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asterlust · 4 days ago

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The World You Never Knew

When Gojo is sent to a small region to dispose of a powerful curse, only to learn it’s already been dealt with, he finds something far more interesting.Or, rather, someone.

Yandere!Gojo x reader

Tags: Rape/Non-con, violence, yandere/obsessive/possessive behavior, threats of blackmail, smut, P in V, v fingering, rough (more on Ao3)

Word count: 12.1K

an: A present to Poly @/Envy-of-the-apple. Absolutely stunning individual, that one, HIGHLY recommend his work. Pls go tell him that you love his porn and jerked off to it 12 times in his anons.

This is a repost from my other blog, as this one will be dedicated to dark content. Sorry, and thanks for bearing with me <3

“Ughhhhh.”

“Gojo Satoru! This is–”

“Yeah, yeah,” a lazy hand waved through the air, irritated, like swatting away an annoying fly. “I got it. Go to this town, deal with the spirit. Is that it? Really? I mean, do you have to send me specifically? Seems underneath me.”

“It’s a Grade 1. Ieiri doesn’t fight, Nanami is busy on another mission, and the Kyoto branch is busy training new sorcerers. You’re the only person left.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“This is not a request! It’s an order, Satoru.”

A deep, heavy, long-suffering sigh escaped the owner of the Six Eyes, who finally kicked his feet off the office desk and rocked his chair back into its proper upright position. “Fine,” he ground out, slapping his knees as he stood up. “I’ll go. Where is this place again?”

Yaga’s cheek twitched. “Kami-shima.”

Gojo nodded, half-paying attention as he dug around his ear with his pinky. “‘Kay.”

“Thank yo–”

Before the teacher could finish his statement, the door to his office slammed shut, prompting him to drop heavily into his seat with a groan.

He rubbed at his forehead, defeated and drained after dealing with the heir of the Six Eyes. “That child…”

All he could do was pity any village inhabitants that might cross paths with Gojo Satoru.

«___° ° °___»

“Left!”

On cue, you ducked right, dodging a nasty swipe aimed straight for your head. A moment later, a second arm lashed out, and you somersaulted to entirely avoid the series of limbs racing towards you. Dirt clung to your back as you rolled onto your feet, your arm working to wrap the heavy chains of your tsuri-dōrō around your wrist and palm.

The demon screeched and spun to face you, enraged by your swift escape. Its arms flailed, sickly green and bronze appendages that wriggled and writhed, squirming like worms on a wet stone – six on the left, nine on the right.

You and Mirio had been running circles around it for the better part of fifteen minutes, wearing down its stamina chip by chip. You had already lopped off two of its arms and a leg, scorch marks decorating its infected, necrotic flesh, but it had yet to slow down.

“Back, right, down!”

You raised your right leg, and slammed it down the moment a wobbling, flailing limb appeared beneath you. Your lantern dropped on top of it behind your calf, and you channeled your mahou into it. Its blue flame flared, blazing up the length of the monster’s arm on command, eating away at its thin tissue. The inhuman sound that escaped its gaping maw grated on your ears, but you only increased the power behind the fire, pushing until the arm burned through and fell off.

As the demon stumbled away, howling at the top of its lungs, its disembodied arm continued to twitch and thrash, like salt thrown onto frog legs. Your nose wrinkled, and you kicked it away, turning around to continue fighting, chain winding once more in preparation to be thrown.

But, to your luck, a long spear was already stuck through the beast’s center, spikes protruding like the rays of the sun to keep it lodged in place, poison dripping off the polished wood. A paralytic, specially designed to affect only demons. The stronger the demon, the more the paralytic affected them.

Your name was shouted. “Now!”

Wasting no time, you swung your tsuri-dōrō over your head twice, and launched it at the demon. The dark metal legs caught onto a flap of loose flesh and punctured into the muscle beneath, providing the perfect hold needed to maintain steady, undisturbed contact.

It screamed, but it was too late.

“Burn!” You shouted, weaving twin flames chasing one another down the black chain until they reached the center of the lantern. In an instant, the entire monster was engulfed in a blistering, cyan inferno. It wailed as its body began to flake and fall away, washi lit with a candle and released to float to the heavens. Rapidly, your target decayed, crusting and disintegrating until all that was left was a pile of ash that, too, was fading.

Before it wholly disappeared, Mirio jogged over, her hands clasped; pinkies and ring fingers intertwined, index and middle fingers set flush to one another and pointing upwards.

“Be released,” she urged. With a damp poof, the ash popped, fizzled, and was gone.

You sighed in relief, allowing your tsuri-dōrō to settle on the soil. Bent over, you propped your hands up on your knees, gulping down gallons of air to catch your breath. You’d been napping soundly under the warm sun until Mirio had shown up, panicked as she shook you awake and informed you that a demon was encroaching on the village. Given no time to stretch and yawn and prepare, you’d hopped up and ran straight into battle.

You didn’t regret it, no, of course not. But, man, you were going to be sore in the evening. You could already feel the acid leaching from your thighs, causing your muscles to twitch like soapy bubbles popping.

“Sure you’re not too old for this, ma’am?” A tease, given to you from your very own apprentice, one darling Akinori.

They were a spritely, young kid, far too eager for the fate awaiting them, the obligation they accepted when they became – pleaded to be – your apprentice. They aspired to be like you, like the rest of the Exorcists that wandered the island, and while you weren’t entirely comfortable with the pedestal they put you on (unintentionally, you knew. They were a good kid and meant well), you remembered what it was like when you were their age.

Starry-eyed, excited to play your part in protecting your home, your people, defending them from the monsters under the bed that used to scare you.

Now, all you wanted was a nap. A strong drink, too.

“Nori,” you panted out, and stood straight once more. “Shove it up your ass.”

They pouted. “Is that any way to speak to your apprentice?”

You used your index finger to flick at their forehead. “I warned you, you knew what you were getting into. No complaining, now.”

Nori snorted and rolled their eyes, but obeyed, skipping up to your side. Their stripped, paperless parasol was folded, and with a flick of their wrist, the weapon disappeared. Following suit, you let your chain fall to the ground, and both it and your tsuri-dōrō vanished in a bundle of sparkles.

Beside you, Mirio was writing on a strip of paper, a block of wood held underneath it for support. “Time of exorcism: 14:23. Well done, that was quick. It only took seventeen minutes.”

You groaned as you arched your back, hands on your lumbar to aid in cracking the vertebrae there. “Not bad. You’ve gotten better at callouts. How’s your vision?”

At the mention, your fellow Exorcist rubbed her eye, grunting. “Not awful. Aches a little, but I think it’ll go away in a few minutes.”

Nodding, you clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy.”

She nodded back. “‘Course. Do you want to go report to the Elder about the demon?”

Cocking your head side to side, wincing at the clicks in your neck, you hummed in consideration. “Yeah, sure. Let’s get it out of the way now.”

With Nori tucked against your side, the kid rambling (again) about how cool your strength was (again) and fluffing up your ego (appreciated), your little trio made their way towards the Elder’s home, ready to turn in the report. Ideally, you’d get it over quick, and be freed to continue that late afternoon nap of yours.

Unfortunately, the world seemed to have other plans.

Stopping in your tracks, you locked onto a figure approaching from the distance, dressed nearly from head-to-toe in black, save for the shock of white hair decorated atop their head. They walked hunched over, hands tucked away in their pockets, clearly detesting whatever had brought them to this hamlet.

Noticing that you’d fallen behind, Akinori and Mirio called out to you simultaneously.

You waved them off pacifyingly. “Go ahead without me, I'll deal with this.”

“You sure, auntie?” Nori asked, peering skeptically at the incomer.

You crinkled your nose at the bridge. “Don’t call me that, you’ll make me feel old.”

“Would you prefer ‘mom’?”

You began reaching to tug off a shoe. “You–!”

Mirio grasped Nori’s arm and began tugging them away, waving at you from over her shoulder. “See you at the Elder’s house, auntie! Be careful!”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest petulantly as you watched your juniors disappear across the bridge in a fit of giggles, Nori’s laughter carried on the soft, ocean breeze to you, and you eventually sighed as you dismissed your irritation. “Damn children,” you mumbled, returning your attention to the stranger, who was now only a few meters away.

Closer, now, you could see it was a man – a boy, really. You had at least a decade on him, maybe that and a half. His cheeks were still round with youth, scrawny despite his unruly height. Wide shoulders, yes, but arms and legs like twigs. Lanky, damn near sickly with just how pale the exposed skin of his face was.

Even so, you could recognize the presence of mahou no matter where you were, and his was particularly strong. White hair, too. Strange, you thought. Albinism? Something else? It was certainly a unique look, if nothing else. You’d ask about it later, if you found the chance.

“Welcome to Kami-shima,” you told him once he was in reach, arms lowering to rest at your sides. “What brings you here?”

He stopped in front of you, head raising to show that he was wearing round shades, the lenses pitch black. Hell, you weren’t sure he could see through them at all to begin with, but he made it here and hadn’t tripped yet, so maybe it was simply an illusion that made them look darker than they were.

He was silent for a drawn out moment, then responded, a plucked brow raising. “Who are you?”

“Manners,” you chided, then gave your name. “I’m a local Exorcist.”

He quipped sarcastically, “Exorcist? What, like, you scare away ghosts? Puh, you know those aren’t real, right?”

Good heavens, who raised this boy? Even your grandpa, notorious hardass that he was, was never this condescending.

“No,” you enunciated slowly. “I exorcise demons. You’re lucky, we just got rid of one shortly before you arrived.”

He frowned, and a look of deep consideration crossed over the parts of his expression you could see. It made him look like he was pouting, like thinking was a task he wasn’t ever keen to do. Pretty easy to clock him as a spoiled, rich kid. This had to be a punishment for him of some kind.

You met him less than thirty seconds again, and you could already see why it would be.

He huffed, the noise one of disbelief. “Wait, the cursed spirit? You got rid of it? That thing was a Grade 1, how could you exorcise it?”

“The hell does ‘Grade 1’ mean?” You mumbled, and shook your head. “Nevermind. I was able to exorcise it because I’m the most experienced Exorcist in this part of Kami-shima.”

“But, you’re so…weak.”

Your brow twitched and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. “Someone needs to discipline you,” you insisted. “Come on, I’ll take you to the Elder.”

In truth, while you did intend to show him your way of life, since he clearly had no clue how any of this worked, there was something about him that unsettled you. Greatly. Part of the reason you wanted to hurry and meet up with the senior was so that you weren’t alone with the newcomer anymore.

He was a jerk, sure, but that’s not what (wholly) bothered you.

No, it was the way you could feel him staring into you, through you.

You couldn’t see his eyes, but it was easy to sense the sheer power behind his gaze, the way he seemed to look down at you as if you were an insect. Maybe, that was his Strength, those eyes of his. Gods, what an unsettling thought, for someone’s power to lie within their eyes alone. All he would need was a glance. A peek, and cities would be razed.

His Weakness would be blindness, were someone to somehow reach his face and claw out those orbs, but you had a feeling that nobody would ever get the chance.

As much as you hated when people wore sunglasses, since it made them look exceptionally suspicious, you were, inexplicably, grateful that his were planted solidly on the bridge of his nose, blocking his hues from your sight. Whatever it was about them, the irritating tickle in the back of your mind told you that you didn’t want to ever peer into them personally.

Without waiting to see if he was following you, you started walking towards the village, and a few, delayed seconds later, you heard him jog to keep up.

“What’s your name, kid?” You queried.

He clicked his tongue. “Gojo Satoru,” he replied, like you were supposed to drop onto your knees and stick your head in the ground, performing dogeza for having not realized his identity sooner.

Instead, you blinked at him from the corner of your eye, and kept striding forward.

“Alright, Gojo. Nice to meet you,” you hummed. “Were you drawn to Kami-shima because of the demon?”

Gojo cocked his head to the side, further and further until his jaw popped. “Yep. Got sent to this…place on a mission.”

You let out a ‘huh’ sound. “Mission? Oh, so you’re part of another sect of Exorcists? Are you from the mainland?”

He shrugged idly. “Nah, I’m a sorcerer.”

“Sorcerer? What a weird name.”

“You people are the ones with the weird names. Demons, Exorcists, what’s up with that?”

You raised a hand on instinct to smack the back of his head, only to be stopped completely by the sensation of…air?

Staggering to a stop, you flexed your hand, sensing the strong resistance pushing back into your palm. It wasn’t like you had been frozen into place, your hand hitting a brick wall; you could still feel the energy flowing in and around it, the twitching of your muscles that indicated you remained in control of them. You were moving, just incredibly slowly, enough so that by the time you breached through this invisible barrier, you’d likely be bones rotting and returning to the earth.

Withdrawing, you brought your hand to your chest, rubbing your thumb into the center of it to swipe off the excess mahou the ability left on you. “What in the world? Is– is that your Strength?” You were so certain his eyes were his Strength, were you wrong?”

A grin split across Gojo’s lips, tugging at the corners until it pushed his cheeks upwards. “Infinity. It’s the inherited Technique of the Gojo clan. Neat, right?”

“Technique?” You repeated. “How does it work?”

“Anything that comes into contact with Infinity is slowed down infinitesimally until it almost ceases entirely.”

How fascinating, you thought. How terrifying. The power to divide a number upon itself forever and never reach zero, to apply that to himself, to others.

Just what was his Strength?

Deciding to let the Elder figure it out for you, you crossed the bridge with Gojo in tow, offering hellos to the familiar faces you passed by, who stared unabashedly at the outsider. The aforementioned outsider himself didn’t appear to mind the attention in the slightest. If anything, he relished it, waving and grinning at the older women, cooing at the young children hiding behind their mother’s legs.

Your people weren’t unkind to newcomers. Given how small the island was, the low population, visitors weren’t common. You had nothing to offer tourists; attractions, interesting structures, none of those existed. All you had were beautiful landscapes, a tepid oceanfront, local specialties, and warm hospitality.

For most, that was more than enough. Those that came knew what to expect, and didn’t make a fuss.

You believed Gojo wouldn’t behave that way, and your neighbors seemed to think the same.

The call of a youngling made you turn, watching as an adolescent boy ran up to you, arms outstretched. You knelt down, allowing him to crash into you, the force causing you to puff out an ‘oof’.

“Miss Exorcist, Miss Exorcist,” he practically bounced on his toes. “Is the demon gone?”

Patting his back twice, you hummed in assent. “All gone. We took care of it, don’t you worry.”

“What did it look like?”

You mulled over his question, deciding how to tastefully leave out the grosser details a kid his age didn’t need to know. “It was tall, with a big mouth and so many arms, I lost count,” you embellished, not mentioning the stench of rot and decay that stuck to it like a miasma, nor the way the detached arms wriggled like abandoned lizard tails.

He hooned, brown irises glittering with fascination. “So cool! Was it strong?”

“Super strong.”

“But, you’re stronger, right? That’s why you won!”

Enjoying his chiming laughter, you leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “That’s right. I’m way stronger. No big, scary monster is gonna get you, not under my watch.”

He giggled. “Can I be like you one day? See and fight the monsters, too?”

You hummed in contemplation. Not many were born with the ability to see the demons, let alone take them down. “Even if you never get to see them, it’s never a bad idea to get stronger. Gotta protect that little sister of yours if I can’t be there.”

He nodded firmly, deadly serious. “I’ll keep her safe. I want you to be proud of me.”

“I already am,” you ruffled his hair, his dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Now, go, find your mom. I’m sure she’s worried about you.”

“She’ll make me do chores…”

“Then, you better hurry back before she gets mad and gives you more work, hm?”

He gasped, suddenly aware of the consequences of avoiding chores. He wormed his way out of your hold and scurried off, thanking you on his way.

As you stood back up, Gojo appeared at your side out of nowhere, nearly scaring you out of your damn skin.

He paid your spook no mind, his attention focused on where the kid had vanished down the tight alleyways. “They know?”

“Huh?”

“They know about curses? That you’re a sorcerer? The people of this island?”

You blinked. “They know about demons, and that I’m an Exorcist, of course, they do. Why wouldn’t they?”

“They’re not supposed to,” he claimed, brows knitting. “We’re meant to protect humanity, so they can live in ignorant bliss.”

Your lips tugged downwards in displeasure. “That’s too dangerous,” you explained. “If they didn’t know, they’d have no way to protect themselves if one of our Exorcists isn’t around. How are people supposed to survive in this world if they aren’t aware of the threats that exist in it?”

He didn’t reply to that, lost for an answer. “How do they know, if they can’t see curses?”

From the back pocket of your pants, you pulled out a wooden token – an omamori. “From the shrine,” you informed him. “Grants protection, and kinda works like a siren. If a demon is close by, the omamori creates a thin barrier around the owner that can deflect most demonic attacks. Gives them enough time to get back to safety and warn the Elder.”

“Who is the Elder? You keep mentioning him.”

Giving him a wan smile, you pushed open the door of a nearby home, jolting your head towards it.

“You’re about to meet her.”

True to your word, as you stepped inside, you found the Elder sitting in her armchair, nursing a steaming cup of tea as Nori and Mirio rambled about the defeated demon.

“–And, then, she threw her tsuri-dōrō on it, and it went fwum! Totally badass!”

Mirio smacked the back of Nori’s head. “Language!”

“Wha– but it’s true!”

The Elder laughed, her crackling voice soothing the bickering pair. “It’s alright, little Mirio. They’re still young, let them be excited,” she said, placing her cup on the side table next to her chair. “Besides, we have guests.”

Both of the younger two in the room whipped their heads around to take in your and Gojo’s presence.

“Hey,” you greeted. “Miss me?”

Nori hopped up to their feet from the floor and pointed at Gojo, completely disregarding you. “That’s him! That’s the stranger!”

This time, it was you that whacked them on their shoulder. “Manners! It’s rude to point and yell.”

They pouted. “Sorry, auntie. But, that’s him, right?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed. “Yes. This is–”

“Six Eyes.”

All present froze to look at the Elder, who gazed at the white-haired man with wonder and awe.

Gojo scoffed. “Finally, someone recognizes me.”

She shook her head. “Not you, boy. Your Strength. You wield the Six Eyes, do you not?”

You watched his jaw muscles feather, but the pride of someone being aware of his power overwhelmed any sort of irritation her dismissal incited. “I do. What of them?”

So, it was his eyes, after all. You were right.

“That’s powerful magic there, boy,” she warned. “Too powerful, in the wrong hands.”

He rolled his eyes (well, his head – those sunglasses were in the way, and he was notably very aware of them) and sucked his teeth. “It’s fine, I’m the strongest. Best hands, right here.”

“Elder,” Mirio tugged at the woman’s sleeve. “What are the Six Eyes?”

She took the girl’s hand into her own pair, palms worn soft with age. “They’re like your eyes, but much more powerful, my dear. Capable of seeing everything.”

“Everything?”

She confirmed, “Everything. Light, mahou, your heart. Nothing can hide from those eyes.”

Mirio placed a hand over her chest, evidently covering her heart, protecting it from Gojo’s intrusive gaze, were he to try and see it for himself.

It explained the glasses, at least. Likely to dampen the effect of his Strength. You imagined that having them bared was unpleasant, if the Elder’s words were true. Mirio suffered from potent headaches if she channeled her Strength for too long. Was Gojo’s Strength permanently activated?

“That’s not all to you, is it, child?”

Gojo grumbled something about not being a child, so you stepped in.

“He claims to have something called ‘Infinity’. In short, I can’t touch him,” you told her. “Elder Aisha, is it possible for someone to have multiple Strengths?”

Aisha considered it, resting her chin between her index and thumb. “It is, though it is more rare in today’s age. With less demons, there’s less need for an Exorcist to possess multiple Strengths. Your ancestor had two.”

“My ancestor?”

She got to her feet with a groan and pop of her knees, and hobbled over to a nearby bookshelf. Her lithe fingers skimmed over the backs of a few books, and eventually pulled one out. She popped it open and flipped through a number of pages, then handed it to you to observe.

On the page was an ukiyo-e painting of a man settled in seiza, flowing kimono robes pooling around him. On his left stood a bronze lantern, unlit, its chain looped neatly in coils under its base. You realized that it was your lantern.

“Your ancestor, Yoshitsune,” she tapped on his face, “had the ability to create any item the good spirits deemed necessary to ensure his victory in battle.”

“Fascinating…I had no idea. What about Gojo, then?”

Gojo made a noise.

You lifted your head from the book. “What?”

He crossed his arms, tapping his toe on the soft rug of Aisha’s living room. “This is boring. I didn’t come here for a history lesson.”

Your temperature spiked with anger. “You–”

“Of course,” the Elder interrupted you. “My apologies. My dear here,” she motioned towards you, “will give you a tour of our modest town. Won’t you, dear?” She asked rhetorically.

“I–”

At the way she pried your fingers off the book and snapped it shut, you promptly closed your mouth and swallowed down any objections.

“I’d be happy to,” you forced a positive inflection. You didn’t want to leave, you wanted to learn more (Aisha had a way of making your grown ass interested in anything), but you knew when to bow your head and accept a task, even if it was one you despised.

Tomorrow. You’d pester her tomorrow. Hopefully, by then, the stranger would be gone.

«___° ° °___»

Surprisingly, he was obedient in trailing after you, a bit like a duckling.

You expected more whining, more complaining, more bitching. Your home, after all, did not seem like a place that would hold his attention for any length of time. Though, you supposed that was accurate, since it was you he was keenly captivated by.

It made your stomach churn.

So, you tried to take the spotlight off of yourself. “How long are you staying?”

He shrugged one shoulder languidly. “I was gonna leave as soon as I got rid of that cursed spirit, but since you already killed it…might as well stay. A mini vacation, y’know? I definitely need one, the higher-ups have been yapping their old, greasy heads off again. It’s so annoying. They talk and talk and talk, going on and on. Can’t stand it. They never shut up.”

Tongue held between your teeth, you let him go on, ignoring your desire to stick a rock in his mouth. Currently, you planned to show him the boring spots around town, confident you could scare him into leaving early.

“Peachy,” you muttered once he paused to take a damn breath. “Great, well, I’ll show you around, then drop you off at an inn–”

“Ooooor, I can just stay with you.”

You coughed on your spit. “Pardon?”

He kicked a pebble. “I mean, it’s way more convenient. We won’t have to cut our conversations short, and we can get to know each other better.”

The lilt at the end of his sentence sent an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I’m way older than you, it’d be impro–”

He stopped in front of you. “I don’t care.”

Your hands clenched at your sides. “Gojo–”

“I’m serious,” he asserted. “I don’t mind that you’re older.”

“That’s not– I mind.”

Gojo raised his hands placatingly, almost as if surrendering. “Don’t worry, I won’t leech off’a ya. I’ll compensate you fairly for housing me. As thanks.”

You snarled. “I didn’t agree to this.”

“You should come with me, back to Tokyo,” Gojo said. “We always need more sorcerers. Strong sorcerers.”

Whiplash. From one topic to the next, never giving you a chance to find ground to stand on.

A bubble of something trickled up your throat. Hesitance? Distaste? Anxiety? Something that made acid sting your esophagus. Your anger dissipated, replaced with disorientation. “Oh,” you responded dumbly, lagging behind. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not interested.”

“Why? It’s so much better than this place,” he insisted, jeering at your surroundings. “More interesting. Plus, I’ll be there.”

That’s exactly the issue.

Your eye twitched in offense. He knew exactly how to rile you up, and it was working, to your chagrin. The constant turbulence was throwing you off balance, pissing you off. “This is my home. I won’t stand by and let you insult it simply because our way of life is different from yours. Like I said: thanks, but no, thanks.”

The boy remained silent, expression neutral, and it had nervousness twisting in the pit of your gut. You’d rather he yell at you, shame you, call you dumb or old or what have you. So long as he didn’t examine you the way he did now, unresponsive, biding his time. Picking you apart down to the molecular level, separating your atoms until you were strewn apart, latticework for him to admire.

A dissection done by your shrine god would have been less invasive. Their hands wouldn’t have felt as abrasive while digging through your guts, their nails wouldn’t have scratched your cold, stiff arms and legs. Not the same way Gojo’s glare peeled your layers off one by one, time taken to examine each and every slice with diligent fixation.

Your god would take your Strength, and return it to the world, allowing it to one day resurface so it may return to your reincarnation when the time came.

Instinctively, you knew that Gojo would take it, and keep it for himself.

He’d wrap his hands around the flickering flame of your soul, squeeze the heart of your very being, just to feel your warmth. He’d search through your body to find what his greed most desired, and cling to it, breathing in the scent of ash and cracking cherry bark that released a sweet scent as they burned, one too enticing for him to admire only in passing.

He’d take your tsuri-dōrō and let it burn everything until only you remained, cupped in his palms, held too high above the smoking soil to consider jumping off.

Not unless you wished to succumb to the blaze yourself.

You waited.

Waited, and waited, and waited, apprehension growing, sweat forming at your hairline and slipping down your temple as you anticipated the explosion that would follow your rejection, the burst of emotion too violent to keep contained inside a body that never knew how to back down, a mind that was never told no.

He opened his mouth, you held your breath–

“Just give it some thought, okay?” Gojo smiled, his head tilting to the side benevolently. “It’s an open offer.”

–nothing.

No burst, no violent meltdown, no tantrum from the spoiled brat. No demands, no threats, none of your expectations met.

It should relieve you. To some degree, it did.

A bigger part of you, the part that had bundled up energy in preparation for an argument that wouldn’t happen and had no outlet anymore, tensed up in a brief twist of panic.

He wasn’t calm, not at all. Anyone else, he could easily fool, bearing that charming grin and nonchalant stance, his tone easy and cheery, accepting the rejection with grace and humility. Anyone that wasn’t you.

Your sensitivity to mahou meant you were painfully aware of how strongly his flared.

At your refusal, it swelled fiercely, gasoline poured over unlit charcoal. It came like a heavy downpour, a cataclysmic cleansing of the sin that infested the ground you walked on, the tree canopies you hid under. A freezing rush in the dead of summer, frostbite nipping at your fingertips, craving your heat, the iron of your blood, to feast on your vitality.

Then, it was gone.

Its swift arrival was followed by an equally swift departure, leaving behind a vacuum, energy sucked out too fast. It staggered you, your equilibrium briefly interrupted, confusion and fear making you dizzy.

But, he kept smiling, pretending nothing was wrong.

You knew better than to point it out, to mention his temper, the displeasure you knew paced back and forth, a caged animal that salivated and rubbed its side into the bars, knowing it was a matter of time until it was freed, given permission to hunt its promised meal.

You bit down your prey response, the temptation you had to fawn, to placate. Apologize, tell him you changed your mind, you’d go, so long as he didn’t destroy your home.

You’re a fighter, for fuck’s sake. An Exorcist. You’re better than this.

You stifled the need to say that aloud. To assure him you weren’t going anywhere.

“Yeah,” you said through your teeth, a strained simper. “I’ll think about it.”

«___° ° °___»

The moment you unlocked the door to your house, Gojo made a beeline for your couch, dropping into it with a weary sigh. Comfortable, right at home, like he belonged.

Just make it through the night, you tried to convince yourself. Have to make it through the night. Then, he’ll be gone.

Cracking his knuckles, he stretched out his long legs and tucked his hands behind his head. “Thanks for housing me.”

The cheek, the gall. You had trouble believing you’d somehow let the kid coerce you into permitting him entry into your private space. What would your Chichi think of you now? You mourned, grumbling as you kicked off your shoes and stacked them neatly in the genkan, scowling at the way he let his fly every which way. Because you weren’t raised to be petty (though you wanted to be), you gathered his sneakers and aligned them, too.

“Yup,” you replied sarcastically, popping the p. “My pleasure.”

He ran you ragged, practically dragging you through the streets, stopping to eat at your favorite restaurant (he paid, claimed it was ‘his treat’. The restaurant might no longer be your favorite). He demanded to see the shrine, the gift shop – “we don’t have a gift shop.” – the beach – “I’m not going swimming with you.” – anything he could put his mind to.

Frankly, you were exhausted, and wanted him out of your home, but you wanted your bed more.

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” you told him flatly. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

He whinged. “What, won’t let me in your bed?”

“I’m not giving you my bed,” you spat out grumpily as you tugged open the hallway closet and tunneled through it in search of a blanket. If you had it your way, you’d let him cover himself in toilet paper for the night, but your Mama raised you better than that. Unfortunately.

He mumbled under his breath, “That’s not what I said…”

Quilt in hand, you blinked at him, not having heard him properly. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he swept away your curiosity in a sing-songy tone. “Where’s your bathroom?”

You waddled over to the couch, not quite able to see exactly where you were going until you dropped the pile of fabric onto the corner seat of the couch. “Oh, uh. It’s down the hall, first door on the left.”

Wordlessly, he got up and vanished into the room. The light flicked on, the door closed, and you were alone.

Visibly, the tension in your body melted, stress you didn’t know you were holding. Your shoulders slumped, and you were able to breathe, conscious of his absence. Air bolted back into the room, uninhibited now that his stifling, dominating presence wasn’t there to consume it all for himself.

For a few sacred, precious minutes, you stood there, absorbing the peace of existing without the ghostly sensation of Gojo breathing down your neck.

The sound of the tap turning on drew you out of your reverie, and you busied yourself. Unfolding the blanket, laying it across the sofa to act as both a sheet and comforter Gojo could fold over himself, propping up a nearby throw pillow, trying not to think about whatever it was he was doing in your bathroom. Pretending. Pretending all of this was normal. A familiar guest visiting from the mainland, one that acted normal, looked normal, sounded normal, was normal.

It only lasted so long.

The door opened, and out he came, yawning loudly. Round sunglasses still in place.

His hair was mussed up, face ever so slightly damp, water droplets clinging to a few strands of pure white. Fresh, ready for bed.

Like you, he was pretending. Whether for your sake, or not, you didn’t bother trying to understand.

His mahou continued to flow through his veins, primed, never released. His energy bounded off of him in waves, lazy, seafoam lapping leisurely along the beach’s shoreline. Sand darkened by the salt and water, then lightening as the murky green receded.

While you knew that he and his sorcerer kind functioned differently from you and your Exorcist kind, you were certain that his energy was distinctly abnormal. Never resting, never sated. It salivated, greedy, intent to devour anything he got his hands on.

If you weren’t careful, it’d be you he gorged himself on, ingesting you, flesh and bone and sinew and all.

“Man, I’m wiped,” he lied, stretching his arms high above his head. If he stood on his toes, his fingertips would brush the ceiling.

Your lips tugged at the corners into a flat, stiff line. “Good timing. I finished setting up the couch for you. You can go ahead and sleep now.”

As he passed you, he tapped your ass twice. “Thanks, pretty.”

You squeaked, covering your backside, but he appeared none the wiser to your plight. Or, purposefully ignorant.

Just overly friendly, he doesn’t know any better. Spoiled brat, young, a kid.

Whatever excuse you needed to comfort yourself, you sought out, jaw wound shut. He’ll be gone tomorrow. He’ll be gone tomorrow. He’ll be gone tomorrow.

The bearer of the Six Eyes plopped down onto his makeshift bed, adjusting to get comfortable, and sighed like an old dog. Happy. Right at home.

“G’night,” he drawled.

“Goodnight, Gojo.”

He grumbled something, but you were far past caring, not bothering to stop and ask him to repeat himself. Hurriedly, you locked yourself in your bathroom, hands braced on your sink, lights off. The thought of looking at yourself was unbearable, facing how much a 20-something-year-old unraveled you as easily as plucking a loose string on a knitted sweater, rows upon rows of destroyed for mere curiosity. Vapid, temporary interest.

Fuck, you couldn’t wait for him to be leave, so you could erase him from your memories using bleach and a wire brush.

Gulping down your loathing, you flicked the switch, and dared to meet the foe residing in the mirror.

She posed the same way you did, skin pulled taut over her knuckles, bones protruding from how tightly she gripped the wooden edge. Bags darkened the crescents under her eyes, cheeks sunken, scleras bloodshot. Were you a stranger, a friendly neighbor, you would have asked her if she was sick, bid her to sit down, wrapped her fingers around a steaming cup of ginger and lemon tea.

But, there was nobody who could help you now, give you that comfort. Your Mama and Chichi were on the other side of the village, enjoying having the house to themselves ever since you moved out a decade ago. Sunday brunches were a given, those weekly visits ritualistic and necessary and wanted.

Showing up uninvited, so late at night, a stranger left behind in your home?

They’d have your head on a pike.

Bear with it. You were an adult, an Exorcist. Gojo was just some runt from the mainland.

You’ll be okay.

Won’t you?

Massaging your temple to encourage your blooming headache to go away already, you reached out with your free hand to grab your toothbrush, only to halt dead in your tracks.

It was wet.

A cold shiver swarmed you, raising hairs along your arms and nape, goosebumps forming.

He–

He used your toothbrush? Your toothbrush?

It– sure, you forgot about getting him a new one, but surely he would have known to ask for one.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to breath heavily through your nose, slow and deep inhales. It’s fine. It’s fine. It��s fucking fine. It’s a toothbrush. You were lucky that you had spares, and even if you didn’t, you were able to use your finger in a worst-case scenario.

Pointedly avoiding the now tainted toothbrush, you rifled through the top drawer of the counter, locating a brand new one. You ripped open the packaging, ran it under the water, added toothpaste, and scoured at your teeth aggressively. You went at them like you hated them, like there was blood stuck in them, drenching the wells of your molars, staining the enamel. Behind your incisors, on your cuspids, to the back of your tongue, gag reflex triggered.

You brushed, and brushed, and brushed, panting when you finished. Fluoride in your stomach, stinging your nasopharynx, the cost to feel clean, at least here.

Had you felt safer, were there not a stranger down the hall, you would have sat down in the shower and let scalding hot water wash away your revulsion and make you anew, burn away the dirt of where he dared to touch you, of where his eyes strayed.

Choking out the toothpaste, mouth aching from the cold water you punished yourself with, you nearly clawed at your face to rinse away the oil and grime of the day, wanting to be done already.

The sooner you were in bed and fell asleep, the sooner the next day would come, and you’d be free again. Free from those eyes, that mahou, that person. If he could be called that.

if he could be considered human.

Tenderly, you opened the door and peeked down the hall, finding Gojo’s back to you, fast asleep.

Thank fuck.

Cautious as a mouse, you tiptoed to your room, skillfully avoiding all the creaky spots in the floor. You didn’t feel safe ‘til you shut and locked the door, which you leaned back onto. Gods, you were exhausted. The weight of the day hung on your shoulders, causing your feet to drag and stumble over the pile of clothes on the floor.

Bewildered, you looked down, and found a shirt, tank top, and pair of pants strewn across the floor, tossed haphazardly.

Why were they on the ground?

You didn’t recall having left them there, but then again, you weren’t the most tidy person, and tended to be forgetful. Maybe, you dropped them on your way out that morning, unworried, figuring you’d toss them in your hamper when you got home.

It rubbed you the wrong way, scales made of teeth that shredded into you, but…who else, if not you? Gojo never left the bathroom, the door remained closed the entire time he occupied it. You didn’t own any pets, but it wouldn’t have been the first time a stray cat got in. Though, you didn’t see or hear any critters scuttling around. A check of the hamper indicated that nothing hid inside it, either.

There was nobody else to blame.

The conclusion felt wrong, yet you came up with no other ideas.

So, all you could do was pick them up from their resting place on the floor and toss them into the hamper, alongside the clothes you were wearing.

Where you usually took your time getting ready for bed, liking to pamper yourself. the sensation of being watched hadn’t left you since Gojo arrived on your island. The less time you were naked for, the better, in your opinion.

Quickly, you swapped out your blouse for a loose, oversized T-shirt and slipped on a clean pair of panties. Normally, you didn’t wear more to bed, disliking the sensation of bottoms rolling up your legs while you slept, but you needed to put on something more than just underwear. You were safe in your room, but it wasn’t enough.

You searched through your dresser, tugging out the pair of sleeping shorts you found and drawing them up your legs, over your hips, finishing them off with a small bow at the front.

There. Better.

Sort of.

Not much, actually.

It’d have to do. You were sleepy, tired of the day, threadbare. Your bed called to you, and you had no intention of ignoring it.

The sheets welcomed you soothingly, embracing your form in that familiar hold you were longing for, coveting. Fluffy comforter, downy pillows, comfortable mattress, everything you required to smooth down your hackles, at last able to lower your guard. You were safe. Safe. Safe.

Images danced on your ceiling, hazy recollections and fantasies, absentminded planning, zealous to have your individuality returned to you. Dreams of taking a day off, visiting the docks, hiding from your student that would inevitably drag you to a nearby field to ‘train’, AKA watch you swing around your tsuri-dōrō. A day to yourself. All you needed was a day to yourself, and everything would be good again.

Right as your lids began to slip shut, succumbing to your exhaustion, something pressed against your lips.

Soft, warm, plush, pillowy.

Your eyes snapped open in an instant and you were sitting up, pushing away whatever was touching you, leaning over you.

In the dim, silver light of the moon, you saw him.

Gojo Satoru.

His sunglasses weren’t on, but, god, you fucking wished they were. Without them, there was nothing to conceal the horror that greeted you upon making eye contact.

Blue.

They were so, so, viscerally blue. Wide, shimmering, glossy. Fairy crystals that shone the same way the moon did; they imbibed all the light in the room, practically glowing from the sheer vim they contained alone, digesting the slivers of night.

You gasped, scooting back minutely. “What are you doing?”

How did he get in? You didn’t hear your door open, and furthermore, it was locked. It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t–

The door’s open.

It was open, swung wide to show the lightless hallway, a chasm left in dearth of his mahou.

“I’m kissing you.”

“Wh– I know that,” you snapped, eyes shifting back to him. “I’m asking why you’re kissing me.”

He blinked, considering you as if you were a few degrees short of intelligence. “I like you.”

Fuck. This is what you were worried about, on some level. You should have known. People always seemed to enjoy putting you on a pedestal, unconcerned for the discomfort it caused you. You weren’t someone to be idolized, not like this, by someone like him.

“Look, Gojo.”

“Satoru,” he corrected. “Call me Satoru.”

Your nose wrinkled. “Look, Gojo,” you emphasized. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, but I’m not– this,” you pointed between yourself and him, “isn’t happening. You’re too young for me, we met today, and I’m– I’m not interested, alright?”

He frowned. “I told you that I don’t care how old you are.”

“I care,” you specified. “I care that I’m much older than you. It’s– it’s wrong. Okay?”

Lashes of pearl fluttered. “Why? I’m above the age of consent. I am consenting.”

You exhaled, growing frustrated. “That’s not the point. It’s not about the age of consent, it’s about the differences in maturity, the power imbalance. Besides, I’m not consenting.”

He kept quiet for a long moment, taking in your features, processing your little tirade. Outwardly, he gave no reaction, and you didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

But, he started to lean back, retreating from you, and you breathed out the air you were holding in relief.

Idly, defeated, he dipped his head. “I get it.”

You relaxed, muscles losing their tension. “Good, I’m glad.”

“You’re playing hard to get.”

Before you could react, he was on you, tackling you back onto your bed.

“Get off of me!” You screeched, shoving at his chest, trying desperately to lift his weight from your body.

His size was deceptive, his might hidden under layers of black cloth. You were older, you had more experience, you were supposed to be stronger. You were a teacher, you were an Exorcist, for fuck’s sake.

Yet, it took him no effort at all to pin you down, knees thrown over either side of your waist, weight settled to keep you immobilized. You struggled valiantly, fighting with all your might to dislodge him. Nothing. He didn’t so much as budge.

“I can play hard, too,” he promised, lips split, harsh pants of excitement escaping him. “That what you need, huh? Someone to knock you down a peg?”

You opened your mouth to scream, but he slammed his hand against your lips, a demented look glimmering in those terrible orbs of his. You tasted the salt of his flesh, dug your teeth into his palm, but garnered no reaction from him; none aside from the low groan that rattled in the base of his chest, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Shh, shh,” he hushed. “What’ll your neighbors think if they came in and saw this? You, in bed, with me?”

You froze, heart leaping to your throat. No, no, he wouldn’t.

“Are you really gonna let them see you taking advantage of me?” Slowly, he pulled his hand away, smirking down at you.

You peeled your tongue from the roof of your mouth, your maw suddenly painfully dry. “They won’t believe you. It’s my word against yours. I grew up with these people, they know me.”

“Did you know, most of the time, people are completely unaware that their loved one is a murderer?”

Your lip trembled. “What?”

He nodded solemnly, pouting. Degrading. Condescending. “It’s true. When interviewed, family, friends, they all say they had no idea, their loved one would never. They know them, after all. So, they’d know if their father was a murderer.”

“What are you getting at?”

He leaned closer, too close, he was going to swallow you whole. One hand toyed with the hem of your sleep shirt, twisting it, smoothing it out. “Everyone has secrets. Who’s to say this isn’t yours? Liking younger men?”

“I don’t like younger men.”

“How are they supposed to know? All they’ll see is you sharing your bed with someone who is too young for you. Your words.”

You were torn.

He was lying, manipulating you, scaring you with the thought of being ostracized by your community for something that wasn’t true. You knew it wasn’t true, you were certain that your community would know it wasn’t true.

But, how were you supposed to explain that he overpowered you? This young man, in his early twenties at most. Yes, he was strong, but you had age, experience. You should have been able to fight him off without issue.

You couldn’t.

He found no fight when he dug the spindly lengths of his digits into the edge of your shorts, and yanked.

The fabric tore on its way down your thighs, jolting and exposing more and more skin in short bursts as he tugged the material off, off, off. He spared it no mercy, disregarding your sniffles of protest. You could hear him mumbling that he’d buy you a new pair, as many as you wanted, better, prettier, as if that was what you were upset about.

His nails scratched at the bared flesh of your legs, merciless in his efforts to strip you, fighting against his odd positioning over you that he didn’t want to change. You squirmed, kicking out as best as you could. It freed one foot in the process, and he decided that was all he needed.

You blinked, and he was between your thighs, hands hooking under your knees to tug you closer, wrapping them around his lithe waist. To your absolute, utter horror, he pressed his hips directly into yours, the seam of his uniform digging into the split of your center, and you felt it. Him.

Hard. Undeniably, ruthlessly solid, flesh turned to stone. It froze you in the midst of your struggle, and he took the opportunity to grind into you, firm, unforgiving. He rolled against you, huffs and wimpish grunts spilling from his lips, and your panic was brought back tenfold. You jerked and twisted with renewed effort, trying to claw at his arms, his shoulders; wrap your fingers around his throat and squeeze until he went limp, until his chest jolted, then stilled.

For all your exertion, it did nothing to deter him. In fact, he moaned when your nails caught on the soft skin of his stomach under the rucked up edge of his top, dragging angry, vicious red lines into the pale give of the muscle beneath.

“God, I can feel you, so warm,” he hissed through his teeth, snowy lashes squeezed shut as he focused his energy into leeching the heat from your core.

Distressed, you whined, a pathetic noise unbefitting of you. Too ugly, too weak, too unlike yourself. This wasn’t happening, it simply wasn’t.

“Look at that,” he purred. “Wet for me already. Knew you were pretending.”

You startled. “I’m not!”

He set his finger against the gusset of your underwear and slid it upwards, through the natural dampness that had gathered there. He must have mistaken it for arousal.

His teeth shone white, canines sharp, primed to bite into your jugular and shake, rip, tear. Snap tendons and gnaw muscle. Eat you.

“‘Course, you are, don’t have to lie,” he patted your hip contemptuously. “I know I’m pretty. I know the effect I have on women, it’s okay, I won’t judge you. I like it.”

You inhaled to berate and lambaste and criticize him, but he didn’t let you start. He rolled his finger around your clothed clit, and all that came out of you was a pitchy, shaken noise. He focused on it, jabbing it, and was convinced your yelps of discomfort were pleasure. It was evident, his nescience, on how your body worked, what felt good for you. Granted, you doubted it’d feel good even if he did know what he was doing.

His impatience won out when he removed his hand after less than thirty seconds of scraping over where your clit was, missing half the time. Antsy, he hooked the band of your panties, tugging at the cotton material more and more discontentedly until he grabbed at it along the stitching on the side and pried it apart, thread and fibers splitting and popping.

“Hey!” You bayed.

His lips left a wet smooch on your temple, and you cringed. “It’s okay, it’s alright, I’ll buy you more. Or, better yet, don’t wear any in the first place.”

His fingers slid through your folds and you coughed on a hiccup of surprise, jerking away from him. He fastened his hand to your hip, keeping you from going any further. Hell, this was pure hell. Nothing less, nothing more; raw suffering in the form of a man intent on dragging you down to the depths with him. He’d carve a home from the molten rock, a cubby made with his own two hands, and he’d bury you in it, somewhere you’d never be able to escape and leave him.

Two fingers propped at your cunt, then pushed in, slow and piercing. You sucked on your teeth, face scrunching in discomfort as the long things poked and jabbed at your soft internals, deeper and deeper. He didn’t stop at the first, nor second joint, sorrowfully. He kept going until he physically couldn't anymore, stuffed to the knuckles, the knobby things barely grazing the nub at the top of your vulva.

You hated it with every fiber of your being.

It was uncomfortable, unpleasant, and so very far from enjoyable. Oh, but who were you to fool yourself? He wasn’t doing this for you, of course not, no matter how hard he tried to convince you that he was. That he wanted you to feel pleasure, sweet and gratifying. When he fingered you, it resembled a clinical examination more than a sexual act, the kind where you and the doctor avoided looking at each other as they tested your pelvic muscles and checked for abnormalities.

He pushed his fingers in and out, not bothering to curl them, scissor them, do anything special at all with them. They were just…there, scoring lines into your pussy, neutral.

Your relief upon their removal was short-lived. His hand fumbled with the hem of his pants, allowing you to notice that his belt had already been loosened, button and zipper undone, pulled low. Blue and white striped boxers sat on display for a brief period, then were pulled under his stiff length, revealing it to you.

Long, not especially thick, curved upwards, the tip an angry pink that neared on red.

Fuck no. No, no, no, this was not happening, not to you.

You might as well have been fighting against a stone golem, though, for how little he reacted to your attempts at escape. He paid no mind to your spitting, your thrashing, your begging pleas for him to not do this to you, to reconsider, your assurances that you’d forgive him if he’d just stop right this instant!

If you didn’t know any better, to him, you were nothing more than the annoying buzzing of a fly trying to get his attention. Something for him to swat away, squash uncaringly.

Your heart dropped to your toes when you felt the tip of his leaking cock notch against your unprepared hole, your chest seizing, your lungs collapsing beneath the sheer weight of your raw, unfiltered fear.

Then, with no consideration for you, he shoved forward, and seated himself to the root in one vile, painful thrust.

You didn’t realize you were crying until your voice broke, splintering apart in your throat.

Above you, Gojo was panting, whining, practically trembling where he sat, pelvis flush to yours. Your spine arched off the bed, burning pain pulsing inside your core from the forced stretch. You were no prude, but it’d been so long since you’d lain with anyone. You were barely wet enough for a sheen to show on your folds, let alone take anything inside you without the careful prep he lacked the skill to partake in.

Gojo didn’t care for it, evidently.

He was too impatient, too needy, too eager. He yearned too much, and didn’t stop to think about what he wanted, just that he wanted it now.

You sobbed, hiccuping, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes to race to your temples. He cooed at the sight, leaning forward, closer to your face. The movement carried him further, his tip nudging against the squishy ring of your cervix, and you wailed.

“Oh, shh, shh, it’s okay, I’m here,” he purred. “I’m here now. You don’t have to worry, I’m not going anywhere. You have me.”

“Pull out– pull out!” You yelled at him, pounding against his chest.

He grinned. “Want me to move already? D’aw, who am I to deny my woman?”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, no, no–!”

Your imploration came a moment too late, and fell on ears that were never going to listen to you.

Satoru drew back until the ridge of his glans tugged against the thin webbing of your entrance, and then, he barged back into you, splitting your walls apart to make room for himself.

The friction was agonizing, unforgiving. It scraped against you, sandpaper on fragile glass, painstakingly etched and painted patterns and designs worn away in rapid passes by an uncaring hand. He was intent on erasing the marks placed on you by time, by the ones you grew up with, loved, hated, missed, and replace them entirely with stains made in his visage.

Tattoos you’d never be able to remove; hundreds of eyes with endlessly cerulean depths that sucked in any unfortunate to see them. Lines and crosses and nooses that, no matter how hard you scrub, would continue to choke you forevermore.

You opened your eyes, vision blurred with tears, and startled to find pitch black voids.

Accretion disks of swirling tanzanite orbited pools of bottomless ink, meres that spanned miles across, nearly consuming the cornflower of their enclosure. Were it not for the tight rings keeping them confined, you were sure they’d spill and flood the world, drown you in their infinite expanses, under their waves. It’d fill your lungs until they burst, pour into your veins until red bled out and left you suffocating in the eternal void that was Gojo Satoru.

His inexperience shown through in the rough, jerky movements of his hips, the way every other thrust seemed to nudge into that one spot that made electricity race through your joints, while the ones in between punched directly into the sensitive nerves at the furthest point inside you, fornices bullied and bruised.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, landing in wet splats on your chest and collarbone where he hovered, hot breaths fanning across your tacky cheeks. You cringed at the sensation, trying to angle your head away.

Oh, but Satoru – he only saw that as an invitation, one he had no qualms about accepting.

He buried his face into the side of your neck, latched onto the skin over your fluttering pulse, and sucked. Hard.

You sobbed, spine arching, forlorn as he branded you in the form of broken capillaries and teeth-shaped indents. He suckled, cruel and vile, slobbering onto you like a mutt. Purebred, but he was no better than the beasts he put down, rotten to the core, that was the only thing that could explain this, him.

He kissed his way up your jaw to your cheeks, nipping at them; to your lobe, licking into the shell of your ear, and you recoiled from him. His chest vibrated with a hoarse chuckle, enamored with your violent indignation. He sought to lock lips with you, but all his humor fell away when you avoided his mouth, upper lip curled into a sneer.

A hand roughly grabbed your jaw, pressuring you to look at him, the anger that marred his unfairly beautiful features. Brows pinched, eyes narrowed, fire licking up the column of his spine to spread like poison on his tongue.

“Do not run away from me,” he snarled, nose almost tip-to-tip with yours, invading. “You’re gonna kiss me back, or I’ll get the entire fuckin’ town in here and make sure they know you forced yourself on me. Got it?”

You drank down your antipathy and resentment for him, aware now that, if he was willing to overpower someone over a decade his senior for his own pleasure and gain, he’d absolutely make good on his threat. If he was willing to ruin your body, he was more than willing to ruin your life.

What choice did you have but to open your mouth and let him spit into it? How could you do anything but give in, let him mash your lips together, let him shove his tongue down your throat and feed on you until all that remained of you were bones and teeth and hollow eye sockets?

The basin of your mahou hemorrhaging through the puncture wound in your chest, run through a sieve to gather the flecks of gold and red blood cells that comprised your entire being. Plasma leaching from your marrow, spilling into a worthless puddle on dry soil to water a flora long dead. Lungs suctioned flat to your thoracic vertebrae, organs shriveled, body reduced to a useless shell, a pitiful imitation of life.

For once, you blessed a man for his inexperience, as it meant Satoru was done with you in a couple minutes. They stretched forever and ever, vanishing beyond the horizon, but it was done, he was done. He spilled inside you, but that was an issue for a separate time, something else to be dealt with when you weren’t under the body of a demon wearing the skin of a man. Evil embodied.

Should have exorcised him as soon as you saw him, you shamed yourself.

But, it was over. He would get off you, and you–

You startled when you felt the pad of his thumb nudging at your clit, uneven back-and-forth swipes that halfway resembled circles, and started sliding in and out of you once more.

“Gotta make– gotta make a wo-woman squirt if ya wanna – fuck, you’re so warm – wanna knock her up. That’s what he–” he choked, stilling for a second, then harshly pounded into you out of the blue.

It shocked you, your mouth dropping into a silent yowl, tears sprinkling your clumped lashes like weeping stardust.

“That’s what he told me,” he spat out, rage flashing in his eyes, across the furrow of his brow. “Maybe, not everythin’ was a lie, eh? Maybe, he was tellin’ me the truth about somethin’.”

He was gone from this world, you could tell. It was in the way he no longer saw you, the woman he’d shoved onto her own bed, the person who’d taken pity on him, housed him, taught him how she lived, survived. He had this far away look, this seething hatred, this pulsing need, this agonizing sorrow that ate him from the inside out. A wound that scabbed, but never healed, always present, always twitching in time with his heart, reminding him of its presence.

Heartbreak.

Gone as quickly as it came, he was seeing you again, and you wished beyond everything that he was still in that distant headspace of his, where you didn’t exist, where you could pretend none of this was real. A bad dream. A demon that slithered through the cracked-open window to infest your mind and feed off your nightmares.

His eyes made that impossible, sadly. All they did was remind you, assure you, that this was as real as ever.

Slowly, he leaned down, lashes never fluttering. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, breath fanning into the conch, and he spoke.

“Let’s find out together, yeah?”

«___° ° °___»

“Here’s how this is going to work,” he wrapped one of his arms around his neck and pressed on the elbow to stretch it, taking the opportunity to scratch his back while he was at it. “You’re gonna tell that little group of yours that you’re coming back to Tokyo with me–”

You bristled. “No.”

“–or, I’ll tell them that you took advantage of me while I was sleeping.”

Nausea roiled in your stomach. “You wouldn’t.”

He leveled you. “I will, and I won’t feel bad about it.”

You stared at him, trying to figure him out, call him out on his bluff, but you knew he wasn’t lying. Saliva coated your mouth, and you had to swallow to hold back the urge to spill acid onto the floor.

When you spoke, your voice was far too soft, too broken. A pitiable whimper. “Please, don’t.”

The boy shrugged casually. “I’m being nice, you know, by giving you a choice. It’s up to you. I’m happy to do it either way.”

A tear slipped down your cheek.

You didn’t flinch when he cupped your jaw as tenderly as he would a lover’s, swiping it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I’ll take good care of you, promise,” he swore. “Make sure you want for nothing. Give you all you want. I have more than enough money for both of us. For a whole family. Whaddya say, hm?”

You never did have a choice, did you?

Not from the moment you were born on this island, not when you obtained your Strength, not when you were trained to be an Exorcist, or when Akinori attached themselves to your hip in spite of your vehement refusal to tutor them.

And, not from this.

From becoming Gojo’s.

Having gone into autopilot, you obeyed his orders, fearing what he’d do if you didn’t. No need to pack anything, he said, I’ll just buy you new stuff at home. Better than these rags. Come on, let’s go. Early birds and worms and all that.

The village was as peaceful as ever, this time of day.

The fishermen had set out to the sea about an hour earlier, right before dawn broke through the nebulous heavens. Those that stayed behind roused late, taking the chance to catch a bit more shut eye.

You, too, would have been enjoying a long rest, were it not for the tidal wave that loomed on the horizon, threatening, waiting for you. White-crested waves, foam spitting up from their roiling motions; an endless abyss that pined to swallow you whole. It whispered that you had a choice, an order to give, one it would happily deliver on.

Sacrifice yourself, or let all you love be washed into the ocean, your own personal Atlantis.

Akinori, Mirio, and the Elder also weren’t able to enjoy the extra rest, much to your guilty conscience.

They stood in front of you in a row, each wearing their own miens of disappointment, of hurt, of grief.

Aisha glared at you, really. You’d made a promise to protect this land, your home, after all. And, now, you were going back on your word, your vow. She had every right to despise you, to scorn you. She didn’t, though, you knew. You wished she did. She saw right through you, past the cracks in your façade, the lies you fed her about wanting to learn more about demons and be stronger for them, better.

To save the world.

In reality, it was to save only yourself.

Please, understand, you begged silently. There’s no other way.

Mirio had her hands clutched in front of her, gazing anywhere but at you. Her brows were pinched in the center, and you yearned to lean forward and press your thumb to the wrinkle forming there, to brush it away with that signature cheeky smirk of yours, and a caution that she’d age faster if she made faces like that.

You kept your hands, stained and bloody, to yourself, not wishing to taint her with your sin.

Akinori appeared uncharacteristically serious. Severe.

Gone was their impish demeanor, their mischievous nature. In its place sat an emptiness, a chasm formed too soon; a ball of ice drained before it could freeze its core to keep itself whole. Your heart ached for them, your stomach twisted into knots, your throat squeezing tighter and tighter until you were sure that your vocal cords would burst from your neck.

“You’re really going, then,” they said. A statement, not a question.

Still, you nodded.

“There’s so much to learn out there, beyond Kami-shima,” you reasoned, lying through your teeth. The words tasted like ash and acid on your tongue. “Power we never knew existed. Imagine it – I’ll get stronger, then we’ll never have to worry about demons invading our home ever again, yeah?”

“You promise?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted Gojo standing a distance away. Far enough that he resembled a stick figure, but still close enough for you to feel his stare burning into your back.

You swallowed, and faced Nori again, whispering to them, needing to ensure it stays between you and them, and nobody else, especially not Gojo.

“You have my heart,” you said. “Keep it safe for me until I can get it back, okay?”

They peered deep into you, glancing between your eyes, trying to seek out the deeper meaning in your words – if there was any. You simultaneously hoped they would and wouldn’t find it; a selfish desire to be seen, to be acknowledged, and the knowledge that they’re safer knowing nothing about you. Forgetting about you.

Nori nodded once, tersely.

You took that as your cue to leave.

Taking your hands off their shoulders, you drew in a deep breath, let it out, and gave the trio a smile you could only hope was semi-convincing.

“Don’t wait up for me, yeah?” You laughed. It sounded strained. “I’ll see you all again.”

Whether or not they knew it was a lie, you said nothing more, and didn’t stay to hear what they would say. It would break your heart worse than the whole interaction already had, worse than the knowledge that your chances of actually returning home were slim to none.

Picking up a light jog, you left them behind, joining Gojo at his side. He didn’t hesitate to pull out a hand from his pocket and link it with yours, fingers intertwining and squeezing until the bone inside ached.

He smiled innocently up at you, anyway. “Finally done?”

You glanced over your shoulder, hoping to see that your little family had already left, praying they hadn’t. Uncertainty over your own emotions fizzled under the surface when you saw they were there, watching you, unmoving.

For what you knew would be the last time, you mouthed goodbye to them, and closed your eyes, blocking them from sight.

“Yeah,” you coughed out.

His smile could be heard through his voice. “Great, I was waiting ages. You talk way too much, y’know? You’re gonna love Tokyo. I’ll take you to all the good places…”

You tuned out his voice, letting him ramble to his content as he guided you away from the village, away from Kami-shima, away from the one home you knew. Where you were born, where you lived, and where you were certain you would die.

When he squeezed your hand, you brought yourself back to the present, longing to sink into a void. To disappear, never have to deal with this, with him.

When did you ever have a choice, though? The moment he saw you, it was over for you.

“There’s no place like home, right?” He prodded, poking your side with his elbow.

“Mhm,” you agreed with a rigid growl, clenching your jaw, gritting your teeth. “No place like home.”

banner by saradika-graphics

AN: thank you for reading :D I hope you enjoyed ♥

#tw: noncon #tw noncon #asterlust writes #The World You Never Knew #TWYNK #dark!gojo x reader #yandere!gojo x reader #yandere x reader #yandere!jjk x reader #yandere!gojo #dark!gojo #this is a repost from my other account #so please don't worry #I'm not out here stealing a fic from someone else #chimera-dreams is my account

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hanshenrykcd · 2 months ago

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“I’ll be back,” Henry told his lord, even though he barely believed it himself. Hans didn’t seem convinced either. He didn’t meet his gaze, just sighed and turned his face away. And Henry couldn’t stand seeing him like that: sad, worried—defeated.

He needed Hans to believe him, to hold onto hope, and not to end up like Gelehaut in the story. Even if Henry wouldn’t make it himself, he needed Hans to escape the siege unscathed and to claim what was rightfully his. He needed him to survive and have a great life—with or without him.

So Henry placed his hand on top of Hans’s to get his attention, to perhaps assure him, to comfort him. “I promise you,” he said, managing to sound a bit more earnest this time.

It worked, because Hans turned to look at him, and the corners of his lips curled into a smile. It wasn’t his big grin with flashing teeth or polite, practiced noble smile. It was his rare smile, the one he saved for special occasions, the one that traveled all the way up to his eyes and made something stir in the pit of Henry’s stomach. And he couldn’t look at it for one more second, because if he did, he would crumble.

“And everything will be alright,” he added, as he retracted his hand and rose from the bed. He paused long enough to see the way Hans’s smile had twisted into a defeated sadness once more, and it was too much to bear. He needed to leave before the image burned itself into his mind as the last memory he would have of their goodbye.

“I’ll bring the reinforcements…” He started walking toward the door, but suddenly there was a hand closing around his wrist, pulling him around.

Before his mind could register, Hans’s lips were on his. Desperate, frantic, surprisingly soft, warm. For a moment, Henry got lost in it. It felt like when he attempted to swim and was pulled down under. Helpless. Fueled by fear.

And for a second—just a second—he let himself sink.

But then reality came crashing back, throwing him up on shore right on time. He pulled away with a grunt, his brain slowly catching up with what had just happened.

He almost unconsciously backed away from Hans, his thoughts reeling and heart hammering, refusing to settle down, almost like it wanted to tell him something. But instead he turned away fully, trying to make sense of what had happened, why it had happened. He cared for Hans more than he had ever thought possible. These past few weeks had made him realize that. He was obligated to protect Hans, but even if he hadn’t been, he would do anything for him.

Hans was apologizing in the background, but Henry could barely hear him over the thrumming of his own blood. What they shared was deeper than friendship, beyond mere companionship. Hans’s presence—his laughter, his scent, that sharp tongue of his, even his spoiled little pout—sometimes made Henry’s pulse spike. But he had never imagined anything to actually happen, because Hans would go on and on about wenches.

And because it was a sin. Anything else but a husband and wife was unnatural, wrong, condemned. Henry stopped by the door, knowing full well he should leave. But the taste of Hans was still lingering on his lips, making it impossible. It didn’t make sense for it to be wrong, when it had felt the complete opposite, when it had set something alight inside him. This could be the last time they saw each other. He couldn’t leave like that. Not after getting a taste, not after knowing what it felt like to kiss Hans Capon.

It’s a sin—sodomy.

And yet he locked the door, ignoring everything he had been taught to believe. Because whatever he felt for Hans was stronger than his fear of hell and punishment.

Without a word, Henry walked up to him standing by the fireplace, holding onto some wood. He grabbed Hans by his arm, turning him around, the wood falling to the floor with a clattering sound. Henry then caught him by the waist, pulling him closer, their lips meeting in a kiss. The kiss felt different this time, because everything Henry was incapable of saying out loud was poured into it—and Hans responded immediately, wrapping his arms around him like he understood every word. And for a moment, the crucial task Henry had before him was all but forgotten.

It was just the two of them.

#i haven't been able to stop thinking about this #maybe you've seen the gifset i did with hans pov but now i thought eh what the heck i'll just write a whole little fic #long post #fic + gifset #my gifs #my writing #hansry #hans x henry #hans x henry 💛#hans capon #henry of skalitz #kcd2 #kingdom come deliverance #kingdom come deliverance 2 #hansrygifs #hansryfic #lgbtq #💛

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rafesbuzzcutseason · 14 days ago

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wicked game

chapter 9 - lying

synopsis: y/n is sarah’s roommate and the embodiment of sunshine. rafe, on the other hand, is her complete opposite. when the boys place a bet that he can't win her over, rafe takes the challenge without hesitation. after all, he never backs down from a dare. the closer rafe gets to y/n, he finds himself drawn to her warmth in a way he never expected, and for the first time, he wants to be more than just the guy with a bad reputation.

but secrets don’t stay hidden for long, and when y/n finds out the truth, rafe is left to face the consequences. now, he has to prove that somewhere along the way, the bet stopped mattering, because losing her was never part of the plan.

masterlist

cw: language,

the weekend with lucas had been... good. but it hadn't been perfect. it hadn't been what you were hoping for.

your mind hadn't been fully there.

it was back in that messy room, lost up in the memory of rafe’s careful hands looking after you.

the way he wouldn't let you finish the question before assuring you he hadn’t touched you.

the way he looked at you, like he genuinely cared. even just for that moment.

and you hated yourself for even thinking about it now, days after it had happened. you were trying to convince yourself it was the spiking that was making you feel this way, the confusion. you were probably imagining the events wrong.

but even with lucas next to you, you just didn't feel quite right.

the conversations flowed, but something felt… off. you couldn’t tell if it was you or him. maybe both. he was sweet, attentive, even a little clingy at times, but you couldn’t stop the hollow feeling in your chest.

you found yourself zoning out when he talked. smiling too late. wishing you could crawl out of your own skin when he reached for your hand or kissed you on the forehead.

everything felt off.

and the more you tried to force it, the worse it felt.

you were half-listening to him talk about some new project he was excited about when your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

lucas barely paused in his story, but you saw his eyes flicker down at the screen.

then flick back.

"who's rafe?" he asked casually.

"oh nobody. he's just the guy who helped me after that party." you scrambled over your words.

"i thought you said kie helped you and you went back to hers?" his face dropping slightly.

"oh, yes! no i did. rafe just helped me before kie got to me." your face started to flush, and you knew lucas knew you front to back.

"are you lying to me?' his voice more stern.

your stomach twisted painfully, "no," you lied, too fast.

lucas stared at you, his mouth tightening into a hard line. "yes you are."

"lucas, it’s not what you’re thinking." you stepped toward him instinctively, trying to smooth it over, but he shook his head.

"then what am i thinking, y/n?" he asked, voice low and sharp. "because right now it seems like you’re hiding something. why would you lie about something like this?"

you swallowed hard, glancing at the coffee table, hating the way your heart had jumped in your chest when you saw his name light up your screen.

"i’m not... nothing happened," you said quietly, hating how small your voice sounded.

lucas gave a laugh. "nothing happened," he repeated, "but you’re flustered, lying to my face, and you can't even look at me y/n."

"i didn’t cheat on you," you said firmly, meeting his eyes.

"no," he said bitterly. "but you’re thinking about someone else. that’s just as bad."

your throat felt like it was closing up. "it’s not like that."

"then tell me what it is!" lucas demanded, throwing his hands up, defeated. "tell me why you’re hiding shit. tell me why your first instinct was to lie to me."

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. because you didn’t know how to explain it. how do you explain missing someone you shouldn’t even know that well? you felt pathetic.

"i don’t know, okay!," you whispered finally. "he just helped me the other night, when my drink was spiked. that’s it."

lucas stared at you, and the hurt on his face was almost unbearable. "and you went back to his place? not kie's?"

your silence was enough of an answer.

"you don’t have to say it," he muttered. "i get it. you've been different ever since i got here."

"lucas- it's not that."

"then what is it?"

you sighed. you didn't even know what you were feeling. "maybe we’re not supposed to be doing this anymore." you said quietly, voice trembling.

lucas's eyes filled with tears, "maybe we're not.'

tension filled the room, silence stretching between you, heavy and suffocating.

"so what now?" you asked, tears starting to fall.

"i love you y/n, i really do. but you're not the same anymore. you're lying to me, not completely here when i'm talking to you, i don't even think you want to be with me anymore." he said, his voice breaking slightly. "and i deserve more than that."

you wiped at your cheeks quickly, like it would somehow erase the mess this had turned into. "i never wanted to hurt you," you whispered.

"i know," he said, gently now. "but you did."

you nodded, pressing your lips together to keep the sob clawing its way up your throat from escaping. lucas stepped closer, hesitating for a second before pulling you into a hug. you clung to him, even though you knew it was over. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t easy. but it was true. you didn't want to be with him anymore.

he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering like he was trying to memorize it. "goodbye, y/n."

you squeezed your eyes shut.

when he pulled away, the emptiness he left behind was instant. you watched him grab his bag and walk to the door, his shoulders slumping forward like he was carrying the weight of every unspoken word between you.

and then he was gone.

the door shut with a soft click, final and cruel.

a/n: sorry guys i was bored of lucas lol i needed him gone byeee also it's meant to say kappa tau party in the story but i made a typo

sidenote lowkey proud of this chapter and i rarely am

🏷️: @heartzshiftamy @hoefordrewstarkey @luvrclub @leleee3 @yktayy9669 @miumiuestmoi @anacamofficial @cokewithcameron @bloodofadoll @shorttandsweett @mysticbby2009 @emmiesummers @wintercrows @drewrry @starkeyxcameron @xxbirkindoll2 @stoned-writer @drewstarkeyslover @hannieskzzz @verycherryblossomhideout @letstryagaintomorrow @@jjsbbg7 @mariamadison6-blog @laniirackssss @xeneasworld @countryclubwhore @drewsphswife @mattyskies @moonywhisp3rs @starkeygirls @lmaolmaos @thereallifebambi @emeloyy @vcnillafairy @rafecameronswhoore @st8rkey @angeldiaryy @therealfairybatman @drewsephrry @vanessa-rafesgirl @dreamybabbyy @pogueprincesa @happy-mushrooms @hannaa20002000 @whoismxtti @darlingstarkey @mattssweetheart @wuluhwuhmaster @harringtonsbowgirl @my-name-is-baby @rrosiitas @davinashifts333 @cinnamqnnlatte @fastlovela @stelleduarte @fastlovela

#smau #rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #obxsmau #boyfriend rafe #rafe cameron x reader #wicked game #frat boy!rafe #frat!rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #college au #rafe obx #obx rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe fanfiction

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penny-anna · 6 months ago

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G1 megops wedding episode

Exterior: Autobot base

Megatron: Autobots! lay down your weapons. I didn't come here to fight.

Optimus: then what do you want, Megatron?

Megatron: I grow weary of this war. I propose a truce - in accordance with the ancient laws of Cybertron.

*Autobots all gasp*

Spike: what does that mean?

Bumblebee: under the ancient law, a war can be conclusively ended by the leaders of the opposing sides getting married

Spike: oh wow!

Prowl: Optimus, don't listen to him, this is very obviously a trap

Optimus: you're probably right, Prowl, but if there's even the slightest chance of ending this ceaseless war, I must take it.

Optimus: very well, Megatron! I accept.

Interior: Decepticon base

(Megatron is being pinned into a bridal gown by the Constructicons)

Megatron: excellent. everything is going according to my plan. as soon as Optimus and I are wed, we will attack the Autobots. in accordance with the ancient law they will be unwilling to attack their leader's husband so I will defeat them easily. and then I will rule the universe!

Starscream: you know, Megatron, as your maid of honour, I think roses would be a more elegant choice for the bouquet than lillies

Megatron: we're planning an ambush, Starscream, I don't care about the flowers

Starscream: look I just think if we're going to do this we should do it properly

Starscream: and can I just say, as your maid of honour, you have a lot of cheek wearing white!

Interior: Autobot medbay

Optimus: Ratchet, I need to talk to you about the wedding

Ratchet: oh it's about time. Optimus I trust your judgement and all but this whole thing is completely -

Optimus: will you be my best man

Ratchet:

Ratchet, audibly choked up: it would be my honour

Exterior: blasted wilderness

(The wedding party is assembled. Optimus Prime is wearing a tuxedo jacket and bowtie and is standing with his best man and 2 of his groomsmen) (Jazz & Prowl, also wearing bowties)

(Rumble is coming down the aisle. he is the flower girl and he is taking his job very seriously. both the Autobot and Decepticon sides are getting pelted aggressively with flowers)

Sparkplug Witwicky: remind me again why I'm officiating?

Ratchet: well you're a neutral party

Sparkplug: ah this is all pretty weird

Jazz: I wonder where Bumblebee and Spike are? they wouldn't want to miss the ceremony

(Soundwave begins blasting an approximation of the wedding march as Megatron walks down the aisle with his maid of honour (Starscream) and bridesmaids (Skywarp & Thundercracker)

Sparkplug: uh okay. dearly beloved -

Megatron: you don't have to do the whole preamble, human. Ravage! the rings!!

(Ravage comes over with the rings in his mouth)

Megatron: now, with this ring I thee -

(Bumblebee comes racing over to the wedding party. Spike leaps out)

Spike: stop, stop!

Bumblebee: we object!

Spike: you can't go ahead with the wedding! Megatron is already married, and we can prove it!

Megatron:

Optimus:

Ratchet:

Megatron: Starscream you told me you got the divorce finalised

Starscream: I thought you were doing that. weren't you doing that?

Megatron: how are you this incompetent

Rumble: wait so does this mean we aren't ambushing the Autobots

Megatron:

Rumble: well are we?

Optimus:

Megatron: oh let's just skip it all - Decepticons, attack!

Interior: Autobot headquarters

(The humans are eating wedding cake)

Spike: well at least we got cake?

Bumblebee: yeah this could have gone worse

Carly: I thought it was a lovely ceremony up until all the violence

Jazz: at least this way you don't have to spend the rest of your life married to that bum Megatron. right, Optimus?

(Optimus is looking sadly at his wedding ring)

Optimus: yes. that's right.

(roll credits)

#transformers

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musouie · 6 months ago

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── .✦ 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘

précis. levi washes your burdens away

contents: fluff, angst, non-sexual nudity, suggestive, reader and levi in a situationship, canon!au, comfort, afab!reader, 1.5kwc

When you return from a gruelling mission, bloodied and bruised, your knuckles bearing the scars of war, Levi does two things:

The first comes as if on instinct, a mere reflex, spewed from his lips without a thought and tumbling before he can stop it. “You smell like shit, soldier.” The comment is uttered evenly, void of any real bite, and closely followed by a sigh. A ragged, bone-weary, half-hearted thing that deflates his frame in a way being in the Underground never could.

And for some reason, it all makes you feel warm.

Perhaps it’s the way he says it, or perhaps it’s the way he chooses not to say anything else. Regardless, you take it and cradle it between your fingers, peel back the multitude of layers and recognise it for what it is: affection (dressed in barbed wire, one with spikes that have begun to wear.)

The second, however, is something different altogether. This one feels like something that came from inside Levi, something that he had kept bottled up and sheltered, something that only you got a glimpse of. (It was often he gave you these glimpses of himself. None coherent or related to the last. You think you are finally beginning to put him together, to piece the enigmaticness of him —

— but then he turns and walks away.)

He glances at you over his shoulder, motioning with his chin for you to follow him, lips pulling into a line as yours tremble.

(The puzzle pieces scatter, make a mess of themselves.)

And with a part of you burning with curiosity and defeat, the other aflame with desperation, you find yourself following. You always do, ever the curious. “It’s in your blood,” he whispered to you one night, voice a muted wisp as you lay against his bare chest, damp and warm and clutching him close.

(He didn’t talk a lot — never talked a lot — when you were in his arms. It’s how you learnt to listen. Sometimes his admissions would come spilling, like those times where he’d drink just enough to get drunk. Or when he’d come back from a particularly hard mission, weary to his bones, his walls finally crumbling as he’d lie upon you —

— he would tell you everything. From his darkest desires, his brightest memories, his dreams, to his nightmares. All filled with you and you and you and you.)

When you make it to his quarters, sectioned off from the rest of the cadets’, you bite your lip and enter hesitantly, hands clenched into trembling fists by your sides, itching to reach out, itching to —

The door falls shut with a click that reverberates through you, bordering on deafening. You nearly miss what comes after.

Nearly.

“Strip.”

There is no teasing in his tone, no hint of endearment that, by now, you know only comes to the surface for you, and only if no one else is around to witness it. His back remains to you, and you are, momentarily, left blinking, stunned at the abruptness of the command.

You do not speak; neither does he.

Time presses you, moving relentlessly, budging when you don’t. It doesn’t stop at his request, nor does it hitch to indulge you. And his patience runs thin.

“Strip,” he repeats, turning to shoot you a withering glare. But his eyes are all wrong. Soft around the edges.

A second of holding his gaze is all it takes for you to lower your own, bottom lip seeking comfort between your teeth. You swallow before peeling back a layer: gear.

Then another, harder to remove than the first: your jacket; followed by your blouse (shredded around the edges, bearing holes in places it never used to, snarling rips running along the seams.)

They slip from your shoulders and pool behind you, the wood below creaking as you take a step forward, tugging your trousers by their cuffs, slipping a finger beneath the waistband before pushing them lower down your legs; boots discarded carelessly to the side.

He hisses at the mess.

When your eyes snap to his at the sound, he looks down between your legs pointedly, thin brow arching until you swallow around the lump in your throat.

(Nothing has to be said; the silence is enough —

— it’s always enough.)

Bending at the knee and dragging air sharply through flared nostrils, you slip your underwear lower down your legs, working quickly with trembling fingers that could likely use a steadying hand (except you are alone, and his remain glued to the wooden railing behind him. Steady. Stable. As reliable as the rhythm with which he rises and falls on the swing of his blade.)

It trails down, following the movements of your hips, spreading open once they curve in the slightest, only to come together and tangle about your ankles.

“Everything,” he mutters, and you stare at the floorboards, toes curling within your socks, fidgeting nervously beneath his steady gaze.

Heat rises on the back of your neck, splotchy, uneven. Lingering until your body curls in an awkward shape — in an attempt to conceal your bits — and you pluck your socks off, followed by your cotton panties.

And —

— you’re bare before him.

(You always are.)

“Come now,” he says gently.

(His eyes, however, burn.)

One small step becomes two, which transition into three, and suddenly, you are halfway there. Five strides until —

“To the tub,” he instructs, barely a whisper; barely anything at all, “before the water gets cold.”

You oblige until you slip into the porcelain of it, its temperature almost perfect as you melt into the water. Floating — drifting — lost to the tides. If the sight is enough to please him, however, Levi does not show it. His demeanour remains much the same: eerily calm, collected. Cautiously removed.

It persists as he strides, unhurried, towards you, grasping a washcloth from the tub’s rim and lathering it with soap. A fragrance so delicate wafts through the air — peony, lavender and a hint of vanilla — a fragrance so him, surrounding and enclosing on you until it threatens to seize your very lungs.

(The smell of death may cling to the backs of your teeth, or perhaps beneath your fingernails, buried too deep to dig out. But his tenderness washes it all away.

Now, you’ve made the water dirty. Filled it with grime.)

“Your arm, soldier.”

You robotically surrender it, offering the limb over the lip of the tub, palm facing up in supplication. In reverence.

His thin lips turn down as he inspects it, turns it over and clicks his tongue upon finding a bruise. Clicks again when he discovers a scratch.

The nudge comes as he soaps the inside of your wrist with soothing circular motions; spreading until it trickles up the valley of your forearm, leaving blossoms of white froth in its path. From the valley it divides into two, branching into streams that run parallel as they part ways around your bicep, clinging to the dips and curves of you.

“How do you feel?” He asks without meeting your gaze, focused, wholly, on massaging the inside of your elbow.

“Tired.”

It’s all you can give.

It’s as honest as it is ambiguous, laden with all the heaviness bearing down on your shoulders, dragging you down to the deepest depths of the waters, swallowing you.

But Levi nods, accepts it.

He brings the washcloth to your neck, following the swooping lines of your collarbones, the undersides of your jaw, its grooves. Your shoulders bear the marks of his touch, soon followed by the plains of your chest.

You’re so focused on watching his movements as he trails the cloth over you — from collarbone to shoulder, shoulder to the valley between your breasts — that you nearly miss what comes next.

“I...I’m glad you’re alright, soldier,” he mutters, a slip so sudden and small.

Like the flush tingeing his cheeks and the way it runs up his neck, or the furrow of his brow and the line between, ever prominent.

“I —” your voice, weak in its own right, nearly dies. Strangled in a web of muted hope. You shake yourself loose of its hold, “thank you, captain.”

The expression he flashes you is one of pain, or perhaps disappointment.

He doesn’t acknowledge your gratitude, only nods and drops his gaze to the nape of your neck, tracing the lines there with his gaze. A touch so soft and wistful it could never leave an imprint, doesn’t even burn.

And yet it does. Your chest feels ablaze, your flesh singed.

And it sears more as he brings the cloth to your face, cleaning your chin carefully, swiping away the flakes of blood from the jut of your cheekbones, beneath the curvature of your nose, the expanse of your eyelids.

This, too, is something intimate, has your heart stuttering and your breath stalling, has your face flaring with the heat only shame can bear, but no less welcoming than the rest of his careful ministrations.

From your forehead to the space behind your ear, an exuberance of bliss settles between your ribs. Latching on with pointed fingers that threaten to rip. It could hardly be called anything less.

You shudder out a long exhale as you relax back against the rim, the pads of his fingers trailing beneath your brows, brushing over your lids, again, and again, and again. Until your skin glides with ease, wet and soapy and clean.

The touch lingers. It lingers.

Until he goes still, and the cloth goes with him.

#i've missed writing about my lover <33 #this was supposed to feel like a fluffy pillow ! i hope my prose wasn't too much...#levi ackerman x you #aot levi #snk levi #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman #levi ackerman headcanons #levi x y/n #levi x you #hark the angel’s sonnet ༒︎ ࣪ ˖#levi ackerman angst #divider by @/saradika-graphics #aot x reader #aot x you

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bbwritesalot · 18 days ago

Text

Spontaneous Study Session.

Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader Smut

This is Loonys artwork I did not make and give full credit. https://www.instagram.com/freaka_loonyz?igsh=MTZiNThvamRpM2EyOA==

Synopsis: You are the manager of the nekoma boys volleyball team, a third year who has grown quite close to kuroo, and you take advantage of a spontaneous study session.

Content: MDNI, smut, oral (f. Receiving, m.recieving), slight face fucking, hair pulling, hand job, light fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (reader has birth control), yearning, breast worship?, fluff, neither of you are virgin's, soft dom kuroo toward the end, use of pet names like sweetheart and baby, praise kink, porn with some plot, nerd reader and even nerdier kuroo, corny, unintentional edging, incorrect math. Let me know if I missed anything! Poor grammar and spelling!

Word count: I would tell you but this was made in my notes app.. long?

Authors note: this is my first fan fiction I've written so I'm not sure if it's any good. (:

The gym echoed with the sharp squeak of sneakers on the glossy court. Your eyes followed Kuroo Tetsuro, Nekoma’s middle blocker your closest friend and study buddy, as he pulled off a perfect block, effortlessly shutting down another spike from the opposing team players. A familiar smirk tugged at his lips, mischief dancing in his eyes. As the practice continued, you couldn't help but feel his gaze land on you more often than necessary. Kuroo's gaze lingered on you, noting the effortless way you moved around the gym as the team's manager. He found himself drawn to your endearing presence.

As the practice wound down, Kuroo made his way over to you. Leaning against the wall, he smirked and said, "Hey there, ______ Enjoying the view from the sidelines?"

"The view of you missing blocks sure" you joke despite his performance being betted than usual.

Kuroo feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, so that's how it is, huh? You just enjoy watching me fail, don't you?" He couldn't help but chuckle at your teasing.

"Precisely, because that's all you do" you retort.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, amused at you. "Oh, I see. So I'm just the butt of all your jokes now, huh? I can't seem to catch a break." He feigned a dramatic sigh. "And here I thought you were supposed to be my teammate and friend."

"Manager. Not team mate" you roll your eyes, handing him some water.

Kuroo accepted the water with a smirk. "Right, right. Manager. My bad." He took a sip, his gaze studying you for a moment. "Still, you could at least show a little more concern for my fragile ego."

"I feel like treating you like you're fragile is worse. Like I have no respect for you, might as well match your remarks"

Kuroo chuckled at that. "Well, you've got a point there. I wouldn't expect you to coddle me like a delicate flower, but a little sympathy wouldn't hurt." He feigned a defeated expression before breaking into a grin. "But hey, teasing me is just another form of showing you care, right?"

You roll your eyes at him and smile a little hitting him on the head playfully with yoyr clip board, having grown used to this behaviour.

Kuroo recoiled, playfully rubbing the spot on his head. "Hey, watch it with the clipboard! I need my brain intact if I'm going to continue losing blocks for your entertainment." He chuckled, pretending to wince.

You laugh at him, continuing other managerial duties and walking away.

Kuroo watched you walk away, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. There was a certain charm to your sarcastic banter and the way you effortlessly kept him in check. He found himself appreciating your no-nonsense attitude and your keen eye for the team, even if you did enjoy teasing him relentlessly.

At the end of practice yoy wait for him and kenma and drive the three of you home, having turned 18 a little prior and living right next door to kuroo and kenma. Kuroo had a habit of riding shotgun in the front, leaving Kenma to sit in the back of your small car. Despite his usual banter, Kuroo uncharacteristically remained silent, his gaze fixed out the window.

You didn't pay much attention singing along and tapping your fingers as you drove.

Kuroo couldn't help but steal glances at you as you sang along to the music, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel. Despite the casual setting, he found himself unable to focus on anything but you. The normally talkative and quick-witted Kuroo was unusually quiet, his thoughts consumed by your presence.

Kuroo's expression softened as he listened to you sing. There was something about the way your voice filled the car, blending seamlessly with the music, that stirred something within him lust, no. Love, maybe closer. The lyrics seemed to resonate with him, but he quickly brushed off the thought, chalking it up to his overactive imagination.

Meanwhile, Kenma's gaze flicked between you and Kuroo as he took notice of the subtle change in Kuroo's demeanor. Aware of his growing feelings for you as kuroo hadn't shut up about it for the past 6 months.

As you drive, Kuroo relaxes in the passenger seat, stealing glances at you from time to time. The atmosphere in the car is comfortable, filled with playful banter and the sound of music playing softly in the background.

Before long, you arrive back at your neighborhood, the familiar surroundings bringing a sense of comfort.

As Kenma bid his goodnight and headed inside, Kuroo lingered for a moment. He leaned against the car, a thoughtful expression on his face. There was something on his mind, and he seemed to be contemplating his next words.

"Did you want to study for the practice test tommorow, for math?" You ask, wanting desperately to spend more time with him.

Kuroo snapped out of his thoughts and nodded. "Right, the practice test. Yeah, I was planning on doing a bit of studying." He stifled a yawn, the exhaustion of practice finally catching up to him.

"What like you'd need it?" You joke "you have near perfect grades, I don't know how you manage"

Kuroo chuckled at your comment, a hint of pride in his voice. "Well, I guess you could say I have a natural affinity for academics. But even geniuses need to study sometimes, you know?" he teased.

"Well I need your help with mine" you respond.

Kuroo's smirk deepened as he nodded in agreement. "Of course, I'd be happy to help you with your studies. When's the practice test, by the way?" he asked.

You ponder "Third class? I think."

Kuroo hummed in acknowledgment, his mind already shifting into tutor mode. "Alright, so we have a bit of time to review. Any particular areas you're struggling with?"

I unlock the door and take off my shoes "maybe the stuff from yesterday?"

Kuroo followed suit, taking off his shoes as well. "Yesterday, huh? That means we should focus on polynomial operations and factoring. No biggie." He took a seat at the dining table, pulling out his notes.

I smile and take a seat next to him, with my own notes out.

Kuroo smiled back at you, appreciating your enthusiasm. "Alright, first things first. Let's review the basics of polynomial operations. Do you remember how to add and subtract polynomials?"

"Uh.."

Kuroo chuckled lightly at your hesitation. "Don't worry, it's normal to forget sometimes. Let's start with the basics. Do you remember what polynomials are?"

The two of you go over notes, while his are organised and colour coded, contrasting your scribbles. You can't help but stare a little as he explains, his hands as he writes and his focused expression. Kuroo noticed you staring, but he didn't say anything. In fact, he found it kind of... cute? But he brushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. As he continued explaining the concepts, his hands moved effortlessly across the page, illustrating various examples and equations.

Occasionally, Kuroo would glance up at you, gauging your understanding.

Although you were subosedly focused on learning you happened to slowly get closer whenever the opertunity arrived. You had studied together often but opted to move closer than usual. Kuroo noticed the subtle shift in atmosphere, but he remained focused on the material. He could feel your breath faintly against his shoulder as you leaned in, and he found himself trying to maintain his composure. As the study session progressed, Kuroo would occasionally glance at you, noticing the distance between you gradually shrinking. It was a subtle but significant change in your dynamic.

"I think I get it" you say starting your own equations.

Kuroo watched you work through the equations, a hint of satisfaction on his face. "That's great! It looks like you're getting the hang of it."

He leaned back in his chair, studying your technique. His gaze lingered on your focused expression, the way your eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly in concentration. This was his chance to observe you up close.

You turrn your page to him "like this?"

Kuroo nodded approvingly as he looked at your work. "Yes, exactly like that. You've got the concept down."

He couldn't help but notice how close you were now. Your faces were only a few inches apart, and he could easily count your eyelashes if he wanted to. Kuroo tried to keep his composure, but the proximity was sending his thoughts into overdrive.

You put your book down and stay turned to him.

Kuroo noticed the shift in your focus, and as you turned to face him, he couldn't help but lean in a bit closer. His heart skipped a beat as you made eye contact, your gaze holding his own.

"You seem to be a quick learner," he said, his voice lowering to a soft tone. "I guess we can move on to factoring now, huh?"

"We don't have to rush to it" you hint, trying not to back down from being so close.

Kuroo caught the hint in your words, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Is that so?" he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know we have a test tomorrow, right? Maybe we should focus on studying..."

Despite his attempts to keep the conversation centered on academics, Kuroo couldn't ignore the tension building between you. He leaned in a little closer, his gaze never wavering from yours.

"Practice test." You correct.

Kuroo chuckled softly at the correction, his smirk widening. "Right, practice test."

He mirrored your movement, closing the distance between you even further. Kuroo's gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips and back, his mind blank, unable to think of anything but you. After months of him not making the first move you lean in to kiss him, cautious but soft.

Kuroo was taken aback by the unexpected gesture, but it only took a moment for him to melt into the kiss. His hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch warm and tender. The room seemed to fade away as he lost himself in the moment, his heart racing as he reciprocated the kiss with equal fervor.

You put one hand on his arm and the other on his knee.

Kuroo's breath caught in his throat as your touch sent an electric thrill through his body. The feeling of your hand on his arm and knee grounded him, igniting a fire within that he hadn't expected. He deepened the kiss, his free hand finding its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

Despite the awkward position, the passion between you and Kuroo was palpable. The table was a hindrance, but it didn't discourage either of you.

Kuroo shifted, his body angled towards you as he continued to kiss you with an increasing intensity. His hand moved from your back to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair.

Kuroo's fingers gently glided across your hair, his touch gentle and tender. He let out a soft sigh, his breath tickling your skin as he deepened the kiss, his other hand moving to cup your face, craving the closeness and intimacy.

You break the kiss to stand, grabbing his hand to lead him to your couch.

Kuroo's hand gripped yours tighter as he followed you with anticipation. He stumbled slightly, his focus solely on you and the intoxicating mix of emotions clouding his thoughts.

Once seated, Kuroo leaned back, pulling you onto his lap. His hands settled on your thighs, the proximity and touch making him nervous, as he kept himself composed.

You kissed him deeply, loosley grabbing onto his messy hair.

Kuroo's breath hitched as you deepened the kiss in such a way. He groaned softly. His hands slid along your thighs, gripping and kneeding the soft plush of your legs.The line between pleasure and restraint was thinning, and Kuroo could feel himself wanting to move, aching for some kind of stimulation. Pushing yourself closer you run your hands along his arms and chest.

Kuroo's body responded to your touch, his muscles flexing involuntarily under your fingers. He inhaled sharply as your touch sent jolts of pleasure through his skin. He pulled you impossibly closer, his hands roaming over the curves of your body, desperate to feel more of you.

You let his hands touch your ass, back and thighs lightly grinding down experimentally.

Kuroo's hands skimmed over your body, exploring your every contour with feverish urgency. The sensation of your grinding against his lap was almost too much to bear. He let out a low, guttural moan, his fingers gripping your thighs tightly tongues fighting for dominance.

You take this as encouragement to grind down properly letting out a quiet moan of your own into his mouth.

The sound of your moan was like a bolt of lightning down Kuroo's spine. His breathing became ragged, his chest heaving with desire as he gripped hips and ass, squeezing and feeling as if he'd never get another chance and wanted to engrave it into his memory. He lifted you up a bit, allowing you to grind against him more rhythmically, his lips finding your neck. Kuroo pressed heated kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue darting out to taste you.

"Tetsu" you sigh knowing his first name as a nickname would be nice to hear.

Kuroo's heart raced at the sound of his nickname leaving your lips. He'd never heard it in such an intimate context, and the way you said it sent a wave of desire coursing through him.

"Yes?" he responded, his voice low, his hands continuing to explore your body, committing every curve and contour to memory.

Kuroo's gaze darkened as he watched you reach for the edge of his shirt, his heart pounding against his ribcage. The anticipation in the air was palpable, and he nodded wordlessly, silently granting you permission.

Kuroo's skin was warm and smooth, the fabric of his shirt slowly revealing a toned, fit physique, the two of you feeling quite thankful for his years of volleyball training. He couldn't help but smile at your nervousness, finding it endearing. He watched as you lifted his shirt, the anticipation thick in the air. As the shirt passed his head, he shook his head, his usual messy hair becoming even more disheveled.

You stopped grinding for a moment to feel his upper body and really appreciate it.

Kuroo let out a soft groan as your fingers explored his chest and abs, gently tracing the curves and dips of his toned physique. He savored the feeling, his own hands roaming over your back, pulling you closer, after you had parted to see him properly. Kuroo's breath was heavy with desire, his eyes fixed on yours, entranced by the look of fascination on your face.

You lean back in to kiss him continuing your earlier ministrations, grinding lightly.

Kuroo responded passionately, his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his bare chest. The feeling of your body against his sent a wave of heat through him, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking yours with an almost desperate fervor. His hands roamed over your back, exploring the curves and dips of your body, his touch growing more urgent with every moment, desperate but not wanting to push beyond what you are so easily allowing.

You take a moment to break the kiss to kiss his neck, mirroring how he did to you. Kuroo's breath hitched as you began to trail kisses along his neck, the sensation sending electricity through his veins. His hands instinctively moved to your hips, holding you in place as his head canted to the side, granting you better access.

Kuroo's hands trailed upward along your ribs, his touch leaving a trail of heat on your skin as they rested just below your chest in line with the wire of your bra. He held his breath feeling the rise and fall of your chest, the rapid rhythm mirroring his own excitement as you nod to give permission to his silent plea.

Kuroo's hands moved to your chest, his touch gentle yet desperate. He cupped your breasts, his fingers gripping you through the fabric, his breath catching in his throat at the sensation. He squeezed gently, his thumbs grazing over the sensitive peaks, his eyes fixated on your face, watching your every reaction. "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice low and going straight to your throbbing pussy.

You smile nervously grabbing one of his hands and moving it to the button of your shirt, far too nervous to use words, but too horny not to try.

Kuroo's hand trembled ever so slightly as you guided it to the button of your shirt. His gaze flicked from your face to the button and back, anticipation and desire warring within him.

Kuroo's fingers trembled imperceptibly as he slowly undid the buttons of your shirt, his touch tender yet filled with a growing urgency. As each button came undone, more and more of your skin was revealed to him, and he could feel the blood rush down. He let out a shaky breath, his gaze tracing every inch of newly exposed flesh, relishing the sight of you bared before him.

With a dazed expression he took in the sight of your chest, the soft fullness contained within the lacy black bra. It was even more beautiful than he had imagined all those nights with his cock in his fist, so desperately imagining it was you. His hands instinctively moved to touch you, his fingertips tracing over the lacy material, teasing and exploring. As he touched you, Kuroo could feel the heat rising between your bodies, the growing intensity of the moment sending his mind into a spiral.

You finished taking your shirt off your shoulder and dropping it on the floor by the couch.

Kuroo wouldn't dare move his gaze away from the sight of you, your body almost bare to him except for the black bra and skirt. His hands continued to explore your exposed skin, his touch growing more urgent and demanding. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, the desire growing within him, and he leaned in, nuzzling your neck as his lips grazed your skin. Nipping down a little.

You let out a soft gasp grabbing onto his broad shoulders.

Kuroo's ears filled with the sound of your soft moan, and he couldn't help but let out a low, guttural groan in response. The sound drove him wild, his grip on your body tightening as he pressed his lips to your neck, his kisses growing more needy and hungry. He nipped at your skin, wanting more, craving the connection and closeness between you.

You feel up his arms as he does so grinding down lightly again. Kuroo's breath hitched as you pressed yourself against him, grinding down on his lap. He could feel his desire growing, his body reacting to your every move. His arms encircled you, holding you tightly, his grip firm yet desperate, as if he were afraid you might slip away. He nipped at your skin once more, his teeth grazing against your neck, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. Kuroo's heart raced as you guided his hands to the clasp of your bra. He paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on your face, uncertainty in his expression. He looked at you, his eyes seeking reassurance, before he slowly undid the clasp, his fingers trembling with anticipation. The anticipation of feeling your bare skin against his, of seeing more of you, was overwhelming.

Kuroo's eyes widened as he saw your chest before him, finally able to appreciate them in all their true glory. He had seen pictures of them mostly covered before, of course, glimpses of you in swimwear and tight clothing, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of your bare flesh before him now. Kuroo's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the sight of you, every curve and contour of your body stirring something almost primal within him. Kuroo's thoughts were consumed by the desire to taste you, to savor every inch of your skin. He ached to feel your body against his, to explore with his touch, his tongue, and his eyes. The room seemed to grow hotter with each passing moment, his desire growing in intensity. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but his body was betraying him, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips despite being wet from kissing you moments prior. Kuroo's gaze lingered on your chest, he could feel your nervousness and he looked up to you. "You don't have to be nervous. You're perfect."

He looked back down and his hands were hungry, exploring your chest with a mixture of reverence and desire. His grip was firm yet tender, his fingers tracing every contour and curve of your breast. He couldn't help but grind up against you unintentionally moving his tip directly on your clit despite the layers between you. His body yearned for more, the friction between you eliciting a low moan from his lips. He was lost in the sensations, his thoughts consumed by a need for more and your pleased expression as you try your best to be quiet. "You're so sensitive," he murmured, his breath hot against your neck as you let out a moan in his ear.

Kuroo's breath hitched as you grinded against him, his body responding to your movements with a shiver of pleasure. He could feel the heat between you growing more intense, the friction driving him wild. He pulled you impossibly closers, wanting more, his hands roaming your body as if he couldn't get enough. "You feel so good," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. You knew by now he was taking advantage of his sweet deep voice, something you had not so jokingly said you liked.

Kuroo's body tingled at the feeling of your grip growing tighter, your fingers digging into his arms. He thrived on your reaction, your responses to his touch only fueling his desire. He loved the way you felt against him, the way he could feel your body responding to his every move. "That's it, baby," he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck, "just like that."

You moan quietly "tetsu-u"

Kuroo's body shivered as you moaned his name, the sound sending a jolt of desire coursing through him. He liked the way his name sounded on your lips, the way it seemed to ignite something deep within him. "Say it again," he murmured, his voice low and hoarse with want.

"Mm- tetsu"

Kuroo felt a shiver run down his spine as you repeated his name, his desire growing with each repetition. "Again," he whispered, his voice laced with need. "Say it again. Say my name."

"Tetsu, tetsu, tetsu" you moan in his ear, aware by now he felt the same about your voice, evident by the twitch of his dick, each time his name rolled off your tongue.

Kuroo's body tingled with pleasure as you repeated his name over and over, the sound like a symphony in his ears. He was drowning in desire, his every cell crying out for more. "Yes, just like that," he breathed, his hands gripping you tightly. "Keep saying my name, just like that. Don't stop, baby."

Despite it only being dry humping you both felt quite sensitive with just the right amount of pressure "ah, tetsu, mm, please tetsu"

Kuroo's breath hitched in his chest as you continued to say his name, the sound sending waves of pleasure through his body. He could feel the heat and ever so slight moisture between you growing even more intense, his mind consumed by desire. "Please what?" he asked, his voice somehow low and huskier than usual.

"I'm close"

Kuroo's heart raced as he heard your words, a wave of arousal washing over him. He could sense you edging closer to release, your body responding to him in the most delicious of ways.

"Tetsuro" you let your head push into his the crook between his neck and shoulder trying to finish yourself off through the clitoral stimulation he so kindly provided. Kuroo relished the feeling of your head tucked into him, the weight of your body against him. He could feel you straining, edging closer to release, and he held onto you tighter, his hands gripping your hips. "Just a little more," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "You're doing so well. You're almost there, baby. Just hold on for me."

You moan a little more "fuck tetsu please, tetsu please let me cum"

You grip onto him tight, focusing on achieving your orgasm as he touched you so desperately trying to achieve his own. Before slowly slowing down due to overstimulated having achieved it, the feeling of your body trembling against him driving him wild. He savored the moment, relishing in the sensations coursing through him. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You did so well, baby."

You hold onto him with arms wrapped around his neck hiding youe face, despite such bold actions previously.

He wrapped his own arms around your waist, pulling you even closer. He could feel the heat of your breath against his neck, and he smiled, enjoying the closeness between you. "You're so adorable," he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate. "All tired out, huh?" He teased.

You let out a soft "mm" in agreement, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back. He could feel the exhaustion in your body, and he relished the warmth of your closeness. "You did so well, baby," he murmured again, his voice filled with pride and affection. "You're amazing."

You sit there for a minute or two before lifting your head smiling a little. Kuroo's heart skipped a beat at this, he found himself mesmerized by the sight of your smile, and he couldn't help but smile back, his own expression soft and affectionate. "There's that smile," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth. "You're even more beautiful when you smile."

You smile a little more letting him be sweet to you. His heart swelled as your smile grew bigger upon hearing the compliment. He loved being able to make you smile, to see the expression of joy on your face. He gently brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his touch soft and tender. "You're adorable," he murmured, his voice filled with affection. "I could look at that smile forever."

You smile a little wider despite your slightly dishevelled appearance, you knew it was a little cringry but when a man that fine says it you can't find it in you to care.

Kuroo's gaze ran over your, and he found himself admiring the way you looked after your intimate encounter. Your hair was slightly tousled, your clothes, or well skirt, disheveled, and he found you even more attractive in this state. He couldn't help but smile, his eyes filled with affection. "You look incredible," he said, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "I love seeing you like this."

Although almost incapable of speaking due to the previous orgasm yoy mustered out a quiet "thank you".

Kuroo's heart skipped a beat as he heard your soft "thank you". He knew that you were still recovering from the intensity of your climax, and the sound of your voice, hushed and breathless, only added to his own desire. "You're welcome, baby," he murmured, his voice tender and filled with affection. "You were incredible, absolutely incredible."

You smile before looking down and realising he is still hard "but what about you?"

Kuroo could feel the hardness and throb of his own arousal, the intense need ti resolve it, but he shook his head gently. "Don't worry about me," he said, his voice filled with reassurance as his hands ran up your arms. "I'm fine. I just... want to focus on you right now, baby."

"But I want to help" you bargain.

Kuroo's heart skipped a beat as you expressed your desire to help. He couldn't help but find your selflessness endearing. He could feel himself growing even harder at the thought of you touching him, but he held back, not wanting to put too much pressure on you, not wanting you to think he is selfish. "No, no, it's fine," he whispered, his voice tinged with a hint of restraint. "Really, I'm fine. Just... Just let me take care of you."

You seem a little discouraged "I want to take care of you too"

Kuroo couldn't help but feel a jolt of desire as you pouted, a playful glimmer in your eyes. He found your insistence on taking care of him endearing, but he couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt. "You're so sweet, baby," he murmured, his voice slightly strained. "But... I don't want to put too much pressure on you. I'm fine, really."

"It's not too much" you promise kissing him softly.

Kuroo melted against your kiss, his body responding to your soft touch. He could feel the sincerity in your words, and he knew that you truly wanted to take care of him. However, he couldn't help but feel a hint of concern. "Are you sure? I don't want to burden you or anything," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of self-consciousness.

"Burden?" You question in your usual teasing to e "I really want to"

Kuroo's heart swelled at the sincerity in your words. He could see the desire in your eyes, the way you truly wanted to take care of him, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of affection for you. "Alright," he murmured, his voice filled with surrender. "If you're certain, then... I won't stop you."

You touch his chest and lower abdomen slowly easing toward his waist band "I might not be very good at it because my arms get tired, but I'll try my best"

Kuroo's body tingled at your touch, his skin sensitive to your gentle touch as you moved toward his waist band. He couldn't help but feel a surge of desire and affection at your words. "Don't worry about it, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with reassurance. "I'm just happy that you're willing to try. That's all that matters to me." Kuroo inhaled sharply as you cupped him over his pants, his breath catching in his throat at the touch. He was already sensitive, and the feeling of your fingers gently stroking him only heightened his arousal. "Mmm... that feels good" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You smile a little encouraged by his voice and use one hand to slip it out of his shorts. Kuroo's head fell back against the pillow as a shudder of pleasure shot through his body. The feeling of your hand on his bare flesh made him feel vulnerable and exposed, but also intensely aroused. He let out a soft moan, his body trembling lightly as he spoke. "You're so good to me, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with affection. Kuroo's watched as you spat on your hand to lubricate his erect member, the sound of it sending a jolt of pleasure through him. He let out a deep moan, his body shuddering at the sensation. The look of awe on your face only served to arouse him more, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability and desire wash over him as he watched you trying to gauge how you felt.

"So big" you mutter, hand skilfully stoking up his pretty dick, twisting lightly at the pink mushroom tip.

Kuroo shivered at the sound of your words, the mixture of your touch and your admission causing his body to tingle with a mix of pleasure and affection. He let out a soft moan, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "You like what you see,?" he whispered, his voice tinged with a hint of playfulness.

"Mhm" you pause "I do"

Kuroo's chest swelled with a mixture of affection and desire as you confirmed your enjoyment. His breathing grew heavier, his body trembling with need and desire. "You're doing so well, baby," he murmured, his voice low and full of praise. "You make me feel so good."

Kuroo couldn't help but notice your growing interest in his verbal praise, and he found himself eagerly leaning into the role of a praising partner. He knew it aroused you, and that made him feel a sense of power and control. "You're amazing, baby," he repeated, his voice growing huskier with each repetition. "So good for me, so perfect."

You continue jerking him off, "can I suck it tetsu?"

Kuroo's breath hitched at your question, his body quivering with anticipation as he looked down at you, his expression filled with a mix of desire and vulnerability. "Please," he whispered, his voice thick with need. "Please, baby, I want you to."

Kuroo groaned softly as you placed a pillow on the ground, his hand gently guiding your hair out of the way as you leaned in to take a long, slow lick from the base to the tip. His body tense with anticipation and desire, his breath quickening with each passing moment. "So good, baby," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of huskiness as he watched you.

Kuroo let out a sharp gasp as you swirled your tongue around his sensitive tip, his body trembling with pleasure. He gently cupped you face, his hand gently guiding your head as you bobbed down, his gaze fixed on your every movement. "You're so good at that, baby," he murmured, his voice growing huskier and more shaky with desire

Kuroo's body shivered as you moaned and uninentionally gagged around him, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he tried to control the intensity of his need for you. He noticed the way your other hand disappeared under your skirt, and his heart rate rose, his breathing heavy and ragged.

Kuroo let out a low groan, his head falling back as he felt you take him deeper into your mouth. His body quivered with need, his need for release growing with each passing moment. "You look so good like this," he murmured, his voice growing deeper and huskier with every word. "So perfect, so beautiful, taking me so deeply."

You then take your hand to push on his hand resting on your head indicating you want him to move and push.

Catching on, Kuroo gently wrapped his hand around the back of your head, guiding you up and down his length, his other hand still tangled in your hair. He couldn't help but let out a low moan as he watched you take him deeper into your mouth, his own breathing growing shaky and urgent. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

Kuroo continued to guide your head, his hand holding onto your hair as he moved you up and down his length. He could feel the tightness and heat of your mouth, the way you moved, the way you looked up at him using one hand to please yourself and the other to steady his dick you swallowed so sweetly. It was all overwhelming in the best possible way, and he couldn't help but let out a low moan, his mind consumed by the desire for release. "You're so good," he murmured, his voice thick with need. "So so good."

Kuroo's body shaked, lower abdomen tensing, grip on your hair tightening and head leaned back as you let him cum in your mouth. A string of moans escaping his lips as he felt the wave of pleasure wash over him. He could feel his self-control slipping as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and appreciation. He reached down to brush a strand of hair away from your face, the gesture surprisingly tender given the situation. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice low and ragged.

He watched in awe as you swallowed his cum, taking one of your hands out of your panties as the other let's go of his now soft dick to tuck it away. He could see the way you looked up at him and instinctively reached down to take the hand you withdrew from your panties. He pulled you back up, settling you onto his lap and holding you tight.

The silence was thick with the lingering tension, the aftershocks of his orgasm rendering him speechless.

Kuroo pulled you into a soft kiss, his lips meeting yours with a gentle tenderness. He could still taste himself on your lips, a subtle reminder of the intimate moment you had just shared. As he kissed you, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

You broke the kiss to lean against his shoulder and rest for a moment. Kuroo felt a sense of contentment as you leaned against him, your body fitting perfectly against his. He wrapped his arms around you, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your skin, the touch almost reverent. He could feel the fatigue in both of your bodies, but there was also a sense of satisfaction and connection that filled the air. Kuroo pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. "Feeling alright?" he murmured, his voice low and soft.

"Mhm, yeah, are you?"

Kuroo nodded in response, his embrace tightening gently around you. "Yeah," he said, his voice low and soothing. "Just... processing, I guess," he chuckled softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on the skin of your back. "That was...intense."

Your still sensitive from early, still needy "I'm glad"

Kuroo's expression softened as he noticed the hint of neediness in your voice, and he was quick to respond, his hands roaming over your body gently, tenderly. "I know," he murmured, his tone filled with understanding and affection. "But you've done so well, baby. Let's just... take a moment, alright?"

"Mhm" you reply.

Kuroo's grip on you tightened slightly, his body relaxing as you settled comfortably on his lap. He enjoyed the feeling of having you close, the sense of connection between you both. "You're so warm," he murmured, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"You're so nice" you compliment.

Kuroo chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his voice. "Nice, huh?" he echoed, his hands continuing to roam over your body, his touch gentle and affectionate. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is" you say kissing his temple.

Kuroo closed his eyes blissfully, relishing in the feeling of your kiss on his temple. He felt a wave of affection wash over him, and he couldn't help but smile softly at your words. "I'm glad," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "You're pretty damn nice yourself."

"Thank you, I'll take it as a compliment" you tease.

Kuroo chuckled softly at your words, amused by your playful tone. "Well, you should," he replied, his voice still huskier than usual. "I don't give compliments lightly, you know."

"Seem to have given me quite a few tonight" you joke.

Kuroo's lips curved into a sly smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ah, so you're keeping track, are you?" he teased, his gaze roaming over your face. "Well, I suppose you have been quite deserving of all those compliments."

You smile moving your face back to the crook of his neck.

Kuroo's smile widened at your out of character shy gesture, and he let out a soft chuckle. "there's no need to hide from me, you know," he murmured, his voice tinged with affection. "I like seeing your face, especially when it's all flushed like this."

You lean back letting him look at you, his gaze wandered over your features, taking in the flushed hue of your cheeks, the way your eyes seemed to sparkle even in the dim lighting. His expression softened with fondness, and he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and intimate. "Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes fixed on your face.

Kuroo's fingers lingered against your cheek, his touch feather-light and soothing. The sight of you blushing and leaning into his touch sent a wave of affection coursing through him, making his heart skip a beat. "You're getting shy now?" he teased, his voice soft and affectionate.

"No" you lie.

Kuroo let out a soft huff of laughter, aware that you were lying but finding your attempt at denial endearing. He caressed your cheek gently, his fingertips lightly tracing the lines of your face. "Oh really now?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. "Because if I remember correctly, you've been blushing almost nonstop since we started this little... activity."

"I'm just nervous" You correct.

Kuroo chuckled softly at your response, his gaze softening with understanding. He knew that you were nervous, and he couldn't help but find it adorable. He continued to stroke your cheek gently, his touch intended to soothe your nerves. "I understand," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "But trust me, there's nothing to be nervous about. It's just you and me here, alright?" You nod at this leaning into him.

Kuroo's arms encircled you, pulling you closer as you leaned into him. He could feel the tension in your body beginning to ease as he held you tightly, his body providing a comforting presence. Kuroo held you in his arms for a while longer, allowing himself to come back down from the intense sensations of his previous climax. His breathing gradually slowed and steadied, his body relaxing against the support of the couch pillow behind him. His focus shifted to the steady rhythm of your breathing, his fingers gently tracing circles on your skin as he simply enjoyed the feel of your body against his. Kuroo couldn't help but notice the subtle tension in your thighs, an indication of your still unsatisfied desire.

He let out a low, knowing chuckle, his hands gently roaming over the smoothness of your thighs. "Eager for more, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You guiltily look at him and nod getting used to his domineering demeanour. Kuroo's expression grew more serious, a hint of possessive desire in his gaze. He saw your guilt, but he also appreciated your growing comfort with the change in dynamic. His grip on your thighs grew firmer, his fingers tracing sensual patterns on your skin. "Don't feel guilty," he murmured, his voice a low command. "I like it when you're honest about what you want."

You seem hesitant, "I want to continue."

Kuroo noticed your hesitation, but he also saw the desire hiding behind your eyes. His grip on your thighs tightened ever so slightly, his voice firmer. "Good." His gaze was locked on you, filled with need. "Then let me take the lead, alright?"

After you nod in agreement ge repositioned you on his lap, his hands roaming up your bare thighs. "Lean against me," he murmured, his voice a low, commanding tone. "I want you close."

Kuroo's chest pressed against your back as you leaned against him, the contact between you growing more intimate and heated. His hands continued to roam over your thighs, the touch of his fingers growing bolder and more passionate. "That's it,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

Kuroo's fingers dug into the softness of your skin, his touch growing more possessive. "You're so sensitive," he murmured, his voice heavy with desire. "I can feel your body reacting to my touch. It makes me want more, makes me want to see you squirm."

Kuroo could feel you grinding down on him, and his grip on your hips grew tighter. "Oh, you're eager," he whispered roughly, his mouth near your ear. "You like this, don't you? I can feel the way you're moving against me, desperate for more."

Kuroo's body shivered as your touch grazed over his shoulders, his muscles taut under your touch. "Mm, feels good," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You're so good to me, letting me take control like this."

"Please tetsu"

Kuroo's breathing grew slightly ragged at the sound of your broken plea. He gripped your hips tighter, his control slipping just a bit. "Please what, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice strained with need.

"I need more"

Kuroo let out a low, guttural groan as he heard your words, his control over himself slipping even further. "More, huh?" he murmured, his voice low and rough. "You want me to take care of you, give you what you need?"

"Please tetsu"

Kuroo's voice grew hoarse with desire, his control hanging by a thread as he heard you plead for more. "Oh sweetheart, you're so desperate for me, aren't you?" he murmured, his body moving against yours, the proximity driving him wild.

You moan lightly in response "I need you to-" you seem embarrassed by the reqeust.

Kuroo's expression softened a bit at your embarrassed request. He knew you were hesitant to express yourself fully, but he also found it endearing. "You don't have to be shy," he reassured you, his voice a gentle but commanding tone. "Just tell me what you need, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

"Could you eat me out?" You ask unsure if he will.

Kuroo inhaled sharply at your request, his grip on your thighs tightening. His eyes darkened with desire, and a predatory gleam danced in his gaze. "You want me to taste you, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice thick with need. "Is that what you're asking me?"

You nod.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice gravelly and thick with need. He shifted beneath you, his hands maneuvering your body. "I've been wanting to taste you for so long."

You now sit on the couch with legs spread letting him kneel in front, enjoying his praises.

Kuroo couldn't help the smirk that danced across his lips as he knelt before you. His gaze wandered over your bare thighs, his pupils darkening with desire. "You look so beautiful like this," he murmured, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily. "So soft, so vulnerable. All mine to taste." He says kissing the inside of your knee, gently caressing you.

His fingers grazed the hem of your skirt, his touch light and teasing. "We'll have to take care of these first, won't we?" he murmured, his gaze locked on your thighs as his fingers toyed with your skirt's hem.

You assisted him in removing my skirt and shorts leaving you in black panties. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from them, his fingers tracing over the delicate fabric. "You're trying to kill me, wearing this," he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. Tired of teasing and ready for some kind of stimulation you whine "tetsu."

Kuroo tore his gaze away from your panties and looked up at your face. "Don't look away from me," he said, his voice firm. "I want to watch you. I want to see every expression on your beautiful face."

You respond by looking down at him.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. His fingers moved from the fabric of your panties, tracing up to the sensitive skin of your thigh. "You're being so obedient for me," he said, his gaze locked on your face, taking in every little expression you make.

You gently bite my lip in desperation with furrowed brows "please tetsu."

"Shhh," he said, moving his hand closer to your center. "You'll get what you want, sweetheart. Just be patient."

Kuroo's touch grew more confident as he felt you relax, his attention focused on your body's responses. He continued to move his hand over your sensitive skin, tracing patterns, and brushing against your center, slowly building up your anticipation.

Kuroo noticed the slight twitch of your hips and a knowing smirk played on his lips as he found your clit over your panties. "You're so sensitive, sweetheart."

You continue looking at him whining "tetsu."

"I know, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "I'll take care of you. Just relax and let me make you feel good." He continued to tease your clit, his touch growing more confident and determined.

He reached for the band of your panties,lifting your hips to help him remove the blocking fabric, discarding them onto the floor. He couldn't take his eyes off your now bare flesh, his gaze hungry and filled with desire. "Gorgeous," he murmured, his fingers tracing the curves of your legs.

His eyes fixated on your most intimate parts. He could see how wet you were, and he let out a low, ragged moan. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his words dripping with desire. "You have no idea how badly I've wanted to taste you."

"Then do" you bite back.

Kuroo couldn't resist your request any longer. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin, his eyes locked with yours. "You're so eager," he murmured, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "But it's my pleasure to savor you."

He lacks from your hole to your clit, flicking his tongue against my clit and sucking it, continuing skilfully as you moan quietly, trying your best to keep looking at him.

Your moans of pleasure fill the air, and their sweet sound sent pulses of desire coursing through his core. Kuroo continued his movements, his tongue swirling and lapping at your sensitive flesh, his eyes locked onto your pleasure-ridden face. "You taste so good," he murmured against you, the vibrations of his voice adding an extra layer of sensation.

Kuroo feels your body tremble as he slips one finger inside your pussy, his movement slow and steady as he curled it in a come hither motion. He can feel your walls clenching tightly around his finger, and he couldn't help but moan against you, the taste of you on his tongue driving him wild with desire. Kuroo continues his ministrations, his touch growing more possessive and hungry with

You moan "so good" gripping onto his hair in attempt to steady yourself as he devours you like a man starved, savouring you like a last meal on death row.

Kuroo's grip on your thigh tightens, his eyes locked onto your face as he hears you moan. The feel of your fingers in his hair, the sound of your voice, it all only fuelled further his desire to make you feel good. As his tongue danced over your folds, he couldn't help but be more persistent, wanting to draw out more of those delicious sounds from you. His finger curled inside of you, rubbing against your walls in a steady rhythm in sync.

You eventually cum, on his face legs shaking head tilted back moaning out his name, in utter bliss. As he pulled away from you, his face glistening with your release. His breaths were heavy, his chest heaving, but he couldn't help but give you a crooked smirk. "Looks like you enjoyed yourself," he murmured, his voice gravelly with desire. "I'm not done with you yet, sweetheart."

You sigh and take a moment to breath weakly putting your hand up with my index finger extended to indicate you needed a minute.

Kuroo chuckled softly, admiring your adorable yet exhausted state. "Take your time, sweetheart." he murmured, his voice filled with affection. "You look so cute like this, all spent and trying to catch your breath."

Yoy hum in agreement and when you finally relax you look at him again.

Kuroo watched you intently, his gaze filled with affection and desire. "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice a low, rough grumble. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your trembling thigh, the touch light and teasing.

You nod lightly.

Kuroo smiled, satisfied with your response. He continued to gently caress your trembling thighs, his touch growing firmer and more possessive. "You did so well, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice filled with pride. "You're so beautiful, so delicious."

"Can we.." you ask "can we continue."

Kuroo smirked at your request, his gaze growing darker with desire. "Of course, sweetheart," he replied, his voice low and rough. "Anything you want."

You try your best to get up off the couch still shakey.

Kuroo couldn't help but chuckle softly at your unsteady movement, his hand reaching out to steady you. "Careful there," he murmured, his touch firm and supportive. "You've had quite the time, haven't you? I might've tired you out a little too much, it seems."

"No I can take it" you say steadying yourself and leading the two of you to your bedroom.

Kuroo couldn't help but smirk at your determination. "Confident, are we?" he chuckled, following you into your bedroom.

As he had already seen your bedroom before he slowly leans you down onto your bed hovering over and leaning down to kiss you once more. Kuroo's lips move against yours with a passionate intensity, his body pinning you against the bed. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, wanting to devour you.

You taste youe slick in your mouth moving your hand down to his dick to take it out of his pants "please tetsu"

Kuroo groaned heavily as you touch him, his body tensing involuntarily. "Impatient, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. "You want me that bad, hm?"

"Mhm" you agree not bothering to play coy "tetsu please fuck me"

Kuroo's control unravels at your words, his body growing taut with need as he hears the desire in your voice. "Such filthy words from such a sweetheart," he breathes, his gaze darkening with undeniable arousal. "You want me to make you mine, sweetheart? You want me to take you right here, right now?"

"I do" you say stroking him, spitting on my hand and preparing his for entry. Kuroo moans at your touch, his body trembling with need. He couldn't resist any longer, not with desire coursing through his veins. "God, you're so eager," he murmurs, his voice a low "I can't hold back any longer."

With his dick wet and ready he slides it along you slit and along yoyr clit, teasing before gently pushing in.

Kuroo moans softly, closing his eyes and relishing in the intimate connection of his body with yours. "You feel so good," he whispers, his voice filled with both love and desire.

Kuroo's movement starts slow and gentle, allowing you to adjust his size. His breath hitches and he gently kisses your forehead, his gaze burning into yours. "You okay, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice filled with concern and need. You nod moaning quietly.

Kuroo holds himself above you, his body trembling with need. His pace quickens, his thrusts growing more needy and desperate. As he moves, he looks down at you, his gaze filled with love and lust. Kuroo's muscles flex under your fingertips, the feel of your nails against the skin of his back skin only driving him further. His pace grows more erratic, his breath ragged and ragged. "You're so good, so perfect," he whispers, his words a mix of praise and worship.

" so- o oh bigg" you moan broken in his ear.

Kuroo's breath hitches at your moan, his body trembling with desire. He could feel the intensity of your pleasure, and it drove him wild. "You like it, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. "You like how it feels, having me inside of you?"

You let out an agreeing moan. Trying to keep up with his now brutal and pleasurable pace.

"You're taking me so well, sweetheart" he murmurs, his words filled with desire and need. He can feel himself growing even more aroused as he watches you, his body shaking with need. "You're so beautiful, so perfect for me."

"Keep tal-king" you moan holding onto him.

Kuroo's breath hitches at your words, a low moan escaping his lips. "You like that, huh? You like me talking to you like this?" he murmurs, his words teasing and filled with arousal. "You're so sensitive, so receptive to my voice."

With each thrust you let out an 'ah' moan.

Kuroo's body tightens at the sound of your moans, his breath ragged and ragged. "You're so beautiful like this," he whispers, his words thick with desire. "I could listen to you moan all night long."

"Tetsu" you repeat like a prayer after each thrust letting your nails scratch his toned back.

Kuroo's breath quickens, his body trembling with each scratch of your nails. "Yes sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with need. Kuroo's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more and more urgent. "Say it again," he whispers, his words both a command and a plea.

You continue pleading his name as he wets his thumb moving it down to your clit.

Kuroo's eyes darken as he watches you, his gaze burning into your soul. He moves his thumb in a circular motion, the pressure just right. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "That's it sweetheart," he whispers, his words ragged with need. "Say it louder. I want to hear you."

You continue the mantra of his name eyes rolled back, letting your pussy clamp down and tighten around his thick dick.

Kuroo moans as he feels you tighten around him, his body trembling with need. His thrusts grow more urgent as he reaches down and grabs your hip, gripping it tightly as he continues to move inside you. "Fuuuuck, you feel so good," he gasps out, his voice low and rough. "I can't get enough of you like this, all needy and desperate for me." He reaches up and grabs your chin, making you look up at him. "You're so beautiful, you know that? So perfect for me."

You say nothing in response to fucked out for ceherant thought. His body trembles with the need to let go, but he restrains himself, wanting to prolong this moment. He leans down, his mouth covering yours in a rough kiss. "I love the way you respond to me," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with need. "The way you say my name."

"Tetsu tetsu tetsu, keep going, don't stop I'm so close" you break out.

He feels your body tighten as you say his name, your voice sending shivers down his spine. "I can't stop, sweetheart," he whispers, his words ragged and thick with need. "But I need you to tell me something first. Look at me. Look into my eyes and say my name again."

"So good tetsu, so good" I moan face contorted in pleasure.

Kuroo can't help but react, his body reacting to your words. "You're so perfect," he murmurs, his words a mixture of praise and need. He picks up the pace, his hips thrusting harder, wanting to push you over the edge. "Look at me sweetheart. I want to see your face when you come."

You repeatedly tell him not to stop, moaning his name like a broken record.

Kuroo's body shudders at the sound of your moans, his mind consumed by the need to make you come, and let go. "That's it sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice ragged and rough. "Let me hear you." He shifts a little, hitting a deeper, more sensitive spot inside of you, wanting to push you to the edge. "Say my name. I want to hear you say it again and again."

"Tetsu, tetsu, testu, tetsu, tetsu" repeating his name like a prayer. Kuroo can't help but feel his body tremble as you moan his name again and again, it's drives him wild with need. "That's it," he whispers, his voice ragged and rough. "Say it. Don't stop. Never stop."

"Tetsu, tetsu, tetsu, tetsu, Fuck, ah, te-ts- u" I moan nearing an orgasm.

Kuroo can feel you getting closer, your impending orgasm driving him insane. He knows he's close too, his body on the brink. "Just a little more sweetheart," he murmurs against your skin, his words a low, ragged rasp. "Say my name again for me. I need to hear you say it."

You continue as you cum, legs shaking arched back pussy dripping as your nails dig into him for dear life.

Kuroo watches with satisfaction as you moan his name uncontrollably, his grip on your hips tightening as he continues to move against you. He enjoys seeing the effect he has on you, the way your body responds to his touch.

Kuroo sees your hand on his chest and understands the gesture, stopping his movements, but he is still shaking in need. He looks at you, waiting for you to do something, anything.

You sigh out in bliss relaxed taking a moment before you continue as to prevent overstimulation. Kuroo watches you closely, allowing you a moment to catch your breath before continuing. He continues to hold himself over you, his body trembling with need and anticipation. He can't wait, but he knows he needs to give you time to recover.

You look down realising he hasn't finished "just keep going till you finish."

Kuroo nods, realizing that he hasn't come yet. "Are you sure you're alright for more, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with concern as well as desire. He doesn't want to push you too far, but he can't ignore the need that is coursing through his body.

You nod slowly "mhm, just sensitive."

Kuroo nods, understanding your sensitivity. "I'll be gentle then, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice softening with tenderness. He slowly resumes his movements, being careful to be gentle with you. Oh was it sensitive. Oh could you feel every thust and ridge even more than before.

You let him continue as he started to get a little rougher as he reached his own high, forgetting to continue to gauge your reaction. Lucky for him it felt just as great for you.

His thrusts become erratic, his breath growing ragged. He keeps his gaze locked onto you, watching your reactions. "Sweetheart," he pants, his voice thick with need, "Can you take it?"

By now you can only respond in gibberish moans, incapable of forming words but seeming to agree to whatever this request meant. Kuroo's body shivers with need as he sees how much of an effect he has on you, making you completely incoherent. "You look so pretty like this," he murmurs, his words coming out in ragged breaths. He picks up the pace, his movements needy and desperate. "All mine, all mine."

Kuroo gasps loudly as he finds his release, his body trembling with pleasure. He collapses onto you, his breathing ragged and labored. "Sweetheart, you did so good," he whispers, his voice thick with satisfaction. He nuzzles into your neck, taking in the scent of your skin.

Kuroo let out a low, contented sigh as you run your fingers through his hair, the gesture soothing and tender. He lets his full weight rest on you, relishing in the intimacy of the moment. He moves in impossibly closer, his breath hot and heavy against your neck, slight sweat sitting between the two of you.

You lie there for a moment finding it hard to ignore a certain concern "I should pee, I don't want a uti."

Kuroo chuckles weakly, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea," he murmurs, reluctantly lifting himself off you. He stands weakly, offering his hand to you. "Come on, let's get up."

He watches as you make it to the bathroom, while he goes to fetch you some water. Meeting you in the kitchen moments later and placing the two cups on the counter.

Kuroo wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his body. He relishes the feeling of your body against his, the intimacy of the moment bringing him a sense of comfort and security. He rubs your back gently, his touch tender and affectionate.

I enjoy this "you should let Ur parents know Ur sleeping over"

Kuroo nods, realizing that he should inform his parents who had by now assumed you studied late again "Yeah, you're right," he murmurs, his hand still gently rubbing your back. "I'll go give them a call real quick."

Kuroo notices your gaze and takes a look at the time, his eyes widening in surprise. "Damn, it's already midnight? A text should suffice then" he mutters, a note of disbelief in his voice. "We've been here for quite a while, haven't we?"

"Oh my god, and we haven't even had dinner" You worry.

Kuroo snorts amusedly, shaking his head. "You're right. We probably should've had some food before, huh?" he murmurs, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "But honestly, who could've paid attention to food when we were too busy with... other things."

You smile at his attitude "so corny"

Kuroo pretends to be offended, placing a hand on his chest in an exaggerated show of hurt. "Hey, that's not corny! That's just me being charming, sweetheart," he retorts, his expression quickly morphing into a sly smirk.

"You got me there" I retort, "let's get something to eat

Kuroo chuckles, conceding to your suggestion. "Alright, alright. Let's get some food," he agrees, giving your shoulder a light squeeze.

Kuroo's expression softens as he notices your lingering fatigue. "Of course," he says gently. "You sit down and rest. I'll heat up the leftovers for us."

You sit down at the table we were previously studying at and wait for your food as Kuroo busies himself in the kitchen. After a short while, he brings over two plates, each holding your favourite leftovers. He sets one in front of you and takes a seat opposite you, eyeing your tired form with a hint of amusement. "Looks like I really wore you out, huh?" he teases, a sly grin playing at the corners of his lips.

"I suppose" you say looking at your dinner instead of him

Kuroo chuckles softly, a mix of amusement and affection in his gaze. "You're acting shy all of a sudden, huh?" he teases, reaching across the table to gently nudge your foot with his under the table. "Don't be all coy now, ____"

"I'm not" you look back up at him, before pausing contemplating.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow curiously, sensing you have something on your mind. "What is it?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. "You look like you want to ask something."

"Can this, does this, mean we're you know." You worry yet again.

Kuroo can't help but smirk as he realizes what you're asking. He takes a bite of his meal, savoring the taste before responding. "Are you asking if we're officially a thing now?" he teases, his voice low and knowing.

"Yeah" you say sincerely "I'd like us to be, if you would too."

Kuroo's smirk softens into a soft smile, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "Of course I do," he affirms, reaching out to take your hand in his. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want that too."

You ean down to eat and Kuroo follows suit. The room fell quiet for a moment as you both focus on your food. He occasionally glances at you, noticing the way the dim lighting accentuates your features. He finds himself appreciating the subtle nuances of your presence, the way your hair falls across your face, how tousled it is after your activities, your graceful movements, everything. He wouldn't normally condone staying up the night of a test, but for you? He'd allow it.

HOPE THIS WAS ALRIGHT!!!!!

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro smut #breast worship #volleyball #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #praise kink go brrrr #praise me #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x f!reader

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coupsiedaisee · 1 month ago

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jump then fall | issue 03 | c.sc

when trying to unearth hogwarts' resident Golden Boy™ choi seungcheol's secret girlfriend, leads to the proposition of a lifetime

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: hogwarts au, fake dating au, fluff, angst wordcount: 8.3k series masterlist a/n: hiiiii, omg, it's been so many months since i last updated this fic! a big huge thanks to @hannieween for being there every step of the way, this is highest wrodcount i've hit so far for a chapter. (and so many edits, gah, this has gone through so many edits). i really hope y'all like it, this fic is truly my baby, and so is seungcheol, ahhh. let me know everything that you think!!!!!

THIS JUST IN! LOVER BOY AND FELLOW WALLLFOWER ALREADY OFF TO A ROCKY START?

"Let's date."

The ringing is back in your ears, mind going blank as you gape at Seungcheol.

Almost immediately, Seungcheol backtracks. "Not actually," he says, rushing to get the words out, "Like, pretend to date? Everyone thinks we're dating, but we're not . . . actually dating?"

"B-but, what about your girlfriend!" You sputter, bewildered. You are many things, but you are not a homewrecker.

"My what?" It's Seungcheol's turn to go wide-eyed in surprise. His face shifts into embarrassment, "Oh, that." He mumbles something incoherent.

"Come again?"

Seungcheol rubs the back of his neck, "I don't have a girlfriend." His deep brown eyes shine deceivingly innocent, "I may have spread a rumour about that."

In a moment of silence, the clock above the infirmary door ticks, the sound echoing through the empty room. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

"You what?"

Your voice pierces through the tension, and Seungcheol winces.

"I thought that if people were under the impression I was in a relationship, I might be able to get some of my own time back," he says, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Maybe then, they'd get off my back for once."

"Seungcheol, what are you talking about? Get off your back? About what?" Perhaps you sounded a bit too exasperated, but you could not wrap your head around what he was saying. "You're like, the Prince of Hogwarts. Everyone here worships the ground you walk on. What could they possibly—"

"That's just it, though, isn't it?" Seungcheol's voice cuts through like the dull edge of a sword, bitter and resentful. He looks into his lap, thumbs twiddling with one another, trying to choose his words carefully. "I've got enough as it is, juggling classes and Quidditch." He forces out a sardonic laugh, "Don't know if it's because I'm in my last year and people think they're running out of time or something, but my admirers have gotten more tenacious, it seems."

You don't say anything as Seungcheol's nose scrunches up, like he's smelled dragon dung. You'd never seen him make a face like that.

"Did you know? Two days into school starting, someone tried to give me spiked cauldron cakes. They had spiked them with love potion." Seungcheol says, shuddering at the memory. "Jeonghan said," his voice pitching up with a nasally tone, "It's too bad you're not dating someone, maybe then they'd leave you alone."

"So you make someone up?" You say, incredulous. "Seungcheol, do you hear how insane you sound?" He was your Head Boy, smart and level-headed. Kind and helpful. Not, conspiring and acrimonious.

"How was I supposed to know you and Soonyoung would be this persistent?" He says with a hint of ire.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Your voice drips with sarcasm, "I apologize for ruining your grand plan, oh captain, my captain."

Seungcheol bites back a strangled yell. "Which is why I proposed a solution," he bites back.

"Yes yes, so you can 'get your time back.' I'm understanding that. However, what I don't understand is, what's in it for me?" You wasted weeks on a bloody ruse. Time that could've been better spent on other stories for The Whistler, or more importantly, your coursework.

"Well…" he trails off, looking pointedly at your arm.

Right.

You had just confessed to your whole class that the two of you were dating.

As though it were mocking you, the clock above the door gongs at the hour before shrilly ringing, signally the end of class. If it hadn't already, your supposed 'secret' would definitely be spread like wildfire amongst the students now. Everyone would know what went down in that potions class.

"So? Are you in or are you not?"

"I—" don't know, you want to say. You squeeze your eyes closed, taking in a deep breath.

Seungcheol doesn't get an answer. The doors to the infirmary slam open, and a bedraggled Soonyoung comes racing in.

"Wallflower!" He wails. His normally pristine pressed robes are ruffled, one side sliding off his shoulder from the two book bags slung over it.

"I'm sorry, I am so so so sorry," Soonyoung blubbers, shrugging off the bags. They fall to the floor with a thunk as he comes cover to sit next to you on the cot. His eyes are puffy and his nose and cheeks are splotchy with redness. "Are you alright?" He grabs your arm and you hiss in pain.

Soonyoung drops it like a hot potato, "Sorry, sorry. You are alright though, right?" He squints past your shoulders at Seungcheol, who's avoiding Soonyoung's gaze and trying to will himself to become one with the cot pillow, trying to take up as little space as physically possible.

"Oh, you're... here." Soonyoung's eyes flit between you and Seungcheol, mouth slightly downturned. "So, you two are dating?"

"Er," Seungcheol looks to you for an answer, eyes pleading. His eyebrows are furrowed so intensely, you're worried they'll stick like that forever.

Time freezes for a moment. A million different answers sit on the tip of your tongue, like a gun waiting to go off.

No, it's not like that. It was a misunderstanding. I must've lost my mind for a moment. You misheard me, I said I was hating Seungcheol, not dating him. I'm thinking about becoming a nun. Each one, a bullet coursing through the air at high speed.

"Yes." You don't look at Soonyoung, your gaze instead staying locked on Seungcheol, whose eyebrows are still furrowed, but a small smile now creeps onto his face.

"We're dating," You say, turning back to Soonyoung, nose scrunching in apology. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Hosh."

Soonyoung sniffles. "It all makes sense now. You being so adamant to stop the article." He wipes at his nose, "I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me."

"Hoshi, it was nothing like that, I promise."

Seungcheol swoops in, putting a hand on your shoulder, "We didn't want anyone to know, in case it didn't work out. You know how rumours go around here."

You tense at his touch, shoulders stiffening, and that all too familiar sense of trepidation creeps up your throat. Doing your best to shove it as far down as possible, you breathe through your nose and put on your most convincing smile.

This seems enough for Soonyoung, though. "Oh, that reminds me, I almost forgot," he pulls something out of his pocket, holding it out.

"My wand!" You lunge for it, using the movement to naturally shrug off Seungcheol's hand.

"I brought your bag too," says Soonyoung, gesturing to the bags at your feet. "Didn't want anyone else getting their hands on it. Say, Madam Pompfrey tell you how long you'll be stuck in here?"

"I'm not sure—"

"Probably a few days," Seungcheol interrupts. "She'll give you more salve to heal the burn and then its mainly a time game, waiting until the potion is out of your system and your arm is healed over."

"Very good, Mister Choi," says Madam Pompfrey, coming around your cot. She's holding a small vial of a deep purple potion, and when she unstoppers it, something smelling an awful lot like rotten eggs wafts your way. "Alright, you two, off you go. She needs her rest," she says, handing you the rancid potion.

Soonyoung makes to protest, but then decides against it. Seungcheol doesn't argue either, despite the disgruntled face he makes.

You spend two nights in the infirmary before Madam Pomfrey deems you fit and ready to return to the dorms.

Students bustle through the corridors as you make your way up to Ravenclaw Tower. The first class must have already let out, though you don't remember the bell going off.

Eyes sear into your back, and you tighten the strap of your bag, bringing it closer and scurrying up the stairs, past hushed and frantic whispers.

By the statue of Gilchrist the Gallant, a group of girls begin tittering amongst themselves as you shuffle past. You can't hear exactly what they're saying, but you pick up several mentions of Seungcheol.

The common room is empty, as is your room. You drop your bookbag onto the floor and fall into your four-poster bed with an oomph. Despite two days of rest, an ache thrums through your body.

Your forearm is still a little sore, but the searing, blinding pain is just a memory now. A faint scar runs from your wrist to your elbow, and you glide two fingers over it, the skin raised where the potion bubbled over.

A relaxing hot shower later, you throw on a clean set of uniform and put your hair half up in a clip, ready to head down to the Great Hall and attempt to grab a bite without striking up too much attention.

The doors to the Great Hall are wide open when you get down there. You tiptoe in, quiet as a mouse, but students are so engrossed in their own conversations that no one pays you any mind. Not that they would've on any other day, but circumstances seem to have changed.

You spot Soonyoung and Raveena hunched over something at the Ravenclaw table, deep in conversation. On the other end of the hall, Seungcheol sits at the Gryffindor table, surrounded as usual by Joshua and Jeonghan. His arm is propped up on the table, cheek cradled in palm, as he solemnly pushes food around on his plate.

Skulking through the tables, you find a gap between some students at the Hufflepuff table. Various foods cover the length of the table, and after a few days in the infirmary, the thought of sitting down and slowly gorging yourself makes your mouth water.

You reach over to grab two halves of a turkey sandwich, a ripe red apple, and some napkins to wrap them up in. It's not much, but it should tide you over till dinner.

"Wallflower!"

You freeze, hand inside your bag. A hush falls in the Great Hall.

Two tables behind you, Soonyoung seems to have spotted you.

"Blasted banshees," you curse. Your wand sits in the bottom of your book bag, although you're not sure if there's a bewitching spell strong enough to put the entire Great Hall to sleep.

Perhaps you could blow up a table, casualties be damned. You could also just ignore him, but would he ignore you?

Squeezing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you turn, plastering on the cheeriest smile you can muster.

"Hello Hoshi," you say between gritted teeth. Soonyoung makes to get up, but you motion with your hands for him to stay seated. "Just grabbing something to eat, I'll see you in class!" Murmurs break around you, but you keep your eyes trained on Soonyoung, your fake smile rivaling a Madam Tussauds sculpture.

Okay. This is okay. Could be worse. Could be a lot worse. For one, Seungcheol could—fuck. Your smile drops, and you whip around to the Gryffindor table. Seungcheol's sitting there, hand gripped tightly around the fork frozen halfway up to his mouth, and eyebrows scrunched with that signature furrow.

You turn to Soonyoung. Then back again to Seungcheol. "I-I—" you stutter, the words getting stuck in your throat. So you do the only natural thing anyone else in your position would do.

You run straight out of the Great Hall.

Okay, so you were speed walking. And you're pretty sure you barrel through some first years as you push into the entrance hall. But you are not known for your athleticism, or lack thereof, nor are you one for this much attention.

Shoes clack against the stone floor as you find your way down the corridor. Surely there is a quiet place for you to sit and eat without interruption. Or eyes. Or people. Or Seungcheol.

Heavy footsteps follow behind you, and someone calls out your name.

Seungcheol.

You pick up the pace, breaking into a slow jog (as if you could outrun a bloody Quidditch captain).

"Hey, wait!" A hand grips your shoulder, and you startle from the touch. The momentum of trying to turn and avoid it, careening you backwards. Seungcheol catches you by the arm, "Woah there, steady now." He sets you upright, hand still wrapped around your elbow. A drum begins to beat in your head, and you feel like you're going to vomit.

Seungcheol's eyebrows are still furrowed, and he looks, dare you say, a little upset. His lips are pursed in a straight line, as though calculating what to say.

"Why didn't you tell me you were out of the infirmary?"

Shaking your arm out of his hold, your eyes flit around the corridor, uneasy. "Sorry, I—" again, the words are stuck in your throat. You've gone speechless, as you so often do around Seungcheol.

Seungcheol follows your gaze to the student hanging around in the hallway. Everyone is staring at you two. He huffs, eyes rolling, and mutters, "Let's get out of here."

He leads you into a side corridor where more students linger post-lunch. Hushed whispers run through the hall, and Seungcheol huffs once more.

A group of students huddle by the far wall. They appear to be in their fourth or fifth year and stare you and Seungcheol down as the two of you make your way through the hall. One of the students struts out, coming to stand in front, halting your steps.

A pointer finger twirls in their hair, and they're giggling. "Hi Seungcheol," they say, voice squeaky like nails on a chalkboard. "Are you really dating—" they eye you up and down with a look that can only be categorized as contempt, "—her?"

Seungcheol's jaw clenches. You could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. "Yes," he grunts. "Now if you'll excuse us." He pushes past, shoulder-checking them, and you flounder to follow behind him.

The kid scoffs as they stumble aside, "Ow—excuse you?" You turn to see them throw you one last, nasty, look before bursting into tears.

"Oh for fucks sake," Seungcheol says under his breath. Other students crowd around the kid in consolation, and they all seem to fling similar looks of disdain your way.

Seungcheol whispers, "I'm really sorry about this, but brace yourself," and he grabs you by the wrist, setting off into a soft jog. He zig zags the two of you through the maze of corridors so quickly that you don't even have a moment to think about his hand moving down to wrap around yours.

He leads you down another corridor, pulling you into a hard left when a student comes around the corner. A tapestry hangs on the opposite wall, and Seungcheol pulls it back to reveal a hidden stairwell, ushering you through it. Your calves were starting to burn, you hadn't done this much exercise in, well, ever really. The two of you climb the stairs in silence till you come out the other end to an empty passageway.

Seungcheol relaxes, letting out a big breath with his hands on his hips, but then you hear more footsteps coming around the corner, and he lets out a groan. Spotting a broom closet across the hall, he pulls it open, pushing you through the doorway and quickly following after, shutting the door softly behind him.

Both of you stay still, listening as the footsteps come closer before passing by and fading off into the distance.

The broom closet, cupboard really, is cold and musty. Two long benches line either wall, and the ceiling rises to barely above your height. Seungcheol ducks to avoid hitting his head on the rafters.

You take a seat on one of the rotting benches, rubbing your wrist where Seungcheol held it.

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, eyes lingering on your hands. "Sorry about that, I just—" he takes a seat across from you, "I wanted us out of there fast, I assumed you did too."

"It's okay. I'm sorry too." Seungcheol tilts his head, hair flopping to one side like a puppy, eyes filled with question. You clear your throat, "For not telling you. About being out of the infirmary."

Seungcheol hums, nodding. He crosses his ankles and leans forward, grabbing the edge of the bench, "Why?"

"What?"

"Why—" he repeats, staring you down, "—didn't you tell me?"

You frown, "I didn't know I was supposed to."

Seungcheol sighs, looking up at the ceiling. There's moss growing on the rafters. "Well, I am your boyfriend."

"Boyfriend. Right." The word feels odd on your tongue. You'd never called anyone that. You didn't think you'd ever call anyone that, fake or not.

The word turns over and over in your head as you reach into your bag, pulling out your food. You stick the apple out to Seungcheol, and he takes it.

"I think we should set some expectations," Seungcheol says, turning the apple over in his hand.

You unwrap your sandwich and take a bite. Turkey, lettuce, tomato, a slice of provolone, and a thin spread of mayo. Bite, chew, swallow. Bite, chew, swallow.

Seungcheol continues, "No one is going to believe us if we're not seen spending any time with each other. Then this will all have been for nothing."

Mouth full of sandwich, you ask, "What exactly did you have in mind then?"

Seungcheol takes a bite of your apple with a strong crunch, chewing. "I was thinking we could spend time with each other by studying, or doing homework? We're taking all the same classes, and it would get you away from The Whistler to stay caught up in them."

"Just studying?" You raise your eyebrows at Seungcheol, "This is your big master plan?"

He leans back with a heavy sigh, twisting the stem of the apple off and throwing it into the corner. "Okay, fine. What's your big master plan then?"

You think for a moment before answering, "Look, you're like, the Prince of Hogwarts, right?" Seungcheol's ears burn pink at hearing that moniker again. "No one probably even knows who I am outside of our year. There's no way anyone's going to believe this just because we start studying together."

Seungcheol purses his lips, and you know he knows that you're right. Everyone will be waiting on the sidelines to see you slip up so they can tear you to shreds. It'd be open season.

"Either way, we have a bigger problem than convincing the school." You fold the napkin in your lap, making a small boat that flops over. "I can convince Hoshi that I kept this from him, I've got my reasons, and he'll understand, but Joshua and Jeonghan are never going to believe that you're dating some girl you've never mentioned."

"Who says I've never mentioned you before?" he snaps.

"What?" you ask, confused.

Seungcheol ignores you. "And how do you know they won't believe this?" He takes another bite of the apple, chewing aggressively.

"You're friends are smart, not to mention you spend nearly all your time with them." You don't think you'd ever seen Seungcheol without them if you're being honest. "They're going to wonder how we got together, and unless we've got an iron-clad story, they'll see right through it."

Seungcheol doesn't say anything, just takes the last bite of his apple, throwing the core into the corner.

"If you can't even convince your friends, you're not convincing the school."

"Fine," Seungcheol finally huffs. "How?"

"How what?" You parrot back.

He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, "How are we gonna convince them, princess?"

You choke on nothing, covering it up with a cough, "I—I didn't think that far." You avoid Seungcheol's gaze.

"You know, if I can't even hold your hand, that'll also make everything fall apart very quickly." A small stream of water leaks through the rafters, and you watch as the droplets drip onto the stone floor. "I'm not saying you should do something that makes you uncomfortable, I'd never ask that of you, but we should find an alternative that works for you if you're determined to convince people."

You both sit in silence, the sound of dripping water echoing through the closet, before Seungcheol speaks up again, "We should get to class."

You nod, eager to get out of there, folding your napkin boat up in half and putting it away in your bag. Both of you go to stand at the same time, your heads banging against each other.

You fall back onto the bench, groaning and holding your head as Seungcheol does the same. He gestures for you to get up first as he rubs the top of his head, hair going in every which direction.

You push through the door, adjusting your book bag on your shoulder, and freeze. Seungcheol runs into your back with a grunt, and you stumble forward a little.

There is a group of students loitering in the passageway, all with their eyes locked on you.

They stare, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. And if they're staring at you, that means—you turn around and Seungcheol's shutting the door behind him. His hair is in disarray, and he's fixing his glasses to sit straight, stopping abruptly at the small crowd of students.

Seungcheol straightens up a little and clears his throat, voice dropping a few notes, "Shouldn't you all be in class?" He raises an eyebrow, shooting the most menacing look he could muster, and they scurry off, not without tittering to each other, though. He relaxes, letting out a deep breath.

"Come on, let's go before someone else shows up," you mutter.

The two of you walk into Charms together, and it seems like you're the last to do so. While Professor Flitwick has not arrived yet, everyone else has already found their seats.

"Looks like the lovebirds decided to show up for class," someone shouts from the back. It's unclear who it was, and you feel your cheeks start to burn up.

You look across the classroom and spot Soonyoung sitting near the back next to an empty seat. "I'm gonna go sit with—" you wave a hand in Soonyoung's direction.

Seungcheol nods, "Go ahead, I'll sit with—" he searches the room for Joshua and Jeonghan. They were in the second row, Jeonghan was seeing how far he could lean back on his chair without falling, while Joshua was using his wand to charm little paper birds around Jeonghan's head. Seungcheol squeezes his eyes shut, "—my friends," he sighs.

You muffle a snicker behind your hand as Seungcheol drags his feet to his friends, and you make your way back to where Soonyoung is sitting, feeling smug when you pass by Tabitha and she glares at you.

"Wallflower! How are you feeling?" says Soonyoung as you slide into the seat next to him.

"Better, so much better." You lift part of your sleeve, "See, only a scar now."

Soonyoung grabs your arm, looking at the scar from all angles. "Oh wow, it's already fading." He sets your arm down and pulls out his Charms textbook as Professor Flitwick walks in, leaning over to whisper, "I was really worried, you know. With the way you ran out of the Great Hall this morning? Pudding was too. We thought maybe something happened again."

You squirm in your seat, "Oh, that? I'd just forgotten my textbook. Just had to go back and get it before class."

"Well, she'll be happy to see you back. So will the others." He lets out a small laugh, "I swear Dino would've cried if you took any longer."

"Hoshi, I was gone for barely a day," you say with a smile, pulling out your textbook, turning to the chapter on creating your own spell. At the front of the class, Flitwick calls on Seungcheol to pass out last week's graded essays as the professor starts today's lesson.

Your eyes follow the Head Boy as he wades through the rows, handing out everyone's essays. He'd fixed his hair from earlier, and it sat neatly combed. You shake the urge to mess it all up again.

When Seungcheol gets to you, he hands you your essay, smiling, and softly says, "Good work." As he walks away, Soonyoung reaches over to grab your essay.

"You got an Acceptable? I have an Exceeds Expectations, and I didn't get a 'good work,'" Soonyoung pouts.

"Wait, I got an Acceptable?" You grab it back from Soonyoung. A big fat 'A' is etched into the top of the page. You groan. It was only the beginning of the year, but you knew it would take more effort than you were currently putting in to keep your grades up this year.

You watch as Seungcheol makes his way back to his seat, giggling when he whacks Jeonghan in the head with his essay, and Jeonghan almost falls out of his seat.

"I like this side of you," Soonyoung says suddenly.

"What do you mean?" You ask, taking out your quill and a fresh roll of parchment.

"This young, blossoming love side of you," he says, hand on cheek and elbow on the table. He lets out an airy sigh, "Oh, to be young and in love."

Your cheeks burn, and you duck down to grab Advanced Magical Theory out of your book bag. "You're being ridiculous," you mutter.

Tabitha turns around to hiss at the two of you, "Will you two shut up. Some of us are trying to learn here." Soonyoung sticks his tongue out at her.

"You know," he leans over to whisper. "Now that we technically know who Seungcheol's girlfriend is, theoretically, the article can still happen." You stay silent, only shooting him a glare. Soonyoung scrambles with his words, "Of course, only if you're comfortable with it." You silently poke your wand into his side, send him the smallest of shocks, and he lets out a small yelp.

"Though I am curious," Soonyoung says, after class. Seungcheol had come up to you, I have Quidditch practice, but I'll see you at dinner? You had nodded, holding your bag strap tight like it's your anchor and mirroring the shy smile Seungcheol sends you, waving him a small goodbye.

The two of you head down to the newsroom. Soonyoung had some corrections he wanted to do on an upcoming article before dinner, and you had so much to catch up on from your time away.

"How did you two start dating?" Soonyoung asks as the two of you approach the entrance to the newsroom.

You stiffen, glancing up and down the corridor, but it was deserted. Seungcheol and you had yet to come up with an origin story.

Soonyoung taps his wand to the blank space of a wall, a hidden doorknob appearing out of the stone." I didn't know you two were even talking like that," he says, holding the door open for you to walk through.

You hurry through, dropping your book bag on a table and beelineing for a basket of unsorted photos Dino must have been working on while you were gone. "We take some classes you're not in, and it started with asking him questions about coursework and, sort of," you wave your hands about, "you know, just grew from there."

It wasn't entirely wrong. You and Seungcheol did have classes together that Soonyoung wasn't in. But you spent most of those quietly in the back. Unless you were partnered up with Seungcheol for something, which was rare, interactions with him were far and few between.

"Besides, he's the class topper. I thought I could get better marks working with him. It's N.E.W.T.s year, and I'm struggling to keep up. One thing just led to another."

"One thing led to another." Soonyoung watches you, head cocked, as you tap your wand on the wall by the rolling board, revealing a tall wooden door, the entry to your dark room. You pull it open, and Soonyoung follows behind. "Is he nice to you, Wallflower?"

Though the red light is on in your dark room, you're not sure he can see the face you pull. "What sort of question is that? Of course, he is Hoshi." You find rolls of undeveloped film in a drawer and begin pulling them out. "It's Seungcheol." You may have problems with students at your school, but Seungcheol has never, never, been one of them.

"But, you would tell me if he wasn't?" Soonyoung leans back against a table, arms crossed.

"Obviously, why would you think I wouldn't?" You crouch down under the table to open a cabinet file, filled with potions for developing film.

There's a beat before Soonyoung says quietly, "You didn't tell me you two were dating."

And there it was. You were wondering how long it would be till he brought it up again. It hurt Soonyoung more than he let on and you knew it.

You were his best friend. His other half. After everything that's happened to you, he just wanted you to be safe. If anything ever did happen, and Hoshi hadn't known about it? That'd break his heart.

"Hoshi, we just wanted to keep it private at first." You stand up, clutching a vial with trembling fingers that you hoped Soonyoung wouldn't notice. You hated lying to him. It wasn't something you did often, or at all, really. It made you feel icky inside. "He didn't tell his friends either. We didn't think it was worth saying anything until it became something worth sharing. And now it is." You make a face, "Well, sort of."

Soonyoung frowns, "Sort of? What do you mean, sort of?"

You unstopper a potion to pour it into a tray, "We haven't actually, I dunno, gone on a date?"

"What?!" Soonyoung says shrilly, and you wince. "I'm gonna kill him, what do you mean he hasn't taken you out on a date?"

They say the best lies are the ones wrapped in truth. Small fibs layered between facts. Pages of fiction woven into the book of reality.

"We haven't had the chance." You would become the greatest fiction writer ever known. "I'm sure he'll ask me on a real date soon." One to rival Madame Kwon. "Don't say anything to him, I don't want to make a fuss."

"Wallflower, surely even with your lack of experience, you know that to date, you need to actually go on dates?" Soonyoung postures.

"Merlin Casanova." You sift your film in the tray of potion. "We've barely been together, and some of us prioritize school. You can bite his head off later if he still hasn't taken me out."

This seems to satisfy Soonyoung, for now.

Later that evening, when you and Soonyoung head down to the great hall for dinner, Seungcheol is waiting at the entrance. He looks skittish, adjusting and readjusting his glasses, fumbling around with his sleeves, perking up when he sees you and Soonyoung coming down the steps. A smile grows on his face, and he gives you an awkward wave, "Alright?"

"Yeah," you say in a small voice. "You?"

"Never better."

Soonyoung sticks a hand out at Seungcheol, "Soonyoung Kwon, didn't get to properly introduce myself the other day."

Seungcheol hesitantly shakes Soonyoung's hand, "Yeah, I know. We're in the same year? I'm your Head Boy."

This doesn't shake Soonyoung, "Yes, well, you only know me as Soonyoung Kwon, Gobstones extrodinaire. I'm here today as Soonyoung Kwon, Wallflower's best friend." He pulls Seungcheol forward by the hand, and Seungcheol stumbles forward, going chest to chest with Soonyoung. Soonyoung whispers something in Seungcheol's ear that you don't quite catch, but it makes Seungcheol stand up straighter.

They exchange a silent look before Soonyoung lets Seungcheol's hand go.

Seungcheol's turns to look at you, "Josh and Jeonghan are already at a table, if you'd like to join us for dinner?"

Soonyoung shrugs at you and you stammer out a meek, "Sure."

"Let me get that for you," says Seungcheol, and he takes your book bag from you, slinging it over his shoulder as Soonyoung starts heading into the great hall, chattering about something to do with Gobstones club.

Seungcheol taps the back of your hand, and you flinch. "Can I?" He whispers, sticking out his hand discreetly.

There's something about it, him asking permission. You found yourself doing a lot of things this week that you normally wouldn't. The Wallflower from a few days ago would've probably shrunk back. But today's Wallflower? She's different. Anew. Today's Wallflower nods, letting Seungcheol take her hand in his.

He's gentle with his hold, his warm hand softly encapsulating yours. But then it begins. The monster crawling out from your gut, through your throat, roaring to be let out. You breathe through your nose, but you can't stop the feeling of his skin against yours, and the unease begins to suffocate you.

Soonyoung leads you all to the Gryffindor table, where Jeonghan and Joshua have already begun to eat. He plops himself down across from them with no preamble.

"Go on, I'll sit next to you," Seungcheol says softly, nodding towards the spot next to Soonyoung.

It takes everything in you to focus on the table and bench, sliding in next to Soonyoung. Seungcheol follows suit.

He lets go of your hand to grab plates to pass over, and your lungs expand back to their regular size as though breathing for the first time. Your hands shake as you take a plate and serve yourself some potato mash.

Seungcheol leans over to whisper, hot breath fanning over your ear, "Are you okay?"

If you opened your mouth to speak, you felt like you would vom all over this table. Without your voice, you just nod, trying to smile as if to convince him, and yourself, that you were just fine.

Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows but doesn't argue, taking the serving spoon from you when you finish, helping himself to a heaping of mash.

You don't miss the way Jeonghan and Joshua are eyeing you, their dinners forgotten on their plates. Eyeing you like the latest bird discovery while trekking through the jungles of the Amazon, both inquisitive and in fascination.

Jeonghan is the first to speak. "Welcome, kind of you to join us tonight," he says, with a glint in his eye. He stabs into a roasted carrot, brandishing it about, "We don't really understand so if you don't mind, please enlighten us. What made you want to date this uptight loser?"

Seungcheol glares at him, pushing his glasses up by the bridge. "You don't have to answer that," he says, "Jeonghan's just jealous that no one wants to date his smelly arse."

This does not seem to phase Jeonghan, though. To the contrary, his eyes crinkle as his smile deepens into a cheshire cat grin. He lets out a chuckle, "You see, our Head Boy here is about as alluring as, I don't know, our musty History of Magic textbook." He widens his eyes, eyebrows knitting in faux concern, "Did you have Poppy check your head while you were in the infirmary?"

You shake your head no, looking to Seungcheol for assistance, but your Golden Boy isn't even paying attention, instead too busy chowing down on chuck roast.

"If you haven't, you might want to," Jeonghan continues. "Head injury is surely the only—oof," Jeonghan keels over the table. "Did you just kick me?"

"Don't mind him," Seungcheol says, "Jeonghan's a menace to society. Joshua and I haven't figured out how to wrangle him in quite yet. Unfortunately, Professor Grubblyplank never had a unit on that."

Jeonghan scoffs, "Rude!"

Joshua ignores both of their bickers and tells you sweetly, "We're glad you and Soonyoung joined us for dinner today, we were both excited to meet you."

"Yeah, to meet and see what's wrong with he—ow." This time it's Joshua who elbows Jeonghan in the side.

"Oh." You're not sure how to respond to that. "We've met before, though. In class?"

Joshua shakes his head, "That's not the same. And Seungcheol here wouldn't tell us anything about you two."

"What's there to say?" You side-eye Seungcheol and Soonyoung, but they're both wholly unhelpful, staying silent. You decide to attempt to answer Jeonghan, to offer something for Seungcheol to work with. "I mean, it's like how there are some cool things in the History of Magic textbook, you just have to look in the right chapter? Like, uh," You glance over at Seungcheol for a sign, anything, that this was the right thing to say, but he's looking at you confused, like he doesn't know where you're going with this. And somehow, you're mouth isn't stopping, moving on its own accord, "Like, the goblins, um, their wars? There's a lot you can learn about why our current society works the way it does and the power imbalances set in place in part to control certain types of people. It's quite... fascinating." You end lamely.

Seungcheol hides a smile behind a dinner roll.

Jeonghan's slack-jawed, "It's worse than I thought." He whips his head around to Joshua, exclaiming, "She's also a loser!"

Seungcheol throws his dinner roll at Jeonghan, hitting him square on the cheek.

The rest of dinner goes by uneventfully. Afterwards, Seungcheol walks you back to the Ravenclaw dorms.

The walk is silent, and a little awkward. The corridors are mostly empty, and Seungcheol doesn't make any move to hold your hand like earlier. Which was good, you didn't want him to.

As you arrive at the bottom of Ravenclaw Tower, you turn to Seungcheol to grab your book bag, which he was so diligently carrying for you. He holds onto it tightly, though, the bag not budging an inch when you try to tug it off his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" You say, still trying to tug your bag out of his grasp.

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" Seungcheol asks, baffled.

"I'm going to bed. So give me my bag, please." You give it another tug, but Seungcheol seems to have an iron grip.

"It's fine, I brought it this far, what's another couple hundred stairs?"

"Another couple hundred—Seungcheol, you don't have to walk me all the way up." You say exasperatedly. "I am capable of making it to my own common room. Have been since first year."

"I never said you weren't." He tugs at you back, and you stumble forward into him, head hitting his chest. For beat, you think you hear the badum badum of his heart through his warm shirt. Not a beat longer though, and you're hastily stepping back, only to lose your footing and start to fall backwards.

Seungcheol steps forward to catch you by the arms, careful to only hold on to your sleeves, hands clenched around the mass of robes.

You would not define yourself as a particularly clumsy person. But today has you feeling like a newborn deer. Mortified, you look up into those expectant, big brown eyes.

"Easy there, Princess," Seungcheol says, pulling you back upright.

You're quick to shimmy out of his grasp and don't even have a moment to collect yourself before Seungcheol begins to ascend Ravenclaw tower, your bag in tow.

You trudge behind him, up the spiral staircase, willing your heart to stop beating so erratically.

Seungcheol holds your bag out when you two get to the top, and you avoid his eyes while taking it back.

You knock once and the bronze eagle on the knocker speaks, "What has a face and two hands, but no arms or legs?"

"A clock. Goodnight Seungcheol," and with that, you slip through the door, closing it behind you without giving Seungcheol even a glance.

"You look awful," says Soonyoung, when you show up to Transfiguration with barely a minute to spare. He hands you a warm thermos. The strong scent of Nocturna Brewery's double caffinated brew wafts towards you. "Did you even get any sleep last night?"

"A little bit." A lie. You spent most of last night tossing and turning in bed. In fact, you'd spent the last few days riddled with insomnia.

Ever since Seungcheol dropped you off at your common room the other night, you haven't been able to get a lick of sleep. The last three nights have been restless, and each night has only made the next day even groggier.

You'd also been avoiding Seungcheol. Sitting as far away from him as possible in class, skipping out as soon as the bell rings, and spending your meals and free periods holed up in your dark room. While you knew you couldn't avoid him forever, you had a hard time coming to terms with what exactly his proposition entailed. Seungcheol was busy anyhow, running Quidditch practice, head boy duties, prefect meetings, and whatever other million school things he's got himself entangled with.

You chug down half the thermos, the liquid scalding down your throat, but the caffeine boost never comes through. Perhaps your body's had enough. You can't count how many cups you've had this week, maybe you've hit your limit. Class goes by like a blur, and you've retained nothing by the end of it.

As you're putting your things away, Soonyoung jabs into your side repeatedly with his elbow. You look up to see Seungcheol, chewing his lip and rocking back on his heels.

"I don't have anything during my free period, do you want to hang out?" Seungcheol sounds hesitant, like he's worried you'll say no. And you don't blame him, because that's exactly what you want to do. To say no and crawl back into your dark room, shutting yourself out from the world (read: Seungcheol).

"I've got Gobstones club, so I'll see you later Wallflower," Hoshi says, leaving you alone with Seungcheol, who's still chewing his bottom lip. He looks nervous, and you want to chastise him, tell him he's only making his lips more chapped, but you don't. This shouldn't even matter to you.

"I need to brew some potions. For my photos," you say, sounding just as hesitant as him. "Would you like to join me?"

You didn't even know you were holding your shoulders tight, but they relax when Seungcheol nods, letting you lead him out to find another empty classroom.

The walk is awkwardly silent, more so than the other night. When you finally find an unoccupied room, as soon as Seungcheol closes the door behind him, he asks, "Did I do something wrong?"

Your hands stall, wand in midair as you're about to procure your potion materials. "What? No. You haven't. Why would you ask that?" But, you already know why.

His eyes are downcast, "You've been avoiding me. I thought maybe I did something wrong."

"No. Sorry. I just—" you flounder. In your stride to avoid any sort of confrontation or opportunity to be embarrassed once more, it had not even occurred to you to think about how this would make Seungcheol feel. A part of you is also confused as to why this even matters.

"This whole thing is new. I'm not used to having…whatever this is," you say, motioning your hands between the two of you. "I go to class. Work on The Whistler. Spend time with Soonyoung. I don't know how to do all this other stuff."

Seungcheol sighs, taking a seat across from you at the table. You busy yourself with conjuring up your potion materials and cauldron.

He pulls out a piece of parchment and a quill, then gestures for you to sit across from him.

"I think making a proper strategy will help us with this." He says as you take a tentative seat. "And more importantly, help you."

Seungcheol's about to start writing when you cry out, "No!" slamming a hand down on the parchment. He startles and nearly knocks over his inkwell.

"If you dont want anyone to know, dont write it down," you hiss. "Rule #1 at The Whistler."

Seungcheol waves his wand, the spilled ink disappearing, "I promise to burn it in front of you if it'll make you feel better, but I really do think we need to figure this out. Now."

Unable to find a logical argument to that, you lean back, crossing your arms and pursing your lips, letting him continue with what he was doing.

He writes a list on the left side of the parchment: Sonyoung, Jeonghan, Joshua, Gryffindor Quidditch, The Whistler, Mythili, Raveena.

"You know Raveena?" You ask, sitting up straight.

Seungcheol taps the head boy badge on his chest, "It's kind of my job."

"But there's like a thousand kids at this school. You can't know everyone," you gripe.

"I know everyone and everything at this school," Seungcheol says matter-of-factly. "There's not much anyone's doing without my knowing."

"How?" You say, sounding weary.

Seungcheol is elusive. "You have your Raveena. I have my…ways," he says, not giving up anything more. He draws three lines on the parchment, connecting 'Soonyoung,' 'Jeonghan,' and 'Joshua.' Next to it, he writes, 'spending more time together: library, dinner, in between classes.' He then moves on to 'Gryffindor Quidditch,' etching next to it, 'come to practices and games.'

"Is that necessary?" You ask, unable to hide the groan in your voice.

Seungcheol looks at you over his glasses and crosses out 'practices.'"Fine, you don't have to come to practices, but you gotta show up to my games, you're my girlfriend."

You keep thinking that the word girlfriend would stop affecting you, yet your cheeks burn in obvious embarrassment. "I just—I've never been to a Quidditch game before," you stammer.

Seungcheol is flabbergasted, "What do you mean you've never been to a Quidditch game?"

You fiddle with the notches in the table, "To be honest, I don't really get it."

Seungcheol is still stunned, "B-but you take photos for Quidditch!"

You shake your head, "Only if Soonyoung can't, but that's barely ever, and only for practices. I've never been to an actual game, though."

'Go to Quidditch games together,' he writes. "Maybe you should come to my practices then," says Seungcheol.

You wrinkle your nose up at that, "I really don't want to."

"How can you not like Quidditch? That makes no sense," says Seungcheol, dumbfounded. "You have to come to our upcoming game. We're playing Hufflepuff, it'll be a tough match, you have to be there. People will think you're a bad girlfriend if you don't"

"I'll think about it," you murmur. "Does Mythili really need convincing?" You ask, trying to change the subject. "Feels like she has more important things to do than follow our love life."

"She keeps trying to wrangle me into daily meetings," he says. "Nothing is happening at this school to constitute meeting that often. What about the Whistler folks?"

"We hear everything the school hears," you say. "If we convince the school, we convince The Whistler, who then informs the school, whose students then feel validated in their opinion. It's essentially a symbiosis."

Seungcheol hums as you stand up, ready to start making your potions. "I think this is a good start, then."

"Burn it," you say.

"What?" Seungcheol retorts.

"The parchment. Burn it," and without waiting for him to respond, you incendio it for him. The parchment ignites before burning to ashes, and with another wave of your wand, the ashes disappear.

As you start on your potions, Seungcheol pulls out his school work, but he's unable to focus, choosing instead to watch as you prep and stir your ingredients into your cauldron.

"How often do you have to brew your potions?" Seungcheol asks, leaning back in his chair.

"Mmm, depends? Sometimes I have a lot of photos to develop, so I go through a lot of potion. Sometimes I'm trying new things out, and I need to brew more to keep up with the experimentations. It really depends." You drop in some dried newt tail and give the potion a half stir. It goes from a light tan into a blue so pale it's almost clear.

"Cool." Seungcheol's essentially abandoned the essay he was working on, watching as you diligently stir your potion. "Is Soonyoung usually with you?"

"Sometimes? Again, depends on what he's got going. We're not always together, you know." You sprinkle a dash of beetroot powder and the potion turns a deep violet colour without you even stirring.

"He hasn't said anything then? About us, I mean."

"What? You mean like has he caught on?" You think for a moment. Soonyoung hasn't given any indication that he doesn't believe you two, at least you don't think so. "There was someething he said the other day though. Something that might become a problem."

Seungcheol straightens at this, "What? What did he say?"

"It kind of slipped out yesterday, that you, um, well—" You avoid glancing up at Seungcheol before blurting out, "That you haven't asked me out on a date yet."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it's—we don't actually have to," you stammer. "But we should make up a good story, you know? Something believable. Not sure exactly what we'd do, there's not much to do around here, but I'm sure we can find something." Seungcheol stays quiet for a bit, and you think he hasn't even heard you.

"What are your plans for our next Hogsmeade weekend?"

Your hand stills while stirring. "I had some errands to run, with Hoshi?" You say, slowly.

Seungcheol crosses his arms, leaning back again, "Go with me instead."

"What?" You're stunned.

"Hogsmeade," he says, pushing up his glasses. "Don't go with Soonyoung. Let me take you instead."

"I'll have you know, I don't need anyone to take me to—" you sputter.

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, "Let me come with you then, I don't care how you word it. But either way, let's go together."

"Why?" You ask.

"You said I hadn't asked you out on a date, this is me asking you out on a date," Seungcheol says, voice laced in frustration.

"I—okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay." Seungcheol swallows, "I'm not trying to pressure you into—"

"Seungcheol, I'll come with you."

"You don't have to do anything that you don't—"

"Seungcheol, I want to," you say firmly.

"Okay," Seungcheol says, a new determined look on his face.

"Okay," you respond.

"It's a date."

a/n: alright y'all, your thoughts? you get sooo much more seungcheol this time around! how is he 🥺and the fake dating is beginning ahhhh, props if you've made it this far hahaha. uwu, lmk what y'all think pls pls pls! -daisee out

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol #scoups #scoups fanfic #title: jump then fall #au: hogwarts #au: hp #daisee.writes #seventeen hogwarts #band: seventeen #member: seungcheol

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