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[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #15 死

† arrangements †

"You were supposed to go back to individual training sessions with Takama. But torday, it is Jeon standing there instead. And you really feel like easing off some tension."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 9k.

content: training with jeon (it gets intense), sexual tension off the roof, kissing, ass grabbing, boner popping up (lmao), cafeteria shenanigans.

☠ author's note ☠

AHHHHH MY PRECIOUS BABY CHIMCHIM (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

What are you getting yourself INTO, you financial genius disaster? Every time I write Jimin scenes I'm just sitting here like "no baby no don't do it" while simultaneously typing out exactly what he's doing. I'm his god yet I have no control. The duality of being an author.

ANYWAY, let me know your thoughts about Y/N and Jeon's little "arrangement". ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Also... the way this man goes from cheeky little shit to MAN OF STEEL in 0.2 seconds is honestly doing things to me. Like the DUALITY?? One minute he's all sarcasm and eyerolls and the next he's all commanding presence and intense stares. Please show me all your facets while I mil—

ANYWAY! 🥰

Hope you enjoy this chapter, you magnificent disaster magnets! I see you all in the comments thirsting over fictional gang members and I just want you to know I'm judging you... from my very similar position of also thirsting over fictional gang members. It's a hard life, but someone's gotta live it.

Stay hydrated! You'll need it after this chapter!

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Training room it is today. Takama is probably waiting for you.

You step inside immediately and—fuck. The air's different. Not the usual sweaty, stale gym smell, but something...else. It's like walking into a storm front, all electric and tingly on your skin.

Weird.

You stop, blinking. Your brain's trying to process what your body already knows: something's off.

Shaking it off, you scan the room for Takama. He's usually here by now, ready to nag you about your form or whatever. But nope. Instead, your eyes land on—

Oh.

Jeon.

Shit.

Your whole body goes rigid. This is not what you signed up for today. Takama's stern but predictable. Jeon? He's a walking thunderbolt.

He hasn't clocked you yet. He's too busy with his hand-wrapping ritual, black tape winding around those knuckles like he's prepping for war. I̶t̶,̶s̶ ̶w̶e̶i̶r̶d̶l̶y̶ ̶m̶e̶s̶m̶e̶r̶i̶z̶i̶n̶g̶.̶You've tried it yourself, but you always end up looking like you got in a fight with a roll of duct tape and lost.

The door clicks shut behind you. Loud. Way too fucking loud.

Jeon's head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours. Fuck. It's like being caught in a headlight beam, but instead of deer-in-headlights frozen, you're fight-or-flight wired. His gaze is pure Kkangpae—hard, sharp, seeing right through your bullshit.

"Thought you could sneak up on me?"

You try for casual, miss by a mile. "Takama's usually not this quiet."

Jeon's mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. More like you just told a joke only he got.

Great start. This is gonna be fun.

"Takama had to handle some business. Guess you're stuck with me. It'll be good in preparation to our upcoming mission."

IIt's not a question, it's a fucking statement. And you know better than to argue with that tone.

Right. The mission.

Shit.

It all comes flooding back now. That goddamn mission assigned to you and Jeon back on the camping trip. The one where you both have to infiltrate MDF—Kkangpae's number one rival. Talk about high stakes.

You know how crucial this is. You know you need to concentrate now—more than ever.

But fuck.

Your eyes betray you, sweeping over Jeon's training attire.

It's insulting, is what it is.

That simple tank top might as well be painted on, doing jack shit to hide the sculpted landscape of his muscles. And those grey sweatpants? They're hanging so low on his hips it should be illegal.

(If you tried hard enough—which you're not, obviously—you're pretty sure you could see that happy trail you remember from that night in the tent.)

The fabric clings to him like it's got a personal vendetta against your sanity, obeying gravity with a lazy kind of insolence. And that silver neck chain? It's playing peekaboo from under his top, daring your eyes to follow its path. A metallic tease against skin you shouldn't be thinking about.

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of distraction.

Focus. Mission. Training.

Not Jeon's body.

You make your way to the corner where bandages and tape are strewn across a metal shelf. The mess speaks volumes—countless sessions of wrapping, unwrapping, preparing for fights both won and lost.

Grabbing a roll of black tape, you try to mimic what you've seen Jeon do a hundred times before. But your fingers feel clumsy, uncooperative. The tape sticks to itself, to your skin, everywhere but where it's supposed to go. You end up with more gaps than protection, the wrap loose in all the wrong places.

And Jeon? He's watching you. You can feel his eyes on you, sharp and intense. His face is unreadable, a perfect mask. But you'd bet your last dollar he's judging every fumbled attempt, every misplaced piece of tape.

Then he scoffs, the sound cutting through the air like a whip crack. Before you can react, he's moving towards you—footsteps echoing in the quiet room, each one making your heart beat a little faster.

And then he's there, right in your space.

The heat rolling off his body makes you acutely aware of how cool the air is around you.

He leans in close—too close—to inspect your sad attempt at hand-wrapping.

"Let me," he growls.

You don't even try to argue. What's the point? Jeon's already unraveling your sad attempt at hand-wrapping like it's the world's shittiest birthday present.

His fingers brush against your skin and for a second it's like someone just plugged you into a live wire.

He starts rewrapping your hands, and you're caught in this weird... limbo.

Because his touch is firm, almost stern, but there's this... gentleness to it that makes no sense coming from him.

It's a mindfuck, really.

This is Jeon. Cold, distant, get-the-fuck-away-from-me Jeon.

But here he is, handling your hands like they're made of glass.

Your heart's going a mile a minute, and you're praying to whatever gang deity is out there that he can't hear it. His hands are everywhere, wrapping the tape around your wrists with a precision that's almost artistic. It's like he's crafting this black armor just for you, and every pass of the tape feels more intimate than the last.

And why the fuck does he have to smell this good? It's unfair, really.

Every now and then, his eyes flick up to meet yours, and it's... like looking into the sun peeking between the clouds.

Like something is hovering—something molten and wild that reminds you of tents and nighttime.

"Tight enough?"

You manage a nod, amazed that your brain can still form coherent thoughts.

"Perfect," you say, definitely not thinking of the innuendo.

The corner of his mouth twitches, and for a heart-stopping second, you think he's read your mind. You don't like that knowing look in his eyes.

"There," he says, giving the tape one last tug. It pulls you closer, just a fraction, but it might as well be a mile. "You're ready."

Ready for what? you want to ask. Ready for training? Ready for the mission? Ready for whatever the hell this tension between you is building towards?

But you don't say any of that. You can't. Because this is Jeon, and you're you, and there are a million reasons why this—whatever this is—can't happen.

Even if it already happened once. Even if he's there, looking like a five course meal.

So you just stand there, hands wrapped perfectly, heart racing, caught in the gravity of Jeon's presence and wondering how the fuck you're supposed to focus on training now.

"Let's get started."

It hits you like a sledgehammer to the chest—everywhere at once—this massive storm system rolling in, all dark clouds and electricity. The kind that makes your skin prickle and your hair stand on end. The training room suddenly feels too small to contain it.

Contain him.

You move to the center of the mats, too aware of every step and where your feet are landing. He's still watching you—you can feel those eyes tracking your movements like a sniper's scope.

You try to copy his stance, but it's like your body's forgotten how joints work.

Everything feels awkward.

"How are you with your blocks?"

"I can handle it," you say, going for confident but landing somewhere around defensive.

He laughs. It's not a nice sound. More like broken glass wrapped in velvet.

"We'll see about that."

Because fuck. Training with Takama was... different. Predictable. Safe, even. You knew what to expect—his patient corrections, his methodical approach.

But this?

This is like jumping into the deep end of a pool filled with sharks.

And Jeon?

He's the great white circling you.

Everything feels suffocating, like there's not enough oxygen in the room for both of you. It's hard to breathe, his presence pressing in from all sides like you're caught in a fucking typhoon. You can practically taste the ozone.

Jeon circles you lazily and honestly? It's terrifying how someone so big can move so quietly. His control is infuriating—while you're here trying not to vibrate out of your skin, he looks like he could be ordering coffee.

"You're tense."

No shit, Sherlock.

The observation hits a nerve. Maybe because it's true, maybe because you hate how easily he can read you. You try to relax your shoulders, aiming for that casual 'oh-this-is-totally-fine' vibe.

Then his hand hovers over your lower back.

You flinch. You can't help it. He's not even touching you, but you can feel the heat radiating from his palm, just a breath away from contact. He's telling you to fix your posture without a single word, and your body responds before your brain can tell it not to.

Your abdomen tightens in defiance, like some part of you is still telling him to fuck off. But you straighten up anyway, because what else can you do? Not like Mr. Perfectionist here will take anything other than perfection.

Jeon steps back, and you try to remember how breathing works. Focus. This is training, not whatever the fuck that hand-wrapping thing was. You need to get your head in the game before he notices how rattled you are.

You watch him demonstrate a block.

It's unfair, really, how he makes it look so effortless—like he's been doing this since birth. (Maybe he has—he definitely looks like he fights nurses, if his attitude with J-Hope is any indication).

His forearm cuts through the air in this fluid motion that's somehow both defensive and threatening at the same time.

"Now you," he says, and oh there it is. That hint of smugness in his voice that makes you want to either punch him or—

Absolutely not. You are not going there.

He knows though. You can tell by the way his mouth quirks up slightly at the corner. He knows exactly what he's doing, the bastard. Knows he's got you at a disadvantage with his years of experience. But there's something else there too, in the way he's watching you. Like he's getting some sort of kick out of whatever this is.

You mirror his movement, slicing your arm through the air; and it feels good—solid. Like maybe you're not completely hopeless at this.

He gives you this tiny nod, and for a split second, there's something that looks almost like approval in his eyes.

But it's gone before you can really process it, replaced by that laser-focused look he apparently gets when he's in full instructor mode (like right now).

"Again," he orders, and you comply.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Each time, the movement feels more natural, less like you're just flailing your arm around and more like you might actually be able to stop someone from punching you in the face.

And all the while, he watches like a fucking hawk. Cataloging every single one of your mistakes, every moment of hesitation.

It's intense, being under that kind of scrutiny. Makes your skin prickle.

Then he moves—just this slight shift of weight—and suddenly he's closer.

His foot nudges yours, and you get the message without him having to say a word.

Your stance is off.

You adjust quickly, shifting your feet until you feel more grounded.

"Like this," he says, and it's low and gravely.

His voice shouldn't affect you. It's just two words.

It does.

You force yourself to focus on the technical stuff. The way his feet are positioned, how his knees are slightly bent like he's ready to move at any second. And then you copy his stance, feeling the stretch in your calves as you adjust.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count it out in your head.

One, two, three, four.

Anything to keep your mind off the way he's circling you again.

Because that's what he's doing now—moving around you like some fucking lion sizing up a calf.

His presence is like gravity, pulling at something deep in your chest.

It's distracting as hell.

But you're determined not to let it show.

You've got something to prove here, after all. Even if you're not quite sure what that is anymore.

"Not like that", he says and...

His hand's moving again, and your brain halts all its processes when his fingertips brush your shoulder.

It's supposed to be professional. Just another training correction.

But your body didn't get that memo, because every nerve ending lights up like it's a fucking carnival.

His hand starts this slow slide down your arm, and you're pretty sure this isn't standard training procedure. Your arm quickly gets covered in goosebumps, betraying exactly how not professional this feels.

When his fingers wrap around your elbow, you almost forget how to breathe. His grip is firm—s̶e̶x̶y̶ steady—and you can feel the calluses on his fingertips from years of handling weapons.

"Your alignment," he says, and shit... His voice has dropped into that same low register he pulled back in the tent. "It's crucial. When you block, you need to be solid, unyielding. Like this."

You feel the strength in his grip all the way up your arm. The way he's holding your elbow, it feels like he's trying to rewire your muscle memory through touch alone. It's invasive in the best-worst way possible, like he's leaving his fingerprints on your bones.

You should be focusing on the block he's teaching you. That's what a good student would do.

But instead, all you can think about is how his palm is practically burning against your skin, how strong his fingers feel, and how every "correction" feels more like a caress.

When he finally lets go and steps back, it's like someone just yanked away your favorite blanket. The air feels too cold where his hand was, and you have to fight the urge to chase that warmth.

"Now, let's see you put it into action," he says.

Get it together, you tell yourself.

This is training. Just training. Nothing else.

(You don't even believe your own lies anymore.)

You try to focus on breathing. In, out. Simple stuff. But it's not working, because every time Jeon adjusts your stance, every careful correction he makes, it's like striking matches against your skin.

At this point, your brain can't string two thoughts together.

Not with Jeon there, touch somehow both grounding and displacing.

Then he's back in your space.

And his hands are suddenly on your hips.

The touch is professional—or it's trying to be—but his fingers spread wide, pressing into you through your training gear like he's trying to leave prints. Like he's trying to remind you of that other time those hands have been there.

He stares at where his hands rest for way too long to be just about fixing your stance.

The air gets thick. Sticky.

You can feel every slight adjustment of his fingers, how his palms mold against your hips like they're meant to be there.

When he looks up, it knocks the breath right out of you. His eyes are dark, searching your face for... something. You're both breathing the same air now, and fuck, you remember this kind of proximity. Remember what it leads to.

Then his tongue flicks out, wetting his lip ring, and your brain just—stops. It's absent-minded, probably, but Christ. The metal catches the light, and suddenly you're back in that tent, remembering exactly what that piercing feels like against your—

Focus, bitch.

His hands haven't moved from your hips. Haven't even twitched. Like he's forgotten they're there, or maybe like he can't bring himself to move them.

He's not apologizing for it either, though.

Not that you want him to.

"What about now?" Your voice comes out embarrassingly breathless.

"Yeah," he says, and oh. His voice has gone all rough around the edges. "This is good. Real good."

The way he says it—like he's not just talking about your stance—makes heat pool low in your stomach. You know that tone. You've heard it before, whispered against your skin in the dark.

Professional, you remind yourself. This is supposed to be professional.

(It's really, really not.)

His thumbs start moving against your hips—tiny, barely-there circles that are definitely not about fixing your stance anymore. The touch is light through the fabric, but it might as well be branded into your skin.

Then he clears his throat, the sound sharp and sudden. Just like that, he's stepping back, putting distance between you.

Your skin feels weirdly empty where his hands were.

You watch him slip back into Chief mode. It's fascinating, really, how he does it. Like watching someone put on armor piece by piece. His face goes blank, eyes cooling until they're giving nothing away. Pure business. This is the Jeon that everyone else sees—the Chief of Tactical Assassinations, not the guy who just had his hands on your hips like he owned them.

Training kicks back in.

The tension does not dissipate.

He spars, but this time it's like... Like he's built this invisible wall between being your instructor and being... whatever else he is to you. And he's trying real hard not to cross it.

You match his energy, throwing yourself into it. You're here to be instructed, after all.

Then he pulls this move—his feet moving so fast they blur. You think he's going left, but nope. It's a trap, and you fall for it like an idiot. You stumble, losing your balance, and—

Oh.

Oh.

His arm catches you around the waist, hard and sure.

The contact hits different this time—no pretense of training, just pure instinct.

This isn't your instructor catching a student.

This is just Jeon catching you.

His grip is steel, anchoring you against him. You can feel everything—the hard planes of his chest, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing, the way his bicep flexes against your back. His thigh is pressed against yours, and you try very hard not to think about that.

You can feel his heart hammering where you're pressed together, matching yours beat for frantic beat. His hand spans your waist like he owns it.

You turn your head, just a little, just enough to see— Jesus.

His eyes are dark, wild. Like he's fighting a war with himself and losing badly. Pupils are blown wide, fixed on you.

You've seen that look before, in a tent, in the dark.

When he swallows, you can't help but track the movement. His throat works, pulse visible under the skin.

It's weirdly vulnerable, seeing that flutter of pulse on someone who's usually all hard edges and control.

The silence in the room feels heavy. All you can hear is breathing—yours, his, both of you trying to pretend this is still just training.

His grip on your waist tightens, just a fraction, and your body betrays you. You lean back into him, seeking that solid warmth. Because apparently, your survival instincts have left the chat.

His other hand hovers near your stomach, not quite touching. It's weirdly protective, like he wants to shield you from something.

From what?

From himself, maybe.

The hand trembles slightly. Jeon is trembling.

That hits different, knowing someone so controlled is fighting for composure. It has you almost whining, the distance between his palm and your body.

Focus. Breathe.

But how are you supposed to focus when he's right there?

Because hell, this is Jeon—Chief of Tactical Assassinations, walking danger sign, and somehow the person you want most.

Your eyes drift to his lips because you're a m̶a̶s̶o̶c̶h̶i̶s̶t̶ glutton for punishment. They're right there, and that lip ring is practically taunting you. You remember exactly how that metal feels, how it tastes. Your throat works as you swallow, mouth parting on its own, like your body's sending out an open invitation.

At that, his eyes immediately drop to your lips. Just a flicker, almost nonexistent, but you saw it. The look in his eyes—fuck.

You've seen hungry before, but this?

This is starving.

You tilt your head up, slow, careful, like you're approaching a wild animal. Your heart's trying to break out of your chest, and breathing? That's for people who aren't about to kiss their superior officer.

You lean in, slow. So fucking slow. Like if you move too fast, he'll spook and bolt.

His breath catches. The sound is soft, intimate, does stupid things to your core. You brush your lips against his, just barely, just enough to test, tease.

For a moment, he's completely still. Like he's processing, like he can't believe this is happening.

Then—holy fuckity hell.

He kisses you like he's dying for it, like he's been holding back forever and can't anymore. His lips are insistent, demanding, coaxing yours apart. There's something desperate in the way he angles his head, deepening the kiss, claiming your mouth like he owns it.

Your hands move without permission—one in his hair, one gripping his shoulder. The contrasts under your fingers ground you: soft strands, hard muscle. He tastes like mint and something darker, something that makes you want to crawl inside him and stay there.

It isn't some sweet, gentle thing.

It's a continuation of your sparring match, just with different rules.

He softens for a moment, less demanding, more inviting, and you lean into it, chasing his taste.

Finally, finally, his hovering hand makes contact. It spreads across your stomach, possessive, anchoring you against him like he thinks you might try to escape.

As if you could.

As if you'd want to.

Your fingers find his jaw, smooth skin under your touch.

When he pulls back, it's like it physically pains him. He gasps, the sound cutting through the heavy air. His eyes are wild, unfocused, like he's just come up for air after nearly drowning. There's a storm brewing in those dark depths, and you're caught right in the middle of it.

"I thought that was a spur of the moment kinda thing?"

His voice drops low, and you know exactly what he's talking about. That night in his tent during the camping trip, when things got real heated real quick.

You raise an eyebrow, channeling every ounce of b̶a̶d̶ confident bitch energy you can muster.

"I don't see why it has to be. I find you hot, you find me hot."

"Making assumptions now, are we?"

The playful edge in his voice does things to you. He's toying with you, and the worst part? You're kind of into it.

"Actions speak louder than words, Jeon." You lean into your sass because fuck it, why not? "And considering I had you cumming all over me a couple of days ago, I'd say you don't find me aesthetically unpleasant."

His lip curls into that fucking smirk—you know the one. It's rare and deadly and makes your stomach do this weird flippy thing.

"Oh?"

It's just one syllable, but Jesus Christ. The way he says it—all low and gravelly—makes your lungs seize.

"Going there, huh?" He tilts his head, and you can practically see the cockiness radiating off him. "Then I guess we can say the same about you."

You can't help the scoff that escapes.

It's either laugh or combust, honestly.

"I already said I find you hot. Craving compliments that much?"

"Just wanna hear it again." His smile widens, and fuck, it's not fair how good he looks when he's being an asshole. "Strokes my ego."

You swallow hard, trying to get your shit together. Because this? This is a whole new side of Jeon you're seeing. One minute he's Mr. Ice King, all cold and untouchable, and the next he's... this.

This s̶e̶x̶y̶ infuriating bastard who knows exactly what he's doing to you.

And the worst part? He's really good at it.

(Your underwear situation is becoming a serious problem, but you'll die before admitting that to him.)

"I think you're hot," you whisper, because fuck it—might as well lay all your cards on the table.

"I know."

The sheer audacity—

He says it with this cocky certainty that should be annoying but somehow isn't. Like he's stating that water is wet or the sky is blue.

You press on, because apparently your brain-to-mouth filter decided to take the day off. "So it doesn't have to be a one-time thing."

"Really."

It's not even a question. He's amused, the bastard. His chuckle hits different—low and rich and doing things to your insides that you'd rather not analyze right now.

"Just..." You try for casual, miss by a mile. "Think of it as a way of improving synergy between gang members."

The moment it leaves your mouth, you want to cringe.

Synergy? Really? But you see the way his lips twitch, and yeah, okay, maybe it wasn't your worst line.

"Hmm? I'll make sure to send Moon the briefing for approval."

"Make sure to give me credit then."

"Will do."

"So indulgent," you tease, because apparently you have a death wish.

He raises an eyebrow, and oh. Something shifts in his expression—something dark and promising that makes your stomach flip. He does this thing with his tongue, running it along the inside of his cheek like he's considering all the ways he could r̶u̶i̶n̶ wreck you.

"You know how indulgent I can be, sunshine."

Fuck.

That nickname. The way he says it—soft but loaded with intent.

It's not fair how he can take two simple words and turn them into something that feels like a caress and a threat wrapped in one.

Your heart's going absolutely feral in your chest. You're pretty sure he can feel it, which is just... great. Really great.

You swallow hard, trying to remember how words work.

"Don't you think..." You pause, trying to find the right words without sounding too desperate. "...that as gang members, we need to... release some tension from time to time? For the sake of the gang."

His mouth twitches. You want to punch him.

"For the sake of the gang," he echoes.

"Mhm." You feel a little rush of pride at having his complete attention. It's not easy to get Jeon to focus on anything that isn't mission-related. "And, you know... Fucking just seems like the healthier option."

The silence that follows should be awkward. It should be, but it's not. It's charged.

You wait for him to shut you down, maybe throw some sarcastic comment your way.

Instead, his fingers dig deeper into your skin, and fuck, that shouldn't feel as good as it does.

"Mhm. You're persuasive." His voice drops into this low purr that makes your insides twist. "Are those your seduction skills in show?"

"Maybe." You tilt your head, feeling bold. "Is it working?"

"I don't know..." There's something dark and promising in his eyes. "Considering I have you all over me right now, who's seducing who?"

Your eyes drop for just a second because—oh. That's... definitely something pressing against your thigh. Something very familiar from that night in the tent.

"I guess it depends on whether you want to include your boner in that analysis," you say, meeting his gaze.

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and against your palm.

"Fair. But only if we include those 'fuck me' eyes you're giving me."

The crude language coming from him is... something else. Instead of making you blush and back down, it makes you want to push harder.

"What can I say, Jeon? Lust is a human emotion."

"It is." His tongue swipes over his lip ring, and Christ. "And you have a lot of it."

"Funny you say that when you're also looking at me like you're undressing me with your eyes."

"I never said I didn't."

The way he says it, all casual with that hint of a smirk—it's doing things to you. Things you probably shouldn't be feeling in the training room, but here you are anyway.

Professional training session your ass.

Your hand moves before your brain can catch up, fingers skimming over his chest. You look up through your lashes, meeting his gaze.

"Good then. I guess it's settled."

"What is?"

"You. Me. Fucking."

Real smooth. Way to be subtle about it.

"And how do you wanna go about it, exactly?"

The way he says it—like he's trying not to laugh—makes your face heat up.

You pause. Wait. Shit.

You hadn't actually thought this far ahead. The logistics of it seemed... well, obvious until now. People just fuck, right? That's how it works? But now that he's asking, you're drawing a complete blank.

"How... What?"

Real articulate. Nailed it. You're doing amazing sweetie.

He actually laughs at that, the sound rumbling through his chest and straight into yours because you're still pressed together like some kind of human sandwich.

Then he's moving, helping you get your feet back under you so you're face-to-face.

His hands stay on you though, like he can't quite bring himself to let go.

"I mean, I'm game for it being a way to blow off steam." His thumb starts that little circle thing on your hip again, and fuck, that's distracting. "And as you said, we're not breaking any rules if there's no strings attached..."

You blink. Slowly. Because is this actually happening? Is Jeon—Mr. Ice King himself—actually considering your half-baked proposition?

"However, we should probably set some ground rules. Any limitations? Is there anything off the table?"

"Well, we can see when... time comes."

"And when do times come, sunshine?"

That fucking nickname again. The playful edge in his voice isn't helping your brain function any better.

"We can just tell each other, no?" You say it without thinking, which seems to be your brand today.

"What, do you really want to say you want to fuck in front of everyone—"

"God, Jeon, no—" You cut him off because Jesus Christ. The thought alone makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. "But we can say something like... we need to ease off some tension."

"So 'ease off some tension'? Is that our code?"

Amusement twinkles in his eyes, and you kind of want to punch him.

Maybe.

Not really.

"Yeah. Yes." Eloquent.

"Okay then."

"Okay."

And just like that, you've somehow negotiated the most professional friends-with-benefits arrangement in the history of gang life. With your Chief. In the training room.

What could possibly go wrong?

"What about halting?" His eyes lock with yours. "Need a safe word?"

You glance around the training room, brain scrambling for ideas. Your gaze drops to your hands, still fisted in his tank top. Oh.

"Black tape," you say. It feels right, given the context. Then, because your mouth apparently has a mind of its own: "And maybe... white tape? Like, for when things are good to go?"

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Black tape stops everything, white tape means keep going?"

"Yeah." You nod, feeling weirdly professional about this whole thing. Like you're negotiating a business deal instead of arranging hook-ups with your Chief. "Black for stop, white for go."

"Alright." His voice drops lower, settling somewhere in your chest. "Once either of us says 'black tape', everything stops. Immediately."

"Okay."

"Okay."

The word's barely settled in the air between you when something possesses you to just—

"I wanna ease off some tension."

Real smooth. Way to be patient, dumbass. (Have you seen him though? Like...)

But the way Jeon's eyes darken? Maybe being smooth is overrated.

His eyes snap to yours—look pure animal—irises swallowed whole.

Jeon's fingers stop their little dance on your hip, like he's taking a moment to process what you just said.

Everything goes quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you hyper-aware of every little sound—birds chirping outside, people talking somewhere down the hall, completely clueless about what's happening in here.

"Yeah?"

It comes out as this low rumble that you can practically feel in your bones.

Then he's moving closer, crowding into your space until there's barely room to breathe.

Not that you're doing much breathing anyway, because the way he's looking at you right has knocked the air out of your lungs long ago.

You manage a nod because words? What are words? Your brain's pretty much short-circuited at this point.

His smirk turns wicked—the kind that promises trouble—and then his fingers are sliding under your clothes, and oh.

Oh, okay.

You can feel him pressed against your inner thigh, hot and hard and very, very interested in where this is going. He notices you notice, (of course he does) and he sways his hips slightly like he's testing the waters.

A sound escapes you—something between a whimper and a gasp—as you arch back, exposing your throat. Like your body's offering itself up to him before your brain can catch up.

(And what the fuck are you, a cat in heat?)

You're both still technically fully clothed in a training room where anyone could walk in, but honestly, it feels more obscene than being naked.

Maybe it's the forbidden aspect, or maybe it's just him, but it's like everything is on fire.

(Somewhere in the back of your mind, a little voice is reminding you that this is probably not what RM had in mind when he approved combat training. You tell that voice to shut the fuck up.)

He doesn't just dive in—no, because Jeon's the type to take his sweet fucking time. His mouth traces your jaw with these slow, deliberate kisses that make you want to tug at his hair. Each one edges closer to your neck, and hell, the anticipation is killing you.

When his teeth find that spot where your neck meets your shoulder, you nearly lose it. He bites down—not hard enough to mark, but the sensation shoots straight through you, and this embarrassing sound escapes your throat before you can stop it.

"No... marks," you manage to get out, even though your brain's pretty much offline at this point.

He laughs against your skin, and the vibration does things to you. You can feel his smile—that smug, knowing one that makes you want to strangle him with his own hair or something.

"Okay."

You both know why there can't be marks—can't have evidence of whatever this is showing up in training tomorrow.

His breath fans hot over the spot he just bit, and you're pretty sure you're going to die if he doesn't do something soon.

Then his hands start moving, and okay, maybe dying wouldn't be so bad. He maps your body like he's trying to memorize every curve, every dip. His thumbs sweep over your clothes, and even through the fabric, his touch burns.

When he gets to your ass though? Different story.

He grabs two handfuls like he's been waiting to do this all day, and the sound that comes out of your mouth is straight-up pornographic. You should probably be embarrassed, but you're way past caring at this point.

He squeezes like ike he's finally getting his hands on something he's been thinking about for way too long.

"God..." He says—voice wrecked, all rough and deep. "You've got one hell of an ass."

You laugh against his mouth.

"All this training must show results."

"Fuck if it shows."

That compliment—delivered in his sex-roughened voice—does weird things to your stomach. You press back into his hands because you're only human, and the way he responds tells you all you need to know—fingers dig in harder, and yeah, okay, this is definitely happening.

You claw at him in retaliation like some kind of feral animal, nails dragging down his back through his tank.

You can't think straight—can't think at all, really.

Your brain's on fire, fuzzy with want. If this is what losing your mind feels like, you're kind of okay with it. Actually, more than okay. You're drowning in him, in the heat of his hands, in the way he's marking you up without leaving marks, and—

Clink.

The sound of the door handle cuts through your lust-haze like a bucket of ice water. Pure instinct takes over, and you shove Jeon away from you with enough force to send him sprawling onto the training room floor. The sound of his body hitting concrete is probably the least sexy thing you've ever heard.

When you look at him, his eyes are wide with shock that quickly turns into this mix of annoyance and—wait, is he amused? There's this little twitch at the corner of his mouth that says he kind of wants to laugh, even though you just threw him on his ass. But there's also a storm brewing in his eyes because Jeon? He doesn't do pretend losses.

Especially not to you, in what's supposed to be a basic training session.

Then Takama walks in, all decked out in Kkangpae black, and raises an eyebrow at the scene in front of him.

You must look like a mess—hair probably everywhere, breathing like you just ran a marathon, standing over Jeon who's sprawled on the floor.

"Thought you two would be done by now," he says, confusion lacing his tone.

"Training got a bit... intense," you manage to say, trying to sound casual while your heart's still doing its best to break your ribs.

Your voice, however, comes out steadier than you expected, considering you were about two seconds away from letting Jeon rail you against the training room wall.

The irony of using "intense" to describe what was definitely not training isn't lost on you. But hey, at least you're not lying.

Technically.

Takama lets out this low chuckle, and you can feel his eyes darting between you and Jeon, who's still sprawled on the training room floor like some Renaissance painting gone wrong.

"Gotta say, I'm surprised to see Jeon flat on his back. Never thought I'd see the day."

There's this note of respect in his voice. Because yeah, you just put the Chief of Tactical Assassinations on his ass. Even if it was totally not what it looked like.

Jeon's still looking at you as he gets up, fluidly and graceful despite having just been thrown to the ground.

He brushes off his clothes, but his eyes?

They haven't left yours for a second.

It's like he's trying to tell you something without words, and you're getting the message loud and clear.

"She's a quick learner."

You both know exactly what kind of "learning" he's talking about, and it has nothing to do with combat training.

Takama, bless his oblivious soul, just strolls to the center of the mats like he's not walking into the world's most sexually charged training session.

The sound of him cracking his knuckles cuts through the air then.

"So, ready for another round?"

He has no idea about the conversation happening without words. No clue about the way Jeon's still looking at you like he's thinking about all the different ways he could pin you down—and none of them involve training.

"Always," Jeon says.

His voice is pure sin, wrapped up in that one word like a promise. Like a threat. Like everything you want but shouldn't.

"Bring it on," you manage to say, and you're pretty proud that your voice comes out steady.

Because this? This is definitely not just about training anymore.

Not even close.

You drag yourself into the cafeteria with Yunjin, who's been talking your ear off since you left training. She's going on about something—probably important, if you'd actually been listening—but your brain's too busy playing "Where's Waldo" with the dinner crowd.

Not that you're looking for anyone s̶p̶e̶c̶i̶f̶i̶c̶ important.

(That's a lie. You totally are.)

Your eyes keep scanning the room like some kind of desperate radar system, and you want to smack yourself.

Since when did you turn into one of those people who can't walk into a room without checking if he's there?

Jeon's not the center of the universe.

He's not even the center of this cafeteria.

But try telling that to your traitor eyes that won't stop searching.

You follow Yunjin to the buffet line, nodding along to her chatter about work stuff and gang politics. The food looks good tonight—all steam and color and promise of actual flavor. You're reaching for the rice when—

Oh.

There he is.

Jeon's standing a few people ahead, his back to you like he doesn't even know you exist. Which is bullshit, by the way. You know he knows you're here. But he's pulling this whole 'I'm too cool to acknowledge your existence' act, and honestly? It's working for him.

You can't help staring at his plate because of course it looks like that. All protein and greens, like a sad jail meal. No carbs in sight because god forbid the Chief of Tactical Assassinations eat a fucking potato. It's like looking at a fitness influencer's meal prep, except this one could probably kill you with his chopsticks.

He drives you insane. How does he do this? How does he go from being that smug bastard in the training room—all heated looks and smart mouth—to... this? This walking ice sculpture who portions his vegetables like they might try to escape?

You're still watching him stack his protein like he's playing food Tetris when Yunjin's elbow catches your ribs.

"Hey, you okay? You've been zoning out a lot today."

Great. Now you're so obvious even Yunjin's noticed.

But how are you supposed to explain that you can't stop staring at the way Jeon handles his chopsticks because it reminds you of how those same hands felt on your—

Nope. Not going there. Not in the cafeteria, not while you're holding rice tongs, and definitely not with Yunjin right there giving you that knowing look.

You flash Yunjin what you hope is a convincing smile. "Just tired. Been a long day of pretending I actually know what I'm doing."

You both grab your plates and—okay, maybe you glance in Jeon's direction one more time. Just a quick look. For science.

The way his jaw moves when he chews shouldn't be this interesting, but here you are anyway, feeling heat pool in your stomach because apparently now everything that he does is just hot.

Get it together.

You scan the cafeteria for a free spot and spot Kazuha sitting alone. She's got this serene energy about her that makes you feel instantly calmer. It's kind of ridiculous how put-together she always looks, even after a full day of work.

"Hey, Zuzu!" Yunjin chirps, already bouncing over. "Got room for two more?"

Kazuha looks up from her food, and her smile is soft, genuine. Like she's actually happy to see you both.

"Of course. How was training?"

You plop down next to her, already digging into your food because you're starving. "Bold of you to assume I survived. Pretty sure my muscles are plotting revenge."

"That bad?" Kazuha asks, and you can hear the amusement in her voice.

"Let's just say I'm considering a career change. Maybe I'll become a nun."

Yunjin snorts into her rice. "You? A nun?"

"Hey, I could be holy!" You protest, but you're grinning. "I mean, how hard can it be?"

"About as hard as that time Eunchae tried to seduce that businessman and ended up talking about his cats for two hours," Kazuha reminds you, dry as desert.

"Okay, but in her defense, his cats are adorable—"

"And second of all," Yunjin cuts in, "she got the intel anyway because he thought she was 'refreshingly genuine' or whatever."

Kazuha shakes her head, but she's smiling. "Only she could fail upwards so spectacularly."

The conversation flows easy after that, just three girls sharing dinner and stories from their day. It's almost normal, if you ignore the fact that you're all trained in professional seduction and manipulation.

"Zuzu, you seen the new race bikes downtown?" Yunjin's practically bouncing in her seat. "They've got some wild colors this year. Bright as the neon signs lining the alleys."

"They're really something," you add, grateful for the distraction from your Jeon-related thoughts. "Makes you wanna take one for a spin, just you and the empty streets at midnight."

Kazuha's smiling that soft smile of hers, the one that makes her look like she knows all your secrets. "I saw them. Wish we could know the stories behind them."

"Speaking of stories," Yunjin says, and there's this gleam in her eye that makes you nervous. "Kazuha, aren't you usually having dinner with Saku and Eunchae around now?"

It's an innocent question. Totally innocent. Except nothing's ever really innocent in this place, is it?

Kazuha lets out this little laugh that somehow sounds like wind chimes.

"They're training. Apparently, the training room was..." She pauses, and you swear your heart stops. "...in heavy use earlier."

You start coughing like an idiot because of course you do. Real smooth. Your neck feels hot, and you just know you're turning red because your body is a fucking traitor.

Because yeah, the training room was definitely in use earlier. By you and Jeon. Doing... training things. Totally professional training things that absolutely didn't involve his hands all over you or his mouth on your—

"Oh, is that so?" You try for casual, miss by about a mile. "Training room's been busy lately. Gotta stay sharp and all that."

Yunjin's looking at you like she can see right through your bullshit. Her eyebrow does this little thing—this 'I know what you did' arch that makes you want to crawl under the table. The way she's staring at you, it's like she's reading a book where every page is stamped with "I ALMOST FUCKED JEON IN THE TRAINING ROOM."

Kazuha, bless her soul, just nods serenely. The conversation moves on, but Yunjin's still giving you these looks. You can practically hear her thoughts: 'We're so talking about this later'.

You end up having this whole silent conversation with Yunjin through eyebrows and meaningful glances. She takes a sip of her drink, ice cubes clinking against glass like they're laughing at you, and the little smirk on her face says everything.

Busted.

(You're really going to need to work on your poker face if you're going to keep this thing with Jeon going. Or maybe invest in a paper bag to hide your face. That could work too.)

You're in the middle of telling Yunjin about this absolutely ridiculous mission report you have to finish when—

CRASH.

"You bastard, you think you can talk to me like that?!"

The whole cafeteria goes quiet. Like, pin-drop quiet.

You whip around to see Dongho—V's right-hand man and certified hothead—with his fists bunched in Woojin's shirt. They're both red-faced and looking murderous.

Great. Just what you needed with your dinner: a testosterone-fueled throwdown.

"What the fuck," Yunjin whispers, already tensing up. Kazuha's gone still beside you, like a deer sensing danger.

The thing about fights in Kkangpae? They're never just fights. There's always some deeper shit going on, especially when it's between different divisions.

And this?

This is V's second versus some guy from tactical assassinations. The rivalry between those divisions runs deeper than the Han River.

Speaking of V—you spot him across the room, looking way too entertained for someone whose deputy is about to start a brawl. He's got that look on his face, the one that makes your skin crawl. Like he's watching his favorite show.

"Now, now, let's not get too rowdy, gentlemen!" V calls out, voice dripping with absolutely false concern. When that doesn't work, he cups his hands around his mouth: "Simmer down, boys!"

But they're not listening. Of course they're not, they're men.

You watch as Woojin throws a wild punch that Dongho barely dodges. People are scrambling now—some to get away, others to jump in. It's chaos.

Then Takama's there, all six feet of concentrated 'don't fuck with me' energy. He plants himself between them like a human wall.

"Enough! Stand down, both of you!"

The command in his voice could probably stop traffic.

But Dongho—because he's either brave or stupid or both—just sneers.

"You're the same rank as me. Don't you ever try to pull authority on me."

Oh shit.

You feel the tension in the room spike. This isn't just about whatever started the fight anymore. This is about division politics, about the endless pissing contest between V and Jeon's teams.

And their seconds are about to throw down right here in the cafeteria.

You hear V's dramatic sigh that would put soap opera actors to shame.

"Why must things always descend into violence?" he asks JM, who just shakes his head like he's seen this show a hundred times before.

You watch as V's face changes. It's subtle, but terrifying—like watching a cute puppy turn into a wolf. His playful smile twists into something darker, and then there's suddenly a knife in his hand.

(You're not even sure where it came from; he just does that sometimes, produces weapons like a deadly magician.)

"I tried asking nicely," he says to JM, casual as if he's discussing the weather.

Then—oooookay.

The knife flies through the air, spinning so fast it's just a silver blur. It hits the wall with this loud THUNK that makes everyone jump, landing exactly between Dongho and Woojin's faces. Like, exactly.

You know V well enough to know that wasn't luck—if he'd wanted to hit them, they'd be picking pieces of their noses off the floor right now.

The whole cafeteria goes dead silent. Every head turns to V, who's sitting there looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

But his eyes? They're gleaming with something that makes your stomach turn.

"There, that got your attention." His voice is soft, almost sweet. Then, louder: "Now sit down and play nice, children."

Dongho and Woojin break apart like they've been electrocuted. You watch Takama and Dongho share one last murder-glare before going their separate ways.

"Holy shit," Yunjin breathes next to you, eyes wide as saucers. She lets out this low whistle that perfectly sums up what everyone's thinking. "Only V could pull that off so effortlessly."

She leans in closer, practically vibrating with excitement.

"That was kind of hot, don't you think?"

You turn to her, eyebrows shooting up. "Didn't know you had a thing for psychopaths with good aim," you tease.

Yunjin's cheeks go pink, and she does that thing where she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's flustered. It's kind of adorable.

"What? Confidence is sexy," she defends, sneaking another look at V. "And you have to admit, that was pretty impressive."

You follow her gaze across the room. V's already moved on, chatting with JM like he didn't just turn a cafeteria brawl into an impromptu knife-throwing demonstration.

But that's V for you—deadly and dramatic in equal measure.

Yunjin's practically glowing as V catches her eye and winks. The smile she gives him is shy, which is funny coming from someone who literally seduces people for a living. But that's just Yunjin—confident as hell on missions but turns into a blushing mess when she actually likes someone.

Speaking of liking someone...

You notice JM's acting weird. He's sitting next to V, pretending to be super interested in his food, but his chopsticks are gripping that poor piece of kimchi like it personally offended him; movements sharp and jerky—very un-JM-like.

He keeps doing this thing where he looks up at V and Yunjin, then quickly back down at his food like he's playing the world's most obvious game of 'I'm not looking, you're looking.' The tension in his shoulders is giving him away though. JM's usually all soft sweaters and gentle vibes, but right now? He looks like someone replaced his bones with steel rods.

After what feels like an eternity of aggressive chopstick action, JM turns to V and says something too quiet for you to hear. His tone's forcefully light—the kind of casual that takes effort. V glances at him with that signature smirk of his, says something back, and suddenly JM's whole face changes. His eyes get all crinkly at the corners, like he's trying not to smile.

Then JM leans in closer (way closer than necessary, if you're being honest), and whatever he whispers makes V laugh. Not his usual theatrical laugh either—this one's soft, private. V nudges JM's shoulder, and just like that, the tension bleeds out of the moment.

You can't help but watch them, pondering. Maybe V's little knife-throwing show bothered JM more than he's letting on. Or maybe...

Oh.

Well, that's interesting.

JM catches you staring and gives you this little smile that definitely means 'nothing to see here, move along.'

You return it because what else can you do? Start announcing your theories about whatever's going on between him and V in the middle of the cafeteria?

The conversation around you picks back up, and you let yourself get pulled into Yunjin's excited whispers about V's 'totally unnecessary but kind of hot' intervention. But part of your brain is still turning over what you just saw.

Because either you're reading way too much into this, or there's something brewing on JM's behalf that makes the gang's 'no relationships' rule look more like a suggestion than a law.

You file that little observation away for later. Right now, you've got food to eat and a best friend to tease about her obvious crush on the gang's resident knife-throwing psychopath.

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[ranjan24]

HOW TO PREPARE FOR IIT-JEE FROM CLASS 12TH

IIT JEE is one of the toughest engineering entrance exams in India. It is conducted to grant admission to suitable candidates in various engineering colleges and universities of India, such as IIT, NIT, and others.

[messylustt]

v.03.10.23 day two: size kink ( nsfw )

miguel o’hara brainrot

every part of miguel was bigger then you. his hands could wrap around your neck and suffocate you in an instant, no sweat spared. but miguel liked to do other things with his size difference, things that involved you laid out for him, maybe restraints involved, because you both knew how much you liked to squirm. even though fingers are usually used to prepare someone, his stretched you out to the point of pain. every time he takes you, you have to mentally prepare. because though it felt unbelievably good, that first stretch always seemed to make you claw at his back, shoulders or chest. “jus’ relax…” miguel would mutter as he’d nudge your legs apart. every time miguel would have to restrain himself, because even though you felt pain at first all miguel felt was pleasure. you were so small in his hold, your tiny hole making him groan the moment he slipped the tip in. “‘m sorry, mi vida.” one time he uttered. it had been a hard day, and the moment he felt you clench around his tip he couldn’t wait, pushing all the way inside you and making you choke on a scream. he’s lost in the feel of you as you hold back tears, not seeming to stop his own hips thrusting. miguel would show you some mercy though, by rubbing at your clit, muttering again how he’s so sorry, his hips picking up pace, and making your eyes shut tight. luckily, it wouldn’t take long for you to feel nothing but pleasure as you’d slightly bounce along the bed, becoming a whining mess for him. flipping you around with your back arched allowed him to reach even deeper inside you. he rutted into you, liking the way he could throw you around. “taking me so well…mierda…so well…my little girl”

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[kingdom-of-sins]

Threshing/being bonded with a M green who doesn’t take shit from anyone and has no time for the drama or theatrics. 1st yr female who is a literal genius but comes off mousy 🐭 quiet, and clumsy, like she literally thinks years ahead of everyone and ppl think she’s insane because of it

you move cautiously across the field, every step measured. You have already witnessed a few cadets bonding with dragons and some getting killed by dragons. You don’t run. You don’t panic. You assess. The way the dragons move, how they react to each other, which ones are watching and which ones are waiting. Every detail matters.

A sharp gust of wind whips past as a large red dragon appear nearby, its molten eyes locking onto you. It doesn’t hesitate, it lunges, claws tearing into the ground as it charges straight for you.

You react instantly, dodging to the side, but your foot catches on uneven terrain. You hit the ground hard, air rushing from your lungs. Pain sparks through your ribs, but you push it aside. The red dragon’s shadow looms over you, opening it mouth as wide as it prepares to strike.

You think fast. Running is useless. You won’t outspeed it. Fighting is suicide. Instead, you do what no one expects.

You roll beneath it.

The dragon snarls in confusion, claws swiping at empty air where you just were. Using its own massive size against it, you scramble to your feet, darting toward its blind spot near its wing joint. The red dragon roars in frustration, but its own momentum makes it hard to turn fast enough to catch you.

That’s when another dragon moves.

A blur of green crashes into the red dragon, sending it skidding across the ground in a furious tangle of limbs and wings. You stagger back, barely processing what just happened as the green swordtail dragon straightens, tail lashing like a whip. It doesn’t roar or preen like the others. It simply glares at the red dragon, then at you.

Then it looks directly at you.

Your breath catches. Unlike the others, its eyes aren’t wild with challenge or hunger. They are calculating.

It takes a step forward. You don’t move. Running invites pursuit. Holding ground forces a decision. It tilts its head, golden eyes narrowing as if considering.

And then it moves.

You pivot sharply, dodging without panic. It wasn’t a full attack—more of a test. When you straighten, the dragon lets out an unimpressed snort.

A moment later, something slams into your mind. A voice. Sharp, direct, and entirely unimpressed.

Finally. One with a brain.

Your breath catches. The dragon bonded with you. IIt’s eyes bore into yours, as if peeling back layers of thought.

You think before you act. Most of your kind don’t.

“A..are you talking to me?”

“What do you think, genius?”

The bond snaps into place, a searing heat rushing through you like fire in your veins. You nearly drop to your knees, but you force yourself to stay upright, gritting your teeth through the pain. The connection solidifies, a presence settling heavily in your mind.

I am Svarin, the dragon declares, calm and firm.

Svarin crouches, wings shifting to make room for you to climb. You do, hands steady as you move. The moment you settle into place, Svarin launches into the air without warning.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

The wind roars in your ears as Svarin soars higher, his massive wings cutting through the sky. Your grip tightens as he banks sharply, his flight smooth and effortless despite your clumsy attempts to adjust. You’re still breathless, still processing everything, when his voice slides into your mind again.

You’re terrible at this.

“I..what?”

Flying. Riding. Holding on properly. Pick one and at least try to be competent at it.

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I have trained for this before bonding a dragon?”

It would have helped.

You groan, adjusting your grip. “Maybe warn me next time before you take off like that?”

Why? If you fall, you’ll learn faster.

“That’s not how learning works.”

It is now.

You sigh, pressing your forehead against his scales. “I’m going to regret this bond, aren’t I?”

Absolutely.

[desifemininewoman]

You know I constantly hear people around me say, How did they do that? How'd they get this? How did they get this successful? How they bag that girl/guy?

You want to know the secret of the how?

Because they believed in themselves.

That's literally it. That's the bestest advice on levelling up or dating up out there.

Ofcourse it's not that simple in this current world scenario. Everybody constantly thrives on us hating on ourselves. That's how the big corporates are extorting money from us. That's why unrealistic body standards for women exist. Which is why it's easier said than done.

You know, I was doing a rewatch of Grace and Frankie and their husbands told them that they are gay and they are leaving them. Grace's husband asks her why she was so sad about the news. They never really clicked as couples. And he asks her if she was happy? She answers that she was happy enough and she thought this is what life was. And he answers that he always thought there was more out there.

And isn't that it? How many of us can actually say we are happy? We get stuck somewhere down the line of our life, get sucked into the 'responsibility' hole and gosh that's a big one in desi households. But the point is we forget what we really were. And we start to believe this is it. This is life. And we get scared of the idea of more. The more we really, desperately want and crave but for some goddamn reason we can't just start working on it.

I mean that's why everybody is really fascinated with YJHD, isn't it? Bunny is portrayed to be everything we all want to be.

And guess how he did it? He absolutely, completely believed in himself.

The only difference between you and the person who has the life you crave is that they knew life has a lot to offer, it can be whatever we choose it to be.

It all comes back to self believe and confidence. You gotta believe you are destined to whatever you desire. And you gotta go and get it.

You can be the next whoever you want to be. Date whoever you want to be. You just gotta stop with the self-loathing and self- pitying.

Affirm yourself. Stop being scared of the things you want in life. Naukri toh lag hi jani hai. Shaadi bhi ho hi jaani hai.

IIT se padho ya nirma university se. Job mil hi jayegi. Koi na koi hire kr hi lega. But that's not the point. Naukri bs naukri ke sake ke liye nahi krni hai. 30k a month is not the goal. The goal is stability. To retire asap. To be free.

Goal sirf shaadi krna nahi hai. India mai toh ho hi jayegi. Hell, if you bellieve in arrange marriage, you might even marry up. Nirma university graduate hoar bhi. One of my sisters, she married really up. Businessman mostly want housewives and aajkal ladkiya nahi bbanna chahthi housewives so she did marry up.

Toh agar sirf iss cheez ka darr hai, toh stop being scared. Life hai. Chalti toh rhegi hi.

But is that really all you want? Puri life envy mai bitana. Ki kash yeh kr liya hota. woh kr liya hota?

Then fucking go for your goals. Prepare. prepare.prepare. Plan. Plan. Bhai yahi hi hai time. Fucking overwork. Live your dreams. Study your ass for your exams. Taaki peeche mudke yeh na socho ki kassh

Marry a person not for the sake of it. But becaause you love them. They match your future goals. They bring you joy.

[keelt9]

Cap. 1

Part 1

Masterlist

The soft breeze keeps making the leaves fall. You can hardly recognize their color if it is yellow, orange or a strange mixture of red, but she seems so immersed in the small show all of them give from the moment they detach from the tree until they crash to the ground.

“Is this your first time here?” The taxi driver takes her down to earth.

“Yes.” She sees the driver smiling and turning around in a small street, which she recognizes immediately. 

“Well, it’s almost winter, I bet you will have a lot of fun these days.” The car stops in front of a colorful house and she just smiles before opening the door.

If she counted the seconds between when she grabbed her bags and the moment she felt her lungs lost all the oxygen thanks to the impact of the hug, it would be less than 17.

“___, YOU’RE HERE! YOU’RE HEREEEEEE!” Carolina Mendieta, her best friend since childhood. Their friendship started in the third grade after both of them got punished for making a scene in the middle of the dance class. 

“Oh my god, honey, you will break her bones.” Her mother appears in the frame door with a big smile on her face. The fact Caro is 4 cm taller than her and has practiced karate since she was 5 years old turns everything into a  high possibility. 

“Mrs. Mendienta.” After Caro let her go, her mother immediately hugged her one more time. “___, darling, it’s amazing having you here, sorry for the over excitement.” She points with her eyes to Caro who seems like she just received the best present in years. 

The Mendieta's moved to Uruguay 8 years ago, after her father was notified about his promotion; __ used to joke about being a doctor brings benefits outside of the country. What seemed like the distance could break their prove just made it stronger, constant phone calls, video calls late at night and packages coming and going from country to country; reducing the kilometers and joining her hearts.

That’s why the house doesn’t feel strange or an unfamiliar place, iIt's like she has already been there multiple times, they go inside and a tiny black pug came running and barked all the way until he was  in front of them.

“Hi, Moka.” She squatted to be a little bit closer, she extended her hand and waited for him to make the first move to pat his head.

“I thought your father and Mar would be here.” __ said sitting and rubbing Moka's stomach. 

“Ahg, you know them, dad is a workaholic and Mar is in a shooting.” Mar, is the oldest sister of Carolina, she works as Audio Engineer, so she has been involved in multiple shootings from all types of genres.

“Here, __, you must be thirsty.” Mrs. Mendieta came from the kitchen with a tray of glasses of water and some snacks. “How are your siblings?” She asked her while they sat on the couch followed by Moka who already smelled the sweet essence of the fruit.

“They’re fine, thanks, annoying as always.” Her answer made them giggle. “Oh, how is the pregnancy going?” __ oldest brother, Esteban and his wife are expecting their first baby, driving all her family crazy with excitement. “Good, if everything goes according to the plan, the baby will be born in April.” 

“Your mother must be crazy.” She adds but Caro clears her throat. The mom topic isn’t one of __ favorite ones lately.

“Yeah, she is, but it’s hard to know if it is for the baby or for the wedding number 3.” She drinks a sip of the water. __’s mother, Lucia is preparing her third wedding, after the divorce of her stepfather Enrique Arteaga, one year was enough for her to get a boyfriend and 5 months later in an awkward dinner announced their engagement. 

It’s not like she didn’t want her mother to start a new chapter in her life, or her fiance. What makes her angry is the way she does things. After her father’s death, when she had 2 years old and her twins siblings 8, the following years were a torment; until 3 years after their mother met Enrique, they were in a relationship for 2 years before they decided to get married; Enrique is the father they lost in a early age; every soccer game, competition, festival, morning breakfast, pick from school and a sidekick, the three siblings found in him.

But suddenly the fights began and before everything became a mess, they decided to end the marriage, 8 years of marriage were resumed in a house sold, and the split of her family. __ chose to live with Enrique and her siblings moved in with her mother, well, just Valentina; Estaban got engaged a year later and 9 months later, they were celebrating a wedding.

“And, where are they spending Christmas?” Mrs. Mendienta changes the subject as quickly as she can. In a cowardly way to face her problems, __ notified her family she will spend the holidays with Caro’s family. Her siblings tried to convince her to at least spend those days with them but deep down her parents know letting her go was the wisest decision.

“Enrique with Raquel’s family and Valentina, she doesn’t know.” The conversation was interrupted by Mar's voice.

“I’m home.” As soon as Mar sees __, just like Caro, she screams and runs to hug her. “Shit, I totally forgot.” She spreads apart and grabs __ face in her hands. “God, how old are you 20?” __ laughs and Caro puts her eyes in white. 

“We are the same age fool.” Mar pushes her sister before __ can answer. “24, and you look so much better than her, how is that possible?” She laughs and hugs one more time.

In the dinner they talked about the news Caro forgot to mention and __ too, Caro’s father was excited too for having her in the holidays, and they all already have a schedule for her, one month of adventures, they resumed it like that.

“Your father must be proud of your work in the vineyard.” Mr. Mendieta mentioned serving the dessert. 

__ is in the last semesters of Agricultural Engineering, and she already had been working to specialize in oenology, the fact Enrique has a small vineyard was one of the main inspirations. 

“Or terrified.” She jokes causing everyone a small laugh. “I just hope to do a great job, and learn everything I can.” 

“That’s for sure honey, also your graduation gives us the perfect excuse to go home even if it is for a couple of days.” It wasn’t a secret that everyone missed Mexico, and being away for 8 years made them miss it more.

[nahisummerhold]

Not All Losses Are The Same

Wiping sweat from her face, Nahi made her way back to the camp. It was no wonder she got odd reactions from the people of Dornogal, she was the crazy woman running up and down stairs late at night. Sleeping was a luxury that had yet to grace the performer, so exhaustion was the next best thing, at least exhausted she could relax, trying to make herself sleep was an impossibility. Not only was she used to keeping bar hours but her life was turned on its head, and only bats could sleep upside down.

The evening had offered her a chance to connect finally with Fio, Dice and Kai, it made her feel a little less alone. It was odd, feeling alone, she spent years cultivating a lifestyle that had her excluding most people, and yet it was now that she was in a group of mostly strangers that she was experiencing the sensation of isolation. Meeting Stellan had been interesting, there was an edge of dark humor to him that made her a little uncomfortable considering the subject, yet she didn’t really mind it. Life around her wasn’t exactly comfortable in any way so it fit right in with all she was feeling. 

Dalaran had been discussed, but she wasn’t really sure how to work through all the losses in her life, so the topic was like a bee circling around her and she was standing perfectly still hoping it would just go away and spare her the sting. She was glad that at least some people she knew, like this group, were alive, the thought of all those she would never see again, or the things she would never see again, made a knot form in her throat that felt like she couldn’t swallow past iit. This had been a constant companion since Dalaran was lost. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she would feel comfortable for a very long time. The decision to join the mercenaries was probably good for her, when the ground shifts under your feet sometimes it was best to just dance along with it. Everything was moving in her life and this was just another shift in trying to find the tempo of this new chaos. Maybe that was why she had latched onto those text exchanges with Pathyn, it was a bit of comfort, he had been a constant in her life for a couple of years, even if the relationship had shifted so very recently.

When she talked about settling the score in her mind and Fio had questioned it Nahi had stumbled in her thoughts. How do you explain that music was so much of your life that you thought in it? The score was the flow of it in her thoughts, right now it sounded like an orchestra of children on their first week of practice, and Nahi needed to begin to mold that into a piece that might not be beautiful, but it would be ordered at least. 

Once she was settled in and finished stretching she picked up her comm and made a nightly check in. Nahi to Iren: How is my favorite step-father?

Iren: Missing his favorite daughter. Nahi: When mother is more settled. Is that going any better? Iren: Losing home has made her swings more drastic. I don’t know how she sensed the fall but… Everything is safe, right? Nahi: Yes, I got everything out that I could. Wish I could have taken the house itself for you.

Iren: You did what you could Nahi. Stop feeling guilty about this, you didn’t cause the fall.You got us into a new home and have taken care of all you could prepare for, except the fall itself. Have you found some new places to work? How is the apartment?

There, there was separation she was trying to avoid in her life, except this time she was hiding her family from what she was doing. Maybe she would never be able to really reconcile who she was. 

Nahi: The apartment is great, I got everything tucked in that I could. Little pieces of home, you know? Found some work, but not much for me to do yet. It is hard, war and all but I am sure everything will settle into a new pattern. You should get some sleep.

It was so much easier to obfuscate through text.

Iren: Your mother is struggling with a day to night schedule, so I am up with her as it is Ysoli’s night off. 

Nahi: I am sorry Iren. I would be there if I could.

Iren: Stop it. You can’t fix this and we all agreed this was the best for her. Once you reconcile that in your heart you will probably admit this will be good for you too.  Nahi: I should get some sleep, I want to work on some dance practice in the morning. Iren: Go daughter, I love you. I miss you, make us proud. Nahi: I love you too. Give mom a kiss from me, just don’t tell her it was.

Some losses were not from the fall.

( @fio-renze @dicenne @kaisinasunblade @inistellan for mentions @themercenaries )

[vaishu1126]

Best IIT JAM Physics Preparation Strategy 2025 for Single-Digit Rank!

[dhiraj-choudhary-09]

12-Hour Timetable to Crack IIT JAM Statistics | Step-by-Step Guide

[pradeepagarwalacademy-blog]

Last-Month Techniques for JEE Main Preparation

The countdown has begun, and with just a month left for the JEE Main exam, it’s time to harness every moment effectively. This period isn’t just crucial; it’s the ultimate opportunity to refine your skills and strategies. In this guide, we’ll explore not just "how to prepare for JEE Mains" but also delve into strategies on "how to crack IIT JEE" with insights from the "top 10 IIT JEE online coaching institutes".

Taking Stock of Your Preparation:

First things first, assess where you stand. Understand your strengths and pinpoint the areas that need more focus. This self-evaluation is your roadmap for the upcoming days. Utilize tips from top coaching institutes and align your preparation accordingly.

Crafting Your Study Plan:

Design a study plan that strikes a balance between ambition and practicality. Allocate your time wisely, giving due attention to every subject. Prioritize topics based on their weight, your confidence level, and expert advice on how to crack IIT JEE.

Focused Revision:

This phase demands precision and targeted efforts. Zoom in on essential concepts and formulas. Create concise notes for quick revision. Engage with past papers to understand patterns and familiarize yourself with the exam format.

Mastering Time Management:

Break down your study sessions into manageable blocks, respecting the power of focused, timed intervals. Regularly practice with mock exams, a strategy often emphasized by the top 10 IIT JEE online coaching institutes, as they act as dress rehearsals for the real deal, fine-tuning your time management skills.

Subject-specific Strategies:

Mathematics: Dive deep into formulas and theorems. Puzzle-solving sharpens problem-solving skills.

Physics: Connect theoretical concepts to practical applications. Practice numerical problems regularly, and revise formulas consistently.

Chemistry: Memorize reactions and equations; they are foundational. Practice numericals in physical chemistry and focus on conceptual understanding in organic and inorganic sections.

Prioritizing Your Well-being:

Quality sleep is non-negotiable for concentration. Incorporate exercise and relaxation techniques to manage stress effectively. Maintain hydration and a balanced diet for peak performance.

Leveraging Technology:

Explore digital resources—educational apps, online forums, and study materials. Engage in discussions with peers to gain insights and diverse perspectives.

Seeking Guidance:

When in doubt, seek guidance. Teachers, seniors, or online platforms can unravel complexities. Consider professional coaching if it aligns with your needs.

Nurturing a Positive Mindset:

Visualize success, sustain motivation, and manage exam nerves with mindfulness techniques. Believe in your preparation; confidence is your strongest asset.

Last-minute Strategy:

Focus on revising and practicing sample papers. Avoid introducing new topics; reinforce what you've already mastered. Ensure all your exam essentials are organized and ready.

In Conclusion:

As the final month countdown for JEE Main begins, maintain focus and determination. Your hard work will undoubtedly yield results. Maintain a balance between study and personal well-being, and utilize all available resources effectively. This last month is your chance to shine; make it count. Good luck!

For a deeper dive into preparation techniques and strategies, visit www.iitcoachings.in.

Reach us at:

Mobile no.: +91–8448084352, +91–8448084353.

Email id: contactus@iitcoachings.in

Website: www.iitcoachings.in

[riteshtomar]

All You Need to Know About NRI Quota Admissions in India

India has rapidly evolved into a global hub for higher education, drawing students worldwide to its esteemed universities and diverse academic offerings. Among the various admission routes available, the Non-Resident Indian (NRI) quota shines as a strategic gateway for students with overseas Indian ties. At the forefront of guiding students through this opportunity is Edusquare Consulting—a trusted name in education consultancy that transforms the complex admission journey into a smooth and empowering experience.

The Edge of the NRI Quota

The NRI quota is a specialized admission category reserved for the children and dependents of Non-Resident Indians. It opens doors to India’s most prestigious institutions, without the intense competition typically seen in general entrance routes. Especially for in-demand programs like medicine, engineering, law, and management, this quota acts as a golden ticket for global Indian students.

More than just an admission advantage, this pathway strengthens India's global education presence by encouraging international Indian talent to return and thrive. While the associated fees are generally higher, the reduced competition and simplified criteria make it a smart investment in your academic future.

Who Qualifies for NRI Quota Admissions?

As emphasized by Edusquare Consulting, understanding eligibility is the first key step. To qualify, candidates typically need to meet the following:

NRI Connection: Applicants must be children or dependents of Indians living abroad for work, business, or long-term residency.

Academic Standards: Applicants must fulfill the course-specific academic criteria (e.g., NEET for medical or JEE Main for engineering).

Valid Documentation: Proof of NRI status (passport, visa, residency papers) and relevant educational records are required for submission.

Why Choose the NRI Quota Route?

Taking the NRI quota path comes with a host of unique advantages:

Less Competitive, More Accessible: Students have a better chance at securing seats with reduced competition.

Admission to Top-Tier Colleges: Gain access to premier institutes like IITs, NITs, AIIMS, and other elite private universities.

Expert Guidance: Edusquare Consulting offers structured support at every step.

Cultural and Academic Enrichment: NRI students reconnect with their roots while earning globally recognized degrees.

Challenges to Be Aware Of

While the NRI quota offers many benefits, students should be mindful of a few considerations:

Higher Tuition Fees: Costs are often steeper than those under general quotas.

Limited Seats: Availability is restricted—early application is essential.

Variable Criteria: Requirements differ across institutions and states, making professional support a smart move.

How Edusquare Consulting Makes the Difference

Navigating the NRI quota can be complex, but not with Edusquare Consulting by your side. Here’s how they simplify and supercharge your admission journey:

Tailored Admission Roadmaps: Strategies built around your academic goals and personal profile.

Flawless Documentation Support: Guidance on preparing and reviewing every submission for smooth processing.

Smart University Selection: Insights on course trends and college openings to help you make informed decisions.

Financial Guidance: Advice on managing fees and exploring available scholarships or discounts.

End-to-End Mentorship: Full-spectrum support, from application to final enrollment.

Your Gateway to Excellence Awaits

The NRI quota offers a unique and powerful opportunity for Indian-origin students abroad to pursue world-class education in India. With Edusquare Consulting’s expert handholding, what might seem like a daunting process becomes an inspiring and successful academic journey.

Start your path to a brighter future—simplify your admission process with Edusquare Consulting today.

[faridabadhometutor]

Home tutor in Sector 14 Faridabad

The Ultimate Guide to Finding the Best Home Tutor in Sector 14, Faridabad

Why Every Student in Faridabad Needs a Home Tutor

In today’s fast-paced academic world, students often struggle to keep up with school curriculum, competitive exams, and the pressure to perform. While classroom learning provides a foundation, personalized attention from a home tutor in Sector 14, Faridabad, can make all the difference. Whether your child is in primary school, high school, or preparing for IIT-JEE/NEET, a dedicated tutor can help bridge learning gaps, boost confidence, and ensure academic success.

Benefits of Hiring a Home Tutor in Faridabad

1. One-on-One Personalized Learning

Unlike crowded classrooms, home tutoring provides individualized attention, allowing tutors to adapt teaching methods to suit the student’s learning style.

2. Flexible Scheduling & Convenience

No more rushing to coaching centers! Home tutors in Sector 14, Faridabad, offer flexible timings, making learning stress-free and convenient.

3. Stronger Concept Clarity

4. Improved Grades & Exam Performance

With regular practice tests, doubt-solving sessions, and revision plans, students see noticeable improvements in school exams and competitive tests.

5. Customized Study Plans

Whether your child is a CBSE, ICSE, or State Board student, tutors design lesson plans based on their syllabus and learning pace.

How to Choose the Right Home Tutor in Sector 14, Faridabad?

✔ Check Qualifications & Experience – Look for tutors with subject expertise and a proven track record. ✔ Read Reviews & Testimonials – Feedback from other parents helps in making an informed decision. ✔ Trial Classes – Many tutors offer a free demo session to assess compatibility. ✔ Discuss Learning Goals – Clearly communicate your child’s weak areas and expectations. ✔ Compare Fees & Teaching Style – Affordable yet effective tutoring is key.

Subjects & Tutoring Services Available in Faridabad

School Subjects (Math, Science, Social Studies, English, Hindi)

Competitive Exams (IIT-JEE, NEET, NTSE, Olympiads)

Language Training (English, French, German, Sanskrit)

Board Exam Preparation (CBSE Class 10 & 12, ICSE)

Special Support for Slow Learners

Why Sector 14, Faridabad, is Ideal for Home Tutoring?

Sector 14 is a well-connected, educationally vibrant locality with top schools like DAV Public School, Modern School, and Eicher School. Parents prefer home tutors here because:

✅   Proximity to Tutors – Easy access to qualified teachers. ✅   Safe & Comfortable Learning – No travel stress; students learn at home. ✅   Wide Range of Tutors – From retired teachers to young, tech-savvy educators.

Final Thoughts: Invest in Your Child’s Future Today!

A great home tutor doesn’t just teach—they inspire, motivate, and build confidence. If you’re looking for the best home tutor in Sector 14, Faridabad, start your search today and give your child the academic advantage they deserve!

📞 Contact Now for Expert Home Tutoring Services in Faridabad!

8287925490

Tags: #HomeTutorFaridabad #Sector14Tutor #CBSEHomeTutor #BestTutorInFaridabad #JEE NEETTutorFaridabad

[rishikul-123]

Best CBSE residential schools in India

Choosing the right school for your child is one of the most critical decisions parents make, especially when considering residential schools that offer comprehensive education and holistic development. Among the top contenders in India, Rishikul Vidyapeeth stands out as one of the best CBSE residential schools, providing a nurturing environment that balances academics, extracurricular activities, and moral values.

Why Choose a CBSE Residential School? The Central Board of Secondary Education (CBSE) is one of India’s most preferred educational boards, known for its well-structured curriculum that prepares students for competitive exams like IIT-JEE, NEET, and more. A residential CBSE school combines this robust academic framework with the benefits of a boarding environment, fostering independence, discipline, and a strong sense of community among students.

Rishikul Vidyapeeth: A Legacy of Excellence Rishikul Vidyapeeth has earned a stellar reputation for its commitment to academic excellence and holistic development. Here’s what makes Rishikul Vidyapeeth a top choice for parents:

Academic Prowess Rishikul Vidyapeeth follows the CBSE curriculum, which is renowned for its rigorous academic standards. The school boasts highly qualified and experienced teachers who employ innovative teaching methods to make learning engaging and effective. Regular assessments, smart classrooms, and personalized attention ensure that every student reaches their full potential.

State-of-the-Art Infrastructure The campus of Rishikul Vidyapeeth is designed to provide a conducive learning environment. Modern classrooms, well-equipped science and computer labs, and an extensive library offer students the resources they need for academic success. The school also has excellent sports facilities, art studios, and music rooms to encourage extracurricular participation.

Holistic Development At Rishikul Vidyapeeth, education goes beyond textbooks. The school emphasizes the importance of extracurricular activities, including sports, arts, and cultural events, ensuring that students develop well-rounded personalities. Leadership programs, debate clubs, and community service initiatives help students cultivate essential life skills and social responsibility.

Focus on Moral Values and Discipline A unique aspect of Rishikul Vidyapeeth is its emphasis on instilling moral values and discipline. The school environment promotes respect, empathy, and integrity, preparing students to be responsible and ethical citizens of the world.

Safe and Supportive Boarding Environment The residential facilities at Rishikul Vidyapeeth are second to none. The school provides comfortable dormitories with 24/7 supervision, ensuring the safety and well-being of all students. Trained staff and counselors are always available to support students' emotional and psychological needs, creating a home-away-from-home atmosphere.

Alumni Success Stories The success of any educational institution is reflected in the achievements of its alumni. Rishikul Vidyapeeth takes pride in its alumni who have excelled in various fields, from medicine and engineering to arts and entrepreneurship. The strong foundation provided by the school equips students to face challenges and succeed in their chosen careers.

Conclusion Choosing Rishikul Vidyapeeth as the academic and residential home for your child ensures a blend of quality education, moral upbringing, and personal growth. Its commitment to nurturing young minds and preparing them for a bright future makes it one of the best CBSE residential schools in India. If you’re looking for a school that offers a holistic approach to education, Rishikul Vidyapeeth should be at the top of your list.

Contact Rishikul Vidyapeeth today to learn more about admission procedures and how they can help shape your child’s future!