#I had to take exams to go to university...

[maddamoiselle]

The Weight of Wanting You

Pairing: Caleb x NonMC!Reader

Synopsis: You fell for each other in pixels and whispers—never realizing you had already crashed into each other every day in real life.

Tags: Ennemies to lovers, friends to lovers, university AU, slow burn( I hope)

Author's nonsense: I'm not finished with Tied Soul and Burning Heart. Do not worry. Just... this story couldn't get out of my head, so .. here it is. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Words: a.5k

You spun your pencil between your fingers as the teacher was talking about the results of the exams your class took. His voice was stern, almost disappointed by the results of his class’s hard work.

You bit your lips as he started to call each student, saying the grade out loud and, as usual, from the worst to the best. Of course, no one lingered once they received their marks. They just left the room.

You started to relax once you realized half the class had received their grade. A sigh of relief left your lips. Maybe you’ll manage to have the best grade in the class. Which meant you’ll be able to gloat to your—

“ Is she missing ?”

You raised from your seat as you realized your teacher had called your name twice. You quickly walked toward him, his desk at the bottom of the amphitheater’s stairs. The smile you gave your teacher was like the sun as he congratulated you, giving a few pieces of advice to have a perfect mark.

Once your sheet was inside your bag, you spun around to walk up the stairs and leave the room. You scoffed when you heard the teacher call for the last student in the amphitheater.

Tall, striking and impossible to ignore.

Xia Caleb.

He had his bag on one shoulder, walking with a relaxed confidence. Everyone on campus was jealous or adoring him. From sport to class, he always came up first. The campus’s heartthrob.

He was nice to everyone, such a good boy…

Well, everyone but you.

Because you both hated each other.

As you passed him as he went down the stairs, you managed to hear his voice just before you put on your earphones.

”Tell me, do you even remember what being first feels like? Or has it been that long? Second place isn’t bad but it’s pathetic when you act like it’s an accomplishment.”

You snapped your head toward him, staring into his cold eyes. He gave you his signature smile, the one he gave to everyone. But you were the only one to know that hateful side of that … poor excuse of a man.

“ Enjoy first while it lasts. You won’t see it coming when I take it from you.” You spat at him. He rolled his eyes at you, his polite smile vanishing from his face. “ What, afraid of a little rivalry?”

” You keep calling it a rivalry. I call it repetition.”

You stared as he walked toward the teacher, not bothering to wait for a come back from you. You almost wanted to throw your bag at the back of his head, but the teacher would be a witness.

You walked out of the room, putting on your earphones before walking on the campus. Time was flying, and you needed to grab a train to go to Linkon. The next ride was in 2 hours, you could go to your apartment, take a shower, grab your suitcases and then—

A soft, high-pitched noise reached your ears before you crashed into someone.You tried so hard not to swear when your phone fell on the ground, screen against the floor.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You looked down at the girl in front of you and sighed. As you helped her get up, you looked around, making sure he wasn’t there to witness such a scene.

If Caleb hated you, it was surely because during your first year, you were playing with your friend and, unfortunately, injured his precious girlfriend. He was furious with you and cornered you somewhere, and menacing you if you ever hurt her again, that would be the last thing you’d do.

Everyone on campus knew that Caleb and his “pipsqueak” were a tag team. He was very protective of her, and any guys that tried to seduce were met with a smiling Caleb, accusing them of stealing his girlfriend.

You didn’t really hate that girl. You just didn’t want to have any troubles. She always seemed to try to hang out with you, she wasn’t bad… But her boyfriend was.

That jerk.

”I should be the one apologising.” You sighed before noticing she was carrying boxes that were now on the floor. Checking the time one more time, you realized you still had time before going to Linkon and meeting up with your best friend. “Do you need help?”

”No, no, I’m strong! I’m going to be a hunter after all— What the hell!”

You didn’t touch the boxes. You didn't have to.

Instead, you breathed in. Slow. Calm. And the air answered.

It curled around your fingers like a ribbon pulled from a spool, invisible but obedient. Then it spread, widening, thinning, and becoming dozens of slender threads that slithered between cardboard and gravity.

The boxes jerked slightly—startled, maybe—but then they floated, just an inch or two, as if the air beneath them had grown suddenly thicker, like soft hands cradling their weight.

You guided them with a tilt of your palm. The wind flowed under and around, swirling upward at the corners to keep the balance, twisting gently like invisible dancers holding a tray overhead.

"Uh... are those boxes hovering?" She asked, eyes wide.

“They're getting carried,” you said. “Same as you were doing. Just with better posture.”

You walked beside your little wind parade, nudging the air now and then when a box drifted too far left. It's not glamorous. It's not heroic. It’s a little clumsy… It’s your evol.

Air manipulation.

”Your evol looks like Caleb’s!” She laughed as her hands were moving through the wind under the floating boxes.

You knew.

How many people have told you that? Always comparing your evol to Caleb’s? His evol was more controlled, stricter, and more relatable. While yours was clumsy, free-like, childish…

After following the girl for maybe ten minutes, you finally let the wind drop the boxes into a classroom. You quickly check your phone, trying to show Caleb’s girlfriend you were busy.

”We definitely should hang out some other times!”

You nodded while walking backward, putting your earphones back where they belonged. After a small wave, you dashed toward your apartment, using the wind to make you a little faster.

The door to your apartment opened as soon as you taped your code. After a quick shower, you made sure your suitcase was ready. You looked at yourself in the mirror and nodded before dashing to the train station.

The train was five minutes late, which made you able to catch it. You sat on a seat and smiled as you realized you had a notification of a very popular game you started playing years ago.

Seems like the game was in maintenance.

You went on Discord and smirked when you saw a notification about a message you didn't see today.

You always loved playing games, it helped you relax. A few years ago, you met this man online who helped you level up and finish the game. You both had fun, like a lot, and ended up writing to each other in Discord. You never saw his face or heard his voice. And it was the same for him.

You both didn’t want any drama, so you just decided to keep personal info for yourself. In the end, it worked well because you were always talking to each other. You didn’t know his face or his voice, but after all these years, you felt like you knew him perfectly.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (15:54): Dearest of friend, support of my warrior, healer of my health bar

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (15:54): tell me you have enough space on your computer because OUR game is in maintenance. Like a BIG maintenance. The new patch is 78GB

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (15:55): don’t give me the “ I have no more space ><“ bullshit because I’ll fucking crash out kqhdkf

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (15:57): we are playing tonight, you’ll have enough space in your computer, we’ll play all weekend :D RIGHT??

A soft scoffed left your lips as you read his message. Your grin didn’t leave your face as you typed your answers.

WindQueen.exe( 16:15): Do you think I live in a NASA server farm buddy? 78GB??

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 16:16): we both know you have 12GB of screenshots of me raging through the chat. That can be deleted. that should have been deleted

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:16): just tidy your computer :) pls

WindQueen.exe (16:17): nah

WindQueen.exe (16:17): I keep that. Too precious. I die laughing each time i read your rage

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:17): fine, fine

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:17): but if you don’t clear space, I’m going to have to play the new expansion alone

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:17): me

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:17): alone :’((

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:18): with strangers :’(((((

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:18): who don’t say “ we drop in, we mess up physics, we win pretty” every time we launch into battle

You laughed behind your hand, trying to keep your voice low. You’ve been a friend for maybe three or four years, and he really felt like you had already met multiple times. You wanted to meet him sometimes, but you were too scared… And for now… everything was good, so there was no need to create chaos.

WindQueen.exe (16:19): That’s emotional blackmail, and i’m reporting you to the discord mods

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 16:19) : i AM the mods

WindQueen.exe (16:19): … damn it

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:20): pls

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:20): just delete 3 folders of cursed meme and I’ll buy you the in-game wings you wanted

WindQueen.exe (16:20): …

WindQueen.exe (16:20) : make them glittery

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:21): deal

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (16:21): bless you storage goddess

You chuckled once more before watching a video about the new expansion. You were so excited to play it again. They created new classes, new maps, and a new story… Thank god the exams were over.

WindQueen.exe (16:30): Do you already have a strategy for our raid?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 16:35): Strategy? The usual: loosely improvised and morally questionable. :)

WindQueen.exe (16:37): ok :) we’re so going to die :)

You scoffed as he sent you a thumb up. The ride to Linkon wasn’t that long, so before you noticed it, you were already out of the train, walking toward your destination.

The door opened and a waiter came to you. The cafe shop wasn’t full, and your eyes immediately fell on the dark-haired man’s back. You smiled at the waiter before walking toward your friend with a big smile.

You saw his back tense before you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, your cheek pressing against his face.

”Hey my little princess, how are you?” You gushed before making half a heart with your two fingers, waiting for him to do the same.

Hazel green eyes turned toward you, and a subtle amused smile sketched his lips as his gaze fell on your finger. He sighed before completing your heart by making the other side with his own finger.

”I don’t see how it looks like a heart.”

”Zayne, you wear glasses, that is why. Your point of view is irrelevant.”

”And I still operate on people’s hearts.”

”Scary.”

You sat in front of him with a big smile.

Zayne has been your friend for 13 years now, and a lot of people were surprised when they met you. Most of Zayne’s friends were doctors. You were the only one — you think — that was … normal? Energetic, loud, clumsy…?

But in the end, a lot of the hospital's staff liked it when you came for Zayne. You noticed them looking at the two of you, laughing at your interaction. You were like the wind, bursting the window open, making noises, being seen and felt. Zayne was like ice, calm, composed, watching you vibing around him.

” By the way,” you said after another monologue Zayne listened while eating his sweet. Most people would think Zayne didn’t care about gossip, and they were true. But when you were the one talking about it, he would stare at you, his expression telling everything you needed to know. “ Spill the tea.”

Zayne lifted his cup, slow and casual, like he’s weighing how much dignity he was about to sacrifice.

“Doctor Rivas matched with four different people on the same dating app. All under different aliases. He somehow forgot we all share one base-wide Wi-Fi ID.”

You nearly choked on foam.

“Wait—wait—he catfished himself??”

Zayne nodded, utterly unbothered.

“And flirted with his own dummy account for three days. Send a haiku.”

“You have it, don’t you?”

Zayne siped. Then pulled out his tablet.

“‘Mission log of my lonely heart

Call sign: Forbidden Touch

Craving your launch code.’”

You wheezed not minding the stares from the people.

“Tell me you saw his reaction when he realized you all were aware of it!” You grabbed the table while trying to find air to breathe.

“I had to pretend the protocol was still alive.”

You bursted out laughing and he smirked, eyes crinkling just a little.

“Also… Nurse Mira tried to use a hover cart as a shortcut through the mess hall. She made it to the salad bar before gravity betrayed her.”

“Why do I always miss these things?!” Your fist banged against the table. How unfair, you didn’t have that much gossip from school.

“Because you're actually being productive. Disgusting behavior, honestly.”

He siped, serene. You took a bite of your pastry and narrowed your eyes. But then, you couldn’t stop giggling, and Zayne actually smiled — the kind that’s small, rare, and only ever happens when he’s with you and no one else is watching.

“I know this isn’t tactical… but I like this. The quiet. The chaos from a distance.”

“You mean gossip.”

“I prefer ‘strategic morale intelligence.’” Zayne smirked at you while you rolled your eyes with a fond smile. “I enjoy seeing the masks crack. It reminds me that everyone is just one poorly timed sneeze away from humiliation.”

“That’s so beautifully evil.” You giggled while using a tissue to wipe your tears, minding your mascara.

He raised his cup in salute.

“And yet, I tell you first. Consider it an exclusive. You’re the only one I trust not to post it to the station bulletin.”

You leaned in, conspiratorial.

“Because you adore me?”

“Because I know you’re capable of war.”

You clinked cups again, a toast to shared secrets and dangerous friendship.

The coffee is warm. The trust? Even warmer.

After your full gossip session, you both left the coffee shop under the staff’s eyes. Now that you thought about it, while Zayne was calm on the trail, you were the one wheezing and snorting so loud… You almost fell from your chair twice.

”I’ll drive you to your parent’s house.”

You nodded, putting the suitcase on the seat before sitting next to him. You immediately connected your phone to his radio and started playing your favorite song.

You were using your phone as a mic before pointing toward Zayne when you wanted him to sing the next lyrics or when you knew he enjoyed the part in the song.

After a while, Zayne dropped you off in front of your parents' house. He helped you carry your suitcase inside before getting ready to go back home. He didn't seem surprise that your dad wasn't there, and who would blame him?

You gave him a big hug before going straight in your bedroom and turning on your computer. You took your phone and grinned when you saw his message.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (18:43): did you do it :)

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (18:43): you did right

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(18:44): answer me woman!

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(18:44): how is your storage??

You giggled at his message. He seemed deseparate….

WindQueen.exe(19:01): but there are so many memes I use :(

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:01): :)))

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:01): just send them to me, ill keep them on my computers

WindQueen.exe (19:01): awn <3

After a whole thirty minutes of cleaning your storage. You finally did it.

WindQueen.exe(19:34): the rage folder has been… archived

WindQueen.exe(19:34]: the cursed memes are in exile

WindQueen.exe (19:34): the desktop is clean

WindQueen.exe (19:35): you may now rejoice, oh pixel prince

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:36): 😱😱😱

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:36): SHE DID IT

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:36): I’m crying in GPU tears rn

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:36):: queue up. I’m launching the game. Wings out. Attitude on.

WindQueen.exe (19:37): I want the glittery ones

WindQueen.exe (19:37): and a new sword. Something that says “I cleared 80GB for this.”

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:39): Done. You’re getting the sparkliest sword in the kingdom. It pings every time it hits.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:39): Ping. Ping. Ping.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:39): That’s the sound of justice AND hard drive freedom.

WindQueen.exe (19:40): god that’s hot

WindQueen.exe (19:40): LET’S DROP IN. WIND ME UP, BABY.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(19:40): Chaos meets matchmaking queue.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (19:40): LET’S GO MAKE THE PHYSICS ENGINE CRY.

You arrived first, floating on spirals of wind, your avatar’s wings glowing silver-blue, trailing streaks of air behind them like light caught in motion.

You landed soft, zero impact, a swirl of petals and pixels around your boots. Pose: confident. Sword: glittery as hell. Your name flashed above your avatar.

WINDQUEEN.EXE

His avatar slammed down two seconds later, gravity trailing behind him like a cloak of falling stars. His landing craters the ground in a cinematic boom, chunks of stone hovering weightless for a breathless moment before clattering down in reverse slow-mo. And his name popped up above his head.

GRAV1TY.D3N1ED

You used your mic, your avatar using her own voice to talk in game.

"Nice of you to finally fall for me."

"Wasn't falling. I was aiming.” His avatar's voice answered.

“You ready?”

“I was born ready. But more importantly—your storage was reborn.”

You laughed, shaking your head, taking a sip of water.

“Bless this SSD.”

You both immediately went for the new map, not caring about the new monsters and their new skills. You just wanted to have fun with him. You wondered if his voice was similar to his avatar…

”Alright, ready? I think this is the lesser levelled mobs.”

”Of course, who do you think I am? We drop in, we mess up physics, we win pretty.”

”Amen.”

After one hour in a raid, your avatars were staying in a safe zone. You didn’t expect the new patch to be this easy. You were almost disappointed… but you needed to win each area before continuing.

You landed with a dramatic flourish, even though there’s no one around to see it. You did it for the aesthetic.

His avatar landed next to you with less flair but no less drama — his health bar blinking red from just barely surviving that boss’s final attack.

“Okay, be honest. You thought I was going to forget to heal you at the end, didn’t you?” Your avatar spoke through the game.

“I was already drafting my will. It said: ‘Tell WindQueen to clear her hard drive more often.’” He chuckled.

“Rude. I cleared seventy-eight gigabytes for this moment.”

“And every pixel was worth it. Did you see that combo? We practically rewrote physics.” He whistled, his avatar stretching himself.

"Physics was crying. Newton logged off."

"Einstein said 'nope' and phased through the floor."

You both just sat there for a second in the peaceful glow of victory. Your avatars doing idle animations: his cracking his knuckles, yours stretching like a cat.

“…we are so obnoxiously powerful together.” You scoffed, sipping your water with deep satisfaction.

“And humble. Don’t forget humble.”

“Oh yeah. Definitely the most humble players on the server.”

“Wanna run it again? Or are you emotionally recovering from deleting your meme folders?” He teased you.

“I’m emotionally recovering from you. Queue us up.”

“Yes ma’am. Let’s go break the universe again.”

You started another raid with stronger monsters. You knew you would be able to win and get all the delicious rewards you saw.

…

The environment was lava-lit and cracking apart. The enemies? Twice their level, twice their size, and way too smug-looking for digital creatures.

Spiked golems, firestorms, giant flaming crows — it’s a mess.

“Okay, this is fine. This is totally fine. I’ve only been set on fire three times in the last ten seconds.” you said while your fingers were flying on the keyboard, trying to keep your avatar alive and the monster away from your partner.

“Correction: four. You missed the one where the crow insulted your haircut.”

“I will yeet you off this cliff.” You spat, even if your lips turned into a smile.

“You’d miss me. Also I’m the only one keeping these golems from turning us into player jerky.”

“I'm the one pushing them back with wind blasts!”

“You’re just blow-drying them aggressively.”

“Oh wow. Okay. Next healing boost is mine, boy.”

“Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting your chat logs.” He said as he avoided another blow from the golems, which seemed ready to crush him each time he was trying to attack their healer.

“You already do.”

Suddenly, a molten hammer smashed down, barely missing you both. You cursed in your mic, drinking potion while trying to dodge another attack.

“ Move, or I swear I will use my ult to launch you like a volleyball.”

The battle was chaotic. Screaming lava wolves. Exploding terrain. A miniboss with too many swords. The mob aggro was intense, and the game's soundtrack was blaring like it knew you were about to die.

“Hey. Hey! HEY! You pulled the boss and like, twenty-six mobs.”

“Correction: twenty-seven. I aggro’d a lava deer. It looked at me funny.”

“You WHAT—?!” You frantically healed him. Your wind swirled like a whirlwind of desperation and regret. One more hit, and your friend’s avatar was down, your mana bar’s flashing red, and there was a burning crow dive bombing from the sky.

“I AM ONE PIXEL FROM DEATH.”

“I have a plan.” You heard him, his voice turning serious.

“If it involves dying and blaming me, again, I will unplug you myself.”

“No. I’m going to use my ult and turn this whole mob into space dust.”

“Fine. Do it. Channel your inner dramatic anime moment.” You chuckled, watching your health bar turning emptier and emptier by the seconds.

He floated into the air, gravity pulsing around him like a dying sun. It’s majestic. It’s epic. It’s—

“GUESS WHO IS HERE BITCHES—!”

You stared as his avatar was attacked by a crow who clearly pooped a bomb on his head, making it interrupt his ult. You smashed your head against your desk, trying to keep yourself from laughing too loud.

“…Did you just get dive-bombed by a bird and lose your ultimate.”

“It was majestic and tactical bird poop.”

“I’m logging off. I’m uninstalling. I’m joining a puzzle game guild.”

A lava wolf pounced. Your healing was on cooldown. Your friend was stunned. Your wind blasted push literally nothing.

[ “TOTAL PARTY WIPE.”]

Your characters collapsed dramatically. Grav1ty.D3n1ed's ragdoll pose was especially tragic. You took a screenshot immediately.

“…So… dinner and a post-mortem?”

“We died to a flaming pigeon and a spicy Wolf.”

You both decided not to try this boss again when you realized it was already midnight. You groaned before going into Discord. You still felt upset about your loss, and you were starting to be very hungry. One screen showed your avatars sitting together on a cliff, and your other screen was showing your conversation in discord.

WindQueen.exe (00:15):I just want to talk.

WindQueen.exe (00:15):To whoever programmed that crow.

WindQueen.exe (00:15):With fists.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:16):...I was mid-ult. MID. ULT.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:16):That bird is my worst ennemy now.

WindQueen.exe (00:17): it pooped on your ability bar, idiot.

WindQueen.exe (00:17): It wasn’t an enemy. It was an insult.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:18): I’m filing an in-game trauma report.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:18): Cause of death: aerial fecal sabotage.

WindQueen.exe (00:18): Meanwhile I was over here wind-blasting like a manic ceiling fan.

WindQueen.exe (00:19):Nothing.

WindQueen.exe (00:19):Not even a breeze of victory. Just flames.

WindQueen.exe (00:19): And shame.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:19):Honestly? We looked cool.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:20):Right before we died.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:20): Like, we went down with style.

WindQueen.exe (00:20): Oh, absolutely.

WindQueen.exe (00:21):10/10 drama.

WindQueen.exe (00:21): Zero survivability.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:21): I'm putting that on a t-shirt.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:21): "Our love language is revive timers." ❤️

WindQueen.exe (00:22): Not even timers. We died so fast the game laughed.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:22):Hey…

Grav1ty.D3n1ed(00:22): You healed me like ten times.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:22): That’s basically a digital love confession.

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling warm inside. You weren’t in love with your digital friend… But after all those years, you couldn’t help but think you might have a tiny crush for him. The way he writes, how funny he can be, or how much of a loser he likes to be to make you laugh..

How was he in real life…?

WindQueen.exe (00:23): Don’t flatter yourself.

WindQueen.exe (00:23): That was pure survival instinct.

WindQueen.exe (00:23)Also... maybe a little love.

WindQueen.exe (00:23): Like, 3% love.

WindQueen.exe (00:24): 97% panic.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:24): I’ll take it.

WindQueen.exe (00:25):I’m not queuing with you again until I’ve had emotional support cookies and a new wind spell.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:25): deal.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:25):but next run?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:26): we avenge ourselves.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:26): that crow’s going down.

WindQueen.exe (00:27): I’m naming my next spell CROW SLAYER.

WindQueen.exe (00:27) It'll sparkle. Out of spite.

You yawned before tapping that you were going to eat some noodles.

WindQueen.exe (00:28): i should prob sleep

WindQueen.exe (00:28) been staring at this cliff for 20 mins lol

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:28): Have you ever thought about how we talk more here than with people in real life?

You bit your thumb, staring at your screen. The soft music from the game was the only sound you could hear in your silent bedroom. You didn’t know who was behind the screen, but…

Gosh, you wish you did.

You were always talking to each other, sending memes, jokes, or just talking about your day. From what you knew, he was a man, the same age as you, he was living with his little sister and an old hag. He was a nerd, but he always seemed to be at the gym.

WindQueen.exe (00:30): All the time.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:31): It’s strange…I don’t even know your name

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:31): But i feel like… i already know you..? The real you? Not the sparkly air-sword version.

You snorted at that.

WindQueen.exe (00:32): that version is 20% cooler, though.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:32): true lol but i like both

Your heart stuttered, and for a second, you checked to make sure your mic was off. you were almost afraid he could hear it through the headset.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:33): not in a weird way!

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:33): just i feel like i can be myself with u

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:34): not being… a perfect shield…?

You frowned at those words. A perfect shield…? You had noticed when he was talking about his sister or friend, how he would always take the leader’s role, or how he said he couldn’t fail.

Even when you were playing on your first games, he was always tense, never wanting to lose. You didn’t really know how you managed it, but after a while, he started laughing and joking when both of you would lose.

He truly seemed relaxed enough.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:36): do you... see me in a bad light now?

WindQueen.exe (00:36): no no !

WindQueen.exe (00:36): i just realized how much i wanna give you a hug

You bit your lips.. Were you going to make a mistake…?

You took your phone and took a selfie where you made a half heart with your finger. Of course, you made sure your face wasn’t in the picture, just your top and your fingers that were illuminated by your screen’s light.

Now, you just needed to send it… easy…

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:37): awn :)

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 00:37): That’s adorable

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:37): if we ever hug, can i john cena you on the sofa?? I feel like you would so easy to handle

WindQueen.exe sent a media (00:37)

You read his message, smiling a bit. He was so… cute in a way? You stood up from your chair when you saw the ‘read’ notification under your picture. You went into the kitchen, boiled water, and took some noodles from your secret hideout.

Why did you send that picture? It was so embarrassing!

You looked at your phone, your heart skipping a bit when you realized he sent multiple messages.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed ( 00:38): that’s so cute ???

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:38): I’m sure you so embarrassed rn :)

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:38): would you believe me if I’m actually hiding my face in my hands??

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:38): fuck I’m blushing???

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:39): don’t fucking run away come back

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00;42): the old hag came to ask why i was punching the walls

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:42); Should i punch her instead?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:43): can i complete the heart?

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:43): you’re lucky I’m cute under pressure

Grav1ty.D3n1ed Sent a media (00:44)

It was his hand, angled carefully to match yours, his fingers curved into the other half of the heart. You could just barely see part of a jack sleeve, his knuckles a little scuffed…

Were you blushing? It was just his finger!

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:45) : Gravity commits

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:45): even when it’s falling

… Your heart was beating way too fast…

WindQueen.exe (00:45): So that’s the fingers that made us lose today.

Grav1ty.D3n1ed (00:45): D:

You couldn’t help but laugh, taking your noodles with you back to your room. It was easier to ignore the feeling your heart was trying to make you acknowledge. You both talk together a bit before logging off.

You finished your noodles before falling into your bed with a dumb face. You wondered if you were falling in love with a man you never met..? Did you even have time for love? You still have to study a lot to be able to go into the fleet… You closed your eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly.

Your screen was still on, with the picture you sent and his together.

[writtencrone]

Captain, oh my Captain.

Oc x male reader or, Scary-General-Who-Is-Actually-Kind-Of-ALoser-Top-OC x Power-Bottom-esque-kind-of-go-with-the-flow-or-are-you-dissasociating-reader In an alternate future, were aliens and humans walk the same planet and Earth is under the rule of a benevolent Emperor... When your family falls into dire straights you attempt to auction off your body for a quick cash grab. Instead, a retired General and left-hand of the Emperor is enamoured by your body heat. You end up signing a year long contract to be his personal heat patch for the twelve-hour of the nights.

Or, when a seemingly cold and serious general is actually a loser and you bear witness to his full goofiness in all the best (and worst) ways.

Includes - mentions of derealisation, dubious consent at first tbh, jerking off (both of you!!! eventually...), propaganda, allusions to war, genetic programming, allusions to trauma, also expressive top oc . He does... grab your dick and squeeze ? Not in the pleasurable way, in like, turn up the thermostat way. Brief mentions of killing people. English is nawt really my first language, so have some mercy! Comment to be added to a taglist for future works - or just pt 2!

w/c 5.2 k

 Humanity had made contact with aliens two-thousand years ago. History had never been your strong suit, but you know that Earth lives in the Emperor's heart as a safe-zone, and for it urbanisation had boomed to accommodate the different species feeling from the outer edges of the warring universe.

That's why you chose architecture – born and raised in a city where buildings towered to the sky, you had a love for simple architecture.

“Good teeth,” the Appraiser observed. “Could use some flossing - but all intact.”

That felt oddly targeted, so you try to stifle your malcontent feelings. You've succeeded in stifling every other part of you so far – the feeling of the Appraiser's thumb lifting your lip, his nails grazing against your gums through the thin latex.

 The harsh lights of the exam rooms, the metal edges of the doctor's seat digging into your thighs and the cold seeping through the light blue scrubs.  Somewhere in the distance, a thin beeping noise was taking account of someone's heartbeat and a holoscreen silently broadcasted the latest news from across the galaxy.

What you can't ignore is why you're doing this. Your brother had a problem. Growing up, you were both big nerds. In some ways, you felt strangely responsible for introducing him to gacha games. By the time you even knew about the obsession he had harboured, it was too late. He owed a little over a hundred thousand to some shady credit card businesses.

So, paying back that and the interest - coupled with the cost of sending your brother to some counselling for his addiction - left you in dire straits. Your brother had begged you not to tell your parents, and even if you did they would only be in the same position as you.

So you, an intern at an Architects office, who's thankful just for being paid at all, decided to sell your body.

There were plenty of human fetishists out there - especially since there was a general desire for people who looked 100% human, no modifications, no alien features. There was something to be said in this about the concept of purity, but you had someone's thumb in your mouth so you had nothing to say at all. Other than you wanted the starting bid to commence at 150,000, and see how it climbs. 

“Your history cleared out as well,” The Appraiser beamed from three of its mouths. “Although your diet is immensely paltry.”

Ah, good old surveillance state. You lay back down the seat, the thin paper crinkling beneath your back. 

“So, when will I get paid?”

The Appraiser took off his latex gloves with a snap and binned it with a gleeful hum.

“We take our cut right out of the check, then it’s deposited right into your account.”

Then it will be scattered to lenders and doctors offices and to your parents. You’ll never really have it. This whole experience felt so distinctly unreal, but under the fluorescent light you could see everything starkly.

Then you’re taken backstage, right before it’s your turn. You watch the Auctioneer sell off a vapor-mined jewel for just under 800,000 and you realise — this is happening. It’s going to be you out there in a minute. Then, before you can come to grips with that someone has you by the arm and is shoving you forward into your uncertain future.

You thought that the auction would be something out of a bad wattpad novel. That you’d be carted onto stage in a cage, weighed down by chains, and a spotlight gleam onto you. Below in the audience, and above in the pulpits, shadowy figures wearing masks and five piece suits would appraise you whilst synchronising their champagne sips.

The stage wasn’t as high as you thought it would be, and you have to be yourself to walk out. You’re wearing the same scrubs you were before. People are wearing masks, but the place isn’t as dimly lit as you thought it would be – although, there are a few shadows with legs sticking out. Premium seats. The Auctioneer is some strange flamingo-alien fusion with a gaudy top-hat.

“And, here’s Lot 384. A Human Male’s virginity! Foreplay sold separately. “ The crowd chortled, and you felt your face flush more from shame than any actual embarrassment. “Bidding commences at 120. Do I see a 130?”

Then the Auctioneer peeled off, speaking so quickly you only caught on when the price capped at 180.

“185? Do I hear 185?”

You pick at a piece of lint on your cuff, and wonder what you’ll have for breakfast when this is all over. You sort of almost wish they had chained you, or cuffed you, added to the ambience of all of this. 

“Ohoho, a venerable guest wishes to sample the product?” You jolted, looking up. From one of the shadows, a slender hand rose above everyone's heads. “Ordinarily we do not allow for this, but as a venerable guest we—”

Your blood rushes to your ear. What exactly does sampling mean here? Voyeurism wasn’t on the table here — what was off the table? You’re wishing now that you hadn’t stayed so quiet, that you had laid out more rules, that you had thought this through.

A figure rose from the darkness, only he wasn’t wearing a typical suit. He was dressed in full military regalia, bright blue against the aliens' greying skin. Probably alien-human, if the fact he had two legs, two arms, and a head all of human proportion told you anything. Granted, then you noticed the tail. The man was tall, this dawned on you with every step, and you don’t — you —

He’s here already, and you’re hugging yourself. His shoes click against the wooden stairs, and the temperature dips. Goosebumps stand to attention when this man approaches - and you’re half sure that if you don’t run your goosebumps will take off down the stage and through the doors. 

The man looms over you, and takes your face in his hands. It’s not a sexy thing when he pinches your chin between his thumb and index finger, raising your face to meet him — no. He puts both of his calloused hands on each side of your face and smushes it together. It feels cold, rough, and impractical. Then he claps his hands around your shoulders, and stares you down.

The man has blue eyes and black hair that's pulled back. His features are measured, evenly spaced, and betray nothing about what he’s thinking of. It’s his skin that alienates him (plus the tail, that swishes side to side now like an erratic pendulum).His eyes were blown wide – like addicts in shows or movies.

“Good,” he says, and his voice is surprisingly smooth. There’s a scar peeking out from under his straight collar. “200.”

“Wuh!” The Auctioneer sputtered.

“220,” the General continued, and someone in the crowd laughed. “Subject to amendments.”

Your eyes dart over to the Auctioneer – what does that mean?

“Sold? To the good General.”

He never told you his name. In the end, he moved and began to walk off the stage. When he was halfway down the aisle, he turned, and raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Sir, ordinarily, we wait until after the auction—”

“250 and he leaves with me now.”

You hurry after him before the Auctioneer can say anything. You feel the hall's attention turn to you, and you shudder. Somehow, you still feel the generals cold hands on you.. He stops only to gather his coat from an usher, folding it over his arm. He doesn’t look at you again, not until you’ve walked out through an exit you didn’t know existed into a dingy alleyway and slides into the back. You shuffle in afterwards, the night was warm.

“From now on, until next year this date, you will sleep with me. You will meet all my needs, and you will stay the night.”

You blinked. “What?”

Yeah, he had paid off your immediate debts and probably your college debt. It was maddening. 

“Sex, every night?” You asked, to clarify. The car was moving, and the city lights were a blur outside the tinted windows.

The General looked at you as if you were a creature of lower intelligence, his pupils shrunk. 

“Who said anything about sex?”

-

The General was a strange man. For starters, he was large. Tall, muscular, handsome. He seemed genetically engineered to be both the ideal man and soldier. The only signs of inhumanity stemmed from his desaturated skin, his blue-ish tones. 

His house was also surprisingly simple, although you were getting the rising suspicion that he was a bit more important than you had first assumed. 

The first night was weird. You didn’t have pyjamas, but he wordlessly offered you a set of your own – plaid – all in his size so it drapes off of you. You showered, and decided that although you were fine going topless you weren’t sure that the General. Well, you didn’t even know what the Good General wanted with you.

You laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling above. It’s a kingsized, the thread count probably belonged to a tax bracket miles above yours. Everything about the room was anonymous yet dark – the bed was beige and slightly elevated compared to the rest of the room. Below (by a few inches) there was a taupe rug and the floors were hard wood – oh, and there was a whole armchair, sofa and coffee table set.

The General walked in just as you began to appreciate the nice mullioned windows. He said nothing, looked down, undressed, and crawled into bed where he laid down like he was imitating a pole. Then he commanded.

“Warm me.”

You sat up, staring down at this intimidating man, and – gleaning from what facts you had – put a hand on his shoulder and sincerely asked. 

“Hey, what do you want me to do?”

At first you assumed ‘no sex’ meant nothing penetrative which at first was fine, but there were a lot of less savoury ways to have sex without any actual insertion – so now all you could do was ask. 

“Warm me,” he said. Then, he grabbed your arm with a steel-clad grip and dragged you into his side. ��Wrap your arms around me. Warm me. For  this night, and the next three-hundred and fifty-five.”

His skin was cold, almost clammy. You shiver around him. “So—”

“No more questions,” He mumbled. “Sleep. Now.”

You didn’t sleep. You lay awake in the dark as the General’s tense muscles softened and he dozed off . 220,00 divided by 365… meant somewhere between 5-6 thousand a night. It’s more than you made at your job in months – oh, your job. There were so many details that needed to be worked out, but that’s for tomorrow. Now your brain is eaten by the soft white noise, and sometime after 3 you dozed off. 

You wake up at six to see the General’s great figure getting dressed – it’s a little six, if the clock on the bedside table tells you anything. 

“I will have the kitchen make you breakfast, you can eat with the servants. Be in bed for seven tonight,” He says, and you’re just now realising that this is real. Then, after selling your body, you’d go to work. 

Your feet met the cold hardwood panels, and you patted the space where the General had been before. Cold. As if he had never been there. 

“Okay,” you say, because you forget that there’s anything else to say, and drag yourself to your shower. You’ll loop back to your apartment to pick up your clothes, but until then you wore the General’s plaid pyjama set.

You stopped at the doorway. “Thanks…? Hey, what’s your—”

Before you can say name, he had stepped out of the room with the click of his shiny shoes.

Technically, you hadn’t done anything shameful but that doesn’t make the walk downstairs any less — awkward. You have to ask one of the whispering maids – some wasp-manatee-esque alien– for the directions to the kitchen. You go from tall ceilings and wide rooms to the cramped single-file halls of the servant quarters.

You sit in the kitchen, at a small wooden bench, and spoon at some porridge. It has a thin consistency, and you’re regretting coming down here. Everyone is working, yes, but they look at you with some intrigue and distrust. This must have been the position of nannies, not quite gentry and not quite – uhm. Employed. What you and the General had was more of a freelance thing. 

No one approaches you, until the Bodyguard does. Or, really, Lapdog is better. He has the face of a very angry beagle despite being human with some modification. His teeth are sharper, his eyes are bright yet grey, his arm is metal and those steel metacarpals are curled around the hilt of his sword. He looks like he would very much like to strike you down.

“You…” He snarled. 

“... Morning?” 

He slams his hand down on the table, and the cutlery shakes. “You don’t deserve to share a bed with the General! The General is so great, so revered! Blablahblahblha…” for five whole minutes until you get up, deposit your dishes in the sink, and stroll out.

“I’m not done with you! You!! How dare you – imbecile, normy!”

What’s his problem…

It’s all a bit surreal, but somehow you manage. You always do.

–

The General was so large that you could lay on him like a mattress, and sometimes he'd let you do that. Other times, he would simply wrap his arms around you and doze off whilst resting his head against your shoulder or your stomach.

 Once, he hadn't touched you at all. He simply lay with his back to you. When you did nothing he turned around with a fierce glare then turned again. 

Unsure, but scared, you wrapped your arms around him from the back. Your body pressed against his. 

If you didn't know better, you could say that the General wanted to be spooned. You, however, had a contract and a nagging security guard that informed you - insistently - that this was not the case. That the General merely wanted a heating patch. Still, you wrapped your arms around his wide chest, fingers barely meeting in the middle, and fitted your body into the crooks and dents of his.

The one consistent string through this was this: he was gone by seven in the morning.

These days you brought an overnight bag with your office clothes so you could be out by morning, and you don’t avoid the Lapdog’s barking anymore. 

Few words are spoken, and the General is a man of fewer still. When life at work encroaches on your second job, you’re left sitting up at bed and typing away.

Tak tak tak 

The blue light of the screen is a lighthouse in the dimness of the room. The curtains are already drawn across the windows, but light from the dimming sky filtered in.

The general stepped out of the shower wearing only his black underwear that you were sure was somehow military issued. He tried to go to sleep, somehow, by lying beside you and wrapping his arms around your side, burying his head into your hip. 

Tak tak tak

“What are you doing?” He grumbles.

He’s never home at seven - not usually. When he is, he’s not in bed by nine. Those two hours of laying in bed are just for you to get the sheets toasty - like pre warming an oven.

“Work,” you mumble. “Ah, my seniors are bastards. Evil. Even the juniors. It’s a small office, so they just load everything onto the intern. I need it to, if I want to be taken on in a full-time basis. Ah, I hate this. Why can’t the weekend come sooner…”

Your eyes flick down to meet the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Sorry, I’ll try to finish up soon.”

“Where do you work?” He asked, and you realised that this is probably the first conversation you’re having with him since this all began.

“Just a small firm called [ insert organisation name ]. It’s a firm of architects, I hope to qualify in the coming years,” you hesitate. “What about you?”

“I work for the Ministry of State Affairs. We handle festival planning and internal security.”

“Oh, wow,” You say. “Must be busy. What did you do before… this?”

He shifted now, furrowing his head into the pillows. “I was a soldier, then I worked up to become a General.”

“Sounds tough.”

Tak tak tak

“It’s what I was made for.”

“That’s what dreams are about, I suppose,” You say under your breath, but you feel him stiff beside you.

“No. I was literally made to be a soldier. I was programmed as a fetus to be the best specimen for the Emperor, and raised to be his loyal soldier. Also, I don’t dream. They took that part out of me.”

Your typing stops. With all the borderline crazy around here, you really shouldn’t be surprised by the prospect of genetically augmented soldiers. Instead, you’re just sort of disappointed that the world let it get to this point.

“How old are you then?”

“Classified.”

You baulk. “Okay, yeah.”

He seems to be compelled to speak more freely now, his hands drawing circles just above your hip. Your flesh goosebumps, and you shudder.

“I started to fight in his wars when I was sixteen, in earthen years. I befriended him for a little while, back when he used to do the press tours. Where he’d visit us. I was so loved in those moments, it almost made everything worth it…”

You listen to him trail off, unsure of what to say. This was light years out of your ballpark, and sometimes people just need to talk.

“Now there are no more wars, no more enemies — none for me, at least. And I’m abandoned to office work and to assign guard rotas.”

He scoffs, and you feel his cool breath amongst your leg.

“I’m sorry,” you say, because there’s nothing else to say.

“Don’t be,” Is his only response. “Just stay still, and stay warm.”

You go back to your work, to your brief, with this sudden sense that you understand a little bit more now. Those things are a little bit easier to understand or digest. The General curls into your side. 

Then your laptop beeps and you tut. “Do you have a laptop charger?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In my study,” he remarks, then he looks up at you. “I didn’t say you could use it. Only that I had one.”

Maybe not. Maybe it’s for the best that the General is a silent beast, otherwise he’s just a beast. You click your tongue, save your work twice over, and close the laptop.

“You know, that’s a bit rude.”

The General had the audacity to look a little offended – the summer sun had set, so the sky was still a profound blue and darkening. 

“It’s my charger, I think I can decide who uses it and who doesn’t.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still rude,” you point out, and make as much effort to elaborate as he does to ask — which is to say none. You slide into bed, irritated, and drift off.

When you wake up earlier than you intended, the General is still curled against your body. This time he’s hugging your arm, his weight numbing it. Even on the weekends, the General normally woke up earlier. Yet, the clock to your side told you it was six and he was still asleep.

You try to close your eyes, reconciling the facts that Saturdays were no longer a part of your “you” time – coupled with the fact you couldn’t stay up into the wee hours of the dawn partaking in debauchery. You couldn’t stay up necessarily – at all —

Well, you hadn’t tried to. Maybe if you got one of those light filters, the hulking figures beside you wouldn’t be so opposed to it. Idly, you shifted and tried to regain some function in your arm when — 

You felt something cold and hard rub against your hip.

It was bound to happen, too, presumably, men with penises ™ , sleeping next to one another. Mother nature would call, morning wood would rise. You just wish he was awake to politely excuse himself and deal with it in his own time.

Granted, he is a bit clueless for a guy who had supposedly killed people. 

Had he killed people? You watch him slowly wake up, and maybe the question is a bit heavy for a first thing in the morning situation. There was already one heavy thing against your thigh. He was a General, but before that a soldier. You try not to think about it too hard, closing your eyes, but not before you ask.

“What are you? Like, species wise.”

The general shifted, his length was on you now but he was off your arm. 

“I told you, I was genetically engineered to be a soldier. Specifically, I specialised in Arctic climate special operations until I was appointed General.”

You were sure that just the existence of Arctic special Operations was in violation of some galactic treaty, but you didn’t care.

“Are you going to deal with your raging hard on, or?” 

“It goes away on its own,” the General murmured, pulling you close. 

You crack your eyes open just a little and ask, tentatively. “I can handle it for you.”

Why you were offering to jerk off someone you were previously considering to have killed people is something beyond you – but you’re not sleeping, and honestly this might just pay off. The General gives you a blank look, before shrugging and saying.

“Yeah, sure.”

His length was cold and heavy in your palm. It was also quite…honestly. Not that bad. You’re on your knees, in between his legs and his underwear dangled somewhere down by his ankles.

The tip was flushed blue and almost pointy, the slit strange and long across the top. Gentle, you rub your thumb over the long slit, coaxing precum out. You hear a loud, lascivious moan from above — and honestly you would have sooner believed that some high deity had made that noise than the General had your eyes not flicked upwards and seen the look on his face. 

Words cannot describe the utter ecstasy on the general's face. Slowly, you bring your head closer to the member and lick across the side - testing, and his eyes roll back into his head. He lets out a shaky whimper, his hands coming up to his face.

“Don’t,” you whisper, your breath ghosting along his length. The General’s leg jolts under your hand. “Let me see, please.”

You think for a moment that he will deny you. He is, after all, a man who has led armies into a raging battlefield. A man who has crawled home victorious each and every time. Instead, he lowers his hands and fists at the bed sheets.

Oh. Oh. This is going to be good. You move your hands to cover his length, one jerks him off whilst the other plays with his tip. You have half a mind to reach for his balls, but you think he’s not quite ready.

Those moans —- those moans! They pour from his mouth like the gentle stream of water, and you see his back arch deliciously. Every noise, movement, twitch, spurs you on further. He was falling apart in your hands. He whines, and you hear him sob something along the lines of “don’t stop” mixed with “it’s so so soo much—”. 

It takes about a minute for him to start moving his hips in rhythm with your hands, chasing after the release. The thing is you’re not even doing anything special, but he’s drooling and you’re sort of ecstatic about this — you’re definitely hard. Now you see why people get off on this stuff. 

It takes about two minutes for him to start letting out keening whines about feeling something coming, and just as his moans crescendo your bob down and put his tip in your mouth. You thought the moans pouring out before were lewd – the sound the General made then was positively porn. It was nearly a scream. 

His cum is normal. If Normal meant transparent and tasting like something that came out of a hospital IV drip. You gag at the copious amounts of it. It dribbled and fell to the floor, fell onto your shirt, and you’re glad you didn’t do this on the bed. You’re forced to swallow and you take his softening cock out of your mouth with no small amount of gratification. You look up at the General, who’s freaky blue eyes stare you down – pupils blown wide, just like the night he first saw you, and you lick your lips.

– 

The next night you have your phone with you and you’re reading some semi-obscure 90 chapter manhwa when the General, resting his head in the crook of your neck, asks. 

“What is that?”

“It’s a comic,” you say, trying to sound casual.

“No it’s not, this scrolls,” He murmurs, his lips against your exposed skin. “Comics take full pages, and — the art is different.”

“Okay, so—” And that’s how you spend roughly ten minutes explaining what manhwa was and the transmigration genre to the General.

“Would you do it?” the General asks, he’s sitting up now and looming over your shoulder. “If you had the chance — stay in some fictional world rather than come home.”

The way he says it rubs you the wrong way. To some extent, this nightlife of yours was a fantasy life something you slipped into without the help of some lazy truck driver. On the other hand, the General spoke very compassionately. As if this was your home, not merely his house.

It would be best to clear things up. Instead, you say.

“I don’t know. Depends on the world. Have you ever killed people?”

“Yes,” he says a little bit too quickly.

“Ah,” you say. Because, what else is there to say? “What’s your name?”

He doesn’t answer you this time, instead he slips down back into the bed. You assume that’s the end, and continue reading your little story for a solid half an hour until the General stirred beside you.

“You're not warm enough,” He muttered, his voice gravelly with sleep. 

Then he reached down and squeezed your length through your pyjamas. Or, rather, he tried to decapitate your penis. You screamed and flailed from the shock of the pain.

“Oh my— LET GO OF ME YOU MANIAC!!!” You shrieked, turned and slapped his body and arms a few times in your panic. 

“My dick isn't a thermostat – stop it!!” You sobbed, then you howled something better not repeated. 

The sheer ache radiating from your nether regions was not pleasurable. His grip lessened, then went slap, his fingers grazed against your thigh. You rolled away from him, putting as much distance as the bed allowed, and he made a strange keening sound. 

“Don't you know how to jerk yourself off? Apply the same principles – also, ask before you do that!” You bellowed. 

You were half sure the house had heard you, and you could picture the stares you would receive the next morning. Right now, you were curled around your family jewels and wondering if you would ever live a pain free life again. The General loomed from behind.

“I don’t.”

“I think you broke my penis,” you groaned. “I’ll need to buy a new one. Also, what do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to pleasure myself,” He said, and you’re sure you hear something like pride in his voice.

Your shock defeated your pain, so you rolled over to stare at him. 

“So, when you get hard you just…?”

“A shower and reciting the national anthem calms it down.”

You choke on a laugh, until you look at his blue eyes and remember that the General never tells jokes. 

“No, you jerk it to the national anthem?” You baulk. “You’re insane.”

“I do not ‘jerk’ it. I overcome it.”

You snort. “Haha, cum. Wait, so, what did you think --- happened, the other day. When I jerked you off?" "I thought that was sex." You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed. "Well, I guess it's a form of sex. But it's not, like, sex in the conventional way. I'll tell you more about that later -- you have to fix this." By this you meant your penis, by fix you didn't exactly imagine the two of you facing each other whilst sat upright and getting your penises out. Time and time again, life takes you down dangerous routes.

This all somehow spirals to you tugging down your trousers, and he his. Your cocks were flush against each other – and honestly? Alien dick gives people self-esteem issues. Not you, though. This guy was grown in a lab, so someone in that lab thought ‘ah, yes, big dick genes, hmm…’ and no one asked them if they had anything better to do with their life.

You lean back on your hands, suddenly flush. The General had turned on the bedside lamp, so you could see eachother and the shadows threw themselves across his sharp features. He’s pretty, you realise, not just handsome. It’s something about the slant of his cheekbones, or the length of his lashes as they flutter. As he slowly gyrated his hips against yours. You moan quietly.

His hand is as callous as the first time you met him, and you find yourself playing instructor. 

“Try to wrap your hand around both of us – use both if it’s easier. Probably is. Damn, we could use some lube – maybe baby oil – mmph – see that precum building at the tip of your — yeah – oh, just smear some of that – yeah, like that. You’re getting the hang of it, keep going.”

You threw your head back as pleasure began to ebb from below. It came in rolling waves, from his hands touching your length to yours rubbing against his. You let out a whimper – there’s something especially exciting about doing this ordinarily solitary act with someone else. To have someone else devoted to your pleasure, even if he’s clumsy with it. You breath shakily, small sounds making way for fuller moans making way for whines for more – more more—

When you come your eyes flutter shut, so you miss the slight movement of the General looming over you. You were only just coming down from your high, when you were pulled into his embrace. The cum was cooling and sticky between you both, and you whined as your exposed length made contact against his.

“My name is Valentine,” he whispered, pressing you against his chest. “Valentine Adonus Soaring Through the Blue Moons.”

Alien names. You know you should be a bit more concerned about these bedsheets, but your eyes flutter shut and you humm, content.

“Change the sheets, then let’s go to sleep.” 

-- kya thank you for reading to the end !! If you want to be tagged for ch 2 then comment below!! Next chapter, you will meet the emperor, explore your emotional connection with the General and wonder if he feels the same, and maybe be manhandled who knows..who knowss Also reader may try to gain more sentience and understanding of their own agency?

[starlostjisung]

I had 3 ideas and you pick which ever one!

Idea 1: where it’s a skz x bsf y/n college au! where she’s been overworking her self but doesn’t notice and when skz try to mention it she just brushes it off and then skz really notice bc when they planned to hang out she didn’t show up multiple times

Idea 2: skz x bsf y/n college au! where she’s been friends with them for a long time and it was a normal Saturday night for her where she was studying in her dorm or apartment (which ever) and skz wanted her to go out with them and but she refused but skz didn’t take no for an answer so they dragged her out to a party and a guy there kept annoying her in a teasing way (like a annoyance to lovers type of way)

hi!!!! i decided to write about idea 1, but i could only see the first two and not idea 3 because it didn’t appear in the message 😔

so if you liked idea 3 and it’s something you would really like to read about, feel free to send it again and i’ll write about it!!

hope you like this one 🩷

- i can make it

PAIRING: skz x bsf college! y/n

GENRE: angst, comfort

WC: 2.3k

CW: unhealthy eating and sleeping habits (reader only studies), reader is overworked, fainting (bl🩸d not mentioned)

SUMMARY: final weeks are upon you and you feel the stress of it and while you seem to be doing fine, the boys can see how overworked you truly are

december means christmas. it means holidays, presents, family, hot chocolate in front of the fire while watching christmas movies or listening to christmas songs. it means snow and playing with friends and little kids throwing snowballs at each other. it means happiness and laughter.

december also means finals. it means projects, presentations, exams, more projects and more exams. it means chaos, anxiety. it means no sleep, no eating, not unless you have finished everything that you need for university, which is not the case.

you’re running with little to no sleep, eating something here and there. you can see that this is not the best option but what can you do. it is what it is, uni life. besides, it will all be over in just three weeks when december finally means christmas and not finals.

just three more weeks, you could make it.

you’re going through a presentation that you have to do the next day when your phone beeps. you stop to look at it and see that it’s a text from your friend seungmin.

“dinner at mine, felix and changbin’s dorm. we’re ordering food but feel free to bring snacks if you want”

you want to go, you really do, but you need to finish this. and then review some more things for the next project and exam. you tell yourself this is temporary and in just three weeks you will be free to go to every single plan the boys make.

“can’t tonight. i’ve got a presentation tomorrow and i have to study for it, but thanks minnie!” you reply

you get up to go to the kitchen to get some water and when you go back to your room, you see he’s already replied.

“you sure?, it’ll just be the boys and you, nothing much. we won’t finish late, you can study for that later”

“sorry minnie, next time i promise i’ll make time and be there, have fun tonight!”

with that you turned your phone off and continued with the presentation. not that you were blaming him, but you couldn’t afford any distractions, you had to focus on the presentation and other uni projects.

you could make it.

it was finally friday and while you still had a lot of uni stuff that you had to work on and study, you were thankful that you didn’t have to go to class for a couple of days at least. and also, that night you were going to the cinema with the boys to relax for a bit.

you had had breakfast before class the previous day with han and i.n and they had convinced you to go with them, saying that they hadn’t seen you in a while and that you needed some time to relax and stop thinking about unit - so after some persuading from their part, you agreed.

you had just arrived to your dorm after class and decided you were going to have a shower, study for a bit for the exam you had on monday and then go to the cinema with the boys.

after showering you laid in your bed to answer some texts from your parents asking you about christmas presents and your exams when you felt extremely tired all of a sudden. you decided that you were going to close your eyes and rest for five minutes. just five minutes, that couldn’t hurt anybody right?

how wrong you were.

when you woke up, you saw that you hadn’t slept for five minutes. it had been three hours. the time that you had planned to study before going to the cinema with the guys. you couldn’t believe you had slept for that long. sure you knew you were tired, but you hadn’t realised you were that tired. you saw the time and realised that if you wanted to get to the cinema on time, you had to get ready and leave in ten minutes max.

however, the exam on monday was quickly approaching and you couldn’t lose more time. you had already lost three hours today.

with a heavy heart you decided to send a message in the group text you had with the boys, “sorry guys, fell asleep and just woke up. i have an exam on monday and i need to study, so i won’t be able to go to the cinema today :( have fun guys, see you other day!”

and with that, you turned your phone off again. you knew they were going to try and contact you, not that you were mad about that, you just couldn’t focus on anything else that wasn’t the exam.

when you got up from the bed and went to your desk to prepare to study, you could feel yourself extremely tired, not knowing how long you could do this. but you needed to push forward. it would be over soon

you could make it, you were almost sure of it.

the exam on monday had gone well. obviously you thought it would have gone better if you had had more time to focus just on that and not on that and the hundreds of other things you had to do but hey that’s uni life for you.

so that’s how you found yourself on the library, studying for the next exam you had in just two days. you basically lived there now. if you weren’t in class, you would be in the library. you would only go to your dorm to shower and sleep at this point. and the boys knew that, that’s why seungming and felix went there to see you, because they knew there was no other way.

“hey y/n”

you raised your head at the familiar voice, “oh hi boys”, you saw felix and seungmin in front of you, pulling out chairs and sitting there.

you made small talk for a bit, just the small talk that you could do in a library full of students with finals. as soon as they took their things out, you took it as your sign to stop the conversation and continue with your exam. the boys shared a look, worried about the state they had seen you at that moment. before they saw you, they had their suspicions that you had been overworking yourself a bit but now that they had seen it, they were more worried about you.

you three studied the whole evening. while the boys took some breaks - to get coffee, something to eat or just relax for 5 minutes - you didn’t stop. not once. you had to push through.

when it was almost closing time, the boys took their things and got ready to leave.

“come on y/n, they’re closing soon, come with us and have dinner. we can relax for a bit, time off is really important” seungmin said

“thanks boys, but i will stay until they close and then i’ll continue studying in my room, don’t worry about me”

“please y/n, leave it for today, we’ve been here all day, you need to stop and get some fresh air, you’re overworking yourself” it was felix this time

“guys i said it’s fine, don’t worry i know what i’m doing” your tone came out a bit more harsh than you had intended but you didn’t have time for this absurd conversation, you needed to study

you turned your head towards your books and didn’t look to the boys again. they shared another look, even more worried now than they had been when they first saw you when they came in. they had to talk with the rest of the boys and put an end to this. they thought you were going to break down soon, but you didn’t agree.

you could make it… right?

friday had come again and another exam had ended. you felt exhausted as you left the class after finishing it. thankfully you didn’t have more classes that day, so you could go to your dorm and prepare for the final exam you had the next week, which thankfully was the last one.

you started feeling weak as you walked through the cafeteria so you decided to get a coffee to drink on your way home. just as you were paying for it you heard someone screaming your name.

“y/n! come here!”

you turned around and saw bang chan and lee know sitting and drinking coffee. once you got yours, you went and sat with them.

“hi boys, how are you?”

“good, we haven’t seen you in a while! you’re basically as stranger now” lee know told you jokingly

he was partly right, you hadn’t seen them in some weeks and you had to admit that you had missed them a lot.

“yeah, you know, just uni stuff”

you three talked about what you had been up to these past few weeks. they told you about all the plans that you had missed out because you called off last minute or directly refused to go because you didn’t have time. you told them about all the studying you had been doing.

you couldn’t deny that a part of you was hurting seeing all the stuff you had missed out, but you knew that this was what you had to do.

though out the whole conversation, you could feel chan’s stare on you. he was checking on you, how you had been doing. because even though you had told them you were tired but you could do it, he could see right through you. he could see how you were beyond exhausted and you were almost on your breaking point.

after finishing your coffee you decided to leave the boys and go to your dorm to study, “right boys, i’m gonna go home and study for the next exam”

“come on y/n, just stay with us for a bit, it’s friday, you have the whole weekend” lee know tried to convince you

“sorry guys, but i really gotta go now” you stood up and felt your knees buckle. you grabbed the table, trying to steady yourself

of course chan noticed this, “y/n, you’re exhausted, you need to rest”

“i’m fine, don’t worry” you could feel something was off with you but you really needed to go home and study, there was no time for other things

“y/n, you are not okay, anyone can see that, you need to rest” chan continued

“chan…” something was wrong

“when was the last time you ate? or slept?” he asked you

“chan please…” something was really wrong

“this is serious, you need to stop this before something happens”

too late. you tried to move but you felt your knees buckle once more and you slumped forward hitting your head with the edge of a table before crumpling to the ground.

everything went black.

bang chan and lee know had taken you to the infirmary room after you had passed out. there the nurse had cleaned your wound on your head and stitched you up. she worked quickly and carefully, asking you questions throughout the process. she told the boys that you had a minor concussion, and that even though it wasn’t something to be extremely worried about, she told them you still needed people with you making sure you were fine and not falling asleep in the following hours.

all that leads to you now, sitting in the living room of bang chan, lee know and han’s dorm. lee know had called the boys and told them what had happened as soon as you left the infirmary. you had insisted on going to your room, promising them you would rest, but they were having none of it. they told you you were coming with them and that the rest of the boys would be there too.

there was no way of getting out of this.

once they all made sure you were okay, the interrogation started

“how long have you been like this?” changbin was the first one to break the silence

“i don’t know, i thought i was fine, that i could make it…”

“you have been overworking yourself, y/n, we told you that when we saw you the other day. but we should’ve done something for you, we should’ve helped you” it was felix this time

you couldn’t let them blame themselves for this, this was your doing, “no, felix, don’t say that. i knew i was tired and i was working a lot, but i thought that was what i needed to do, that i couldn’t do any other thing”

“love, we understand you, we really do, but it’s important that you take care of yourself first”, it was hyunjin’s turn, “you neeed to be on the right mind set to do anything else. you have to put yourself first, you are the priority”

you started to get emotional and the boys saw that, so they pulled you into a hug.

following the nurse’s instructions, the boys made sure that you didn’t sleep for the next hours. you all ordered dinner and laughed and joked while you ate it.

after finishing dinner, bang chan grabbed some games that he and the boys had in their dorm and you spent the night just playing and having fun. you were finally relaxing and you were extremely thankful you had the boys with you, making sure you were alright and that you weren’t going to break down again anytime soon.

you still had a week left, but you had the boys now and you were sure you could make it.

[dual-cetacean]

Forgive scuffed-looking Sonic. It's been too long since I've drawn anything, and my current medical issues are making it harder to refine things.

Heyo! I had planned to wait until I finished writing the second-to-last chapter of Season 2 of NPLH to make an announcement. But, unforeseen medical issues have necessitated an earlier statement. The good news is, in short, I am still working on this series! Don't worry; it is not on hiatus or being abandoned! The reason it's taking so long is that this school year has been hectic and stressful, and I've had no time, except for college, and I've been doing a little bit of stress relief here and there. Still, I am surprised that I only have the other half of the second-to-last chapter and the last chapter to complete, and then I will be finished with the raw script. I did make good progress despite only writing during my breaks. Looking at my document files, it is much larger than the first eight chapters, coming to a whopping 356 pages and 8,601 words. That is almost twice the size of the first season, and I am still writing. 

Now, after a very hard and stressful exam period, I got very unlucky and acquired an abscess in my armpit. I will keep it brief, but I wrote this on the day after my last procedure to clean it out thoroughly; it fucking hurts! I didn't know what it felt like to be cut open, but oh my gods! It hurt more because the area was affected, but still! Knives hurt! Even if they are very sharp one-time-use scalpels and it was one small cut! Gods, I am so happy I get to have local anaesthesia on the third day. 

Anyway, I wanted to explain a few things as to why I haven't been posting, both in art and writing, and that it will take longer to get back to, as the aftercare has now started. (I swear the universe is trying to keep me from writing. The cosmos can take my writing tools from my dead, cold fingers. Even if it takes me two weeks of strenuous aftercare. I've started writing on my phone because sometimes the pain is too much. I don't like having so much time on my hands with nothing to do, even if that time is supposed to be spent healing.)

It is also both funny and not funny. Still, the events that occurred in the last six months are also reflected in the newest chapters I wrote before the end of the previous year, which ultimately happened to me and my loved ones. At least Nine's suffering and medical mishaps will be more accurate this time. My luck with medical stuff has been just so awful. It's especially ironic since I had so many things planned for the summer, and the second I am finally free of my studious obligations, I get hit with something so sudden and painful. (I bet it's the Ao3 curse)

The next chapter and art will, as a result, take much longer to post than I had anticipated. I hope to work on NPLH again soon. While I have developed numerous hyper-fixations on different fandoms and games throughout the year, my brain rot with Sonic, specifically Sonic Prime, continues to truck on. 

Coincidentally, yesterday was also my birthday. I wanted to make this announcement yesterday, but the pain was quite severe, so I postponed it for a bit. Rn, it is bearable, but I took my pain meds a little bit too late, so hahaha, gotta suffer a little before I go to sleep. 

[kotelok16]

We will choose our own future!

[tedlebred]

fyodor priest au. Discuss

[itachikun]

if/when i have a kid I'll offer them time and the best private education i can afford but theyll have to get accepted into a public university. I'll not pay university for anyone

[eravioli]

I just started grad school this fall after a few years away from school and man I did not realize how dire the AI/LLM situation is in universities now. In the past few weeks:

I chatted with a classmate about how it was going to be a tight timeline on a project for a programming class. He responded "Yeah, at least if we run short on time, we can just ask chatGPT to finish it for us"

One of my professors pulled up chatGPT on the screen to show us how it can sometimes do our homework problems for us and showed how she thanks it after asking it questions "in case it takes over some day."

I asked one of my TAs in a math class to explain how a piece of code he had written worked in an assignment. He looked at it for about 15 seconds then went "I don't know, ask chatGPT"

A student in my math group insisted he was right on an answer to a problem. When I asked where he got that info, he sent me a screenshot of Google gemini giving just blatantly wrong info. He still insisted he was right when I pointed this out and refused to click into any of the actual web pages.

A different student in my math class told me he pays $20 per month for the "computational" version of chatGPT, which he uses for all of his classes and PhD research. The computational version is worth it, he says, because it is wrong "less often". He uses chatGPT for all his homework and can't figure out why he's struggling on exams.

There's a lot more, but it's really making me feel crazy. Even if it was right 100% of the time, why are you paying thousands of dollars to go to school and learn if you're just going to plug everything into a computer whenever you're asked to think??

[sttoru]

pls pls pls 🥹 older bf! gojo fucking the attitude out of his gf

 𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. satoru picks you up after your lecture to spend quality time with you, only to realise you got an attitude that needs some fixing.

tags. dom older bf!gojo x female reader. smut, pwp but also with plot. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). rough. hints of degradation. p in v -> unprotected. standing doggy. semi-public. spanking. hair pulling. name calling. creampīe. nicknames ‘princess, baby’. wc: 3.2k

“mind telling me who that was, baby?” satoru asks while he fixes his sunglasses. he pushes his hair back a little, walking beside you through campus. you had just finished your study session with a boy who’s in your statistics class. your lovely boyfriend offered to pick you up and take you back home after that.

though, despite the kind gesture, you’re still visibly stressed after revising the material. your mind is occupied with all sorts of stuff you need to know before your exam on thursday.

“just a classmate,” you respond curtly, not even looking at satoru. you’re speeding ahead of him, wanting to rush home already. you nibble on your bottom lip and your brows are furrowed due to the distress, “why do you care?”

that sentence came out harsher than you had expected it to. you don’t mean to be bitchy, but you’re under too much stress at the moment. your body reacts before you can withstand it.

satoru is silent for a few seconds. he’s surprised by the tone of voice you used. he keeps on following you, however, not letting your little comment ruin the conversation. he’s there to help you, not to make you even more upset.

which is why he tries to lighten the mood.

“oh?” satoru chuckles, his dimples showing. he easily keeps up with you, his long legs carrying him around quite fast. the white haired man pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear ever so gently, “did someone upset my little princess today?”

you don’t answer him. you’re focused on your phone, hurriedly texting your friend back while speeding past all the other students. you don’t even notice how the girls are gawking at your man—whispering about how handsome he is and who he might be.

satoru doesn’t pay them any mind. his sole goal is to gain your attention back. he frowns after his question is met with silence. the clicking of his dress shoes increases as he tries to get you to stop and face him.

“c’mon,” your boyfriend sighs and stands in front of you, stopping you to an abrupt halt. he holds your wrist tenderly yet firmly, letting you know that he wants to properly communicate with you, “y’ can’t ignore me.”

you yank your hand back, your irritated attitude visible in your actions. you look up at satoru, not caring about what he thinks or wants at the moment. you just want to go home and relax. everything is overstimulating you.

“i can and i will,” you huff before stepping aside to continue your journey out of the university’s terrain. your boyfriend’s frown only deepens. you’re not the only one who’s currently getting agitated. you push past a group of students who stood in your way, “let’s just go home.”

satoru’s eyes narrow. he doesn’t get upset fast—he rarely feels any kind of anger—but right now he can feel something itching inside of his chest. he’s tried not to let the jealousy get the best of him at first, but now with all the other emotions coming into play, it’s nearly impossible to hold himself back.

satoru considers himself a fairly mature man. he’s always been one, yet when it comes to you he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t have any control over his emotions. his body and mind act on their own.

“aht aht. not so fast, little lady.”

you suddenly feel yourself being dragged to the side. satoru’s grip around your arm isn’t harsh, but it sure is enough to make you stumble along with him. you click your teeth in slight annoyance after the initial shock settles in. you know there’s no fighting it; you don’t want others to witness your little squabble.

“hey, where are we going?” you ask, a slight whine leaving your throat. you simply want to go lay in your bed and avoid everything and everyone else. your eyes are focused on the back of satoru’s head as he guides you along. he doesn’t bother to face nor answer you.

you sigh and simply allow yourself to be dragged away. if you’re going to get a scolding, you don’t mind. you’re just going to hear him out and nod along so you can go back home faster.

you raise an eyebrow when satoru arrives at the bathroom on the second floor. “what the—” you’re confused as to what your boyfriend is trying to achieve. you quickly look around to see if anyone has seen you.

no one seems to be close. this part of the building has always been empty around this time frame anyway.

you’re pulled into the men’s bathroom after satoru made sure that the coast was clear. he gently pushes you into an empty stall and locks the door. “satoru, what’s up with you?” you sigh as you stumble back against the bathroom wall. it’s a hypocritical comment considering your own nasty attitude.

you try to push him aside, only for your boyfriend to force your arms around his neck, pulling you flush against him. your eyes lock into his and that’s when you notice how . . dark they are. the usual playful look is nowhere to be found.

“i’m just thinkin’ that y’r attitude needs some fixing, hm?” satoru whispers. a ghost of a smirk appears on his face—it’s a twisted one. wicked, with the thoughts of what he’ll do to punish you for your actions. he rarely has that expression when he’s with you.

he tips your chin up with quite some force, “i can help with that.”

everything else happens at a blink of an eye. one of satoru’s large hands slithers up your back to tangle in your hair and yank it back, exposing the column of your throat for his hickeys to take shape on. his other hand swiftly makes work of your pants and undergarments.

his jaw is clenched—the usual hint of gentle love in his eyes is replaced by lust fuelled by jealousy and frustration. satoru is not playing around either. instead of taking his time like he usually does when it comes to intimacy, he’s quick to discard both your clothing.

“fuckin’ tease,” the white-haired man mutters under his breath, panting with desire. he zips down his pants and frees his big cock from his boxers. “always pushing my buttons. isn’t that right, baby?”

satoru lets out a breathy, mocking chuckle. he fists the shaft slowly while his blue eyes roam over your body caged against him and the wall, “but i guess tha’s part of the reason why i love you—hah.”

you’re basically in shock at the sudden switch. your jaw is slack and your eyes are wide, but there’s an undeniable feeling in your chest that tells you you’re loving this change. you can’t deny the fact that you’re turned on. extremely turned on.

“‘toru, i don’t think it’s smart to do this here,” you murmur in a small voice. you’re trying to have some dignity, even now, when your panties are soaked and the scent of your obvious arousal is driving your man crazy.

“don’t care,” satoru shakes his head with a smug grin. his long fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear before flimsily tugging them down to your ankles. his eyes darken the second he sees the webs of sticky, translucent slick clinging from your panties to your puffy folds.

he grunts, his cock twitching painfully in his hand. he’s thinking of simply jerking off to the sight of you in front of him, but he decided otherwise. satoru smacks your clit with his fat tip, “should’ve thought about that before catchin’ an attitude with me.”

suddenly, he turns you around so you’re facing the wall. your nails dig into the flat surface of the tiles, catching onto nothing. you’re hoping that no one will walk into the bathroom. last thing you need is everyone knowing that you were getting your back blown out by your boyfriend on campus.

not that satoru would mind those rumors. it’d only fuel his (already) huge ego.

“oh, yeah— shit. you need this ‘s much as i do,” satoru groans as sinks his cock into your pussy, agonisingly slow, inch by inch. you shudder and hold in your moans as your velvety walls make part for him.

his hands spread your pert asscheeks, smacking the full globes before kneading them to soothe the pain. he continues in a low, dangerous voice, “you wouldn’t be so stuck up if y’ didn’t need this fuckin’ dick to shut you up.”

satoru doesn’t stop pushing in until his heavy balls are resting snugly against your bottom, warming his sack full of cum that’s aching to be released in your dripping cunt.

“ngh, ‘toru,” you bite your lip and try not to orgasm just from the feeling of being full— so full of cock that it makes you see stars, “just like that.”

the white-haired man responds with a satisfied grunt, sweat forming on his forehead from how hot and wet it is inside of you.

“oh, there she is,” satoru coos once he hears your whiny voice, that sweet voice he cherishes and loves. it isn’t cold nor avoidant anymore like before and that’s really all he wanted to acquire. he licks a stripe from the tip of your ear to the lobe, voice husky, “there’s the girlfriend i know. moan some more f’ me.”

you shiver as satoru’s lips connect with the back of your neck. after wetting the skin with his saliva, he bites. not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark. you clamp around his dick in response and he curses under his breath.

“please, fuck me,” you breathe. you need more stimulation, need him to absolutely ruin you. the shallow and slow thrusts he’s giving are nothing but torturous.

satoru grins and rests his chin on top of your shoulder, large hands rubbing around your hips and lower abdomen, teasing your clit every now and then to get you even more pent up.

“fuck you?” he tilts his head, as if contemplating. he clicks his tongue and gives your ass a firm slap that nearly sends you over the edge. “hah, you should be grateful for what i’m givin’ you.”

but satoru’s weak for you. even if he’s trying to be the ‘mean’ and ‘cold’ dominant guy. his cock is aching to plunge in and out of your wet hole, to see you come undone and feel your juices coat his balls and thighs.

“fine. i’ll fuck you,” satoru relents with a roll of his eyes, acting like he isn’t desperate for you too. he grips your hips in a bruising manner and bites your shoulder, “—fuck you like the brat you are.”

your hands save your face from making contact with the wall as your body suddenly jostles back and forth in a speed you can’t even process.

“satoru!” you nearly scream his name out of pure surprise. the pleasure comes crashing down in waves, your pussy uncontrollably spasming around his girthy cock.

satoru grumbles something incoherent as he pistons his hips, ramming in your sloppy cunt while his eyes are fixated on your bouncing ass. white locks of hair stick to his forehead as he splits you open on his dick.

“so pretty,” the older man sighs. he turns your head sideways so you can look him in the eyes while he fucks you silly. he caresses your cheek gently, a contrast to the mocking grin on his lips and the rough thrusts against your ass, “too bad y’ got such a potty mouth on you.”

satoru pushes his index and middle finger between your lips to muffle your noises, “…but don’t worry, i’ll fix that for you. gladly.”

you eagerly suck on them between quick gasps of air, saliva trickling down his hand. your boyfriend redoubles his efforts, the fat tip of his dick hitting that special spot deep inside you.

his free hand reaches down to circle your clit. the double stimulation sends you into a state of pure bliss. your pupils are dilated as you struggle to find satoru’s gaze, head lolling back and forth with each powerful stroke.

perhaps this really was all you needed to help destress and forget all about your responsibilities. it feels good to not think about anything at all— your head empty except for the feeling of your cunt being filled.

satoru’s cock twitches inside of you with the urge to release a load in your womb. “give me it, please,” your voice is muffled as you plead with him. your hand sneaks downwards, trying to find his balls, “w-want your cum.”

your fingers toy with his sack once you find it. his pre-cum and your own juices now coat your skin as well, your hand enclosing around his balls, massaging them. it’s like you’re trying to coax his potent semen out of them and that alone makes satoru throw his head back in ecstasy.

“little cumslut. . .” satoru growls, brows furrowing as he tries not to shoot his cum inside of your greedy cunt right that second. the hand that was keeping you quiet quickly snatches your wrist and pins it against the bathroom wall.

“are you that desperate to get filled? yeah?” your boyfriend huffs, not stopping to catch his breath at all. his hips pound faster against your ass with renewed passion.

your lips are parted and they move, but not a single answer comes out of your mouth. you’re unable to think or talk because of the pleasure.

satoru takes that as a yes. the erotic sight of you being so lost in sin is enough to fuel his desire to fuck you harder. his hips never falter as he scoffs at your pathetic self, “tch, so addicted to my cock y’ can’t even answer me.”

you shake your head and search for your words. however, you fail, and all that you’re capable of communicating is what you need, “fuuuuck, yes i am—‘toru, need your cock ‘n cum— more.”

satoru lets go of your wrist to grab your jaw. he forces your head back again before he captures your lips in a bruising kiss. his tongue plunders inside your mouth, exploring every inch.

he pulls back to gasp for air and releases your jaw with a slight shove to grab your hips again. “more? hah,” the white-haired man lets out a haughty chuckle. he gives a particular hard thrust against your butt, tip kissing your cervix painfully yet deliciously, “y’ think you deserve more after that shit you pulled?”

satoru yanks your head back by your hair. the stinging sensation makes your scalp itchy, but it also increases your pleasure. he lowers his lips to your ear, his voice dangerously low, “nah, you gotta make this work.”

you could. you can make it work and that’s the truth. he could fuck you with just his tip and you’d be able to cum a couple times in a row.

jolts of pleasure run down your spine as satoru drives into you harder, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. you’re seeing stars and the words roll off your tongue, “please, mhh, almost there!”

satoru groans. he can feel the delicious fluttering of your cunt around his cock, the telltale signs of an orgasm building. he has half a mind to pull out completely and let you writhe and beg him some more.

he contemplates it for a few seconds. the second your eyes start to roll back, signaling your impending climax, his cock slips out of your pussy. you whine and push your hips back in search for his dick- to fill the void he left.

satoru jerks himself off at the pitiful sight. he rubs his veiny shaft between your slick folds before slapping the tip against your cunt, letting it catch onto your entrance for a few times.

“begging like that isn’t going to get you anywhere. y’ can do better,” your boyfriend encourages in a sultry tone. one of his hands rest on your tummy, fingers splaying over your clothed skin. another filthy smack of his tip against your slit makes you shiver, “come on.”

you bite your lip out of frustration. you arch your back each time the fat head of his cock catches onto your gaping hole, hoping to slip it in, but you can't. you tilt your head back and lock eyes with satoru close up behind you.

“please let me cum, 'toru. i'll be good, i promise,” you beg with a lewd pleading expression. one that make satoru's balls tighten with the urge to cum as well.

with a low groan, satoru snaps his hips forward, burying his dick inside of you once more, “there ya go. good girl, knew y’ had it in you.”

the praise and familiar feeling of his dick stretching you open is enough to push you over the edge. you nearly black out as your cunt spasms around him, your juices gushing out to coat his length and balls.

satoru grits his teeth once he feels your tight cunt clench viciously around his throbbing cock. your orgasm has a domino effect on your lover, causing him to hastily chase his own release. “shit! take it, princess. take it all inside this greedy fuckin' cunt,” he hisses and grinds his pelvis against the fat of your ass.

satoru buries himself to the hilt before his cock jerks and pulses, emptying his balls deep inside of you. his fingers dig into the meat of your butt, holding you in place as he grinds against you, making sure every last drop of his seed is nestled into your waiting womb.

“there y’ go, mhm—taking my load so deep,” your lover sighs and lowers his head, resting against your back. he hugs you tightly to his chest while you both catch your breath. he rides out his orgasm slowly, still grinding against you while he leaves lazy kisses on your nape.

a minute passes before you've regained your composure, somewhat. you smile as satoru kisses your temple lovingly, praising you for taking him so well. the switch back to his usual gentleman personality is much needed after such an intense moment.

“thank you, babe. i needed that,” you giggle as you rest back against his chest. thick, pearly globs of cum escape your pussy, dripping around his cock and onto your thighs, but neither of you could care less. the clean up is a problem for later.

satoru chuckles back at you as he leaves another loving kiss against your cheek. “i knew you did,” he murmurs and pets your head, “my poor girl has been working so hard on her assignments, hm? poor, poor baby.”

you playfully roll your eyes at the overexaggerated concern in your lover's voice, however you appreciate it.

satoru doesn't bother to pull out. first things first; he needs to get you all comfortable again and give you the aftercare you deserve. his hands massage your hips as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, acting all lovey-dovey like he hasn't just shown you a more dominant side of him.

“how ‘bout we go home and order some food? we can cuddle and watch a movie together, ‘kay? i’ll take care of you, princess.”

[learnandturn]

I was punched and pepper sprayed by cops that my university administration set on student protesters yesterday. Including once where a cop ripped my mask off my face, grabbed my jaw, and sprayed pepper sprayed straight into my mouth. The university sent out an alert in the middle of our protest canceling classes for the rest of the day, only citing “adverse conditions”. After protesters dispersed under threat of even more violence and three buses of riot police from all over the state with rubber bullets and bully sticks parked in front of one our school’s famous landmarks. I staggered over to a couple of friends who were watching on the sidelines. They gave me water and an apple and held a bag of ice on my very pepper spray irritated face. As they were walking me back to my dorm we ran into one of their roommates. She had taken cancelled classes as an opportunity to get crumbl cookie with her friends. Standing in front of her, happy in a floral blouse with her box of cookies, in my pepper spray and water soaked tshirt, keffiyeh sadly hanging off my shoulder, holding an ice pack to my mouth, felt like a slap in the face.

After putting my pepper spray soaked clothes, shoes, and keffiyeh in a plastic bag and taking an extraordinarily painful shower, a friend and I went for dinner just off campus. There we had a pot of green tea and ramen to soothe pepper sprayed throats. We got ice cream after (shared a cup with chocolate and raspberry pomegranate with strawberry pieces on top, it was very good). From our spot outside the ice cream place we watched a steady stream of groups of sorority girls in matching jeans shorts and blue bikini tops walking back to their apartments after some apparently raucous parties. The cognitive dissonance was insane. I really felt a little like I was going crazy.

Even this morning, waking up to the smeared sharpie of the National Lawyer’s Guild’s phone number on my arm, a black and blue chest from where a grown man straight up clocked me while I was held up by two other protesters in a wall, and a still sore throat and eyes from the pepper spray, life goes on like normal. I still have final papers to write and a math exam to review for.

I’m not sure I really have a point. But, this feeling only makes me want to fight harder for a free Palestine. So, fuck Israel for being an apartheid state and all of their crimes over the last 76 years. Fuck university administration for not disclosing their level of investment in Israel. Fuck university administration for not divesting from this genocide. Fuck Joe Biden for actively supporting this genocide. And fuck the police.

[empyrealix]

⊹ ࣪˖ PHONE THEFT TO F1 WAG PIPELINE | #FC43

pairing. franco colapinto x tifosi!reader

synopsis. charles and carlos accidentally steal your phone. chaos is bound to ensue as you meet franco during the race charles invited you to as an apology for the phone theft he committed

warnings. like one (1) swear word

note. there's a lack of franco fics out there, so i'm fixing it

MASTERLIST ; requests open

to: yn yln (yn.yln@gmail.com) from: Ferrari PR (ferrari.pr@ferrari.com) subject: Invite to the Monaco Grand Prix 23.05.25–25.05.25

Dear Ms yln,

We heard about the incident with our driver, Charles Leclerc. On behalf of Mr Leclerc we would like to offer our sincerest apologies. Mr Leclerc has expressed a wish to invite you to the Monaco Grand Prix, or any other Grand Prix if you are unavailable for the Monaco Grand Prix.

Please let us know your availability and we will provide a paddock pass for the entire weekend.

Best regards,

Ferrari PR

yn

liked by user1, alexandrasaintmleux and 97 others

yn and to think this all happened because charlos stole my phone (thank you alexandrasaintmleux for taking the first picture)

view all comments

alexandrasaintmleux it was lovely meeting you 🫶

yn it was so nice to meet you too!! i cannot wait to meet you for lunch later

charles_leclerc ?? what

alexandrasaintmleux don't worry about it, amor

user1 remember me when you're a niche internet celebrity

yn niche internet celebrity for going to one race once 😀

carlossainz55 again, i'm so sorry for stealing your phone

yn i got it back, so no hard feelings (and charles got me a paddock pass, so i won't slander you on the internet)

charles_leclerc thank god

user2 did you forget we had an exam the DAY after the race?

yn whoops? but at least i got to go to an f1 race?

francolapinto

liked by pierregasly, alpinef1team and 501,123 others

francolapinto Monaco Grand Prix. It was a tricky weekend, but back to work and we'll be stronger in Barcelona 👊

view all comments

user3 i really hope alpine keeps franco for more than five races

alpinef1team ¡vamos!

yn it was so nice talking to you, thank you for carving the time out of your (undoubtedly) busy schedule to do so!!

francolapinto the pleasure was all mine, even though you wore the wrong team colours

yn well, if alpine had invited me and not ferrari then maybe i wouldn't have worn red

francolapinto maybe i'll just have alpine invite you to barcelona

yn a, i have university, b, i would still show up in red because that is the only right colour

francolapinto what a shame, you'd look stunning in blue

yn 😳

user4 is that franco… flirting?

user5 sorry, he's just like this

user6 so proud of you for p13!!

user7 can't wait to see what you do in barcelona next weekend 🫶

pierregasly let's go, barcelona ‼️

yn

liked by francolapinto, user1 and 85 others

yn a week ago, i was at the monaco grand prix, now i'm back at uni 💔

view all comments

carlossainz55 stay in school kids, it's important

yn did you even finish school?

carlossainz55 i did, actually

user1 so, coffee date when

yn you're literally sitting next to me, we could go right now

francolapinto you could always come to a race (and ditch uni)

carlossainz55 DO NOT LISTEN TO HIM

yn CARLOS?? i thought you liked having me around 😔

carlossainz55 I DO, but don't ditch university for a race

francolapinto we have strayed so far from the original plot of the movie

pierregasly no, we're sorry, please continue with your pathetic attempt at flirting

yn i think it's cute

francolapinto at least someone here appreciates me

francolapinto hermosa 🤩

yn my face isn't even in this??

francolapinto i can still tell, it's the vibes

user8 you know what, sure

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, alexandrasaintmleux and 869,495 others

charles_leclerc i accidentally stole a phone one time and now i've got an annoying little sister who won't leave me alone

view all comments

yn oh, i look good in that picture

francolapinto you always look good

yn 🤭

pierregasly you need to heighten your standards if that makes you blush

yn you should've included some pictures from the yacht outing in this 🙃

alexandrasaintmleux agreed!!

user9 yacht outing?? girl is living the dream

user10 phone thief to unwilling older brother is real and thriving

user11 FORZA FERRARI

user12 i want to BE her

yn probably not, uni is killing me 👍

yn reply to my text, charles, please it's an EMERGENCY

charles_leclerc is the emergency in the room with us?

yn YES??

charles_leclerc you asked for a paddock pass so you could, and i quote, "talk to franco again"

francolapinto i'm flattered, hermosa

francolapinto give her the paddock pass charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc oh god fine i'll get you a paddock pass

yn thank youuu 💕

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, francolapinto and 102 others

yn highlights from the race: conversations with franco and FERRARI P3!!! FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE 🏎️

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user13 what is that picture of franco?

yn i just found him like that

user1 forza ferrari or whatever

yn put some more enthusiasm in it???

francolapinto maybe we can go on that date soon ☺️

yn what date? i don't recall a date

francolapinto 🥹

charles_leclerc DATE? DATE? mon dieu

yn please calm down, i don't want you to get a heart attack especially at your old age

charles_leclerc …

yn i also haven't agreed to a date, but that is mostly because franco has been a COWARD and hasn't ASKED

francolapinto would you say yes if i asked

yn yes ☺️

francolapinto

liked by charles_leclerc, yn and 450,653 others

francolapinto argentina, baby 😉

view all comments

user14 FRANCO COLAPINTO IS THAT A GIRL??

user15 THE FLOWERS ‼️

user16 this is not a drill, i repeat, this is NOT a drill

user17 francoooo, you can't just do this

francolapinto actually i think i can hehehe

user18 he said fuck subtlety

user19 as he should

carlossainz55 happy for you, hermano

pierregasly how did this happen

alex_albon i'm just as confused as you are

charles_leclerc more importantly when did this happen

yn more importantly who is she

charles_leclerc 🤨

pierregasly what do you know

francolapinto 🥹 heart: broken

yn

liked by francolapinto, alex_albon and 163 others

yn hehehehe

view all comments

francolapinto what is that last picture i look like i don't care which is WRONG

yn you look cute in it

francolapinto the cute one is you, me thinks

yn psa: franco does care he was just busy finding a restaurant in the last picture

pierregasly we were getting a little worried he didn't

francolapinto YOU'RE MY TEAMMATE??

pierregasly i still like yn better

user1 so this is why you suddenly left for argentina

yn yes 🤭

charles_leclerc as your older brother i'm obligated to be protective (i'm very happy for you)

yn thank you, charlie 🫶🏻

charles_leclerc does this mean i don't have to sit and listen to you talk about franco anymore

yn no

alexandrasaintmleux ❤️

carlossainz55 so this is why i caught you sneaking around in that hotel hallway that one time

yn you promised not to speak a word of it

carlossainz55 oops?

yn you're legally required to pay reparations now, sorry i don't make the rules

francolapinto to both of us ‼️

oscarpiastri i support extorting carlos sainz

carlossainz55 can you come get your kids charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc only oscar is my child, yn is my sister 👍

francolapinto

liked by yn, pierregasly and 457,896 others

francolapinto she wore red to our first date because "you have to know that my allegiance will always be to ferrari"

view all comments

charles_leclerc i don't see the problem??

yn that's because there is no problem

user20 is franco dating the girl who got her phone stolen by charlos lmao

user21 that's charles' little sister

charles_leclerc i stole her phone and then she leeched onto me until i (reluctantly) accepted her as my sister

yn you love me

charles_leclerc i do

user22 my husband has a girlfriend 🥲

yn ferrari is forever, boyfriends come and go

user23 how does this season make you feel

yn terrible

francolapinto amor ☹️

yn i love you, i just don't like alpine

yn give my boyfriend a seat for the next season alpinef1team

scuderiaferrari don't forget your roots 💔

yn never ‼️ FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE

scuderiaferrari FORZA FERRARI

alpinef1team don't forget who provides your paddock passes yn

scuderiaferrari if you no longer want to, we'll gladly provide them

user24 not ferrari and alpine fighting over yn LMAO

yn i love you, amor ❤️

francolapinto i love you the most, estrella 🩷

[irisintheafterglow]

itoshi sae has no idea how you do it.

classwork, homework, midterms, exams, two jobs, and a lively group of friends? it all sounds so unnecessary to him, these things that would be distractions from his dream. but for you, it sustains you and encourages you to keep going. how differently our minds work, he thinks to himself when he has a rare day to spend on your couch and you're typing away at some assignment on your laptop.

"why do you do that?" you don't respond the first time he asks and he gently calls your name, even though you're barely three feet away. you turn to him with a tired look and something pangs inside his chest. "why bother doing that?"

"bother doing what?"

"whatever it is you're doing right now." he nods at your glaring laptop screen filled with words he can't even begin to understand, some final before your university goes on winter break.

"because it's part of my degree?" there's no malice in your words, just genuine confusion, just like there's no accusations in his words, just concern. "if i fail this class, i don't graduate."

"why do you need to graduate, or have a degree in the first place?"

"because i need a job, my love," you explain patiently. "we've had this conversation before. going to school means i can get a well-paying job to sustain myself."

"why do you need to sustain yourself when you have me?" you blink at him and his blank face. the only sign of emotion is the slight pinch between his eyebrows; he was truly puzzled why he couldn't just set you up for life. dating itoshi sae is like being an unwilling sugar baby.

"i'm not going to leech off your earnings," you chuckle in disbelief. "i'm not going to use you to make sure i have a comfortable life. i love you, and my kind of love stays whether we have money or not." he shifts awkwardly in his seat and his mouth pouts the tiniest amount. he obviously didn't like your reply.

"whatever i'm doing, it isn't enough for you," he states quietly.

without another word, you exhale through your nose and shut your laptop. you place it on the coffee table before crawling over and maneuvering your way into his arms. he gladly accepts you, sliding down the couch's armrest so that you're nearly lying on top of him. it's quiet for a few moments, not in an uncertain way but in a way that said both of you were figuring out how to articulate your thoughts.

"i just think that--"

"you don't need to--" you both begin your explanations at the same time and the huff of his laugh vibrates against your cheek. "you go first," you tell him.

"i was saying that, if you wanted me to," he inhales and tries to tiptoe around what he wants to say before deciding to just crush it with his foot, "i can take care of you without you needing a degree." a certain selfish part of him wanted you there for every single victory and ladder rung he ascended, not because he thought you owed him, but because he owed you. you, who weathered his darkest of moods and harshest of snaps. he owed you for dealing with his bullshit, so he figured, why should you need to lift a finger when you've already done so much for him? "i owe you that much for everything that you've seen me through."

"you don't owe me anything, itoshi sae. loving you is not transactional, nor have i ever wanted it to be."

"everything is transactional, mi amor," he argues and the pet name makes your heartrate increase. "give and take, it's how the world flows. shouldn't your university classes be teaching you that?" your eyes have fluttered shut on his chest, but you still hear the smirk in his joke.

"believe it or not, mister 'fame is the only thing that matters to me,' there are transactions beyond material goods."

"i know that," he says indignantly. "i also know that you're wrong."

"am i?"

"yes," he affirms. "i don't only care about fame. i care about you too, obviously."

"see, sae? give and take. i give you all i am--"

"and you take all i am."

"body and soul?"

"and everything in between," he finishes, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before settling into the pillows. "rest, mi amor. you've paid more attention to school than to me lately, and that's an unequal transaction."

[sleepn0tfound]

Death of a Star || Prologue

DC x Neglected!Super/Kent!Reader [Fem]

supernova. noun. su·​per·​no·​va ˌsü-pər-ˈnō-və : the explosion of a star in which the star temporarily gives off up to one billion times more energy than the sun.

Previous <- - - || - - -> Next

─── ⋆⋅.✦⋆ ──

"Papa!" The little girl exclamied happily, hiding her hands behind her back.

"Not now kid. I'm busy with your brother."

"But⎯"

"Dear, listen to your father. Go play with your dolls."

The smile on the girl's face falls as she slowly dragged her feet up the stairs.

As she ascended up the stairs she saw the photos that were framed on the walls. If other's saw them they would think "What a happy family of three".

Her hands trailed on the walls of the house. Laughter was echoing on the lower floor but it was muffled in her mind. It felt so… empty. She felt so empty. Why. Why. Why.

She retreated back into her room, closing the door with a frown. "Why don't they ever spend time with me? Why are they always with Jon?"

Y/n plopped herself onto the bed, hugging her pillow as she cried in the dark room, covering herself with a blanket. She had grown all too used to being comforted by nobody except the warmth of her bed. The tears dripping down her cheeks came with the occasional sniffle, her breaths were laboured as she hugged her pillow, imagining that it was someone, anyone.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Run. Run. Run. Her breath was laboured as she weaved through the alleyways, the young girl stopped as she saw the dead end in front of her. She looked behind her to see the man that had been chasing her, his malicious grin showing off his smoked stained yellow teeth.

Her feet staggered, taking one step back at a time til her back hit the brick wall.

"There's no where to run anymore, brat."

"Help! Anyone!" She was desperate for someone to hear her, for her dad to hear her.

"There's no use in calling for anyone. It's not like they can hear you anyways. You ran so deep into the alleyways, it makes this so much easier for me."

Her eyes flicked around rapidly, looking around for any way out as that creep was closing in on her, she didn't even realise her hands starting to crackle with electricity.

“Hey brat! What are you doing—“ The sound of his body falling to the floor was sickening.

Her hands shook, eyes wide, her surroundings were blurry as she focused on the sight in front of her. A purple star slowly descending into the palm of her hands.

"Bring the light of a dying star. You were born to defy this universe."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Her breaths came out in puffs, her hands were shaking as electricity crackled around them but she didn't stop, she couldn't stop, "I have to get stronger! I want to impress them!"

─── ⋆⋅✰⋅⋆ ──

Her eyes shook as she looked at the holographic screen in front of her, "Nobody can know about this power."

─── ⋆⋅✰⋅⋆ ──

"Hey! The name's Y/n. What's yours?" She smiled as she held her hand out to the boy, around the same age as her.

"Connor." The boy hesitantly shook her hand, admiring how the sun perfectly illuminates her features.

"Nice name."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── "Hey Connor wanna hang out?" She asked, with a little less hope than usual.

"Ah not today Y/n. I'm going out with dad and Jon."

"I'm going out with Tim today."

"I have to train today."

"I have a mission."

Excuse after excuse.

"Ah right. Have fun." She said with a practiced smile on her face, leaving the boy alone, her eyes glancing to the purple holographic screen next to his head, focusing on one word, annoyance.

Right. What did she expect.

─── ⋆⋅.✦⋆ ──

The girl scoffed as she pushed the memories out of her head, "As if."

She steadied her eyes as she looked at the holographic screen infront of her, “Target spotted.”

A smirk played on her lips,

“Are you ready, Red?”

Here's the very very delayed update yall have been waiting for😃😃 I MAY have been distracted by some other things yeah... Also I hv more exams coming up so... yeah! I'm gonna drop my monthly update and leave lolol (Also this was very short cause I hate writing backstories and this was more flashback-ish) Will start working on chapter 1 immediately🫡🫡 (which will hopefully be longer) And yes I did give up on making the song player thing smaller on laptop. I don't know how to do it yall😭😭

Side note: How are we feeling about a harry potter fanfic👀👀

📷: sleep._.n0tfound

[shy9-29]

Crawling Back To You ☆ 이희승

“exes to lovers,” - enha campus series

✮ You both swore it was over—again—but somehow, it’s always one of you at the other’s door, breathless and breaking. It’s toxic, it’s inevitable, and no matter how far you run, you both end up crawling back to each other. ✉️ wc. 11.3k - 이희승 x f reader

🏷️ @kristynaaah @firstclassjaylee @chvconn3 @wonzzziezzzz @sheseung @blvengene @gvtdoll @a3r4-for3ver @sunghoon-cam @luvksnn @aaaaarmiiiiin @blckorchidd @marimariiisblog @pinknjm @starniras @dearestdreamies @bloomiize @doririsstuff @isagistar @rairaiblog @steddie-steddie @melodiessvy @starboy-library @deluluscenarios

Everyone at Seoul University knew your name—and not because you were loud or flashy. No, it was because you were his.

You and Heeseung were the couple people talked about in whispers behind lecture halls and in dorm stairwells. The kind of pair that made others stare, wondering how something so picture-perfect could exist outside of a drama.

He was the golden boy—top of his class in business, vocals that melted through the walls of the music building, and a face that made professors and students alike do a double-take. And then there was you. Quiet but sharp-tongued, fiercely independent, the one person who never swooned at his charm.

Maybe that’s why he chased you so hard.

It started with harmless teasing during your shared elective. Heeseung always had something to say, and you always had something sharper to throw back. People thought you hated each other. The truth was—you couldn’t stop looking at each other.

By the end of the semester, you were inseparable. Studying under cherry blossom trees, eating late-night tteokbokki by the Han River, sneaking into the music room just to hear him sing something only you got to hear.

“You’re it for me,” he whispered one night, arms around your waist, your head on his chest. “You know that, right?”

You did. You knew it.

But what no one saw—what even you ignored—was the fire underneath it all. The way love started to sound like accusations. The way you started counting the hours he took to reply. The way he noticed every guy who looked at you. The way you started to like when he got jealous.

And before anyone else could notice the cracks, you were already learning how to smile through the breaks.

The first real fight happened on a Thursday.

You’d forgotten about some lame mixer your mutual friend had invited you both to, and when you bailed last minute to cram for an econ exam, he didn’t take it well.

“You always have an excuse,” he snapped, arms crossed, his voice low but tight with frustration. “Do you even want to be with me, or is this just something you do when it’s convenient?”

You blinked, stunned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Heeseung ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small study room you’d claimed. “It means I’m always making time for you. Always showing up. And you? You don’t even try.”

You stood up, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m not going to blow off my future for a night of watching you flirt with girls who laugh too hard at your jokes.”

The words hit their mark. His jaw clenched. “So that’s what this is? You don’t trust me now?”

You crossed your arms. “Should I?”

That night ended with slammed doors, unread texts, and a cold walk back to your dorm. But the next day? He was waiting by your class building with your favorite coffee and a half-hearted apology wrapped in a crooked smile. You took it. You always did.

Because no matter how bad it got, something about being with him felt impossible to let go of.

But fights like that kept happening—growing sharper, louder. You broke up once over a dumb Instagram comment. Got back together the next week after one too many drinks and a shared cab home. Then broke up again when he saw you talking to some guy from your lit class.

“You love the attention,” he said, venom laced behind the coolness in his tone.

“And you love being right,” you spat back.

Still, somehow, by sunrise, you’d be curled up in his bed again. Your clothes on the floor. His breath warm against your neck. His name a ghost on your lips.

It was toxic. It was exhausting. It was everything.

And you weren’t ready to let it go.

Neither was he.

Sunoo stormed into the café just off campus, eyes wide and expression dramatic as ever, practically vibrating with the need to spill. Jake, his girlfriend, and Sunghoon were already seated near the window, mid-conversation when Sunoo dropped his bag onto the chair beside Jake and huffed loud enough for the whole place to turn.

Jake raised a brow. “Let me guess. They fought again?”

Sunoo gave him a look. “Fought? Jake, it was like watching a K-drama unfold in real time—but with worse lighting and way more swearing.”

Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, arms folded, expression unreadable. “What happened now?”

Sunoo clutched his chest like the memory physically pained him. “Okay, so apparently Heeseung didn’t text Y/N back for like, five hours, even though she knows he saw her story, right? And she was already annoyed because she saw him walking around campus with that girl from his marketing group—what’s her name, Soojin? The one with the weird lip gloss?”

Jake’s girlfriend made a face. “Ew, her?”

“Exactly,” Sunoo said, pointing dramatically. “So Y/N confronts him outside the library, and he acts all confused, like ‘Why are you always accusing me?’ And she’s like, ‘Because you never take responsibility!’ and boom, they’re yelling in front of the vending machines like it’s their personal stage.”

Jake sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “How long did it last this time?”

“Long enough for me to finish my bubble tea and start a new playlist.”

Sunghoon glanced out the window, deadpan. “And they’re back together already?”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Give it twenty-four hours. Heeseung’s probably already typing a three-paragraph apology with a sad playlist link attached.”

Jake chuckled under his breath. “You’d think they’d get tired of the drama.”

Sunoo picked up Jake’s drink and took a sip without asking. “They won’t. You know why? Because they don’t know how to quit each other. And honestly? I’m sick of being the audience to their off-brand Romeo and Juliet sequel.”

Jake’s girlfriend grinned. “You say that now, but you’ll be the first one texting Y/N for updates.”

Sunoo didn’t even deny it. “Obviously. Someone’s gotta document this mess.”

What’s even crazier? Heeseung literally caught you making out with Jay in the janitor’s room—and somehow, you were back together in less than seventy-two hours.

You don’t even remember why it happened. Maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was the way Jay looked at you like he actually wanted to listen instead of win. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way Heeseung had ignored you for two days straight after yet another stupid fight over a party you didn’t even want to go to.

You’d kissed Jay out of spite. Or desperation. Or both. It didn’t even last five minutes.

But then the door creaked open.

And there he was.

Heeseung, standing in the doorway like something out of a nightmare. His expression wasn’t anger at first—it was disbelief. Like he couldn’t even register what he was seeing. Then came the fury, slow and sharp, rising behind his eyes like a storm.

Jay had the decency to back off, muttering something about not knowing you were still together. Heeseung didn’t say a word. Not one. He just stared at you—like he didn’t know who you were anymore. Like maybe you didn’t, either.

You thought that was it. The end.

But it wasn’t.

Because three days later, he showed up at your door at 1:12 a.m., hoodie over his head, eyes red-rimmed, and voice barely a whisper.

“I hate that I still love you.”

And instead of slamming the door in his face like you swore you would… you let him in.

Because that’s what you two do.

You hurt each other. You leave.

And then you always—always—come back.

And then, of course, you made out.

It started slow—like neither of you were sure if this was a good idea or just another bad habit dressed up like comfort. His hands hovered over your waist like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch you anymore, and you just stood there, heart thudding too loud for the silence.

But then he said your name. Soft. Shaky. Like it hurt to say.

That was all it took.

You grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him in, mouths crashing like everything you’d been holding back—anger, guilt, loneliness—was begging for a way out. His lips were warm, familiar, desperate. The way he kissed you was almost apologetic, like he was trying to undo everything with his mouth.

You let him. You kissed him like you hated him for making you feel this way. Like you needed him more than you wanted to admit.

And when you finally pulled back, breathless and wrecked, his forehead pressed against yours, he whispered, “I don’t want anyone else.”

And you hated that you still believed him.

You didn’t sleep that night—not really.

You laid tangled in his arms on your tiny dorm bed, the sheets kicked halfway to the floor, your thoughts louder than the silence between you. Heeseung had fallen asleep with his face buried in your neck, one arm slung over your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

And maybe you would’ve, if you didn’t feel so tired of running.

The next morning, you woke up before him. The light from the window spilled across his face, softening all the sharp edges that came out during fights. For a second, you just stared—at his long lashes, his parted lips, the way his fingers twitched every few seconds like he was dreaming.

It would’ve been so easy to believe that nothing had happened. That Jay hadn’t happened. That all the fights and the screaming and the nights you cried yourself to sleep didn’t exist.

But the bruises under your ribs weren’t from fists—they were from words. From love turned weapon. From trying so hard to be enough for someone who was always halfway out the door.

Still… you didn’t move.

Because when Heeseung opened his eyes and looked at you like you were the only thing that ever made sense, it was enough to make you stay a little longer.

Even if you knew the next storm was already on its way.

You don’t even remember how it started—only how loud it got.

It was after midterms, late evening, the campus buzzing with people blowing off steam. You were supposed to meet him outside the library, but he was thirty minutes late and reeked of beer when he finally showed up.

“I said I’d be here,” he muttered when you confronted him. “What, you don’t trust me to show up now?”

You stared at him, arms folded, heat rising in your throat. “I don’t trust you. Not when you spend more time at parties than actually being present.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair like you were the one being difficult. “Right. Because you’re perfect. Always playing the victim. You ever think maybe you’re the problem?”

That hit harder than you expected.

You laughed—bitter, sharp. “You caught me making out with someone else and still took me back. Don’t talk to me about problems like you’re not the biggest one I’ve ever had.”

His jaw tightened. “You never even apologized.”

“Because you never stopped hurting me,” you snapped. “Every time I looked at you, I felt like I was begging to be chosen.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Just stared at you with this cold, unreadable expression. Then he shook his head, stepped back like you’d burned him.

“You know what? I’m done. For real this time.”

You didn’t stop him.

Not when he turned around.

Not when he walked away.

Not when you realized he meant it.

And for the first time, you didn’t chase after him.

You just stood there, heart pounding, hands shaking, unsure if you’d ever see him again.

And maybe—maybe this time was really the end.

The days after felt unreal.

Campus kept moving—students cramming for finals, couples holding hands under trees you used to sit beneath, laughter echoing through courtyards like nothing had changed. But everything had.

Heeseung was gone.

Not physically. You still saw him sometimes, across the quad or in the distance at the convenience store. But it was different now. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t even flinch when your eyes met. Just kept walking like you were a stranger he used to know.

The silence was suffocating. Not just from him, but from everyone else too. Your friends stopped asking about him. Even Sunoo didn’t say much anymore—just gave you quiet looks that said I know you’re still hurting, but I won’t make you talk about it.

And maybe that was the worst part. The quiet.

Because you were used to chaos with him—used to yelling, slamming doors, passionate apologies, messy kisses and promises you both knew would be broken. You weren’t used to nothing.

You told yourself it was for the best. That you needed to breathe without him taking up all the air.

But at night, when the world slowed down and there was nothing left to distract you, you wondered if he still thought about you. If he still played the songs he used to sing for you. If he ever regretted walking away.

You didn’t cry. Not really. Maybe once—quiet and quick into your pillow, just enough to let it out before shoving it all back down.

Because this time, it didn’t feel like a break.

It felt like goodbye.

It was two months. Two months of space. Two months of silence. Two months of trying to forget the taste of each other’s names.

You kept expecting him to show up again. Maybe outside your dorm. Maybe in the practice room where he used to pull you into his lap between takes. Maybe drunk at 2 a.m. with slurred apologies and soft I miss yous.

But he didn’t.

And it wasn’t until you finally worked up the nerve to see him—really see him—that you realized why.

You found him outside the campus café, leaning against the wall, sipping on iced coffee like this was just another day. And maybe for him, it was. But for you? Your heart hadn’t beaten this fast in weeks.

“Heeseung.”

He looked up. His eyes softened for a split second, then settled into something unreadable. Calm. Controlled. Different.

You stepped closer. “Can we talk?”

He nodded, motioning for you to sit with him on the bench nearby. It was awkward at first—quiet. The air thick with everything unsaid.

“I’ve been thinking,” you finally said, fingers nervously picking at the seam of your jacket. “About us. About everything.”

Heeseung nodded slowly, gaze fixed on the pavement. “Me too.”

You turned to him, hopeful. “Maybe… maybe we just needed time, right? To figure ourselves out. Maybe we can try again. For real this time.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you—really looked at you—with that same sad tenderness that used to follow every fight.

“I love you,” he said, voice low. “You know that, right?”

Your throat tightened. “Then why—?”

“Because we’re not good for each other,” he interrupted gently. “We bring out the worst in each other. And I can’t keep doing this cycle where I love you and hurt you at the same time.”

You blinked, stunned. “But… we’ve been through so much.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I know it has to stop. I can’t keep being someone who makes you doubt yourself. And I don’t want you to keep being someone who breaks just to hold me together.”

Tears welled up, but you didn’t let them fall. Not this time.

“So that’s it?” you whispered. “You’re just walking away?”

Heeseung shook his head. “No. I’m letting go. So that one day… maybe we’ll find our way back when we’re better people. Not because we need each other. But because we choose each other.”

You didn’t know what to say. You just sat there, stunned, as he stood up and gave you one last look—the kind that said I still love you, even if I can’t stay.

Then he walked away.

And this time…

You let him.

The glow from the fairy lights strung across your ceiling cast a warm haze over the room. You were laying belly-down on your bed, face half-buried in your pillow, while Yeon sat cross-legged beside you, painting her nails some muted sage green. A tub of melting ice cream sat between you, half-forgotten.

“I just don’t get it,” you mumbled, voice muffled. “He said he loved me. Like, what was the point of that speech if he was just gonna disappear off the face of the earth?”

Yeon raised a brow without looking up. “Girl, he literally said it was because you two were toxic for each other.”

You rolled onto your side, scowling. “Yeah, but he could’ve at least tried again. After all this time, nothing? No message, no check-in, not even a story view. It’s like I never existed.”

Yeon let out a sigh, blowing on her nails. “Do you even think he’s over you?”

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She finally looked at you, eyes sharp, tone flat. “You think he just flipped a switch and stopped caring? Come on. You guys were obsessed with each other. You still are.”

You groaned, flopping onto your back. “Then why isn’t he doing anything about it?”

Yeon shrugged. “Maybe he’s trying to prove a point. Maybe he’s hurting too. Maybe he thinks you’re the one who should come crawling back this time.”

You stared at the ceiling, biting your lip.

Then Yeon sat up straighter, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Or… hear me out… you could make him care.”

You turned your head slowly. “Yeon.”

She raised her hands innocently. “Not like anything dramatic. Just… see someone else. Post a cute pic. Let him know you’re moving on. If he reacts, there’s your answer. If he doesn’t… maybe it’s time to actually move on.”

You hated that the idea made your stomach flip. Hated that a part of you wanted him to care enough to spiral. To break. To fight for you.

You also hated that Yeon was probably right.

“Heeseung’s not the only one who can play games,” she added, reaching for her phone. “Now. Who’s single, hot, and dumb enough to fake date you for a week?”

And just like that, something in your chest—spite, maybe—snapped into place.

“Fine,” you said, sitting up. “Let’s see if golden boy really let me go.”

Jay was just the right guy to do it.

Handsome, charming, dangerously calm under pressure—and most importantly? Lee Heeseung’s best friend. Or, well… former best friend, maybe. The line had blurred ever since that night in the janitor’s room.

You weren’t exactly close, but you knew Jay. He was the type of guy everyone liked but no one could really read. And when you texted him out of nowhere with a simple, “Can we talk?”, he responded quicker than expected.

You met up behind the arts building, tucked away where no one really bothered to go. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, like he already knew what you were going to ask.

“No,” he said before you could even finish the sentence.

“Jay—”

“I’m not getting involved in whatever mess you and Heeseung have going on again,” he cut in, eyes sharp. “It’s not my thing.”

You took a step closer, lowering your voice. “Please. I just need him to feel something. Anything.”

He exhaled hard, glancing away like he was trying to stay detached. “And what happens when he finds out it’s fake? Or worse, what if he doesn’t react at all?”

“Then I’ll know,” you said, quieter now. “I just… I need to know if he’s really done.”

Jay didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at you for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out what kind of mess he was about to walk into. Again.

Then he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered under his breath, “This is a bad idea.”

You smiled—just a little. “So that’s a yes?”

Jay shook his head, but there was the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “You owe me for this.”

And just like that, the plan was in motion.

A fake relationship. A test. A game.

All to see if the boy you still loved would finally come crawling back—

Or watch you walk away.

It started small.

Just a simple story.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing that screamed revenge.

Just a quiet photo of you and Jay’s hands—intertwined, resting on the café table between two half-empty iced americanos.

No faces. No captions. Just the tag.

@jaypark.

You hesitated before posting it, thumb hovering over the “Your Story” button for a second too long. But then you tapped it. Sent it out into the world like bait.

And waited.

Within minutes, the views started stacking. Yeon replied with a row of screaming emojis. Sunoo sent you the skull. And then, like clockwork, his name appeared at the bottom of the viewers list.

Lee Heeseung.

No message. No reaction. Just a silent little view. But that was enough.

He saw it.

He saw you—your hand in someone else’s.

His best friend’s.

Your heart beat just a little faster. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was victory. Maybe it was that part of you that still wondered if he’d come running.

And across campus, not even an hour later, Heeseung was already plotting his move.

Because if you wanted a war, he’d give you one.

And this time, he wouldn’t be the one left watching.

Heeseung didn’t sleep much that night.

The image of your hand in Jay’s—Jay’s—looped through his mind like a broken record. He couldn’t tell if he was more furious or just sick. Like something was lodged deep in his chest and no amount of pacing or punching his pillow would get it out.

By morning, he wasn’t even mad. Just numb. Tired. But there was still something buzzing under his skin, and he knew exactly where to take it.

He found Jay in the gym locker room after class, slipping his duffel onto the bench like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t just posted up with you on Instagram like it was no big deal.

Heeseung walked up behind him, quiet but sharp, voice low and flat. “You serious?”

Jay turned, eyebrows lifting slightly. “About what?”

Heeseung scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You and Y/N.”

Jay paused—just a beat too long—and that was all Heeseung needed.

“So it’s real,” Heeseung muttered, stepping forward. “You’re actually dating her now?”

Jay looked at him. Steady. Cool. Just like you asked him to be.

“…Yeah.”

Heeseung clenched his jaw. “Right after everything. You think that’s not messed up?”

Jay shrugged once, slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he should keep going or drop the act. “Things change, Heeseung.”

And somewhere in that moment—somewhere in Jay’s calm delivery and blank stare—Heeseung believed it.

You moved on.

With him.

And you didn’t even flinch.

Heeseung didn’t say anything else. Just let out a bitter laugh and shook his head before walking off, fists tight at his sides.

Jay sat down once he was gone, letting out a slow breath as he stared at the locker in front of him.

He texted you two minutes later:

he thinks it’s real. you sure about this?

And all you replied was:

yeah. keep going.

Because if he wanted to believe you’d moved on,

You’d make sure he felt every second of it.

Sunoo wasn’t snooping.

Okay—maybe a little.

He’d just been passing through the locker room looking for his water bottle (which he definitely left on the bench last night, thank you very much) when he caught a glimpse of Jay hunched over his phone.

Nothing suspicious. Until he saw the name at the top of the screen.

Y/N.

And then he saw the text:

“he thinks it’s real. you sure about this?”

Sunoo’s entire body froze. He ducked out of sight just as Jay hit send, his heart thumping with secondhand guilt.

So it’s fake.

She’s faking it. She’s really faking it.

He waited until Jay left, then took off in a straight sprint across campus. He found Heeseung behind the rec center, leaning against the fence with his hoodie pulled low over his face and that same blank stare he’d been wearing since the Instagram story dropped.

Sunoo didn’t even catch his breath.

“Heeseung.”

Heeseung looked up, annoyed. “What now?”

“She’s not really with Jay.”

Silence.

“What?”

Sunoo took a step closer. “I saw Jay texting her. He said you think it’s real and asked if they should keep going. Y/N told him yes. It’s all for show.”

Heeseung just stared at him, lips parting slightly. “You’re sure?”

“I read it, Heeseung. She’s trying to mess with your head. And you’re letting her.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a moment. He just looked down, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek like he was chewing on every terrible thought in his head.

“She really went that far?” he muttered. “Dragged Jay into it?”

Sunoo nodded. “And you’re gonna let her win?”

A beat of silence. Then—

“No,” Heeseung said, standing up straighter. “I’m not.”

And just like that, the idea clicked.

If she wanted to play pretend, he’d give her something to choke on.

The very next day, Y/N’s feed lit up with his story this time.

Heeseung, smirking at the camera, with a girl beside him—leaning into his shoulder, her fingers brushing his.

Your ex-best friend.

Ina.

Tagged. Smiling. And just sweet enough to sting.

You almost dropped your phone.

Because if this was a game— He’d just made his next move.

You didn’t even knock before you barged into Yeon’s dorm, practically throwing open the door like a hurricane. Your phone was still in your hand, and the red notification bubble next to Instagram made your heart race in ways you didn’t want to admit.

“Y/N—what the hell?” Yeon jumped up from the couch, startled, and then her eyes caught the expression on your face—the tension in your shoulders. The way your jaw clenched.

Without saying a word, you shoved your phone in her face. “Look.”

Yeon blinked, frowning at first, then slowly scrolled through the story that had just gone up. Heeseung, arms draped casually around a girl who definitely wasn’t you, smiling like nothing had happened between the two of you. It only took a second for her to piece it all together—Heeseung’s signature smirk, his usual cocky posture, and the way he was looking down at her as if she belonged there.

Yeon froze, eyes wide.

“What the hell?” she whispered. “Is he serious?”

You exhaled sharply, slumping into the nearest chair. “Apparently. He’s really doing this.”

Yeon scrolled back to the top of the post, trying to find something—anything—that would prove it wasn’t real. But the more she looked, the more it felt like it was. Ina. The same Ina who’d been your best friend just months ago, the same one who knew exactly what buttons to push to get under your skin.

“Wait,” Yeon said, voice sinking low. “You really think he’s doing this to get back at you?”

You looked away, blinking back the sharp sting of embarrassment. “He’s trying to make me jealous. It’s the same thing he’s done every time. But this time, he’s not even pretending to care. He’s moved on—for real—and he’s showing it.”

You stood up suddenly, pacing the small space. “I can’t believe he would post this. Just like that.”

The door clicked open just then, and you froze, expecting it to be Sunoo, or maybe someone else coming to check on you. Instead, it was Jay.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he asked, walking in with that casual, easy smile he usually wore.

Without saying anything, you just shoved your phone at him again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate to look at it. The silence between you two stretched long as his gaze scanned over Heeseung’s post. Then his brows furrowed, and he rubbed the back of his neck, visibly unsettled.

“That’s… that’s your ex-best friend.” Jay shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “What’s he even trying to do?”

You watched his face closely, waiting for some kind of reaction, something that would show you if maybe he had a plan too. Maybe he could fix this. But instead, Jay’s face grew darker, and he let out a small laugh—almost nervously.

“Wait,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Sunoo… he was looking over my shoulder yesterday when I texted you.”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

Jay groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated now. “I didn’t think about it, but now it makes sense. He must’ve seen what I was texting you, and then told Heeseung. The timing is too weird, Y/N. He must’ve told him to post that.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought. “You think Sunoo told Heeseung to do this?”

Jay nodded, a frown pulling at his lips. “Yeah. He’s been getting weirdly involved in this. He’s been watching us both too closely.” He paused, gaze drifting away like he was trying to piece things together in his head. “And now Heeseung is doing this. This is… this is his way of pushing us both into a corner. I can feel it.”

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. This wasn’t just a post. It wasn’t just about Heeseung and his attempt to make you jealous. This was a game—a game that everyone had already been sucked into, whether they liked it or not.

“You think he’s manipulating all of us?” you whispered, barely able to comprehend how deep this had gone.

Jay gave you a look—half amused, half exasperated. “You know Heeseung. He’s not gonna sit back and let someone mess with him. He always plays dirty. This was probably his idea all along.”

Your mind raced. This was all too much. Too tangled. And the worst part? You felt like you were losing control of something that used to be yours.

You stared at the phone in your hand, the weight of Heeseung’s smirk on the screen staring back at you, daring you to react. You wanted to lash out, to post something in return, to prove that you could move on too. But the truth was, you felt like you were already too deep into a game neither of you should have ever started.

But you couldn’t stop now.

“I guess,” you said, voice colder than you meant it to be, “we’ll just see how far he’s willing to go.”

You were mad.

No—mad mad.

Heeseung thought he was slick? Using Ina of all people?

Fine. Two could play this game. And you were about to flip the entire board.

You had just gotten your nails done earlier that day—clean white French tips with tiny pink bows delicately painted on each ring finger. Cute. Sweet. Deadly.

And it just so happened to be Valentine’s Day.

The most petty, perfect, painfully strategic day of the year.

You texted Jay:

come over. wear black. don’t ask why.

He didn’t question it. By now, he knew better.

An hour later, you were leaning over him in the soft pink glow of your dorm, red lipstick in your hand, and vengeance in your veins. You tilted his face toward yours, studying him like a blank canvas.

“Hold still,” you whispered, then planted a soft, slow kiss on his cheek.

Then another.

Then one near his jaw.

And one by his temple.

Six lipstick marks—perfectly placed.

Jay just sat there, relaxed, one brow slightly raised. “This is for him, huh?”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t have to.

You straddled his lap, hands gently cupping his cheeks. Your fresh nails—those glossy white tips and innocent pink bows—rested right under his eyes, framing his face with just the right amount of threat disguised as sweetness.

Snap.

One picture.

No caption.

Just @jaypark.

Posted to your story.

You stared at it once, twice. Smirked.

This wasn’t a game anymore.

It was war.

And you had just set the next fire.

Heeseung saw it within minutes.

He wasn’t even on his phone—Jungwon was. The two of them were mid-conversation in the common room, some half-hearted banter about classes and who was buying dinner, when Jungwon suddenly froze, eyes locked on his screen like he’d just witnessed something unholy.

“Dude…” he said slowly, cautiously. “You might wanna see this.”

Heeseung reached over without thinking, grabbed the phone, and there it was.

Your story.

His chest tightened immediately.

Jay.

His best friend—or what was left of that friendship—smiling, relaxed, and covered in your kiss marks like a walking Valentine’s card. Your hands—those cute little nails with the pink bows—framing his face so gently it looked like a scene from a damn K-drama.

Tag: @jaypark.

No caption.

Didn’t need one.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Heeseung leaned back against the couch slowly, staring at the screen like it might change if he blinked hard enough. But it didn’t. It stayed burned in his vision, red and soft and sweet in the most infuriating way.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

Heeseung let out a cold laugh—short, humorless. “She really went there.”

“You gonna ignore it?”

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. He stood up, hands in his pockets, jaw tense. “She wants a reaction,” he muttered. “She wants me to do something.”

Jungwon tilted his head. “So… are you going to?”

Heeseung paused in the doorway, eyes flicking back toward the screen one last time. He could still see the imprint of your lips on Jay’s skin, your nails against his jaw, like a photo burned into film.

“She wants war?” he muttered under his breath.

“Fine.”

And just like that, he pulled out his phone.

Because if this was how you wanted to play—

He was done holding back.

Heeseung’s fingers were already flying across his screen.

u still down to help? he texted her.

Ina replied in less than a minute.

always. what’s the move?

I need a story. Your place. You post it first. Tag me. Make it obvious.

obvious like…? she replied, with a winking emoji.

He smirked.

red lips. hands on me. I’ll handle the rest.

Within thirty minutes, he was at her apartment. The lights were low, her place smelled like overpriced perfume, and she was already waiting in a cropped sweater and glossed lips that matched your exact shade of red.

She moved fast—placed a kiss at the corner of his jaw, just below his ear, then added a second one right under his cheekbone. Two bold red prints. Then she sat sideways across his lap, her long nails trailing down the side of his neck, and pulled out her phone.

“Smile,” she whispered, grinning.

Click.

The photo was even worse—better—than yours.

More skin.

More closeness.

More everything.

She posted it right away. No caption. Just a tag.

@lee.heedeung

Within ten seconds, his notification lit up.

He tapped it, viewed the story once, and then hit “Add to Story” like it was muscle memory.

You’d started this round, but he was going to finish it.

And when his story refreshed—Ina draped over him like she was exactly where she belonged, her kiss stains darker, bolder, more deliberate—he didn’t even hesitate to add the final touch:

“She’s not the only one who moved on.”

Just words.

But he knew you’d see it.

He wanted you to.

You couldn’t think straight anymore. The war was on, and it felt like everything—every move, every word—was just pushing you deeper into a place you didn’t recognize. But you were determined. You were done playing games with Heeseung. You wanted to make sure Jay knew you weren’t trying to replace anything. This wasn’t a rebound. It couldn’t be.

You couldn’t let him see you fall apart again. You just couldn’t.

So you showed up at Jay’s dorm, heart racing, fingers trembling as you knocked on his door.

When he opened it, you didn’t hesitate. You barely even processed the look of surprise in his eyes before your lips were on his. It was desperate. It was reckless. Your hands were already pulling him closer, feeling the weight of the day’s chaos pressing against your chest. His lips tasted like mint, like the cold air outside, and for a second—just a second—it felt real. It felt like something could finally be simple.

But when you reached for his shirt, tugging it off over his head, he froze. His hands gripped your wrists, pulling them gently away from his chest, and pushed you back just enough to meet your eyes.

“Wait—wait,” he said, his voice tight, his breath shaky but controlled. “I don’t want to be your rebound, Y/N.”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Jay shook his head, stepping back just a little. “I’m not like that. You don’t need to use me to get back at Heeseung.”

His words felt like ice water, but you weren’t ready to let go yet. You grabbed his arm, pulling him back toward you, and for the first time, you felt yourself getting lost in the desperation. You didn’t want to feel like this anymore.

“I’m not trying to get back at him,” you whispered, voice pleading. “I swear, Jay. I don’t want him. I want you.” You paused, searching his face for any sign that he believed you. “Please… I need this. I need you right now.”

Jay looked down at you, his expression torn. “Y/N, think about it. You’re not in the right place right now. You’re hurting, and this is just… this is just—”

“I’m not,” you cut him off, grabbing his face with both hands, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not trying to replace anything. I swear.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes softening just a little. “Then what do you want? What are we doing here, Y/N?”

You took a shaky breath, your voice softer now. “I want to be with you. Not because of Heeseung. Not because of anyone else. Just because I… I want this with you. Please.”

Jay didn’t answer right away, his eyes drifting down to your hands still on his chest. He looked conflicted, like he was weighing your words against something inside himself.

“You’re sure?” he asked quietly, as if he needed reassurance more than you did.

You nodded, eyes locked on his. “I’m sure.”

But even as the words left your lips, you could see the hesitation in his eyes, the doubt still lingering in the way he held you—like he wasn’t sure if he should trust you or himself. You could feel the weight of everything that had happened, everything you were running from. And for a second, you thought he might pull away again.

But he didn’t.

He stayed.

“I just don’t want you to regret this,” he said, his voice a little softer now, but the distance in his gaze still clear.

You swallowed hard, fighting the emotions that rushed up. “I won’t.”

And for the first time in a long time, you were trying to believe that.

You could feel it, deep down. The gnawing ache in your chest. You told Jay you weren’t trying to use him, that you weren’t replacing anyone, that you wanted this—wanted him—but the truth was, you weren’t over Heeseung. Not by a long shot.

And you knew Jay could probably feel it too, even if you didn’t say it out loud. You could see it in his eyes as he pulled away slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders like he wasn’t sure whether to hold you or let you go.

“Y/N,” Jay whispered, voice steady but soft, like he was giving you space to breathe. “Are you sure about this? You say you’re not using me, but I don’t want to be a… a distraction while you’re still caught up with someone else.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. Caught up with someone else. You wanted to shake your head and tell him that he was wrong, that Heeseung was nothing but a memory now. But the truth was staring you right in the face, and you couldn’t lie to him—or to yourself.

You stepped back, taking in a shaky breath, trying to fight the rising tide of emotions in your chest. You had pushed yourself so hard to move on, to fight back against Heeseung’s hold on you, but deep down, it wasn’t working. You could tell yourself you were done with him. You could kiss Jay. You could hold his hand and pretend like you were over it. But you weren’t.

“I… I don’t know,” you finally admitted, voice small, almost fragile. “I’m not really over him, Jay.”

The words felt like poison on your tongue, but there was a strange relief in saying them aloud. You couldn’t keep pretending. Not to him. Not to yourself.

Jay’s face softened, but there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes—something that cut deeper than you expected. He took a step back, hands still resting at his sides like he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“You need time, Y/N,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “And I’m not gonna be the guy who waits around while you’re still stuck on someone else. You deserve more than that.”

The finality in his voice made your stomach twist. You wanted to argue, to beg him to stay, but you knew it wouldn’t be fair. Jay deserved someone who could give him their whole heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling the tears you’d been holding back threaten to spill.

Jay nodded, giving you a sad, understanding smile. “You don’t have to apologize. But you need to figure things out—before you drag anyone else into your mess.”

And just like that, the moment was over. He stepped away from you, and you were left standing there, feeling more lost than ever. Because no matter how much you wanted to move on, the truth was clear.

You weren’t over Heeseung.

And you didn’t know if you ever would be.

You stormed back into your dorm, slamming the door behind you with a force that rattled the walls. Your mind was a whirlwind of frustration and guilt. Jay had been right. You weren’t over Heeseung. No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, you just couldn’t shake the hold he still had on you.

You flopped onto your bed, grabbing your phone without thinking. Your fingers scrolled through your feed like it was a reflex, your heart pounding in your chest.

Then, it happened.

You saw it.

Heeseung’s story.

The notification flashed, and your breath hitched. You had been trying to avoid him, trying to move on, but there he was, like a goddamn magnet pulling your attention. You tapped it without a second thought.

And then you saw it.

Heeseung. Smiling.

But it wasn’t just a simple smile. No, this time he was holding hands with Ina, and she was pressed so close to him you could see the way they were looking at each other—soft, intimate, like they belonged in each other’s space.

The red lipstick marks weren’t just on his cheek anymore. Now, it looked like she had kissed the side of his neck, and he was almost wearing it like a badge. Proud, like he was showing the world that he was finally moving on. Finally free.

You stared at the story, unable to tear your eyes away. You wanted to swipe up and type something—anything—that would prove you weren’t bothered, that you didn’t care. But deep down, it stung. It stung in a way you couldn’t describe.

Was this still a game to him? Or did Heeseung move on.

And you were left sitting in your dorm, with the weight of everything crashing down on you.

You forced yourself to swipe past his story, ignoring the way your chest tightened, but it didn’t help. It never did.

What was worse?

You realized you were still checking his story as if you were waiting for a sign that he cared.

For the next few hours, Heeseung’s stories kept coming.

One after the other.

It was almost like a countdown, each post more intimate than the last. Him and Ina laughing in a cafe. Him and Ina walking side by side in the park. Her hand resting on his chest, his arm draped around her waist. Each photo, each story, carefully curated—designed to show you what you could’ve had, what you didn’t have anymore.

But here’s the thing: Heeseung expected you to do the same.

He was waiting for you to upload something—anything—with Jay, to prove to him that you weren’t bothered. To make a statement, to show that you were moving on too.

He thought you’d retaliate, maybe post a cute picture of you and Jay in the same way. Maybe make it obvious—show him you didn’t care, that you were fine.

But there was silence.

Your phone was quiet. No stories. No tagged photos. Nothing.

He checked again. And again. Still nothing.

He frowned. He refreshed your profile, then your stories. It was the same as it had been hours ago. Nothing.

What the hell?

Heeseung was confused. He had expected you to fire back—he had expected this whole thing to be like the rest of your relationship: a series of petty back-and-forths that always led you both back into each other’s arms.

But this time, there was no response. No tag. No post. No picture of you with Jay.

Why wasn’t she reacting?

His mind was buzzing. Was it a game? Was she waiting for him to respond first? Was she trying to play it cool?

He couldn’t understand it.

The silence was louder than anything.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Heeseung wasn’t sure what you were thinking. And that scared him more than anything.

It was past 2 AM when Heeseung heard the knock.

At first, he thought he imagined it. The sound was soft, hesitant, like whoever was on the other side wasn’t sure if they even wanted to be there. He lay still for a second, blinking at the ceiling, unsure if he should even get up—until it came again, this time louder. More frantic.

He rolled out of bed, threw on a hoodie, and padded to the door with a tired sigh. The hallway was dark, quiet. Everyone else in the dorms was either asleep or gone for the weekend.

But when he opened the door—his heart sank.

You were standing there, mascara smudged under your eyes, hair messily pulled to the side, a half-empty bottle of soju dangling from your hand. Your lips were red, like you’d been biting them too hard. And your eyes… they were glassy. Teary.

You looked broken.

“Y/N—” he started, stepping forward instinctively.

But you shoved him—hard.

Or at least, you tried. You punched at his chest with your tiny, shaky fists, but it wasn’t forceful. It was clumsy, uneven, and as soon as your hands hit him, your strength gave out.

“You—You asshole,” you slurred, fists still pressing weakly against his chest. “You don’t get to be over me—like that. Like it was nothing.”

Heeseung didn’t move. He let you hit him. Let you press against him like you were trying to beat the heartbreak out of your own body.

“Why didn’t you come back?” you cried, voice cracking. “You always come back.”

His hands hovered for a second—unsure if he should hold you or not—but then you collapsed. Right into him. Your knees buckled, your bottle clattered to the ground, and your face crumpled against his chest as the sobs started coming, hard and fast.

“I hate you,” you whispered, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his hoodie. “I hate you so much, Heeseung.”

He finally wrapped his arms around you, slowly, gently, like you were made of glass.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know, baby.”

The moment the word slipped out—baby—you just shattered.

You pulled back, looking up at him, your face streaked with tears. “Don’t—Don’t call me that,” you whispered, though your hands were still clinging to him. “You don’t get to call me that if you don’t want me anymore.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, eyes scanning your face, jaw tight. “You think I don’t want you?”

You nodded, quickly, like you were afraid he’d deny it. “You’re with her now. Ina. And you smiled in those pictures like—like I didn’t even matter.”

“You do matter,” he said instantly, voice firmer this time. “You always mattered. I just—” He exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “I thought I was doing the right thing. For both of us.”

You stared at him for a long time, lip trembling. “Then why does it hurt so much?”

Heeseung’s chest twisted. He’d seen you angry, jealous, wild. But this—this version of you—crushed him. You were soft and raw and honest in a way that stripped all his defenses.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “I thought letting go would fix us. I thought giving us space would help us come back better.”

You sniffled, wiping your nose against your sleeve like a child. “Then why does it feel like I’m dying?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he’d tell you the truth—that every night he saw your stories, every time he thought about you and Jay, it felt like a blade twisting in his chest. That no matter how many kisses Ina planted on his neck, none of them felt like yours.

Heeseung looked down at you again. You were staring up at him with so much sadness in your eyes, and it physically hurt.

“Do you still love me?” you asked, voice just a whisper.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

You blinked, like you didn’t expect that answer.

“I love you,” he repeated, holding your face now. “I never stopped. But yn, we’re… we’re so fucked up. We keep tearing each other apart.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I know.”

You leaned in again, forehead pressed against his chest, breathing ragged and broken. He kissed the top of your head gently, just once.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“So am I.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You just stood there—his arms around you, your body limp against him, your tears soaking into his hoodie.

Maybe it didn’t fix anything.

Maybe it didn’t change what came next.

But for that moment, it was just the two of you. No stories. No games. No pretending.

Just two broken people—still in love, still hurting—clinging to whatever was left.

Heeseung didn’t let go. Not right away.

You stayed like that—collapsed against him, your sobs slowing to soft, hiccupy breaths, his arms wound tight around your waist like if he let go, you’d vanish entirely.

“Come inside,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, one hand sliding to the back of your head as he pulled you in a little closer. “You’re freezing.”

You nodded weakly against his chest, your legs still wobbly, and he hooked an arm under yours, guiding you carefully inside. The dorm was dim, a faint orange glow spilling from his desk lamp, soft music humming low from a speaker that had been playing long after he forgot to turn it off.

He shut the door behind you and helped you sit on the edge of his bed. You looked around like the room felt unfamiliar—like it wasn’t the same one you used to sneak into at 3AM or sleep in when your dorm felt too suffocating.

You watched him move—quietly, naturally. He brought you a water bottle, then a hoodie you used to steal all the time, dropping it gently onto your lap before crouching in front of you.

“Drink,” he said softly.

You obeyed without a word, sipping just enough to wash the taste of liquor off your lips. Your hands shook slightly, and he noticed, his eyes flickering to your fingers before slowly moving up to your face.

Heeseung exhaled like the weight of everything that had happened tonight was finally settling in. “You shouldn’t have come here like this.”

You looked at him, eyes still puffy and red. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

He nodded slowly, like he understood more than he let on. “You always come here when you don’t.”

You laughed under your breath, but it was hollow. “And you always let me crawl back to you.”

Silence.

Heeseung rested his forearms on his knees, fingers laced, eyes locked with yours. “Why tonight, Y/N?”

You looked down at your lap, the hoodie untouched, your hands knotted in your skirt.

“I kept waiting,” you whispered. “For you to come back. For this to be just another fight we’d crawl back from. I thought if I held out long enough, you’d text, or call, or show up at my door again like you always do.”

You glanced up at him. “But you didn’t.”

Heeseung’s jaw flexed. He stayed quiet.

“And I know I messed everything up,” you went on, voice gaining a little more strength. “I dragged Jay into it, I made it worse, I was petty and bitter and angry. But I was hurt, Heeseung. I didn’t know how else to make you feel what I was feeling.”

“I was feeling it,” he said, voice low. “Every fucking second.”

Your throat tightened, and you blinked fast, but the tears still came. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Heeseung stood up slowly and sat beside you instead, his shoulder brushing yours. He leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

“Because I didn’t want to love you halfway again,” he said. “We kept breaking each other. I thought… if we took time apart, maybe we’d figure our shit out. Maybe we’d finally get it right.”

“And did you?” you asked, eyes burning into him.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he turned his head, looking at you—really looking.

Your eyeliner was smudged, your lipstick faded, your cheeks still flushed from the crying and alcohol. But to him, you were still you. The same girl who used to fall asleep mid-conversation in his bed. The same girl who used to wear his shirts like they were hers. The same girl who knew how to ruin him and love him in the same breath.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice softer than before. “All I know is that seeing you tonight, standing at my door like that—I’ve never felt more like I still belong to you.”

The silence wrapped around you again, this time a little warmer, a little heavier.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, the alcohol finally wearing off and leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and a dull ache in your chest.

“I’m scared we’re never gonna get it right,” you murmured.

Heeseung turned his head, pressed his lips into your hair. “Me too, yn.”

You didn’t say anything else. You didn’t have to.

Because even if everything between you was a mess—even if you were toxic and chaotic and completely wrong for each other—right now, you were here.

And for tonight, that was enough.

The morning came too quickly.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, only the way Heeseung’s heartbeat felt under your cheek as you curled up beside him on the bed. You must’ve passed out mid-sentence, tears drying on your skin, the room spinning just enough to blur the shame, the ache, the regret.

When you opened your eyes, you were still in his hoodie. His room was quiet except for the hum of the heater, and sunlight slipped through the blinds in pale, thin lines. You didn’t dare move—not yet.

Heeseung was already awake. You could tell from the way his breathing had changed, slower, more deliberate. He was lying beside you, one arm resting behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

You swallowed hard. “You didn’t kick me out.”

He turned his head toward you, his expression unreadable. “Did you think I would?”

You hesitated. “Maybe.”

He didn’t respond to that—just watched you. His eyes flicked to your lips, your cheeks, your fingers tangled in the fabric of his hoodie. His gaze softened for a moment, like he was trying to memorize the way you looked in this exact second.

You sat up slowly, head pounding, throat dry.

“I should go,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

Heeseung sat up too, but he didn’t stop you. Didn’t say stay. And that silence said more than if he had.

You moved to the door, grabbing your phone off his desk. Notifications flooded the screen—messages from Yeon, Jay, a missed call from Sunoo. The real world was already waiting for you, and you weren’t ready.

You turned the doorknob, then paused. “Heeseung.”

He looked up.

You bit your lip. “Last night… was that a mistake?”

He looked like he wanted to say yes. Like maybe the mature thing—the right thing—was to draw the line here and now. End it before the cycle started all over again.

But instead, he just said, “I don’t know.”

You gave him a small nod, like that answer was enough. Like it had to be.

Then you left.

And the thing that gutted you most wasn’t that he didn’t stop you.

It was that you didn’t expect him to.

You didn’t go back to your dorm right away.

Your head was still spinning—half from the hangover, half from everything that had happened the night before. The streets were cold, quiet, students still asleep or buried in weekend study sessions. You walked aimlessly through campus, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, trying to breathe through the fog sitting heavy in your chest.

You replayed the night like a scene on loop—your fists on Heeseung’s chest, the broken way you sobbed into him, the way he held you like you were fragile and still his. How he called you baby without even thinking about it.

And how in the morning, he let you leave.

By the time you got to Yeon’s dorm, your fingers were numb and your heart felt heavier than ever.

She opened the door in an oversized tee and one sock, blinking in confusion. “Y/N?”

You stepped inside without a word, letting the door swing closed behind you. Yeon just stared for a moment, then crossed her arms and said, “Okay. What happened?”

You collapsed onto her bed face-first, groaning into the blanket.

“Was it Jay again?” she asked carefully.

You shook your head.

“Then… Heeseung?”

You let out a broken sound that could’ve been a laugh or a cry. “I slept over.”

Yeon’s eyes widened. “You what?”

“I was drunk,” you mumbled into the blanket. “Showed up at his dorm. Cried like an idiot. Told him everything. Begged him to love me back, basically.”

“Oh my god.” She sat down beside you. “Okay, and?”

“He held me. Let me stay. Called me baby.”

Yeon raised a brow. “And then?”

You turned your head, eyes glassy again. “And then he let me go.”

She didn’t say anything for a second. Just reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Y/N…”

“It hurts,” you whispered. “I thought—when I woke up, I thought maybe this time it meant something. That we could start over. But he just let me leave.”

Yeon looked at you like she didn’t know whether to hug you or shake you. “Because he’s trying, Y/N. He’s trying to be better. For you. For himself. And you’re out here getting drunk and showing up at his door like it’s still the same toxic game.”

You blinked at her, stunned.

“I’m not saying he’s innocent,” she added quickly. “He’s just as bad. You guys were fire and gasoline. But this? What you did last night? You weren’t trying to fix anything. You were trying to set it on fire again just to see if he’d still run through it for you.”

That one stung. Because she wasn’t wrong.

You curled deeper into the blanket, the ache in your chest flaring again. “So what now?”

Yeon sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Now? You stop playing games. You take a real break. Not the kind where you post bait on Instagram and wait for him to bite. A real one. Because if there’s even a chance you two have something worth saving, you need to come back to each other as different people.”

You stayed quiet.

Then, softly, you asked, “Do you think he still loves me?”

Yeon didn’t even hesitate. “God, yes. But I think he’s scared loving you will destroy him again.”

You shut your eyes. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel angry. Just… empty. Because if you were being honest with yourself?

You were scared of the same thing.

You weren’t good at listening. Especially when it came to Heeseung.

Yeon had begged you to take it seriously this time. To actually give yourself space, to heal, to breathe without him in your orbit. She told you to block his number for a while, to stop checking his Instagram stories, to quit looking for his face in every hallway like he was some phantom that couldn’t let you move on.

You nodded. You agreed. You told her you were going to try.

But you didn’t mean it.

Because it was impossible to “take a break” from someone who lived under your skin. Who you still dreamed about even when you hated him. Who you still saw in every goddamn song, every place on campus that still echoed with the ghosts of the two of you.

So three nights later, you were standing outside his apartment again.

This time, it wasn’t out of drunken impulse or heartbreak-fueled rage. It was worse.

It was loneliness.

It was craving.

It was addiction.

You hadn’t texted him. You didn’t warn him. You stood in front of the door, heart slamming against your ribs, hands shoved into the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You stared at the door like it owed you something.

You almost walked away. Twice.

But then it opened.

Heeseung was standing there in gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt, barefoot, hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed. The expression on his face flickered from confusion to disbelief to… that familiar ache you always saw in his eyes when he looked at you.

You swallowed hard.

“I—I know I’m not supposed to be here,” you said, voice small. “But I needed to see you.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stepped aside, and that alone said everything.

You walked in slowly, like you were walking back into a dream you didn’t want to wake up from. The apartment was dim again, warm, smelling faintly of laundry detergent and the faint citrus cologne you knew he wore too much of.

He closed the door behind you, leaned against it, and crossed his arms. “Y/N…”

“I know,” you said, holding up a hand. “Don’t say it. Yeon already gave me the whole speech.”

“So why are you here?”

You turned to look at him, eyes heavy, lips parted. “Because I’m not over you.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened. He didn’t move.

“And I don’t think you’re over me either,” you said. “You don’t get to look at me like that—like that—and pretend we’re done.”

He was silent for a long beat.

Then, “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t care.”

You stepped closer, just one step, but it felt like ten.

“I know we’re a mess,” you continued. “I know we’re both too much and not enough and every time we try again it ends in fire—but Heeseung, I don’t know how to not come back to you. I don’t know how to let you go.”

His eyes searched yours. Slowly, carefully. And God, the way he looked at you—like you were the same secret he’d never stopped keeping—hurt more than anything.

“Y/N…” he said softly, but he didn’t finish.

You took another step, now close enough to feel the heat of him. “You said it yourself—we belong to each other. No matter how bad we break, no matter who we try to replace each other with. It always comes back to us.”

Heeseung reached up, ran a hand down his face. He looked exhausted. Like he was carrying the weight of every fight, every kiss, every night you spent in his bed just to disappear in the morning.

“I can’t do this again,” he murmured. “I can’t keep letting you back in just to lose you again.”

Your voice cracked. “Then don’t lose me.”

You closed the last bit of space between you and pressed your hands against his chest.

“Let me be selfish just this once,” you whispered. “Let me come back to you.”

He stared down at you, torn, his hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know whether to touch you or throw up a wall.

“I don’t care how many times we fall apart,” you said, voice trembling. “I’ll always come crawling back to you.”

enhypen campus series | writing jays trope next. Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #6

(A/N: Vote winner so I did my best to finish this)

"Screw it, i am done..." Danny grumbled as he stepped onto the watchtower through a portal, ignoring the startled heroes around him, or his own rather disheveled state. His green glowing eyes surveyed the room he was in for a brief moment before his eyes zeroed in on the one hero that caused to much work for him.

"YOU!" He pointed an accusing finger at the red clad hero before floating over and grabbing the hero by the front of his hero suit. "Do you have any idea how much work you cause me!"

Danny got one confused blink before he launched into a rather thorough explanation of what he just went through fixing 20 different timelines that got created because of one flashpoint while shaking the Flash like he was a ragdoll, ignoring the other heroes around him.

Clark, who arrived a little late to the meeting, looked around the meeting room confused. He glanced to the side to one of his hero colleagues. "Is there....?"

"A white haired floating teen boy giving Barry the lecture of a lifetime?" Oliver cut in arms crossed as he watched on. "Yes, there is."

Clark blinked, looking back at the scene and then back at Oliver. "And..."

"And Bruce is actually taking notes and enjoying Barry getting lectured to an inch of his speedster life while also getting information on time itself? Yes he is." Oliver added an, his tone slightly frustrated but also happy that he wasn't at the receiving end of the teen boy's rant. The kid had been going on about different time lines and the multiverse theory as well as how Barry apparently created several different timelines any time a new flashpoint happened or the past gets seemingly changed. Oliver wasn't even sure the kid was breathing with the way he had been talking non stop.

"And for the record! Changing the past does not automatically fix your present! You just created an entirely new timeline! Do you know how many times I had to fix these? You left so many unattended timelines! I would be rich now if I had gotten a dollar for every time I or my siblings had to fix the stuff you did! Did you ever hear about the multiverse theory?! Hell you are heroes! Didn't you deal with other universes already!?"

The kid rambled on and Clark was pretty sure he wasn't hearing the kid breath in once, which was worrying in so many different levels. But a little traitor part of his mind was actually finding the situation quiet funny.

"Oh and don't get me started on your spawns!" Clark winced a little as he heard the floating boy breath in for the first time in his entire rant before launching into another rant about how it wasn't just Barry but his entire family. Next to him Oliver chucked finding the moment simply funny end enjoying the show of Barry, aka the Flash getting lectured by a floating teen boy.

Though they partially wondered why Bruce wasn't stepping in but then again, the kids rant was... rather informative if he wasn't cursing at Barry's entire family.

A little earlier that day...

Danny groaned as a green note fluttered onto his desk in the middle of his English exam. His head hit the desk and he was sure he was creating some sort of misunderstanding and appearing like he didn't study enough for this exam. Which for once he did, he actually had managed to get time to study for this exam for once. And that despite all the work that had been piling up lately.

The fun fact was that work didn't pile up because of some ghost king title or something, or his rogues dogpiling on him. No it piled up because of a hero organisation outside of Amity. Now don't get him wrong, he admires these heroes. The ones from outer space are his favorites even. But unknown to them they caused im a lot of work ever since clockwork started to mentor him.

Danny glanced at his English exam and then at the note before his head hit the desk again.

Just one day... was one day to much to ask?

He blames whatever hero was at fault this time as he couldn't concentrate on is exam anymore. He barely remembers finishing it as he hurried out of the classroom, forgetting to give Sam and Tucker an explanation as he went ghost and hurried of to the ghost zone. Danny's eye twitch a little when he noticed Clockworks amused expression.

"What is it this time?" Danny groaned already knowing he wouldn't like what he was going to hear.

"Another flashpoint was created. You know what this means." Clockwork chucked handing him a time medallion and Danny groaned even more.

"Can't Dan or Dani..." He started but Clockwork cut him off with an amused headshake. "No, they are currently busy with another job I gave them."

Reluctantly Danny nodded and stepped through the time portal. While he knew, he would actually only be gone for a minute at most in the present, it still annoyed him that he had to constantly fix time. And most of the time it was because of one specific hero at that. He was not looking forward on how many different timelines he had to fix right now now. this was going to take a while too. Even if only maybe a minute will pass in his timeline.

He still had bruises from the last 20 timelines he fixed. And in all honesty he was getting tired of this kid of work, he was partially sure Clockwork was him now, so he wouldn't have to do this himself. Or the ancient of time was getting a kick out of watching Danny fumble while fixing other timelines.

He yelped as he dodged velocraptors right after coming out of the time portal. "SERIOUSLY?! THE MESOZOIC ERA THIS TIME TOO?! WHAT AM I EVEN SUPOSED TO FIX HERE?!" He yelled at nothing in particular. That was it, this time, this time he decided he would finally go and pay these heroes a visit and make them aware how much work they had been causing him...

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR PROFESSOR — NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, GOJO.

summary: you have sex with your professor. for many different reasons.

wc: 4.2k (each of these were meant to be 500 words long so idk what happened)

cw: smutty smut afab!reader who's in university, mutual masturbation, spanking, semi public sex, toji is not a professor but a gym coach who rails you in a supply closet, but theres a lot of sex on a lot of desks so mdni.

an: theres actually a smidge of plot in this just a tiny bit if you do a deep squint, but the smut id personally say is my best yet. so give it a chance people, but come for the smut stay for the dialogue. hope you enjoy! not proofread ignore mistakes pls

☆ NANAMI

nanami kento, was the strictest teacher you have ever had. you couldn’t get away with your usual tricks that you did with some of your other professors — strutting past their office during office hours in your skimpiest clothes to get a better grade. it was as if nanami was immune to all your devices.

but with a big exam coming up, you knew you had to make something happen since studying was not your forte. so you were prepared to do anything to get that A.

“come in," his deep voice calls from inside.

as you enter his office, you are met with the sight of your professor, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, reviewing a stack of papers. he glances up at you briefly before returning his attention to his work.

"what can I help you with?" he ask, his tone professional.

“i wanted to see if we could talk about the exam you set for us tomorrow,” you start to say, his eyes still focused on his papers, not sparing you a glance. “i was thinking we could figure out a way for me to get extra credit… sir.” 

you had his attention now. technically you’ve always had his attention — yes nanami was different to all the other professors you’ve ever had but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a man at the end of the day. 

he always noticed the way you’d sit in his classroom, your pouty mouth always gnawing at your pencil as you never had a clue what was going on. nanami always had to hide his dick feeling tight in his trousers whenever you walk into his classroom. little did you know that you actually would’ve failed his class a long time ago, but because he just couldn’t let go of the sight of how your pretty tits bounce everytime you raise your hand, he always made you pass. 

“well what are you willing to do for that extra credit?” he says, his tone slightly amused.

“whatever you want” you respond a bit too eagerly, you were coming onto him hard. but it was working, you could already see the crack in his usual stoic facade. “c’mon professor nanami, i need to pass this class,” you practically beg. 

“oh yeah, you definitely need to pass this exam, you’re one more failed exam to flunking my whole class,” he affirms — lying through his teeth. “so i think you should come sit up here, and show me what you’re willing to do huh.”

suddenly, you start to feel nervous. usually you’d have control of the situation, you’d flaunt your ass, fuck your teacher and get an A, easily. but this time, you could see in nanami’s eyes that from when you entered his office — that he was running the show.

you saunter over his desk, and he pushes his seat back allowing you to have room to perch on his desk in front of him. “take off your shirt,” he commands, and you’re quick to fling off your top — that was barely covering anything anyways, “wow no bra, why am i not surprised.” he stares at your hardened nipples smirking as he continues to say, “you know i see your nipples peeking at me through your shit all the time in class.”

“really?” you question coyly.

“you don’t think i see how you practically fuck yourself in your seat when i’m doing a reading,” he continues, his arms folding as if he was telling you off, “a bit disrespectful, right?”

“no i-it’s just i really like the sound of your voice,” you stammer, embarrassed at him calling you out. you couldn’t deny that your professor was hot, everybody thought so and you hated school the only thing that got you through your classes was your day dreams of him fucking you.

“oh really, well i wanna see you get off to it for real this time.”

“wha—”

“touch yourself,” he demands with a grin, “fuck yourself on your fingers, put on a show for me,” he loosens his tie, and unbuttons his cuffs, ready to watch you perform for him, “and if you do well, then we could talk about your extra credit.”

you take off your pants, your hands moving directly to your throbbing pussy — since of course you had no panties on. you press your thumb down on your clit as your fingers work their way into your cunt. you were already soaked, just from hearing your professor speak to you, so it was easy to slide your digits in and out of you. 

nanami’s grin grows wider, loving the way your work your pussy,  “you not gonna play with your tits?” and you take his hint, your other hand sliding up to cup one of your boobs, your fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. “good girl,” he praises.

you add another finger inside of you, writhing down hard on his desk against your digits. you quicken your pace, rubbing your thumb vigorously against your clit. his gaze on you served as an encouragement, your ultimate goal was shifted, at this point you didn’t care whether he passed or failed you — you just wanted to put on a good show for him.

“you gonna cum for me?” he taunts, the sound of your pussy squelching around your fingers as you drive them in is like music to his ears. you barely even noticed him fisting his dick, stroking it hard — matching the pace of your fingers hammers your cunt.  “you gonna make a big mess for me all over my desk?”

“professor i-” you whine, wanting more than just your own fingers inside of you, “please i need—”

“professor? what was it that you called me earlier?” he teases, “remind me of that and then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

“s-sir please,” you sputter, barely being able to string a sentence together. you could feel you were about to cum hard. your fingers were still drilling into your pussy, and your hands were still suctioned on your tit and nanami's dick was taunting you. “i need you.”

“you need me hmm?” he mocks, his eyebrow tilting as he stares at your fucked out face.

“yeah p-please i need your dick,” you beg, your pussy was gushing all over your fingers, as your strokes got sloppier, “i need you i-in me.”

“oh really?” he asks with a smirk, a slight chuckle as you nod eagerly, “well too bad.”

“wha—”

“you really thought i’d put my dick in a slutty student that’s not even smart enough to even pass my class?” he lectures, he tuts his teeth, shaking his head, “now finish off for me and leave office hours end in a few minutes.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, you could barely even process his words, too busy focused on cumming all over your fingers to think about how he just denied you of what you really wanted, your hand falls off your tit, your head jerking back as your release over his desk. he’s quick to cum too, biting down on his fist to surpress the loud moan threatening to come out

“you really made a mess for me huh,” he observes, swiping his fingers across the pool of cum you left on his desk and bringing it into his mouth, “sweet.” you were at a loss for words, you were just coached through one of the best orgasms you ever had from your professor — and he didn’t even touch you — yet you still don’t know whether he’s gonna pass you or not.

“so about that exam…?” you voice trails, as you put back on your shirt, hopping of his desk.

“i’ll think about it, sit the exam first and i’ll see what i can do,” his voice turns serious, and he nods his head in the direction for you to leave indicating for you to get up out of his office. but just before you're about to leave the room he calls out to you, “oi.”

“thanks for the live show.” 

☆ TOJI 

“why do we always have to fuck in such awkward spaces,” you complain nearly tripping on a basketball as toji holds you upright.

“you know you love it baby,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your cheek, thrusting up into you further. 

you were in the gym supply closet, having your weekly sex with your university's gym teacher. you don’t even know how your little routine came about but once he started to hammer into you every friday after basketball practice, you’ve never missed a meet up.

“don’t call me that,” you groan out at the use of his pet name.

“why not?” he grumbles, cupping your tits with his hands as he stands behind you, “aren’t you students s’pposed to listen to your teachers and all that.”

you take a sharp inhale as his large hands smother your boobs, his thick things toy with your nipples, “but y-you aren’t a real teacher, in case you forgot.”

“am too,” he mutters like a child.

“a-are not,” you spit back just as childishly.

“am, too,” he persists, thrusting into you hard. pushing you down by your nape, forcing your hands to grip onto some random gym apparatus. he uses his foot to spread your legs apart wider so he can fit right behind you. fucking into you with something to prove.

“you teach gym to a bunch of brain dead j-jocks, wouldn’t say that classifies as being an actual professor toji.” you continue riling him up, biting your lip as his hammers into you harder. “you’re more like a glorified personal trainer than a teacher.”

he drives into you deeper, “oh and your just an uppity bitch, who still ended up fucking this ‘personal teacher,’ in a gym closet,” his mouth moves close to your ear, as he whispers, “so what does that say about you baby?” he presses a kiss underneath your ear lobe, before lightly sucking on it.

his words go straight to your core, him calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ had the exact effect he intended them to have — you throwing  your ass on his dick, fucking him back as hard as he was fucking you. 

he sends a smack to your ass, biting his lip as it ripples at the contact of his palm. his slaps were merciless, having you scream out every time he hits your cheek. “how’s this for a glorified personal trainer huh?” he coos in your ear, feeling dignified as you rut against him more feigning for more of his dick in your throbbing pussy. 

“ah you f-fill me up s-so so good,” you mewl out, as his dick pumps in and out of you stuffing you with every thrust. his mouth latches onto the nape of your neck, sucking on it as he ploughs into you deeper, hitting your spot with pinpoint accuracy.

“i know i do baby, i always stuff you good don’t i?” he groans out, your pussy was a vice grip on his dick, had him suppressing his moans whenever you clenched around him, “don’t know why you fuck around with these lame ass boys in your classes, they can’t fuck you like i do. do they?”

“well…” you voice trails in a teasing tone.

“dont f-fucking play with me,” he sputters, feeling himself about to bust all inside of you, “i’m the only one you fucking right,” when he doesn’t hear an immediate answer, he shoves himself into you his hips pushing right against your ass, “right?”

“y-yes fuck, right,” you sigh rolling your eyes at his act of possessiveness — ignoring how you pussy got even wetter at his words. “you’re the b-best i ever had, toji.”

“you’re damn right i am,” he scoffs out giving your ass one final slap as he says, “you going finish all over my dick, c’mon baby coat my dick with your sweet sweet,” and you do just that. you cum with a cry, releasing all over toji, as he shoots into you a loud groan leaving his mouth.

“aww i forgot how loud you get for me,” you tease him as he pulls out of you, turning to look at him with a grin, which he huffs out, “anyways what did i tell you about cumming in me, i'm not one of those cheerleaders you run around with,” you fuss swatting at his chest.

“yeah you aren’t one of the cheerleaders i run around with,” he repeats, “hence why i can cum in you, you know you’re my favourite fuck out of all my students”

“ugh you’re so gross.”

“you say that with my cum running down your legs,” he says, giving you a pointed look, his eyes staring down at your thighs, “i do have another hour till my next class i gotta teach, so i could clean it up for you?” he offers, already going down to his knees, knowing that was a suggestion you would not deny.

“if you insist.”

he starts to suck against your thighs as you lean against the wall, sandwiched between a goal post and a hockey stick, but just before his lips latch onto your pussy, he looks up to you with a pout, “do you really think gym coaches aren’t teachers?”

“oh shut up toji,” you mutter, pushing his head to your cunt.

☆ GETO

you storm into your professors office, pissed off. professor geto was the worst teacher you’ve ever had. he was cocky, arrogant and most of the time he didn’t have a clue what he was teaching. 

“ah miss know it all,” he muses, his personal nickname he created for you during his first semester of being your professor, “to what do i owe the pleasure this time.” you were no stranger to geto’s office, you were practically the only student that actually used his office hours. geto didn’t mind it though. the unplanned visits, your impoliteness — he was amused by it. 

“could you explain why you gave me a B, on my last paper?” you interrogate, waving said essay in his face furiously, “when we both know that this is easily worth an A.”

“i just think you could do better,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “i just think you haven’t harnessed your true potential, that’s all.” geto knew you were smart, the smartest person he’s ever taught. he just needed to get you in his office. and he knew a below average grade on an essay, that didn’t even matter, was the way to do that.

“and what do you know about potential?” you mutter, more to yourself than anything, “i don’t even know how you managed to get this job.”

he rolls his eyes at your comments, “do you really want this A?” 

"of course i want the stupid A," you reply, your tone determined. "i've put in the effort, and i've met all the requirements for this paper. there's no reason for you to give me a B except for your own personal bias against me."

“personal bias? some may argue that you’re actually my favourite?” geto leans back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. "but alright, then. here's the deal," he says, folding his arms. "if you can convince me right now, in this very moment, that you deserve an A for this paper, i'll change your grade. but you'll have to persuade me.”

“persuade you?” you retort, “what you want me to do a powerpoint presentation or something…?” 

he chuckles, shaking his head at your naivety, for someone so smart you somehow lack social awareness, “no i wanna see if you taste as good as you look.”

“you mean…” your voice trails, finally catching on to what he was getting at.

“come lay down on my desk,” he says casually as if this was a usual ordeal between the two of you. he could see you hesitating, “you do want that A right?” 

your feet were stuck in the ground, you never wanted to be one of those girls — ones that had to fuck a teacher just to get through university. but, regardless of your below A grade, you were more curious about what it would actually be like. especially with a professor that looked like geto. 

you lay down on his desk, nervous, you could feel his breath on your stomach as he slides down your jeans. he was kneeling down, his face at the same level as your pussy. he toys with your underwear, pulling at it and snapping it against your skin, giving you a smile of approval in your choice of panties. but just before he pulls them off you he asks, “you sure you want to do it smarty? you can run back to your dorm if you want?”

“anything to get the A,” you grit out, basically lying, since getting your grade improved was the last thing on your mind as he pulls off your underwear. 

he takes his hair — that was usually tied up in bun —  down, releasing his long hair, “just in case you need something to pull on,” he smirks.

his fingers slide across your wet slit, spreading your lips. he presses a kiss on your clit, slightly nibbling on it before working his mouth down to your pussy. you gasp at the contact as he latches his mouth on you, his tongue darting into your cunt at a quick pace. 

geto hums in satisfaction as you hands immediately go to grab his hair, pulling at it as his tongue gives you long strokes, lapping up all the juices already spilling out of you. “i didn’t think my star student would be this needy, if only the class could see you now.” he taunts lifting his head up, “i guess they wouldn’t be surprised though, your as hungry for my tongue as you are to answer questions in class,” he finishes with a chuckle pressing a kiss to your thigh.

but you’re quick to silence him, clenching your thighs against his head, “s-shut up,” you whine, thrusting your hips up in his face to meet his tongue. your head was swirling, you could barely remember how you ended up on your professors desk in the first place. but all you were focused on was clawing your fingers through his scalp as he slurps and sucks on your pussy.

“oh m-my god,” you murmur, soaking his face. he could tell by the way you pushing his face deeper into your cunt, his nose forced into your arousal that you were close.

“ready to let me taste you” he asks, his voice sending vibrations over your pussy, “wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

“fuck d-didn’t think it’ll be this g-good,” you whine out. he brings his thumb to you clit rubbing it as fast as he could taking you over the edge. you moan out, practically squealing, as you squirt all over his face. he smirks, trying to get as much as it as he can.

“i didn’t know my star student could squirt,” he teases, his mouth glistening with evidence of you, “or should i call you my star squirter.”

“haha, very funny…” you deadpan, becoming slightly shy at seeing him lick his lips wiping the last remains of you off of him.

“i guess my theory was right,” he concludes.

“what theory?” you ask, puzzled, forgetting the whole reason you let him eat you out in the first place.

“you do taste as good as you look,” he comments with a pleased grin, already reminiscing about you squirting all over his face.

“so about my A?” you ask pulling up your jeans, and collecting your things.

“yeah i’ll expect your rewrite on my desk by friday,” he shrugs, going back to his nonchalant persona.

“rewrite? did you not promise me an A if i can ‘persuade you,’ at how badly i want it?” you question, going back to your original state of being pissed off, “did i not persuade you mr ‘you do taste as good as you look.’ this is so unfair”

“ask me if i care about fairness?” he smirks, a laugh leaving his lips as he watches you storm out of his office, “hey! you left your underwear,” he calls out behind you, his laugh growing as you say nothing, putting up your middle finger at him and slamming his door shut.

☆ GOJO

“do you want to lose your job?” you chastise, “shut the fuck up.”

“but i can’t help it,” he purrs, nuzzling into your neck to suppress his non stop moans and whines that he was doing as he pushed his dick in you, “your pussy’s just too good.”

you were leaning against the desk of your professor gojo’s lecture hall, your legs wrapped around his bag as he hoisted you up, grinding his body against yours as his dick drives in your pussy. 

it was after hours, and gojo forgot to lock his classroom doors. as soon as your peers left the room he was quick to put his lips on yours, throwing all the stationary on his desk on the floor in the most dramatic fashion ever. 

you don’t know how you got entangled in a relationship with your teacher. since you didn’t actually benefit from it, and he was needier and clingier than an actual student your age. but the mind blowing orgasms he gave you every now and again made you forget all of his ‘bad qualities.’

“c’mon don’t tell me it’s not making you feel wetter,” he murmurs in between kisses, “the idea of someone walking in on me fucking your pretty little pussy.” you ignore him, your arms tightening around his neck as you bounce on his dick. “tell me that doesn’t make you hot,” he eases his dick out of you slightly, drawing both of your attention to his member already covered in your juices. his eyebrows raise when you look back at him as if he’s just proved his point.

“whatever, i guess the idea of us getting caught isn’t that bad,” you lie, knowing it was causing you to get better, “but if we do get caught then it's your ass gojo.”

“aww you’re so thoughtful,” he coos, “you really care about me and my job, will you miss me if i get fired?”

“well i’ll miss my on campus dick,” you mutter, scratching at his back, as he thrusts into you deeper, “but i’ll be able to replace you quickly i guess.”

“oh how you wound me,” he mocks, pulling you into a deep kiss, desperate to taste you. that was gojo’s favourite thing to do to you, of course your pussy was great, but your lips were his favourite thing. sometimes he’d even drag you out of the hallway into his office —not a care in the world if anyone was around— and pull you into his lap just shove his tongue into your mouth and fondle your tits.

for a lousy professor, gojo sure knew your body well. he knew every spot to hit, every place to kiss, every stroke to make and you loved it. the scratches you were giving him on his back, encouraging him to go deeper, stuffing you to the brim. “f-fuckk you take me so so well,” he moans in your ear, whining and grunting as you tighten your hold around him. 

“i’m close,” he mutters, his pace slowing. he lowers you down so your back is laying on the desk and he swoops his mouth down to your tits. enveloping your left breast with his mouth, greedily suckling at it. 

“wow already?” you taunt, “you’ve really lost your touch professor, when i was an undergrad we could go at it for days.” his mouth pauses, as he looks up at you with a pointed look that reads as ‘girl really? as if you aren’t close.’ he wasn’t wrong, from his deep long strokes in your pussy, and his tongue twisting on your nipples, you were ready to cum all over him.

“gojo shit,” you curse, your hand coming down to your clit, flicking at it fast to speed up your orgasm. but gojo slaps your hand away, almost offended that you would try to cum off of something other than his hands and mouth. he bites down on your nipple, punishingly and that sends you overboard. you let out a shriek as you cum all over his dick, your hand quickly coming over your mouth to suppress your whines.

“what happened to being quiet huh?” he mocks your warning from earlier, “don’t want to get caught, do we now?” but he’s quick to let out a deep moan, as he releases into you, spraying your walls with all your cum. he slumps over you, exhausted, and wanting to just feel you — gojo was always needy after sex.

after you both come down from your highs and clean up — thankful that nobody stumbled across you. gojo pulls you into his lap, dabbing kisses all over your neck, “so when you gonna let me take you out, outside the classroom?”

“y’know that’s not allowed right?” you remind him, looking at your professor as if he’s lost his mind, “what we’re doing now isn’t allowed, but out in public is a no go, gojo.”

“not allowed?” he retorts, as if it’s news to him, “i thought it was just heavily frowned upon?!”

an: sooo what did you think? which one was your favourite. me personal lame gym coach toji really did it for me. tagging my girl @jabamin mainly just for nanami. but yes ALSO IDK WHY I MADE THE READER DUMB IN THE NANAMI FIC, but I juxtaposed it by making you super smart in the geto fic so it balances it out. anyways lmk what you thought, thanks for reading!! DONT USE MY DIVIDERS