on you.

And you knew what that meant—his trust in you was absolute. Even though he was nervous, considering you were eight months pregnant, his confidence in your abilities never wavered.

The man’s grip tightened, his voice shaking. “I said move back, or she’s—”

Before he could finish, you moved. Your heel slammed down on his foot, hard enough that he cried out, his grip loosening just enough. Your hand shot up, grabbing his wrist, twisting it sharply until the knife clattered to the floor. His free arm reached for you, but you drove your elbow into his ribs with a force that made him gasp.

The room watched, frozen, as your fist collided with his jaw in a clean, precise strike, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Chaos erupted around you. Long Wei’s guards surged forward, tackling the man to the floor, rough hands ensuring he wouldn’t rise again. But you hardly noticed. Jun was already at your side, his arms wrapping protectively around you, pulling you close. His hand instinctively rested against the gentle curve of your stomach, feeling the faint movement within.

“You’ll be the death of me, baby,” he whispered, his voice half-scolding, half-loving, his lips brushing your temple.

You leaned into his touch, your own hand resting over his. “I didn’t even break a sweat.”

Jun chuckled, though there was a hint of exasperation in his voice. “If you weren’t eight months pregnant, I’d be proud. But right now, I’m just trying not to have a heart attack.”

Behind you, the party guests were beginning to murmur, the tension slowly dissipating. Long Wei’s men dragged the failed attacker away, and whispers of admiration and shock spread through the crowd. Even Jun’s father, who had been watching from the balcony, gave an approving nod.

“Come on,” Jun murmured, steering you gently toward a quieter corner. “Let’s sit you down. You’ve done enough for tonight, hero.”

You chuckled, letting him guide you, your fingers lacing with his. “Maybe next time, they’ll think twice before trying to mess with Long Wei’s family.”

Jun’s expression softened as he looked down at you, his hand never leaving your stomach. “They better. Because I can’t lose either of you.”

[cheesus-doodles]

A Twist in the Tale

Leona Kingscholar

Masterlist

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well that took a lot longer than I expected...glad for this to be done to completion though! merry christmas and happy holidays everybody, I hope you have a good time <3

Piercing, half-lidded green eyes watched you from across the bustling cafeteria, lion ears occasionally twitching as Leona picked up on your ongoing conservation with Ace. “....urgh I can’t believe there’s so much!” The red-haired whined, ruffling his hair in dismay as he dropped onto the table. “Crewel is a monster, I swear.”

“There is quite a bit,” came your rather sympathetic answer, unnecessarily kind if you asked Leona. “It will definitely take a while.”

On any other regular day, you, Grim and those two annoying Heartslabyul flies that you hung around were hardly worth his attention, let alone being eavesdropped on - mundane, brainless chatter that actively lowered his IQ with every passing minute. Crewel’s class wasn’t particularly difficult, not by a long stretch. Yet here he was. Clearly, today was as far from a regular day as possible. 

Because there had always been something off about you, Leona mused to himself, his tail whipping from side to side, observing with as much discretion as a predator stalking its prey as you took another bite from your sandwich, covering your full mouth with your free hand in an attempted politeness when Deuce’s crass remark had you chuckle. He had known as much since orientation, when you failed to be sorted by the Dark Mirror - there was just something fundamentally different about your smell compared to everyone else that couldn’t simply be chalked up to otherworldliness.

It’s just that he never bothered. You had been just another nobody, hardly worth his notice or time to investigate.

Up until his overblot incident, of course.

‎‎

A steaming plate of hamburger steak clankering down onto the table in front of Leona was enough to startle him out of his train of thoughts. “Leona, why ya glaring like they owe you money?” Ruggie quipped, thumbing in your general direction as he fell into the seat with a sigh, lazily lounging across and occupying the entire bench - not that anyone else dared to share. “Wait, do they actually owe you money?”

Despite it being well past peak-lunch hour, the cafeteria was still rather packed with students milling about, the cacophony of noises from loud and hushed conversations alike only adding to the growing headache Leona felt starting to pound from the depths of his mind. Far from his ideal environment of a quiet, peaceful area where he could nap undisturbed, the constant din was one of many reasons the Sunset Savannah’s second prince avoided this wretched place as much as going home.

And the rest of his dorm certainly took note of his unusual appearance in such a public area, whispering among themselves even as they kept a respectful distance, picking a careful semi-circle around the table where Leona and Ruggie sat - easy enough to ignore, really. They knew better than to prod where they weren’t welcomed, if not risk learning the hard way that their housewarden was lazy, not weak. 

Leona picked up his fork, stabbing it into the minced patty rather viciously, tearing his gaze away from you and down to the plate. The food looked especially unappetizing today. “He smells different.” The words slipped from his lips before the lion beastman could stop it, surprising both himself and Ruggie in the process, the sandy-brown haired boy whipping his head up to stare at him in disbelief. Right before said hyena thought it appropriate to dramatically turn to look at you, immediately earning him the prince’s ire.  There was no denying who Leona was referring to, but why did he have to be so obvious about it?

You, fortunately, did not notice. 

”The Ramshackle prefect?” Ruggie wondered aloud, nose tweaking, before turning back to face his housewarden. “I suppose so, given he’s from another world and all. What about it? If they don’t owe you money then it doesn’t really matter what they smell like.” A pause, the gears clearly turning behind the other’s blue-gray eyes, before he leaned forward, a cheeky grin plastered on his face, eyebrows wriggling. “Unless…”

He should have guessed where this was going. “Forget it.” 

“Come on Leona, I ain’t a blabber.”

“If you keep flapping your lips Ruggie, you’re about to find ‘em sewn shut.”

The hyena beastman simply smiled knowingly even as he threw his arms up in defeat, instead turning his attention to his feast of sandwiches.

Rubbing his forehead in annoyance, the rough texture of the glove dragging across his skin did not help in the slightest with his headache. Why was he bothering with this again? Whatever he could learn surely wasn’t going to be worth this amount of irritation.

But two weeks on from having you thrusted straight to the centre of his life and much to his dismay, Leona finds himself unable to get you out of his head, well after you seemed to have moved on rather easily. It’s not that he liked you (perish the thought). He just had to find out, Leona assured himself, and then he could put this whole fascination behind him and move on with his godforsaken life. He needed to know what made you different.

‎

He watched you stand, your empty tray in one hand, the other waving to the group. His ears stood up instantly, his attention returning to you. Were you going somewhere?

“... be heading out to the town, do you guys want anything?”

Town? A quick think, and he understands. Memorizing your group’s class schedule wasn’t difficult, and as a non-mage, you wouldn’t be able to attend any of the usual classes that your friends would have that involved magic. The first year Heartslabyuls were having flying class next, which meant that you weren’t attending. 

“Again?” Grim whined, slouching to rest his head on the table top. “How come you always get to go and have fun without me?”

Chuckling softly as you held your history textbooks to your chest, you shrugged. “I’m just going to pick up some supplies since I have a bit of free time.”

It seemed Ruggie had joined in on the eavesdropping. “Planning to follow him?” Said shameless hyena smirked, propping his two hands behind his head, though that move made him wince slightly; seems like Ruggie hadn’t yet fully recovered from the whole Spelldrive incident just yet. Serves him right though.

Leona scoffed, standing from the bench. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “I need a nap.” Stalking wasn’t quite his thing, and you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, given how your way home was literally dependent on that dirtbag of a school principal. He’ll solve this nagging puzzle at his own leisure. 

A look of alarm washed over Ruggie’s face. “Wait, Leona! Can I have your plate if you’re not eating it?”

‎

His opportunity came sooner than expected.

The sky above Savanaclaw Dorm had turned dark an hour ago, the moon hanging above the darkened desert illuminating the swirling sand blown along by a gentle breeze. Outside his closed room door, the dorm was still lively with activity, students mulling about the corridors discussing the recently past final exams and Spelldrive tournament or gathering by the waterfall in the lounge to enjoy some peace and quiet. 

Leona, however, was locked away inside his room, his brain still annoyingly fixated on you. He hadn’t been able to follow you out to town from NRC yesterday, not without having to answer some very uncomfortable questions about his motive. Tapping one nail rhythmically on the hard wood top of his desk, the second Sunset Savannah prince continued to think and brainstorm - not mull about like some lost little lover, mind you - all the possibilities to the mystery that was you. He had a few theories, a few ideas, but none of them fully made sense with all the information he currently had. 

Letting out a sigh, the man leaned back, running one hand through his mob of brown hair. He had to be missing something somewhere, a piece of the puzzle. Right then, as if on cue, as if there was some divinity out there who had decided to shine down on him, lion ears picked out an unusual stir of disgruntlement emulating from outside. Leona tried to ignore it, as he always does, but the commotion refused to die down even after a few minutes. So with great reluctance, he stood from his chair.

It was your begrudgingly familiar smell wafting through the otherwise still air that his sensitive nose instantly picked up the moment Leona opened his room door, quickly followed by your mob of hair amidst the rest of the beastmen that he spotted as he made his way over to the lounge. Well well well. “Of all the places to find you in,” he drawled out, his tail flickering behind him as the room fell silent, the murmurs quickly dying out in his presence. “Savanaclaw ain’t no place for herbivores.”

You scratched the back of your head awkwardly. This clearly wasn’t your first choice.

Jack stepped forward, almost as if to shield you from the housewarden’s line of sight with his larger stature. “Leona, they-”

“We got kicked out of Ramshackle!” Grim wailed out, clutching onto your leg, the purple anemone sticking out grey fur a dead giveaway to the lead up to this conundrum.

“Not a chance,” Leona drawled out, crossing his arms even as his mind whirled behind those half-lidded green eyes. This was it: his chance.

You had always lived alone - or rather with Grim, though the fiery racoon hardly counted as a proper roommate - at Ramshackle Dorm since your arrival in Twisted Wonderland. Out of reach from him and any potential other students that Leona could have intimidated for information. But now, it seems you made a deal with that cephalo-punk Azul Ashengrottel, and Jack had delivered you directly to him like a good little puppy, unknowingly helping you straight right into his grasp.

The white-haired beastman blinked. “You didn’t even pause before answering…”

“No pets allowed in the dorm,” the Sunset Savannah prince shrugged. “They shed all over the place.” He hadn’t quite figured out where he could put you up temporarily (three days was more than enough for him to solve his little vexing puzzle, hell he’ll take one day and hopefully kick the two of you out by tomorrow evening). 

Leona couldn’t roll over so easily, no matter how much the pit in his gut yearned for it. He had to at least put up a decent fight in front of his dorm’s students, and most of all, Ruggie. He’ll never live this down otherwise.

‎

Okay, so perhaps you sharing his room wasn’t ideal, nor was it really part of his spontaneous plan. But what was done was done. It’s temporary anyway.

Your footsteps, light as a fae’s, were easy enough to pick up against the otherwise silent dorm. Picking your way carefully through the dark room, you made your way out, the room door clicking shut behind you and blocking out the little light that poured in momentarily from the dim corridor. If you had been the slightest bit more observant, you might have noticed Leona’s green eyes sliding open to watch you, lion ears twitching as they followed the ambient sound of your rustling clothes. 

It was the middle of the night, way past his usual bedtime - and it should be way past yours as well. Grim was fast asleep on the spare bedding at the foot of his bed. Very telling that you didn’t take your little minion with you.

Waiting for a few more seconds, the lion beastman carelessly tossed off his blankets, following you out of his room. And your telltale smell led him past closed doors and loud snores that echoing down empty hallways, straight towards the bathroom. 

Interesting. Time to find out what you were hiding.

‎

‎

You hummed a light tune under your breath, allowing the warm water to run over your body. You had expected Savanaclaw Dorm to be different from what you were used to, with the sneakpeek you’ve gotten before the Spelldrive tournament hinting that it was different enough from the life you knew back at Ramshackle, but you had to admit to yourself you hadn’t expected it to be this different. Imagine your surprise upon realizing that there was only one communal bathroom - and only learning that fact as you entered. You hoped no one noticed how fast you turned and left.

Shaking your head, you focused on rinsing off the shampoo from your hair, the stall walls though open at the back at least giving some privacy from the side. The water splashing down onto the tile from the showerhead echoed through the otherwise empty room; exactly as you had planned. It was only at this time of night that you would be able to get any semblance of privacy, and you silently pledged to yourself to never take Ramshackle Dorm’s silence for granted again.

You scrubbed down, trying to shake the thought of losing Ramshackle to Azul out of your head. You would do everything to make sure that didn’t happen, and you weren’t going to forgive Grim, Ace or Deuce that easily for all this mess they got you in.

Lost in the what-ifs, you failed to notice the patter of footsteps entering the shower room, right up till a deep voice piped up from behind you.

“So that’s why you don’t smell like the others.”

You froze.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the water cascading down your body and your very obviously female chest. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t dare to breathe, racing to think.

Fuck.

In a snap, you screamed, picking up the nearest object and hurling it straight at the intruder without looking, your other hand immediately reaching for the towel you had hung over the stall wall. The shampoo bottle was narrowly dodged, bouncing off the wall behind him and clanking to the floor. “W-what the fuck- get out!” You squeezed your eyes shut, your face beet red as you grabbed another bottle, throwing it with all the strength you had. Someone saw you. Some guy’s seen you. You should have been more careful, maybe you shouldn’t have showered at all, maybe you have-

“Shut it!” One large hand was quickly slapped over your mouth, the other grabbing your hand and stopping you from flinging your third munition. “Do you want the entire dorm to wake? Just breathe, dammit.”

You shook off his hand, moving to secure your towel around you before you took a deep breath, looking up to see who had walked in on you. 

Leona Kingscholar, the Savanaclaw Housewarden himself, looking mighty amused at the revelation that you were, in fact, of the opposite gender. A red-faced lady in the house of men.

“Does that crow know?”

“Crowley? Of course he does,” you snapped, clutching the towel wrapped around you tightly. “Now can you get out?”

The lion beastman only leaned onto the stall door, crossing his arms. “So how have you been hiding that all this time?” He drawled, pointing at your chest with his chin. You picked up another bottle threateningly, and Leona immediately raised both hands in surrender, taking a step back and behind the stall door.

“Peace,” he drawled. “I’m just here for answers.”

“And I’m here to bathe,” you barked back. “Chest binding is what I do, now out.”

The chuckle as the second prince strolled out reverberated through the still bathroom. You groaned, sinking to a squat and hiding your face in your hands. You were never going to live this down now, were you?

[almostwisegalaxy]

Hi, can you please make one about Si-eun ending the relationship because she doesn't want you to get hurt by the union. She says hurtful things to you.❤🥺🙏

Run like a friend. Run like a lover

Yeon Sieun x fem!reader

Inspiration is taken from this video

In this story he will run a lot Which is ironic since he hates running. I don't know . Maybe I'm sadistic Or that I've been, in another life, that kind of sports teacher that all the students hate. ಠ⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಠ

..................................................................................

The sky was murky, a dirty, hanging gray, as if the light itself had decided to flee. The wind, cold and unpromising, stirred the dead leaves that lay on the damp asphalt, scraping against the silence. Y/N didn't even know where she was anymore. She had taken a random bus, fleeing an apartment too empty and a heart too heavy. The city scrolled by the window without her gaze catching on it. Nothing had form or color anymore. It was a blurry world. Like her thoughts. Like her pain.

Her hands trembled on her knees, clasped too tightly. She had fled without taking a coat, without thinking about schedules, distances, fatigue. She didn't want to flee a place, but a reality. Her reality. The one where she woke with a start, still marked by the burning of morphine evaporating in her blood, the one where she reached out her arm and still felt it in a cast, even months later. The one where he wasn't there anymore. Not really. Not for her.

And then, she saw him.

Stopped at a bus shelter, legs stiff from the cold, eyes red from the wind as much as from sorrow, she saw him pass. He was running. Really. Breathless, hair wild, eyes burning. He hadn't seen her. He wasn't looking at anyone. He ran like one runs when they have something to save, someone to protect. She recognized that urgency. That kind of haste that silently screamed: "I have to go. I can't fail. Not again."

Her heart tightened so hard she gasped.

Yeon Si-eun.

She wanted to call out to him. Or run after him. Or turn away. But she stayed there, frozen. Watching him run was like remembering a dream too real. He hadn't changed. Same silhouette, same intensity. And yet, it wasn't the same world anymore. She was no longer part of his.

Her heart had tightened, suffocating her.

It wasn't the first time she'd seen him leave without her, but it was the first time it had stabbed her so deeply. The sight of his back, his tense neck, his legs pounding the ground, rekindled something too old, too profound.

A breach.

She thought she had closed it.

But no.

The past had scratched the surface.

***

FLASHBACK

Before, there were four of them.

Beomseok, Suho, Y/N, Si-eun.

It was chaotic, strange, sometimes silent and often awkward. But it was real. And for the first time, Si-eun felt seen. Not as a genius, not as a strange boy, but as a friend. Y/N had been the first to talk to him without judging him, without expecting anything in return. She had that gentleness that didn't demand to be noticed. She was just there, stable, whole, soothing. He had clung to her without even realizing it.

He had learned to listen to her silence. To understand her glances. To seek her laughter.

And he had fallen in love. Slowly. Deeply. Not at first sight, but like a truth one discovers within oneself: "It's her."

He planned to tell her. After class. He had prepared everything in his head, not the words, because he knew they wouldn't come out as he wanted, but the moment. The place. The feeling he wanted to leave her with.

And then Beomseok.

And then the aggression.

And then the void.

Y/N, her arm twisted at an atrocious angle. Screams. Blood. And then silence. Two weeks on morphine. Suho in a coma. And him, sitting there, bloody hand, heart in ruins. He hadn't been able to protect them.

He came to see them. Every day. Y/N didn't know. He would come, cast an eye on her, on Suho. Stay an hour. Two. And leave without saying a word. But the day she woke up... he stopped coming.

He had withdrawn like a blade beneath the skin.

Because he believed he was the poison. That it was his fault. He couldn't put her in danger again. He couldn't risk seeing the pain in her eyes anymore. He blamed himself. He blamed himself for not being able to protect her. For not being able to stop Beom-seok. He even blamed himself for not being able to hate Beom-seok.

He was ashamed.

Terribly ashamed.

Because her gaze... he didn't want to face it.

She had found out. His transfer. The other side of town. Without a word, without a goodbye. And she had come. Broken arm, pain with every breath. But she had dragged herself to his place.

When he opened the door, she was there. Trembling. Furious. Devastated.

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye?"

He said nothing. The words were there, in his throat, but his mouth refused to betray them.

"I scare you, is that it? You think I'm fragile?! You think I'm going to break in your hands if you touch me?!"

She was yelling. But her eyes were crying.

"Is that how little I mean to you?!"

She hit his chest with her good fist.

"Our friendship... our damn friendship means so little to you that you can just... erase me? Just like that?"

He wanted to tell her that he watched her every day from afar. That he slept poorly because of her. That he blamed himself for not being able to do anything. That he was afraid, terribly afraid, that she would break because of him.

But he said nothing.

And she, she kept screaming.

"I waited for you! Every day! I needed you, Si-eun! I was scared, I was hurting, and you... you weren't there anymore! You were nowhere!"

He didn't move.

She finally collapsed, breathless, as if every word had emptied her heart. And she murmured, almost inaudibly:

Her tears flowed. She was almost screaming. But it wasn't a scream. It was a tearing.

"Do you know what it's like to wake up and realize you've been forgotten? Do you know what it feels like to realize that the person you put all your trust in, all... all your faith... just decided you weren't important anymore?"

He looked at her. Unable to breathe normally. Every word was a slap. His stomach, throat, and head ached. He wanted to scream, to beg her to understand. But he was a prisoner of his own guilt. A prisoner of that voice within him that said: "You must not approach her again. She is safe without you."

And yet, she was there. Hurt. Alive. And broken.

By him.

He hated himself as never before.

He had wanted to reach out. To embrace her. To tell her he loved her. That he had always been afraid of losing her.

But he remained frozen. He had ruined everything. He knew it.

Back to the present.

The wind had picked up. People passed without seeing her. Y/N remained on the cold bench, fingers clutching her phone, empty of messages.

And she watched him walk away, Si-eun, still as fast, still as intense.

He hadn't changed. Even though he had promised not to fight anymore, he still ran for those he loved. He rushed towards pain if it was to protect.

He hadn't seen her.

But she, she had looked at him the way one looks at a memory they can't forget. Like a gentle yet sharp burn.

And in her silence, a thought formed. Simple. Heartbreaking.

"He's still himself... even if I'm no longer part of his world."

The bus arrived. She didn't get on.

She stayed there, standing. Because her legs were trembling. Because her heart had woken up. Because that simple instant when she saw him, when she thought she felt that invisible thread between them once more, had brought her back to the surface.

She didn't know if she would see him again.

But now, she knew she had never truly left him.

And that he, even if he hadn't seen her...

He was still running with his heart in his hands.

---

Y/N couldn't get him out of her head anymore.

Ever since that day. Ever since that run. Ever since she'd seen him, a burning silhouette in a frozen world. She had tried everything. Really. Reading, walking, sleeping, talking to friends who didn't know. Nothing worked. He came back into her thoughts like a dull tide, always stronger, always more deeply rooted. That look. That back. That silence.

She finally gave in to something she couldn't explain. An impulse? A necessity? She couldn't say. That day, her fingers had slipped almost against her will across her phone screen. She had typed in Eujjang High School's name. And there, in an innocuous post, almost erased between the hashtags and teenage comments... he was there.

Si-eun.

Surrounded by three boys. Laughing. Alive. Faces she didn't know. Not really. But their names, yes. Hu-min (nicknamed Baku by the whole school), Hyun-tak (called Gotak), Jun-tae. Figures gravitating around him. People who perhaps knew... what she no longer knew.

So she had come.

Not to talk to him. She didn't know if she had the right. But to feel a little of his world. To prove to herself that none of this had been a dream.

The afternoon was mild, but her heart pounded enough to crack her rib cage. She had almost turned back ten times. She felt stupid, intrusive. And yet... she stayed.

The boys approached, their group forming a small cloud of laughter. They had that way of walking, solid, relaxed, as if the world no longer scared them. She, she was red as a hot coal. She pressed herself against the walls, avoiding their gaze with the subtlety of an elephant in a tutu. But it was stronger than her. She couldn't help but observe them.

Y/N remained frozen. Invisible. Transparent as a shadow. She watched them as one watches a world they no longer have access to. Their gestures, their expressions, their complicity... She drank it all in, until she felt sick. Until she felt her throat constrict, suffocating her.

They were part of his life.

Not her.

Not for a long time.

Hu-min had seen her. Of course. His keen eye never missed anything. Gotak too. He frowned for a second, looking wary, before turning his head away. And Jun-tae, silent, gentle, looked at her without pressing, as if he recognized something in her. Something broken. Something familiar. How could they not notice her after all? Especially when her face was the one Si-eun secretly looked at on his phone's wallpaper.

They said nothing.

Until the conversation caught up to them. The topic of the day? Si-eun's departure.

And it was at that precise moment that everything changed.

"...His mother decided. He's leaving. Going abroad, can you believe it?" Hu-min blurted out a little too loudly, as always.

Y/N turned around, her eyes wide as saucers.

"What?!"

Her voice cracked in the air like an unexpected thunderstorm. The three boys stopped dead. Gotak tilted his head, slightly defensive.

Y/N didn't know what to do with her hands, her feet, her thoughts. Her heart had stopped. Gone? Really? Permanently? The world swayed for a moment.

Hu-min stepped forward, curious. "You... you're the girl in Si-eun's wallpaper photo, right?"

A silence.

Jun-tae tried to lighten the atmosphere. "You're here for him?"

Y/N nodded, almost ashamed. And the words struggled to come out. They spoke, she listened. Each syllable like a brushstroke on a canvas too vivid. And then, suddenly, Gotak blurted out:

"So... you came all this way... for a guy who sent two people, including you, into a coma and is suspected of murder. It's ironic, isn't it?"

The tone was provocative. Clearly a test.

And then, something broke.

Y/N looked up. Something in her gaze had changed. Her whole body seemed to straighten. A dull, contained energy burst forth.

"You bird-brain. Shut. Your. Damn. Mouth."

Her tone was cold. Cutting.

"You don't know anything. He fought for us. For me. For Su-ho. He put himself in danger. He always did what was right. Even if it cost him dearly. So don't talk to me about pseudo-murder or rumors. He would have given his life that day."

Her voice trembled. Not from weakness.

From strength.

"He condemned himself to save us. And you, his 'friends,' you let him leave carrying the shame he never deserved?"

The boys froze. She wasn't screaming. But every word vibrated with truth.

A silence.

Then Gotak smiled, almost proudly.

"Good. Now you're talking like someone who knows him."

A smile crept onto Jun-tae's lips. Hu-min burst out laughing.

"Damn. You're something else."

They sat on a low wall. The tension gradually eased. The boys told her everything. The nicknames. The fights. The escapes. The fears. The moments of doubt. And that strange nickname Hu-min had come up with: "the icebox."

"Cold as a freezer, but if you open it... there's everything you need to survive inside," Hu-min explained with a wink.

Y/N laughed softly. But every word stabbed her.

He had never changed.

He still carried the world. He was still trying to fix what he believed he had broken.

And she... she had remained locked in her pain without seeing that he carried his own too.

Tears welled up, this time. She didn't hold them back.

"I... I never stopped waiting for him," she whispered.

They remained silent. Respectful.

Then she looked at them. Full of determination.

"Help me. Help me give him back his peace. Not just to hold him back. I want him to know that he's not alone. That he can stay without being afraid."

Jun-tae nodded, his eyes bright.

"I'll call him."

***

The sky began to weep softly over Incheon Airport. Raindrops slid down the glass canopy like tears that no longer needed a face. In the departure hall, Yeon Si-eun stared at the immense board displaying the schedules, not really reading. He stood there, straight, motionless, hands in the pockets of his too-thin jacket. Around him, people bustled, pulling suitcases, rushing toward their future. He, he was frozen in an in-between. Neither quite gone, nor quite out of this world.

His phone vibrated. Once. He hesitated. Then unlocked the screen. A call from Jun-tae.

He answered.

"Hyung...?"

Jun-tae didn't answer right away. There was a hum of voices behind him, as if someone was talking a little too loudly. Then silence. And Jun-tae's voice, hesitant.

"You... you're really at the airport?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you want to leave?"

A breath. Si-eun clenched his teeth. He wanted to say yes. That it was the best thing to do. That he no longer had a place here. But the words remained stuck.

Jun-tae resumed, calmer, slower.

"We know, Si-eun. We know you came to the hospital. Every day. For Y/N. For Su-ho. We know you never turned your back. We also know you took it all. That you carried everyone's guilt on your back."

A blow to the chest. Like a stretched thread finally giving way. He felt himself waver.

"And you know what? We don't believe it. Not for a second. That it's your fault. You're not that guy. We know you did what you could. And that's enough. For us, that's enough."

A brutal heat rose in his throat. He didn't answer. He couldn't. His mouth trembled, his breath caught. He had waited for these words without ever hoping for them.

They know.

They don't hate me.

They... believe in me.

And then, a voice, further away on the phone.

"Come back." A whispered plea in the background, "Y/N.".

.....y/n? What ?

"And Y/N came all this way to see you-"

"AH SEO JUNTAE! YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SAY SHE WAS HERE!"

A gasp. A girl's voice. He recognized her immediately.

Y/N.

"I... I'm sorry, he wasn't supposed to..."

Then noises, protests in the background.

"Hu-min, shut up...! Hyun-tak, stop hitting me!"

But he heard nothing else.

She was there.

His heart exploded in his chest. He turned slowly. Behind him, his mother approached, arms crossed, her voice already ready to scold him for an imaginary delay.

He looked at her.

"I'm not leaving."

"Si-eun... your future is abroad. Not in this country that treated you like a..."

"My friends believe in me."

She blinked.

"They know what I did. What I feel. They say it's not my fault. And they believe me."

A silent tear slipped down his cheek.

"I'm staying. Because there's still someone here who looks at me like I'm worth it."

He turned on his heel and ran. Without a suitcase. Without a ticket. The wind rushed into his jacket, the rain mixed its salty taste with the tears that finally escaped his eyes after months. He ran, legs burning, breath ragged, but his heart... his heart beat again.

***

The boys were under the shelter of an old awning, near a deserted bus stop. Y/N sat on the bench, trembling. Not from cold, no. But from expectation. From that fear suspended in every beat of her heart.

When the silhouette appeared in the distance, at first blurry in the rain, she thought for a moment she was hallucinating.

But no.

It was him.

He was running. Still. Always. Towards something, or towards her, she didn't know yet. Breath caught, she stood up, her legs weak.

He was approaching.

And he saw her.

Y/N.

---

It was still raining.

Not that dramatic, cinematic rain, no. A soft, fine, almost silent rain, yet tenacious. As if the sky itself held back its tears, preferring to let them fall in gentle touches. It fell without fanfare, carpeting the cobblestones with a mute melancholy. And in the midst of this grayness, there she was.

Y/N.

Si-eun saw her.

And everything stopped.

No more sound. No more heartbeat. No more breath in the universe. There was only that silhouette, standing there under the old awning, drenched but upright, real yet unreal.

Her.

The girl he had fled. The girl he had protected. Badly. Tragically badly.

Y/N, she was his sleepless nights. His most painful regrets. His most haunting "what ifs." She was the light he had kept at a distance so as not to extinguish it with his own darkness. The only thing he had wanted to keep intact, pure, alive... and that he had destroyed anyway, out of love, out of fear, out of pride.

She hadn't changed.

And yet she had changed everything.

Her hair was longer. Her features more defined. But that gaze... That gaze, even from a distance, pierced him like a blade. A mixture of fear, stupefaction, something indecipherable. He didn't know how to breathe anymore. His whole body trembled—not from cold, no. From an overflow. Too many emotions. Too many unspoken, suppressed, held-back feelings from months ago.

Si-eun had loved Y/N as one loves the only star you can see in an endless night. With a silent, desperate fervor. He had spent hours imagining her laughing again. He had fallen asleep a thousand times reliving their memories, punishing himself for not having been there when everything collapsed. For not having been strong enough.

He had sworn he would protect her. And he had failed.

When she fell that day, when the world froze around her inert body... something in him broke forever. And since then, he hadn't stopped paying.

So seeing her there, alive, upright, real... it was as much pain as it was a miracle.

He wanted to speak. To say her name. To take a step. But his heart crushed in his chest. He was paralyzed. She looked at him, without a word. As if she too were frozen.

And then...

The glitch.

Y/N blinked. Her breath quickened. As if her brain had only just realized what it was seeing. She looked around. To the right, to the left. Like a hunted deer. She took a half-step back. Then another.

No.

"No no no no no"

Her face froze in an expression of silent panic.

She murmured something – an almost inaudible "no," perhaps not even for him, perhaps for herself – and turned around.

She fled.

Without warning. Without a word. Without a glance.

She escaped like a snatched breath. Like a shooting star one hadn't had time to catch. She ran. In the rain. Away from him.

And he... he stayed there. Stiff. Frozen. Drenched. Alone.

The void she left behind had the violence of a slap.

His legs buckled. His throat tightened. Something imploded in his chest. He didn't cry. Not really. The tears mixed with the rain. But his heart... it... cried. Every beat hurt him. As if his organ had thorns.

She had come. She had traveled all that way.

And she had fled.

Was she still hurting? Did she hate him? Did she hold him responsible? Had she forgotten him, replaced him, despised him, buried him?

Or...

Was she just too afraid to find him again and feel that pain return, even stronger?

***

Behind him, there was a sigh. Then a voice.

"Well... that was intense," said Hu-min, arms crossed, his mouth twisted in a perplexed grimace.

"I thought they'd at least hug, or cry together, or I don't know, she'd jump into his arms," added Gotak, raising his eyebrows.

"She ran off like a cat whose tail you stepped on," Hu-min chuckled. "Can you imagine the scene from above? Two tragic heroes staring at each other for three centuries, then... poof, she's gone."

Jun-tae, meanwhile, remained silent.

His gaze was fixed on Si-eun, and what he saw there took his breath away.

It wasn't anger.

It was pure distress. An open crack. A man standing in the rain, who had wanted to believe in a miracle one last time and had just seen that miracle slip away.

"She... she looked at me like I was a ghost," Si-eun murmured, more to himself than to the others.

*

And he started to run.

With a leap, he dashed into the pouring rain, without waiting. The drops slapped against his face, his shoes slipped on the soaked cobblestones, but he didn't care.

He ran.

He screamed internally. "Come back. Come back, Y/N. I beg you."

He turned left. Nothing.

He searched with his eyes. Nothing.

He called her name. Nothing.

The streetlights made the asphalt shine like a broken mirror. Every step resonated like an echo of his frustration. He looked everywhere. He weaved between passersby. His breath became hoarse. His heart pounded against his rib cage.

But Y/N had disappeared.

As if she had never been there.

He stopped, panting, hands on his knees. Drenched. Beaten. He punched a puddle, furious with himself.

He was enraged. Devastated.

"DAMN IT!"

His voice exploded in the empty alley. Passersby turned, startled.

But he didn't care.

He had waited. Hoped. Dreamed. And she had fled him.

Because he had messed up. Because he hadn't been enough.

He stifled a sob. The kind of sob that doesn't explode, but silently twists one's insides. A mute pain. A stifled cry.

He hadn't even been able to tell her he still loved her.

That he had never stopped.

*

In the distance, under the awning, the boys watched him disappear.

Jun-tae sighed.

"He's not doing well."

"He's not doing well AT ALL," Hu-min corrected.

Gotak shrugged.

"Seriously... it's a live drama. All it needs is some sad music and we're good."

"You're tired of fights, now you want love stories, is that it?" Hu-min asked with a bitter chuckle.

Jun-tae, however, didn't laugh.

He watched Si-eun's trembling silhouette disappear into the rain mist.

"They need to talk," he said simply.

"What do you want us to do? Tie him to a bench?" Gotak asked.

"Maybe."

A silence.

Then Jun-tae, thoughtfully:

"They love each other like children who grew up too fast. That's the problem. They don't know how to love with scars yet."

*

And somewhere, further away, in an alley where silence replaced the rain, Y/N had stopped. Her back against a wall, her hands trembling. She had slowly collapsed, in silence.

She had fled.

She had lied to herself. She thought she could face him. She thought she could talk to him, put the right words to the wounds. But she couldn't.

She still loved him.

And she resented him.

For disappearing. For choosing to protect her by abandoning her. For making that choice without her.

Her tears flowed silently. And deep inside her, a certainty burned:

She had to tell him. One day.

Not to apologize.

But to find herself again.

---

A few days later, the city seemed to have frozen for Si-eun. Every corner reminded him of Y/N. Every shadow cast her image. He had searched for her to the point of exhaustion. Not a street, not a station, not an old landmark of their youth had been left untouched. Nothing. The void. A silence too heavy, crushing him.

He didn't know his friends were plotting behind his back.

Jun-tae had organized everything. Hu-min and Hyun-tak, meanwhile, dragged a furious Si-eun by the arms. He complained, cursed, struggled. But they didn't let go.

"Let me go, dammit! This is bullshit! What are you doing?!"

"Shut up," Hyun-tak grumbled, his face serious. "For once, just shut up."

They held him in an absurd position, his arms almost crossed over his chest like a disjointed puppet, until they reached the old warehouse behind the sports field. Jun-tae was already there. He was holding Y/N. She was fuming, furious.

"You have no right! You promised me!" she yelled.

"You've been running from him for too long. How long do you want this to rot inside you? You have to talk to him," Jun-tae retorted. "Whether you yell at him or kill him, I don't care. But you talk to him."

She glared at him. But she stayed.

Y/N turned. And their gazes met.

Silence.

The boys left. This time, no smiles. No words. Just a serious look from Jun-tae that ordered them with his eyes: "Not a move. Not a word." Even Baku had closed his enormous trap.

And they were alone.

Y/N was rigid, as if frozen by the storm within her. She avoided his gaze, arms crossed, lips tight. He, hands in his pockets, his heart disintegrated.

"I haven't stopped looking for you," he said.

She didn't answer.

"I was terrified."

She finally looked up.

"That's funny," she said. "Because so was I. But you weren't there."

He took a step towards her, she recoiled. The contact was too much. The memories, too heavy.

"I did what I thought was right."

"You chose for me. As always."

And suddenly, a noise erupted at the entrance. Footsteps. Voices. Greasy chuckles.

The Union.

"Looks like we arrived at the right time," one of the guys sneered.

They surrounded the warehouse.

"You could've been discreet, Si-eun. But you prefer to make a spectacle with your little girlfriend?"

Y/N stepped in front of him. Fists raised.

"Touch me, and I'll break your teeth."

"That's cute. She thinks she's in a shonen."

Everything happened fast. Y/N tried to punch, dodged a first blow, but a guy grabbed her hair and slammed her against a crate. She choked with pain.

And Si-eun... changed.

His eyes went dead. He entered a trance-like state. A cold machine. A precise machine.

He picked up a pen. Then an iron bar. And he struck. Not out of anger. Not out of pleasure. But strategically. Silently. He calculated every angle, every weakness. He anticipated enemy movements. He broke wrists. Swept legs.

One blow for Y/N. Another. And another. Until he took a blow meant for her. Right in the chest. He staggered. But got back up.

He was the last one standing. All the others on the ground.

He was panting. Sweating. His face covered in blood.

He turned to her.

"It's you I'm protecting this time. You don't have the right to be angry. You don't have the right to disappear."

Silence. Absolute.

She stared at him, then, coldly, asked:

"Why is it always you who chooses for others?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

Then, new noises. More gang members.

He didn't wait. He grabbed her hand. And they ran. Together. Far. Until they were out of breath.

They stopped in an empty alley.

She slapped him.

"You had no right to leave like that! Not after what we went through! You had no right to make me think I was a burden!"

"I didn't want to hurt you! I wanted to protect you from myself!"

"I didn't need a hero, Si-eun. I needed you! Not your choices, not your silence. Just you. And you left me!"

He fell to his knees.

"I was scared. I thought... I thought if I stayed, you'd end up hating me. That you'd get hurt because of me. So I fled. I did what I know how to do: disappear."

She started to cry.

"You could have at least given me a chance to understand."

He lowered his eyes.

"I held you for dead, Y/N. Because it was easier than admitting I had failed. That I had let someone I love break."

She trembled.

Her phone slipped from her pocket. It crashed to the ground. The screen lit up.

A photo. The two of them. Last year. A rare smile from Si-eun. The only one where he looked truly alive.

He stared at it.

And pulled out his own phone.

The same photo.

Y/N approached.

And rested her head on his shoulder. In silence.

He didn't move.

But he cried.

Not silent tears.

Sobs. Deep. Visceral. Heart-wrenching.

She said nothing. She let him break down.

Because for once, he wasn't a warrior. He was just a boy.

A broken boy who had loved too hard.

And who, finally, had stopped running.

---

And suddenly, a shout ripped through their bubble of tenderness.

"HOLY SHIT, HE'S BAWLING!"

Hu-min yelled in a thunderous voice.

The shout echoed so loudly that a cat leaped from a nearby dumpster. Y/N flinched, tears suspended at the corner of her lashes, while Si-eun, frozen between shame and incomprehension.

"Look at him, crying like a baby. What do we do now? Give him a tissue or a pacifier?" Hyun-tak added.

They were hiding—if you could call it "hiding"—behind an old rusty sheet metal, just a few feet away. Their idiotic faces poked out one after another in a disastrous semblance of discretion. An empty soda bottle had fallen on them when Hu-min bumped into it, laughing.

Hyun-tak held his phone, clearly filming the scene. Y/N jumped and Si-eun sprang up, tears still visible under his reddened eyes.

"Delete that video!" Si-eun roared, a mix of shame and exasperation.

"Too late, it's on the Cloud," Hyun-tak retorted, cackling.

And this time, Jun-tae didn't stop them.

He was smiling. A real smile. Wide. Relaxed. Happy.

His plan had worked.

Y/N, she exploded. A crystalline, disorderly, loud, uncontrollable laugh escaped her. She was still laughing, clutching her sides, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, her head still against Si-eun's shoulder. And he...

He wasn't laughing.

Not at their stupidity.

He was smiling. Truly. One of those rare, pure, almost fragile smiles. A smile one barely dares to show for fear it will vanish.

Because Y/N was laughing.

And she was laughing. with. him.

And that single sound—that single moment—was enough to dazzle the nearsighted, to make dry hearts squint, to make cynics want to believe a little more. It wasn't a naive smile of joy. It was a full smile. Filled with pain, with reprieve, with relief.

A smile of love.

***

A Few Days Later

They weren't a classic couple. First, they attended two opposing high schools across the city. Y/N took a crowded bus every morning, headphones on, grumbling. Si-eun, meanwhile, almost always walked. He claimed it allowed him to think. In reality, he just liked to walk past Y/N's high school, even if she wasn't there at that hour anymore. A habit.

They didn't see each other every day. And when they did, it was never planned. Y/N would show up unannounced, sometimes yelling in his school's hallway for him to come get her. He would arrive, looking blasé, but happy. Always happy. Always there.

They argued. Often. Sometimes over nothing. Because he hadn't replied to a message. Because she had forgotten her phone again. Because she wanted his jacket and he didn't understand that she was cold now.

But with each argument, a silence. Then a glance. Then a laugh, sometimes nervous, sometimes mocking. And off they went again.

And Si-eun, this boy who was said to be closed off, introverted, almost cold, became one of the brightest beings whenever she laid eyes on him.

***

The Day of the Confession

It was an ordinary day. Y/N was rummaging through her bag as if the world was about to collapse. They were in a park, near the river, a place they both liked. Si-eun had planned everything: he was finally going to tell her how he felt, without evasion, without detours.

He cleared his throat.

"I... I wanted to tell you something."

"Hmm, wait, I lost my lip balm."

"No, but... it's important, Y/N. Like, really. I mean... I've felt this for a long time, but I didn't know how..."

"Ah, I found it! Oh crap, no, it's my lighter."

She looked up.

"Y/N..."

He stared at her, surprised to be cut off.

"You were going to say you love me, right?"

He blinked.

"What?"

"Well, I already know."

She turned back, delving into her bag.

He stood there, mouth agape, as if his movie scene had just been stolen. Looking dejected.

She laughed.

"Oh come on, don't make that face. I knew it even before you did."

"Couldn't you have given me a chance to say it?"

"Too slow."

"You... you stole my confession."

She shrugged, provocatively.

"Gotta keep up, my boy."

And then, a gleam crossed Si-eun's eyes. That strange light, between defiance and a desire for revenge. A smirk. A silent promise.

It wasn't over. She might have won this round.

But he would never be defeated.

***

He Was Still Running. (Hehehe Σ(ﾟ∀ﾟﾉ)ﾉ

But this time, not to escape.

He ran to meet her at the station when she missed her bus. He ran to grab an umbrella when she forgot hers. He ran when she told him "I'm hungry" in the middle of the night. He even ran to escape her threats when he made a wrong remark.

Si-eun was still running.

But this time, for the right reasons.

***

Their Special Moments:

The Middle Finger

An old lady had bumped into them in a store, calling Y/N a "provocative little brat." Y/N had raised her hand, middle finger extended. Si-eun, on instinct, grabbed her wrists, pressing them against his chest.

"Y/N... no."

"Y/N... yes."

And without a word, she raised her chin.

The old woman only saw that.

But Y/N gently slid her hand... and managed to stick out a middle finger between his fingers. A kind of puppet of rebellion.

Si-eun sighed. She burst out laughing.

The First Rain

They had no umbrella. The downpour came suddenly, thick, wild.

Y/N ran, screaming, laughing. He walked, calm, drenched.

"Why aren't you running?!"

"I'm already wet. Might as well enjoy it."

She came back to him. And they stood there, in the downpour, her arms around his neck. Water streamed down their faces, but their eyes were clear. Nothing else existed but that wet silence.

The Red Bench

An old bench, behind the train station, had become "their" spot. They would leave notes under a broken slat. One day, she found a note from him: "If this bench could talk, it would tell you that I'm watching you even when I pretend to sulk."

She hugged him, without a word.

The Forest

An impromptu hike. Y/N complained about mosquitoes. He complained about his too-heavy bag. But at the summit, they discovered a field of wildflowers. She danced, barefoot, and he watched her. For a long time. Without saying anything.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you have no idea what you do to my world."

She didn't answer.

But she no longer danced alone.

The Outdoor Cinema

An old projector, a white sheet stretched tight. Cushions. Stolen popcorn. They were alone. The most romantic scene of the movie came on.

Y/N:

"This is lame. They look like bad actors."

Si-eun:

"Tsk. You criticize everything."

Y/N:

"Not everything. Just what isn't you."

He didn't know how to respond. She knew. And she smiled.

The Giggle Fit at the Library

They were supposed to be studying. Y/N kept sending him little notes with obscene drawings. He stayed serious until she slipped him a sticky note: "Do you prefer me as a teacher or a delinquent?"

He stifled a giggle, red-faced. The librarian kicked them out.

Their First Tandem Bike

He had to pedal with Y/N sitting on the frame. She kept whispering absurd things in his ear: "If we die, know that I hid my yaoi manga under your bed." He almost fell.

***

Sunset. Golden light. The rooftops bathed in pink.

Y/N had her back to him, playing with a pack of gum. He advanced. Slowly. Too close. At the edge of her personal space. His breath almost caressed her neck.

She stiffened.

He remained silent.

Then, in a low, warm, sensual voice:

"I want to be your boyfriend... Can I ?"

She turned her head, confused.

He was there. So close. Too close.

His gaze shining. Sure. Pleading. Ardent. Like a child certain he had found his treasure.

"You're an idiot..."

"Yes."

She blushed. Violently. Her breathing became uneven.

"You're not playing fair," she whispered.

"I don't want to play fair. I want you."

She didn't answer.

So he moved another centimeter. Just enough for their foreheads to touch.

She closed her eyes.

And the kiss came.

Softly at first. Shy. Trembling.

Then more confident. Deeper.

Her hands in his neck. His on her hips.

A kiss with the tenderness of forgiveness. The intensity of a promise. The taste of an uncertain but desired future.

Their breaths mingled.

They barely parted. Just enough to look at each other.

She:

"You got me."

He:

"You already had me."

And in that too-big city, in those streets full of painful memories, Si-eun and Y/N were writing new chapters. Chapters that smelled of rain, soda, wounds, reconciliations, and raw love. Not the love of fairy tales. The love of reality.

The kind that makes you cry. Then laugh. Then kiss.

And Si-eun? He was still running.

But this time, he was running towards the light. Her light. Y/N.

..................................................................................

Guys. Thank this guy. (⁠⌐⁠■⁠-⁠■⁠)

New Geum Seongje fanfictions

Ahn Su-ho fanfictions

Gotak fanfictions

@mariii-0001 @mizxuqii @iiwsmr @cupidsonly @emswirls @ellaaa505 @nadloves

[martian-astro10]

Solar return observations- Part 5

If you have Saturn in 12th then sleep well, that is....if you manage to fall asleep in the first place. (I have it this year and IT SUCKS, I have literally not been able to sleep, I've tried every single tea, every meditation, white noises, NOTHING WORKS, I also have mars in 12th, so I'm just fucking tired the whole time)

North node in 2nd is an indication that you'll start earning money for the very first time in your life, it doesn't have to be a full time job (I have seen this a lot of times when a person starts working for the first time, like a part time job or something. You get to experience what it's like to have "your" money)

I'm pretty sure that an astrologer has already said this, but I don't remember who, so I'll say it again, Uranus in 3rd means getting a new cycle, bike or car, basically anything that helps you with short distance travelling. (One of my friends have it this year and he already had a cycle but it got stolen and he just decided to buy a car, since he has money saved up for one)

This is very specific, but if you have Jupiter in 9th/ 11th then GO GET THAT RECOMMENDATION LETTER. (If you are graduating or planning to get a new job, this year is good for that. The years in which my sister, my friends or I have had this, our teachers, bosses or colleagues were SO impressed with us and we got really good reference letters, we slayed so hard in those years)

Vertex in 6th can be a VERY busy and exhausting year. Too many responsibilities and not enough knowledge of how to deal with them. (I had this the year in which I started living alone, It was also squaring my moon and dude, TW the suicidal ideation was STRONG. I wish I could give some sort of an advice but I don't know what to say, you just need to learn how to deal with the problems as they come)

Mercury square Neptune....the level of miscommunication is insane. (One of my closest friends has this and she...I love her but she's being very annoying. We were on a trip and she was talking to some people, so me and my other friend, we started clicking pictures, cuz we didn't want to disturb her and she comes up and says "why are you guys doing this without me, why are you not including me, if you don't wanna hang out with me anymore just say it" like GIRL) if you have this, don't start unnecessary drama, communication will be difficult so just stay quiet

Chiron in 12th is one of the shittiest years in regards to mental health, I hate this. (My friends have had this before and it's there in my 2025 solar return chart and I'm already dreading it. Everything bad that can happen...happens. I don't care what anyone says, this placement is just pure EWWWW and NOTHING can convince me otherwise)

Aries in 8th can be the year in which you lose your virginity (If you WANT to) I know quite a few people who had this the year they lost their V-card. (It's completely okay if you don't though, take your time and do it with a person who you trust and love, no pressure)

Mars in 9th is such a good placement for travelling and studies. (I had this in my 1st year of college, I remember I was so excited, studying was very easy, I loved learning new things and stuff, it was very nice. I was also travelling a lot, discovering new places. I had a lot of energy, really fun year)

Sun in 7th is a great placement if you want to work with others. (My mom has it this year and her business is ON FIRE, every time she has a meeting, it goes so well and she always gets a better deal than what she expected) this is a really good time for working with others, in partnerships. If you are a student, then you're going to do especially well in group projects.

(all pictures are taken from Pinterest)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[metallic-t4ste]

Hello! I was searching for twst blogs and i really want to make a request!

Can i ask romantic headcanons of malleus, Vil, silver and jamil with a shy sweet s/o that has suffered from harrasment/bullying? S/o always been a easy target for jokes from other students bc of their shy and collected personality but at some moment s/o breaks down crying and asks for help/advice from their boyfriend, i really love angst with fluff and comfort.

If this is too much you can reject this request!

Sorry I'm so late... Thanks for the request tho it was quite fun actually. There's no proof read tho. It's short because I'm not feeling good rn sorry

Malleus

You're literally so sweet, you are literally the most important precious little thing in his life.

So he is absolutely LIVID at the fact that these meaningless lowlifes are harassing you.

(he is literally planning for you to be the future queen so the absolute AUDACITY they have)

Before he does anything he wants to make sure you're alright first the idiotic scoundrels shall be spared for the time being

Seeing you cry is absolutely heartbreaking

He comforts you holding you silent listening patiently at you talking

Stroking your hair and back

He tells you that you should not let them get to you

(he has never been bullied a day in his life well expect for Leona ig... so he's not to sure on what to do. But he shall try his best)

He knows you're shy but he truly believes you can over come it and stand your ground

He tells you to try telling and authoritative figure or them off or ignoring them maybe

He also suggests letting him deal with it

If he so happens to over hear you being the butt of some bad jokes he would immediately step in to defend you without hesitation

He just wants you to be able to breathe without some jerk bullying you for just existing

If you're an NRC student

He becomes more protective of you after that always following you around

Giving anyone who even dares to even snicker at you, the most piss off death glare ever

Yeah no one messing with you after that

Vil

Vil is not having it

*gasp* how dare they!?

Aren't ugly ppl irl supposed to be humble or something!?

Seeing you walk in his room with tears in your beautiful eyes was horrible

The fact that you were being basically a punching bag for someone's mean little jokes was unacceptable

He even stops doing his makeup mid way

You ask him for advice for you to stop getting bullied and he starts of by saying to not change anything about yourself

You're literally so perfect they're obviously the problem

Vil would sit you down on his bed and let you talking

Caressing your hand and wiping you tears being ever so gentle

He makes sure to listen up real good,

After you've calmed down

Vil would advise you to take a stand and even tell someone about it

Make sure to take as much distance as possible and ignore them no matter what even when it's easier said than done

He knows how you can be shy so he doesn't blame you if you're hesitant to stand up for yourself

But that doesn't mean he won't just let you deal with all that harassment without a word

He reassures you that this is what needs to be done

And even helps you along the way he wants to make sure you learn how to stand your grown and make boundaries

He's probably talking so much shit about them

Silver

Plus you where crying so it was obvious

He knew something was up when you busted into his room (which made him wake up)

And you no longer had your collected demeanor

Caressing your back and silently listening to you talk about your problems

He makes sure to give you advice

Like Vil he tells you to stand your ground and tell the teacher

He wants to reassure you that everything will be alright

He is very calm and patient and he wants to make sure you're ready first

He might even teach you a little self defense just to make sure you're not gonna get hurt

If you're a student at NRC

On one of the occasions we was awake during break

He even noticed about you being targeted for people's entertainment

And was quite displeased with it

He calmly (slightly passive aggressive) told those bullies off and broth you with him somewhere else

We would not stand for his S/O getting bullied

And is very quick to defend them but he also wants his S/o to be able to stand up for themselves

Jamil

He is very upset why would anybody bully you!?

You're so sweet send whoever it is sending them to the guillotine

He would pat your back and listen to you while nodding

And giving you some tissues

(if you find comfort in food)

He'd definitely cook you up your fav comfort dish to help you out

He wants you to feel safe

He suggests confronting them head on but scratches it when he thinks about how you can be quite shy

He opted for telling the teachers instead

If you're an NRC student

He tried to help you confront them

(he might us his special magic on them to tell them to just leave you alone)

He tries telling you to stay close to him and not be afraid to call him if you're having any trouble

[taetebebe]

TOO CLOSE (DANGEROUSLY SO)

Pairing: vampire!Jungwon x afab-human!reader

Synopsis: The closer they get, the harder it becomes to hide the truth - and resist the hunger that could destroy them both.

Word Count: 1.2k

Author note: As title suggests, based on Too Close by Enhypen. My brain, body and soul has been consumed by this song. Wrote it very quickly, so please don't expect much.

Enhypen Bookshelf [[]

The rooftop was quiet, the sky blanketed in clouds that hadn't yet decided if they would rain again. You sat near the edge, legs dangling over the side, your sweater pulled tightly around you.

You weren't surprised when he showed up.

Jungwon always found you.

“You always come up here when it rains,” he said softly, stepping up beside you.

You didn’t look at him right away. “You always find me.”

He sat down next to you, close but not touching. That was how it always was - his presence steady, his distance deliberate. It made you wonder if there was something he was holding back. Or someone.

“I didn’t want to be alone tonight,” he said after a pause.

“You never are,” you replied.

He laughed under his breath, a sound like wind slipping through leaves. “That’s what you think.”

You turned toward him then, and in the dim rooftop light, his eyes gleamed, more golden than brown, too sharp to be entirely human.

“Jungwon…” you began, something tugging at the edges of your voice, “you’re not—”

“Not normal?” he finished, tone quiet. He didn’t deny it.

The wind picked up, brushing your hair into your face. He reached out to tuck it behind your ear, and for a second, his fingertips grazed your skin - cold. But not dead.

Just… different.

“You’re too close,” you whispered.

His eyes lingered on you. “And yet, you never run.”

“No,” you admitted. “I don’t.”

Because some part of you already knew, and chose him anyway.

𖤐 

You met Jungwon in the library on a rainy Tuesday.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. You were both students, both quiet, both always sitting in the same corner. At first, you just noticed how still he was - like time moved differently around him.

Then one day, the power flickered out. The lights dimmed. Everyone panicked - except for you. And him.

He looked up, calm, unbothered. “You okay?”

You nodded. “You?”

He smiled faintly. “I’ve lived through worse.”

The way he said it made you pause.

From that day on, he started sitting at your table. He asked questions. Listened carefully. Seemed fascinated by the most mundane details of your life - the books you read, the snacks you liked, the dreams you were too shy to share.

He wasn’t learning about you to pass the time.

He was memorizing you.

And slowly, you found yourself falling into something not quite friendship. Not quite romance. Something in between. Something dangerous.

𖤐 

You didn’t speak for two days after that night on the rooftop - after he pulled away from your touch like it stung.

The silence felt louder than any argument.

Then, just after midnight, you heard the soft knock at your window.

Jungwon stood outside, hoodie soaked from the rain. Hair clinging to his forehead. Eyes dark and tired.

You opened it without thinking. “You’re crazy.”

“I needed to see you,” he said. “I couldn’t stay away.”

You stepped back, letting him in. He stood in your room like he didn’t belong there. Like being in your world was something he was afraid to ruin.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” you said.

“I didn’t know what to say. Everything between us… I’ve never wanted something this much before. Never felt this human.”

You looked at him. “And that scares you?”

“Yes.” His voice was a whisper now. “Because wanting leads to needing. And needing leads to losing.”

“Then say it,” you said, stepping closer. “Say what this is.”

His gaze burned into yours. “You are what I’m not supposed to have.”

And then he kissed you.

Hungry. Fragile. Like he was both claiming you and asking permission.

And you let him.

Because the danger didn’t matter anymore. Only the feeling of finally, finally being held by someone who knew what it meant to starve for closeness.

𖤐 

He stayed, curled on your bed like a shadow that refused to leave. In the soft light of morning, he looked more human than ever - hoodie slipping off one shoulder, lips slightly parted, the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression.

You sat beside him, heart still pounding from the night before.

“This… whatever this is,” Jungwon murmured, “I don’t know how to protect you from it.”

You looked down at his hand, still resting beside yours.

“You don’t have to protect me from you,” you said. “I made my choice.”

“I can live a thousand years,” he said. “But I’ve never wanted one moment more than this one.”

You squeezed his hand. “Then stay.”

He did.

Because for the first time, the closeness didn’t feel like a curse.

It felt like a cure.

𖤐 

He never showed it - not when you were around others. But you’d seen the signs. The way he’d go quiet when you nicked your finger. The way he’d grip his jaw when your pulse sped up.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said one night, sitting cross-legged on the rooftop where it all began.

“You won’t,” you said, certain.

He looked up. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

You crawled closer, until your knees touched. “You don’t know what I’m willing to give.”

His eyes flashed - hunger and heartbreak wrapped in one expression.

“You don’t have to feed from me,” you said. “But if it’s killing you not to…”

Jungwon reached out, gently cupping the side of your face. “You’re not just blood to me, YN. You’re everything I thought I’d lost when I stopped being human.”

You leaned into his touch. “Then let yourself have it. Just this once.”

And when he did - when he pressed his lips gently to your neck, fangs brushing skin, breath shaking, it wasn’t pain you felt.

It was peace.

A bond deeper than fear. A promise forged in shadow and light.

He drank just enough to steady himself, pulling away before the hunger turned sharp. His forehead rested against your shoulder, trembling slightly.

“You’re too close,” he whispered.

“I always will be,” you whispered back.

A silence settled between you. Not heavy, but full. Like everything had been said without needing more words.

Jungwon pulled away just enough to look at you. His eyes had softened, the gold in them faint now, like the fading edge of a flame. His lips, still red from what he’d taken, trembled as if overwhelmed by the weight of restraint.

“I didn’t mean for it to feel like this,” he said quietly.

“Like what?” you asked, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.

“Like I belong to you now.”

You smiled, slow and gentle. “Maybe you always did.”

A breeze swept across the rooftop, tugging at your clothes, the city lights flickering in the distance like fireflies. Jungwon took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours — carefully, like he was still afraid you might vanish.

“I’ve lived through centuries of silence,” he murmured, voice almost lost in the wind. “But you… you make everything feel loud again. In the best way.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you, steady, even if his heart no longer beat like yours.

“I feel human with you,” he whispered.

“Then maybe that’s all that matters.”

And there, on a rooftop that had once held only silence, two hearts - one ancient, one still learning - found something worth staying for.

And for the first time, he didn’t argue. He simply leaned down, kissed your forehead like it was something sacred, and pulled you gently into his arms.

Above you, the moon broke through the clouds.

And for once, the night didn’t feel dangerous.

𖤐

© taetebebe 2025

[kitbunnyroo]

single dad centaur...

happy family trope my beloved cause i'm a sucker for girl dads and centaurs so here we are with a ramble post, emphasis on the rambling part <33

it's just him and his seven year old daughter, her mother having found a better life for herself that required her to leave the country and therefore the two of them since that long of a distance wasn't something they could manage. he's picking up his daughter from school when he finds out they have a human teacher to help all the students learn the human common language, he finds it strange, but his daughter seems to enjoy the class, so he doesn't mind. attempts at conversation are made and as soon as you reply to him in his own language he's caught off guard, there was no set expectation but it certainly wasn't to hear his own tongue roll so smoothly off from the mouth of a human. it was a pleasant surprise, to say the least, as he bid you a friendly goodbye and his daughter followed suit.

from then on you saw him every day, he'd drop the sweet little girl off and she'd trot on over to her desk and friends, while you'd greet each other, always ending up in a lengthy conversation afterwards. the other staff would relentlessly tease you about how perfectly punctual the father-daughter duo had become though. your class wasn't till the end of the day, but you'd often relax in the guard booth as the guard was your friend, and the ac was also the best on campus, so all the fellow teachers had the perfect view of the tall centaur standing at the guard booth long after his child had gone off simply so he could talk to you some more, you'd try to calm their excited heads by saying all your conversations were centered around his daughter's studies, yet of course they were having none of it. and he himself told himself the same thing, he's only a concerned single father wanting to keep informed on his child's studies.

by the middle of the semester you had gotten used to being Ki'dano's favourite teacher, your desk in the staff room always holding at least one of her crafts from her art class accompanied by a piece of fruit or a homemade her father would've given you at the gate. if the teasing from the other teachers was relentless before you'd swear they were getting paid for it now. by lunch time you'd have already encouraged the young centauress to engage with her peers seven times minimum due to her insisting she spends her free time with you, and at dismissals she'd make it her sole duty to praise you even more to her father, who had gone from punctual to early so that he'd have more time to spend with you, still convincing himself he was only doing a father's duty and showing you his gratitude for taking such good care of his daughter.

at the end of her first term with you, the cheeky little thing proposed the idea of you joining them for dinner that weekend, flustering her poor father as he rushed an attempt to smooth it over by saying it's not a problem if you already have plans for the evening, the stunned expression on his face when you agreed with a smile was priceless. Ki'dano had to give you their address in his stead before the poor soul snapped out of his trance and bid you farewell till later, walking out the gate with an ecstatic little centauress at his side. when the two had gotten home he faced an endless amount of teasing, his enthusiasm taking him by surprise as he cleaned the already spotless home and immediately picked out their best casual outfits for later then got dinner on the stove, triple checking each ingredient and step of the recipe, taking a few extra steps in caring for his coat after the food was done, doing a neat braid with his thoroughly combed mane, the only thing left was to wait.

if only you had been there to see how nervous he was while he paced in the living room, Ki'dano having a fun giggle to herself as she sat with her snacks. but you had to get ready yourself, going through your wardrobe trying to find something comfortable that wasn't an oversized tee and cozy pair of shorts. eventually you settled on an outfit you had put together but never gotten the chance to wear, then found a mirror to study your reflection in and make sure your hair as well as face in general was presentable, wouldn't be suitable to show up to your student's house looking anything short of perfect after all, especially with her father present...not that it mattered! not at all, who cares what the tall..beefy..caring centaur dilf thinks...but that's just an average description! everyone would describe him like that!

now, after a good few hours of driving, you're stood face to face with a nervous father and his over excited daughter, the two of you hopelessly staring at each other in fumbled greetings and compliments till the latter pulls you past him and into the warm abode. she sits you on their couch, insisting that you look over the progress she's made on her homework for the break period before dinner, and how could you refuse such a sweet face? and how could he resist watching as you dedicate your time and focus to tenderly correcting his daughter on the mistakes she made, explaining where she went wrong and making sure she understood the correct way to answer the questions....he had to smack himself with his tail to stop his staring for he was afraid he'd bore holes into your poor back, blaming the loud noise on a mosquito and hurrying to busy himself with putting up a candle for the pesky bugs....this was going to be a long evening.

chat should i actually write the dinner with these two being delusional simps and Ki'dano lowkey being their wingman??? stopped it here cause i've been working on it long enough and need to post something-

[hamiltonforwdc]

Break Point

pairing - kimi antonelli x law student!reader

theme - angst + fluff

warnings - long-distance relationships, brief breakup, mild language, career pressure, and emotional distress

summary - Law student YN never planned to fall for an F2 drive. It never felt real once she did-- but as time passed it became real to her. When ambition pulls them in opposite directions, love alone might not be enough. Soon, they learn to fight for eachother.

a/n - set during when kimi bb was a f2 driver! thanks thanks. (yeah the silly kitty kimi pic was needed okay)

The first time YN met Kimi, she was basically half-asleep at a café, drowning in torts and caffeine, highlighter all over her hands, sipping what might once have been espresso (now cold, of course) out of a battered uni mug. Giulia—her ride-or-die, chaos incarnate—had dragged her out, swearing up and down this wasn’t some weird blind date. Yeah, right.

Then Giulia pulled her classic move, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “This is Kimi,” she tossed out, all breezy.

The kid? Looked like he’d wandered off the grid from some other planet. Mercedes jacket, shy smile, hair a mess. “Ciao,” he said, like he wasn’t lowkey famous.

YN, already itching to go back to her reading, just muttered, “Hey,” and dropped her eyes.

Honestly, she figured that was that. He was young—maybe her age, maybe a smidge younger—but he had this vibe. Confident but not in your face about it. Steady, not cocky. She kinda expected him to disappear.

But, surprise, he didn’t.

Dude kept showing up. One day at the café, then another. Suddenly it’s a week. Then a month. Out of nowhere, she cared more about his texts than her own grades—low bar, but still.

She liked that he never flexed his racing thing. She knew, obviously, but he barely brought it up. He’d ask about her classes like he actually wanted to know, voice all soft, even remembered her exam dates—and always sent voice notes, not just texts. “You’ve got this. I know you do.” Ugh. Sucker punch.

He wasn’t like any law guy she’d met. And she was definitely not the paddock girlfriend type.

Maybe that’s why it actually worked.

At first.

They made it work in the cracks between chaos. Sunday calls after his races, lunch crammed between her lectures, his hoodie “accidentally” left behind, her notes he’d pretend to care about. When he was home, he’d scoop her up for these late-night walks through empty streets, squeezing her hand like he was afraid she’d float away. She’d laugh and kiss his cheek, pretending time wasn’t out to get them.

One night, half-asleep on his chest, he whispered, “You’re too good to be true.”

She just dozed off. No answer needed.

But time catches up, doesn’t it?

By spring, he was barely in Italy. Pre-season, media, the whole nine yards. She was buried in depositions, study groups, late-night phone calls that rang forever, straight to voicemail. She tried not to be mad. Tried real hard.

But loving a ghost? Not so easy.

After a brutal exam, she finally cracked.

YN: Can we talk tonight? Please.

He read it. Didn’t answer.

Next day, just: Kimi: Sorry. Got pulled into sim work. Tomorrow?

Tomorrow slipped into next week. Next week stretched to a month.

When he finally showed up, she met him at the track before Monaco. Heart pounding loud enough to scare pigeons.

“I feel like I’m dating a ghost,” she blurted out, voice a mess.

His smile wobbled. “I know it’s been hard—”

She cut him off. “You don’t know. You don’t even ask anymore.”

He looked like she’d slapped him. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” she whispered, tears threatening, “what’s not fair is loving someone who’s never here.”

He tried, “I’m trying, YN.”

“So am I.”

And that was it. Both trying. Just… not together.

She left. He didn’t chase.

Weeks went by. She drowned herself in case law and moot court. He kept racing, kept winning. Outside? Business as usual. Inside? Everything was sideways.

Then, on some rainy night in May, she opened her door and there he was. Hoodie dripping, suitcase at his feet, hair a riot.

“I missed you,” he said.

She stood there, frozen.

“I didn’t realize how much until you were gone. After Imola, all I wanted was your voice. Winning’s not winning if I don’t have you.”

Her resolve kind of crumbled.

He stepped closer, shivering, “I’m sorry. I should’ve tried harder.”

She sniffed, “So should I.”

He squeezed her hand, cold and familiar. “You still have my hoodie.”

She actually laughed, wiping her eyes. “Still smells like you.”

“Good,” he whispered, resting his forehead on hers. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”

She didn’t.

She kissed him instead.

Slow. Solid.

And honestly? When they crashed out together on her narrow twin bed, whole world could’ve burned down and it wouldn’t have mattered. Exams, races, all the noise—gone. Just them.

Easy? Never. Worth it? Every damn time.

Some people, you break for them. And you rebuild. Together.

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

What we know about each Yellowjackets character’s life before the plane crash

Shauna

Not a lot is known about Shauna’s childhood, but it definitely seems like she had an estranged relationship with her parents. It is confirmed that Shauna’s parents divorced when she was younger. Jackie mentioned that Shauna lied to her about her father’s sudden absence, saying that he was traveling a lot because he had become the new president of Hello Kitty (aww Shauna). This suggests that, after the divorce, Shauna had little to no contact with her father. Additionally, Shauna never even mentions her parents in the adult timeline, which may imply that she is no longer on speaking terms with either of them. Further emphasizing this distance is her childhood bedroom, which appeared to be in an attic. Whether she chose to sleep there or not, this detail speaks volumes about how separated or neglected she felt by her family.

Shauna had been best friends with Jackie since grade school, although their relationship was strained by jealousy and Shauna's feeling of living in Jackie's shadow. Nevertheless, their love for each other ran DEEP (a little too deep). Shauna’s jealousy of Jackie led her to lose her virginity to Jeff, Jackie’s long-term boyfriend, behind Jackie’s back. The night before the crash, Jeff and Shauna slept together again and she became pregnant with his child.

We also know that Shauna was a straight-A student and received admission to Brown University right before the crash, and she was a very good soccer player (she was very fast according to Coach Martinez!) even though she apparently didn’t even like soccer.

Shauna was most likely a Defensive Midfielder on the soccer field, given that her jersey number was 6. This means that she was in charge of acting as a shield in the midfield, breaking up attacks, covering teammates, and intercepting passes.

Jackie

Jackie appears to have come from a wealthy family given how massive her house was (complete with those fancy mansion columns). She was an only child and lived with both her parents. Jackie’s parents seemed to put a lot of pressure on her to be perfect, and we see that they tend to brag about her achievements (even after her death), which highlights their high expectations for Jackie’s success. Jackie’s mother may have had a dependence on prescription drugs, as she mentioned that her mom was on “ten different kind of downers”, some of which (Valium) Jackie stole to fall asleep on the plane.

Jackie was popular in school and was the captain of the Yellowjackets soccer team (more expectations that she had to live up to). She was said to possess great influence over others due to her natural leadership skills and magnetism. She had been dating Jeff since freshman year, although she mentioned having broken up with him multiple times, so it seems like it was a tumultuous relationship. She refused to have sex with him due to wanting to make losing her virginity special. Jackie planned to go to Rutgers for college and be roommates with Shauna.

We can assume Jackie was a forward/striker on the soccer field due to her jersey number: 9. This means her primary role was scoring goals.

Natalie

Out of all of the Yellowjackets characters, Natalie’s life pre-crash is explored in arguably the most detail. We learn that she came from a low-income family and lived in a small, cluttered trailer with her parents, both of whom appeared to struggle with drinking and drug problems. Her father worked a blue-collar job, possibly as a mechanic, given the (tire?) patch on his work shirt, while her mother, Vera, seemed to stay at home, often drinking and sleeping throughout the day. We also know that Nat’s father was physically and verbally abusive to her and her mother.

Nat’s best friend was Kevyn Tan, whom we first see her with when she is 14 or 15 years-old, although it seems like they had been friends for a while before that. Kevyn had a significant crush on Natalie, which she was unaware of. When Nat was 14 or 15, her father found Kevyn in her bedroom one day and berated Nat, thinking that they were sleeping together. This escalated into her father beating her mother, prompting Natalie to grab a gun and attempt to shoot him. However, she forgot to take off the safety. Her father then took the gun but accidentally shot himself in the head after tripping on the stairs.

It is strongly implied that Natalie's mother blamed her for his death, as she makes comments in the present day like, "You never know what you have until it gets ripped away from you." This suggests that Natalie had a cold and distant relationship with her mother.

It appears that Nat spent much of her high school years experimenting with drugs and sex to cope with her guilt and had gained a reputation at her school for being sexually promiscuous and a “burnout.”

Somehow she ended up playing soccer, and she was likely a right midfielder or winger given her jersey number: 7. This means she was in charge of attacks in the midfield and passing the ball to other teammates closer to the goal.

And one more interesting detail: Nat was definitely a hardcore feminist in her teen years, as we can see riot grrrl posters all over her childhood bedroom walls.

Travis

We get very little information about Travis’s life before the crash, but we know that he lived with his father, Bill, his little brother, Javi, and his mother. Travis stated that his father was “a shit dad” who “didn’t even like him,” so he clearly did not have a good relationship with his father. Additionally, before leaving to get on the plane, we see that Coach Martinez leaned in to attempt to give his wife a kiss goodbye, but she turned away and appeared stiff. Travis rolled his eyes at this. My guess is that Coach Martinez cheated on his wife and Travis knew about it. His parents’ relationship was strained after the affair but they stayed together for the kids, and Travis resented his father for it. Just definitely seems like the context behind that scene.

Travis seemed to hold some resentment towards Javi as well given his harsh treatment of him even before the crash, perhaps because he received more attention and care from their father. We also know that Travis was bullied since 7th grade after he had spinal fusion surgery and Bobby Farleigh made up the rumor that he got one of his ribs removed to perform…certain acts on himself, earning him the nickname “Flex.”

Van

We got a brief scene in the pilot episode of Van’s home life. Like Natalie, Van also appears to have come from a low-income home. Van’s father was likely not involved in her life, as Van’s mom seemed to be the only option when she needed a ride to the airport and her father was never mentioned. Van’s mother was an alcoholic, as she was laying passed out on the couch and Van had to slap her to wake her up. It seems like Van had to take on a parental role with her mother and likely had to raise herself for the most part. In the adult timeline, Tai mentions that Van had always had a strained relationship with her mother.

Van went to New York City once for her 7th birthday and wanted to do the carriage ride in Central Park, but she was taken to see Cats instead. She dreamed of going back to NYC and doing the carriage ride ever since.

Van is the Yellowjackets’s goalie, and it seems like she and her teammate Taissa had a romantic relationship before the crash (or were at least flirting a lot).

Lottie

Lottie’s pre-crash life gets explored in a little more detail. Lottie grew up in a very wealthy family. Her father, Malcolm, is a businessman who seemed very strict and controlling. Lottie’s mother, Emilia, seemed more soft and understanding of Lottie’s potential gifts. We see that, as a child, Lottie often experienced strange visions, including a time in which she started to scream in the backseat of the car while her parents were at a red light, which ended up preventing them from getting into a car crash when the light turned green. It is implied that Lottie experienced these visions often. Lottie’s parents argued over the nature of these visions, with Malcolm saying that Lottie had psychological issues and needed to be fixed, while Emilia argued that Lottie had a gift for seeing the future. Lottie was placed on medication for schizophrenia, and she is seen taking this medication the morning of the crash.

Lottie had a disconnected relationship with her father. It seems like he never understood her and neglected her as a result. It is implied that he wasn’t around much due to his work. Lottie said that her dad paying for the private plane to take the Yellowjackets to Nationals was “basically his only form of parenting.”

Lottie, according to Coach Martinez, is a talented soccer player with great footwork. Lottie is likely a Defender on the soccer field, given her jersey number: 5. This means she was in charge of keeping the other team from scoring goals and stopping attacks.

Taissa

Tai appears to have come from the most well-adjusted household among the group. She lived in a nice home with both of her parents, who seemed supportive, as shown in their brief interaction in the pilot episode. Her mother offered to drive her to the airport, while her father was cooking breakfast. He reminded Tai that "the most important thing is to have fun," which conveyed a sense of care and encouragement. Despite this, Tai was always intensely focused on success and hard work. As a star player on the soccer team, she was implied to be the best player, according to Coach Martinez.

When Tai was little, her grandmother got sick and Tai often visited her on her death bed. Not long before her grandmother’s death, she saw a “man with no eyes” in the mirror of the bedroom and began to scream. Tai saw this man, as well, and also began to scream. At her grandmother’s open-casket funeral, Tai noticed that her grandmother’s eyes were missing.

Tai was likely in a romantic relationship with Van before the crash.

According to the Pilot episode script, Taissa is the star midfielder of the Yellowjackets. Her jersey number is 8, also supporting that she is a Central Midfielder, which is often considered to be the most difficult position on the field. This means she acted as a link between defense and attack in the midfield.

Misty

Misty was clearly a social outcast before the crash. She was bullied throughout her school years. One classmate, Becky, frequently targeted her with prank phone calls, spreading rumors and mocking her with her friends. During one of these calls, Misty quoted Plato, hinting at her intelligence and academic inclinations. Misty clearly loved learning and equipping herself with knowledge, as she obsessively took Red Cross babysitting classes, had a great deal of medical skills, and paid close attention in Coach Ben’s health classes. Misty always craved the feeling of being useful and needed by her peers. This was most apparent in the scene where Allie broke her leg—Misty was the first to spring into action, trying to help, although her attempt was unsuccessful.

We can also see that Misty may have always had some sociopathic tendencies, as she is seen watching a rat struggle and drown in a pool with no emotion on her face the morning before the crash.

As the Yellowjackets’ equipment manager, Misty didn’t play soccer herself but still found a way to be involved with the team. Her responsibilities likely included maintaining equipment, ordering new gear, and issuing uniforms to the players.