#what they have in the future is yet to be determined

[beaviu]

wrong table, right person .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ — sjy

⋆˚꩜｡ 003 :: mr basic

ʚଓ m.list — prev — next

synopsis . ❀ ݁ ˖ yn finally agrees to a blind date to finally shut her bffs up about her tragic dating life. Dressed to impress but armed with zero expectations, she arrives at a café, scans the room, and sits across from a guy who checks every box: handsome yet cute, and surprisingly sarcastic in a way that keeps her on her toes. Only one problem: he’s not her date. Jake, a schools heartthrob laying low not to be caught by his fan girls, is just trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee when a stranger slides into the seat across from him and starts talking like they know each other. Intrigued — and a little bored — he plays along. What starts as a mistaken identity turns into a full-blown accidental date. And when yn finally realizes her mixup… she walks away mortified. But Jake? He can’t stop thinking about her. Now he’s determined to find her again — without revealing who he really is. As fate (or nosy mutual friends) brings them back together, their story becomes anything but accidental. Because sometimes, love finds you at the wrong table — at exactly the right time.

As yn stepped into the café, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her, immediately grounding her in the cozy atmosphere. Her eyes scanned the room until she saw a guy who could potentially be her future boyfriend, sitting down alone cap on and head down on his phone

Approaching the table, she noticed the empty seat across from him.

“Hey, Intak, right?” she asked with a shy smile.

Jake looked up from his phone, his cap blocking his view and the top half of his face “i think you—“ but before he could finish, the barista’s voice cut in, calling out his order number.

“Oh, you already ordered?” yn said, a little flustered. “Was I that late? I'm so sorry.”

Jake stood up, waving off her apology. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just grab it real quick.”

As he walked toward the pickup counter, he couldn’t help but glance back at the girl now settling into the seat across from where he'd been. Something about her—maybe the way she looked around with quiet curiosity or the slight smile still on her lips—made him suddenly okay with this unexpected meetup.

Walking back with his drink in hand, Jake spots yn sitting at the table, eyes glued to her phone, fingers flying across the screen.

“Hey,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he sits down, “everything alright?”

yn glances up, her expression shifting quickly into a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry—my friends are being annoying as usual”

Jake chuckles, lifting his cup. “i understand that”

yn nods silently then asks “what’d you order?”

“oh an iced americano”

She raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Wow. Basic.”

jake gasps, clutching his chest theatrically. “Basic?! Excuse you, this is the superior drink. Sophisticated. Timeless.”

yn laughs, shaking her head. “Okay, Mr. Basic, whatever you say.”

Jake grins, watching her for a moment before saying, more softly, “You know… you have a really pretty smile.”

Her laughter slowly fades as her cheeks flush with color, and she opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. “I—” Jake quickly leans back, eyes wide. “Shit, sorry. That was too sudden, wasn’t it?”

“No!” she blurts, voice higher than intended. “I mean—no, it’s fine. Just… unexpected.”

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s not awkward—just warm. Comfortable.

He takes a sip of his drink, eyes still on her and breaks the silence. “So... you gonna tell me your not-so-basic order, or is it a top-secret recipe?”

“I don’t know…do you really deserve to know?” yn teases, her eyes glinting mischievously.

Jake raises an eyebrow, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Wow, fine,” he sighs dramatically.

yn chuckles, then stands up. “Let me order it first, and then I’ll show you a visual representation,” she says, flashing him a smile before heading over to the counter.

The café’s quieter now, so she waits for a few minutes, picks up her order, and walks back to Jake. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she says, an exaggerated pout on her face. Then, with a proud grin, she holds up her matcha latte like she’s unveiling a trophy. “But look at my glorious baby!”

Jake eyes the drink, nodding appreciatively. “I’ll admit, it does look pretty good.”

yn laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she offers him a sip. “Wanna try it? I promise you, it’s the drink of champions.”

Jake grins, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s fine. My iced Americano is superior.”

yn gasps, putting a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “No way! My drink outshines yours in every way!”

Jake rolls his eyes with a playful grin, then decides to switch things up. “Alright, random question. What’s your favorite color?”

yn chuckles, clearly amused. “Navy blue, I guess?”

Jake raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in a teasing smile. “Hmm, navy blue. Interesting... You’re a uni student, right?”

yns expression shifts, slightly suspicious. “Yeah, I am. Why? You’re not gonna sell my info on the dark web, are you? I’m starting to get worried now.”

“oh cmon i would never do that to you” jake says batting his eyes playfully. yn rolls her eyes playfully “please you just met me”

After about 20 minutes of easy conversation, filled with lighthearted jokes and shared interests, yns phone suddenly starts buzzing incessantly. Jake glances at it, eyebrows raised, and chuckles. "I think you might want to check that? Seems like it’s blowing up."

YN lets out a sigh, a bit embarrassed, and smiles sheepishly. "I’m so sorry, I have no idea why they’re all blowing up my phone. One second let me hop into the ladies room!" she rushes to the bathroom and opens her phone to see a spam of messages from the gc all spamming her name.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ authors note — hehehhehe nd the plot thickens! sorry for the shitty writing I’m still kinda rusty it’s been awhile 💔

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ taglist — @astrobebba @rikchic @zoe1love @t1iqaa @enhanoa @yuyita-rosier @smolderingoasislegion @synamon @blvengene @urfavmelaninatedgeminii @cupidmiyu @naevisringring @swiftcityy @luhvletters @sumzysworld @w3willris3 @skepvids @enhastolemyheart @kimuranirisi @rairaiblog @teenagecheesecakereview @kuroosluthoe @firstclassjaylee

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiemicrofic.

Humming Under His Skin

June Prompt: Hot | Word Count: 315 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Future Fic, Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Boys in Love, Long Distance Relationship

The heat is unexplainable. A crackle, a spark, Steve can feel igniting in his chest. A fire that burns. He's never felt like this about anyone, not a single soul. He'd have said it was all made up, that kind of attraction. It seemed to be invented strictly for romance novels and love songs.

That kind of pull, of draw. 

That kind of connection, humming under his skin.

But then, there Eddie was. Surviving, thriving, even. Determined to get better after the bats, just so he could get the fuck out of Hawkins faster. Steve had never seen anything like it, that kind of stubborn persistence to heal faster than anyone expected. It's as if Eddie willed it into existence, just by wanting it.

Needing it.

Steve puts his hands in Eddie's hair and tugs. Pulling on his curls, making him grin. His hair is getting long. Longer than usual, and it tells Steve it's been too long since he's seen him. The cities, the road, keep them apart. Corroded Coffin's out playing the bar circuit, hoping for a break, anything that'll get Eddie out of Hawkins permanently. Steve knows Eddie never wants to set foot there again, but Steve's still tethered to it.

What if something happens again? What if the Upside Down suddenly flares hot again? He can't be gone. Not for long. Not yet. Not until the kids are grown.

But being here, meeting up, finally together and touching him like this? Steve realizes phone calls really aren't enough, not when he's this in love. He needs to see him more.

Eddie rolls onto his side and looks into Steve's eyes, putting up his hand. Steve presses his palm against Eddie's, then laces their fingers together, squeezing. 

"I've missed you," Steve says, because he has. Like crazy.

"I've missed you, too, Harrington," Eddie says, "we need to meet like this more often."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun!

[mrcrowblargs]

Death Stranding 2: Episode 3 pt 1

Hello Australia! Feels similar to the first game in which we're getting to the meat of things and spending the most time. Spoilers under cut!

Who needs therapy when you can go portering again. Met some of the Magellan crew. I want to know more about the kitty. Tarman and Dollman are both likeable.

Goodbye Mexico, hello Australia. The Plate Gate sequence was neat and I see we have the 5 entities showing up again. Happy that Sam gets to keep his pants while going through.

More meet & greets. I don't like where the UCA has gone with letting APAC/APAS/whatever lead. Privately owned AI compay analysing the will of the people to determine government... feels a little musky. kojimbo predicted the future again. I don't like the President guy, especially since he seems to have an antagonistic role in the BB flashbacks. Same fucked up teeth past and present.

Charlie offering to take the voice of one of the previous cast was such a fuck off move, like, I saw them in the opening credits and thought we'd see them all again but NO!!!! Charlie is taking their voice. "A voice you can trust." Makes me wonder if Heartman's appearance in the trailer was actually Heartman or Charlie. Anyway, I chose Die Hardman because, well, familiarity being called up all the time lol. I do love Charlie's facial animations and his sparkle-smile.

Dollman grew on me instantly. It's like everyone knows Sam is grieving so badly and are like, hey, need a therapist buddy? he seems to be genuinely looking out for Sam. Spino is very suspicious but im like HE'S JUST A LIttlE GUY YOU CAN HOLD HIM AND THROW HIM AND HE WONT COMPLAIN IF YOU MAKE HIS SUIT BRIGHT YELLOW

Oh yeah, new BB flashbacks. Seems to be a shoot out / escape struggle like with Cliff before. Based on what I know from trailer, it seems like Niel's POV? But also how does this reflect Other Lou I don't knoowww

I don't like Australian BTs. Of course they are extra trying to kill you. Found out later that these types can see, and their eyes GLOW big time when they lock onto you. I don't think they can see very far though. Easy to take them out with grenades, but sucks to get caught by them.

Giving all the structures extra active abilities was neat. When I read that shelters had an active BT repellent I was expecting a golden shower but glad that it's blood.

Liked the first few preppers. Seems they are recovering from a recent armed conflict and their rhetoric "we're all australians, we should come together not fight" felt very Aldiirn. I've been noting some of the slang they use so I can sprinkle it into Aldiirn's dialogue haha.

I've spent so much time puttering around with roads and standard orders. Poor Fragile is like, Sam, please, take care of your mental health, rest and talk to people. And I'm like, who needs therapy when you have ROADS.

I've been making a lot of use of the trike as you can tell, but since I got floating carriers recently I think I'll take those to build some more roads. I've turned into one of those people who has to build them from offline. There's a bunch going by Lone Commander that don't go anywhere useful yet, but I'm gonna fukkin build them.

Still figuring out the new weapons in game. The melee stick is fun if you're not getting shot at. Strand is still king for stealth, but I got a silenced tranq pistol that's fun too. Also a sniper rifle, but it's loud and alerts everyone so you basically get one shot off and gotta run. Preppers suggest strategies so I'll have to try following some of the combos to make best use.

Got a big welcome party at the city and an old friend showed up! with a big new friend!!!! Functioned similarly to a catcher fight except with multiple weak points to disable its functions, it was pretty fun but my aim suuuuucks.

By this point I hadn't noticed that Other Lou has a stress bar, it shows up with icons that go from ☹️ to 🙂 to 😄 with the current state highlighted. It took me a while to realise and for a while I thought Other Lou just didn't get an equivalent to autotoxemia because, well, BT baby. but after the battle I looked and was like "Uh. What's Tentacle mean?"

Sam. baby. i think your baby is sick.

and then dance party! yay! The music player is nice though if you can use multiple playlists I can't figure out how to switch. I'm pretty sure Dollman is using the likeness of the music artist for most of it but maybe his original appearance for that last shot? It's so silly but it was really endearing so see Sam bopping along in the background.

Anywho not done Episode 3 yet, but I am determined to keep working Standard Orders and build some roads before proceeding. I'm kinda itching to go back to Mexico to trying and 5/5 people there but I think I'll wait until I unlock trucks.

[vampiricsheep]

head's been full of bran-lily images lately. first proper date. bran always flustered and lily perpetually amused. I don't know what they have but it's good

[random-autie-fangirl]

I drew another Chara- living with the Dreemurrs edition

"The King and Queen treated the human child as their own. The underground was filled with hope."

I don't like this as much as the last one but oh well... I ended up rambling a huge amount in the tag, so if you want details and headcanons about the actual drawing again, you'll have to look pretty far down this time, sorry (Also, I ran out of tags after a while. Tumblr is tired of me, lol. I might reblog this more tags later if I remember what I was going to say.)

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

"Don't you ever wonder what waits beyond the stars,"

"Where the sun we know is only a cinder in the sky?"

[torpublishinggroup]

Monk and Robot by Becky Chambers

It's been centuries since the robots of Panga gained self-awareness and laid down their tools; centuries since they faded into myth and urban legend. Now, one returns to ask a tea monk: “What do people need?” They don’t have an answer yet, but together, they’re determined to find one. In a world where people have what they want, does having more matter?

The Bones Beneath My Skin by TJ Klune

It’s the spring of 1995, and Nate Cartwright has lost everything. Retreating to his family’s cabin in Oregon after hitting rock bottom, he expects solitude—until he finds a man named Alex and a girl who calls herself Artemis Darth Vader. And Artemis is anything but ordinary. As cultists and agents close in, Nate must choose: stay lost in the past or fight for a future he never saw coming.

Eat the Ones You Love by Sarah Maria Griffin

After losing her job and fiancé, Shell Pine moves back home and starts working at a flower shop in the mall. The flowers lift her spirits—and so does Neve, the alluring and secretive shop manager. But something sinister grows behind the scenes: a sentient orchid with a taste for manipulation, a hunger that can’t be sated, and a plan that could uproot them all.

But Not Too Bold by Hache Pueyo

The old keeper of the keys is dead, and the creature who ate her? Anatema, an enormous humanoid spider with a taste for laudanum and human brides. Now her protégée, Dália, must tend to Anatema’s memory drawers and uncover the truth behind her mentor’s execution. But there’s one problem: Anatema can’t resist a beautiful woman, and she eventually devours every single bride that crosses her path.

The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older

On a remote, gas-wreathed outpost of a human colony on Jupiter, a man goes missing. Investigator Mossa follows his trail to Valdegeld, home to the colony’s university—and to her former girlfriend, Pleiti, a scholar of Earth’s pre-collapse ecosystems. As Mossa enlists Pleiti’s help, the two embark on a twisting path where the future of life on Earth—and their future together—may hang in the balance.

The Entanglement of Rival Wizards by Sara Raasch

Will they conjure love or evoke chaos? Two rival wizards are about to find out.

Ali Hazelwood meets Dungeons & Dragons in this enemies-to-lovers fantasy academia romcom where rival grad student wizards are forced to work together without killing—or falling for—each other.

Out on August 26, 2025!

Sandymancer by David Edison

Caralee Vinnet lives in a world of dust, where water is rare and the elements are tightly controlled. She has a secret: magic in her bones that lets her command the sand. But when she uses it, she summons the god-king who broke the world 800 years ago…and who’s now wearing her best friend’s body. Caralee will risk everything to save her friend—if her new companion doesn’t kill her first. Lucky Day by Chuck Tingle

Four years ago, an unthinkable disaster struck. In what became known as the Low-Probability Event, 8 million people died in bizarre, improbable ways. Vera, a former statistics professor, lost everything that day. But when a special agent arrives, investigating an impossibly lucky casino, Vera realizes she may be the only one who can stop another deadly improbability from happening again.

Coming August 12, 2025!

Not enough books? Check out our other list!

[wilwheaton]

At Steve Jackson Games, we are actively assessing what this means for our products, our pricing, and our future plans. We do know that we can't absorb this kind of cost increase without raising prices. We've done our best over the past few years to shield players and retailers from the full brunt of rising freight costs and other increases, but this new tax changes the equation entirely. Here are the numbers: A product we might have manufactured in China for $3.00 last year could now cost $4.62 before we even ship it across the ocean. Add freight, warehousing, fulfillment, and distribution margins, and that once-$25 game quickly becomes a $40 product. That's not a luxury upcharge; it's survival math. Some people ask, "Why not manufacture in the U.S.?" I wish we could. But the infrastructure to support full-scale boardgame production – specialty dice making, die-cutting, custom plastic and wood components – doesn't meaningfully exist here yet. I've gotten quotes. I've talked to factories. Even when the willingness is there, the equipment, labor, and timelines simply aren't. [...] We want to be transparent with our community. This is real: Prices are going up. We're still determining how much and where. If you're frustrated, you're not alone. We are too. And if you want to help, write to your elected officials. Ask them how these new policies help American creators and small businesses. Because right now, it feels like they don't. We'll keep making games. But we'll be honest when the road gets harder, because we know you care about where your games come from – and about the people who make them.

Daily Illuminator: Tariffs Are Driving Up Game Prices Now

[leejenowrld]

new me — lee jeno smut

pairing — soft dom! jeno x reader, strangers to lovers

genre — smut, fluff

word count — 12.5k

synopsis — moving to a new college mid-term wasn’t part of the plan, but neither was jeno. all it takes is one tour guide, one party, one shared look, and suddenly you’re in his bed, legs wrapped around his waist, his cock stretching you so perfectly you forget why you ever hesitated. he’s addictive, and the way he fucks you—slow, deep, like he’s already yours—makes it impossible not to fall apart beneath him.

authors note — happy new year’s eve, my loves 🖤 this is my final fic of 2024, and what a year it’s been. my first on tumblr, and i’m so grateful to have found this community and shared my works with you all! consider this a little gift to celebrate the new year and hitting a follower milestone <3. honestly, this isn’t my best work, but who cares—I’m in a full-on jeno head rot. it’s just smut, with a little build-up, but the smut is so soft, so warm, it’s ridiculous. soft dom jeno is at a solid 10000/10 here. yes, oc and jeno just met. yes, they’re already stupidly possessive over each other. enjoy! also this is not proof read.  

listen to this song whilst reading !

December 23rd, 

The campus was unnervingly quiet, the kind of quiet that made the crunch of your boots against the frosted ground sound louder than it should. Snow-dusted trees lined the sprawling stone paths, and the chill in the air felt heavy, pressing against your chest. Your breath curled visibly as you approached the grand administration building ahead, its towering columns and arched windows casting long shadows against the gray sky. The facade, a blend of historic elegance and modern design, loomed cold and uninviting, its grandeur only making the campus feel more deserted. The email inviting you for an early induction had sounded welcoming, even reassuring, but as you walked through the silent, snow-covered grounds, a quiet unease began to settle in your chest. Without the usual hum of students rushing past, every step made the sense of not quite belonging sink a little deeper.

Transferring to a new college in the middle of the term was far from ideal, but the opportunity had been impossible to pass up. This wasn’t just any institution—it was one of the most prestigious in the country, known for its groundbreaking research and distinguished faculty. Among them was Professor Doyoung Kim, a name spoken with reverence in academic circles. As head of the engineering department, he was a pioneer in his field, renowned for his contributions to sustainable design and innovative technology. His work had been published in journals you’d once pored over late into the night, dreaming of a future where you might cross paths with such minds. This wasn’t simply a college; it was a launching pad for the kind of career you’d always envisioned. Despite the awkward timing, despite the upheaval, the chance to study here—under the guidance of someone like Kim—was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The anxiety you carried was undeniable, but so was the quiet, determined thrill that you were here, stepping into a world you’d only imagined.

Inside, the warmth was faint, and the echo of your footsteps only deepened the emptiness of the halls. When your eyes landed on him, you almost stopped in your tracks. Professor Doyoung Kim greeted you at the main office, standing tall in a perfectly tailored suit that seemed to amplify his presence. His composed demeanor and sharp features radiated authority, a stark reminder of the name you’d read about countless times in academic journals. He wasn’t just an acclaimed professor; he was a pioneer, a mind you had long admired from afar. Seeing him in person left you momentarily stunned, the reality of his stature hitting you harder than you expected. Yet, despite his intimidating reputation, there was a kindness in his sharp gaze that softened the edges of your nervousness, making it hard to feel entirely overwhelmed.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth and professional, “I’m glad you came in today so we could make you feel welcome and show you around—especially on such late notice.”

You nodded, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag. “Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity.”

Doyoung smiled faintly, gesturing for you to follow him down the hall. “You’re an exceptional student,” he added, his tone factual rather than complimentary. “It’s not every year we get someone with your academic track record. We’re excited to have you join us next term.”

You nodded again, your throat tightening as you fell into step beside him. His words didn’t feel like flattery—they felt like a challenge, a subtle reflection of the expectations you carried with you. Years of meticulous effort had built your academic reputation, but the thought of starting over, proving yourself in an unfamiliar environment, pressed heavily on your chest. Confidence in your abilities wasn’t the issue—it was the weight of living up to the opportunity you’d been given.

As Professor Kim walked you through the structure of the semester, your nerves began to shift, settling into a focused hum. He spoke about the program’s intensity, the emphasis on collaboration, and the resources available to students with the kind of precision that made his words reassuring. His voice was calm, steady, even soothing in its way. But just as you started to feel more at ease, you turned a corner and collided with someone, the impact snapping you out of your thoughts like a jolt.

“Oh—sorry!” you stammered, stepping back quickly as your bag nearly slipped from your shoulder.

The person you bumped into barely moved, his tall frame unyielding as he glanced down at you with an expression that was impossible to read. His dark hair fell into his eyes, brushing against furrowed brows, and his lips pressed into a firm, unimpressed line. He looked like he had better things to do, like your clumsiness had interrupted something far more important.

But then his gaze lingered, his sharp eyes catching on the curve of your face, the hurried apology spilling from your lips. The tension in his brow eased, the faintest shift in his expression betraying a flicker of interest. His gaze softened as it traced over you—curious now, lingering just a second too long. His disinterest cracked, just enough to reveal something more, as if you’d momentarily pulled his focus away from whatever had consumed it before.

“Great,” Doyoung interrupted smoothly, stepping between the two of you. “Jeno, meet Y/N. Y/N, this is Jeno. He’s one of our top students in the department. Jeno, would you mind showing her around? Make sure she gets the full tour.”

Jeno exhaled slowly through his nose, his expression settling into something impassive, though his jaw twitched slightly. He pulled his headphones down to rest around his neck, the movement deliberate as his eyes flicked from Doyoung to you.

“Sure,” he said, the word falling flat, edged with reluctance, though the weight of his gaze told a different story. His eyes swept over your face, sharp and deliberate, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. The curve of his mouth twitched, the barest hint of a smirk playing there, like he knew exactly what his presence did to you. “I’ll show you around. Try not to bump into anyone else, though.”

Doyoung nodded approvingly, clapping Jeno lightly on the shoulder. “Good. I’ll leave you two to it. Y/N, if you have any questions, feel free to reach out.” With that, he walked away, his footsteps fading into the stillness, leaving the two of you standing far too close in the empty hallway.

You couldn’t ignore the way Jeno’s gaze lingered, his posture relaxed but his eyes anything but. He didn’t look thrilled to be stuck with this task, but there was something else beneath the surface—an intensity in the way his gaze dipped briefly to your lips before returning to meet your eyes. It made the air between you feel heavy, charged, like it held secrets you weren’t ready to name.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, though it felt deafening in the quiet.

He tilted his head slightly, his dark hair falling just into his eyes, and the corner of his mouth quirked up, almost imperceptibly. “Hi.”

The single word wasn’t warm or overly friendly—it was casual, almost dismissive—but the way his voice dropped made it feel personal, intimate. His gaze stayed locked on yours, unwavering, as though he was studying you, searching for something unspoken in your reaction.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice low, his fingers adjusting the strap of his backpack in a slow, deliberate motion that somehow drew your attention. “Where do you want to start? Library? Labs? Or are we just walking aimlessly?”

“The library,” you said quickly, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of his gaze. “If that’s okay.”

He nodded, the slight tilt of his head carrying an ease you couldn’t replicate, then turned without another word, gesturing for you to follow. You fell into step beside him, your heartbeat quickening with every silent second that passed. His pace was slow, unhurried, the sound of his boots on the stone path matching your own as the quiet between you deepened—not awkward, but charged, as if even the spaces between his words carried weight.

The campus looked entirely different with Jeno leading the way. The snow-dusted paths that had felt cold and uninviting now seemed softened, the towering stone buildings framing your surroundings rather than looming over them. But it wasn’t just the campus—it was him. The faint brush of his arm as he walked too close, the subtle warmth of his presence despite the icy chill of the air, the way his voice resonated low and steady, grounding you in the unfamiliarity of the moment.

“That’s the dining hall,” he said, his tone casual, though a subtle rasp in his voice made the words feel heavier. “Food’s decent most days. Breakfast is worth getting up for, but lunch and dinner… well, you’ll survive.”

You nodded, your throat dry as you tried to focus on his words, but your attention was pulled elsewhere—drawn to the way his lips moved when he spoke, the casual flick of his hand as he gestured toward the building. His tone wasn’t unfriendly, but there was a distance in it, like he wasn’t fully invested in the conversation. Yet, every so often, his gaze would flick to you, quick and sharp, as though he was studying the way you reacted to him, the way your breath caught or your steps faltered.

When you reached the engineering labs—a sleek glass building that gleamed even under the muted winter light—his voice softened, the shift so subtle it was almost imperceptible. “You’ll probably spend most of your time here,” he said, his words slower now, his gaze flicking briefly to yours before continuing. “Professors are good, but they don’t mess around.”

“Sounds intense,” you said, your voice lighter, though the slight tremor betrayed you.

“It is,” he replied, but his gaze lingered, dark and steady, his eyes tracing the curve of your face before meeting yours with a heat that made your stomach twist. His lips curved slightly, the faintest smirk appearing as though he’d noticed your reaction and found it amusing. “But you look like the type who can handle it.”

The words hit harder than they should have, his voice low and deliberate, laced with something that felt heavier than casual observation. His eyes stayed on yours, unyielding, as if daring you to deny it. The air between you seemed thicker, his presence pressing into the space in a way that made your chest tighten and your breath falter.

You looked away quickly, your cheeks warming despite the icy air, but the weight of his gaze lingered, wrapping around you like a thread you couldn’t quite untangle. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you, in the way his voice dipped just for you, and it left your pulse pounding in your ears as the moment stretched on, charged with a tension neither of you dared to name.

When you reached the library, the sheer scale of it stole your breath. Rows of books stretched endlessly in every direction, the warm glow of the lights above casting a golden hue across the polished wood floors. High ceilings arched overhead, their grandeur somehow both awe-inspiring and calming. Jeno stepped ahead of you, pushing the heavy door open with one hand, his other casually stuffed into his jacket pocket.

“Best place on campus,” he said, his voice carrying an unbothered confidence that seemed to come naturally to him. He stepped aside, holding the door open for you as though it required no thought, just instinct. “Quiet, warm, and the coffee’s decent—if you know where to get it.”

You stepped inside, the subtle warmth of the space enveloping you immediately. The scent of aged paper and polished wood filled the air, grounding you in a way that felt almost nostalgic. Even though the library was nearly empty, the quiet hum of central heating and the faint rustle of a page turning somewhere in the distance made it feel alive. You glanced around, taking it all in, and found yourself speaking before you’d even realized.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, the words falling softly into the stillness.

Jeno’s lips curved, faint amusement flickering across his face as his eyes followed your reaction. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful as his gaze moved across the room—but not for long. His eyes returned to you, lingering, as though drawn back against his will. “It’s not bad,” he added, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smirk that felt deliberate, though his gaze seemed far more interested in you than the grandeur of the space.

He led you deeper into the library, his steps measured, his voice low as he pointed out various sections. His explanations were quick, almost perfunctory, as though he’d done this routine countless times. But there was something about the way he moved, the way his occasional glances seemed to linger on you before snapping back to the shelves, that made your heart skip.

“This is where most people camp out during finals,” he said, gesturing to a cluster of study tables near a large window. Snowflakes drifted outside, soft and slow, the courtyard below blanketed in white. “If you’re lucky, you’ll find a spot without someone snoring next to you.”

The dryness of his humor caught you off guard, and you let out a quiet laugh, the sound surprising even yourself. His smirk widened slightly, and for a moment, the distance he carried seemed to fade, replaced by something easier, more comfortable. There was a steadiness about him, an unspoken confidence in the way he occupied space, and though your nerves still hummed beneath the surface, his presence made you feel oddly grounded in the vast unfamiliarity of the moment.

Jeno led you out of the library and back into the chill of the afternoon, his steps unhurried as he gestured toward a path branching off to the left. The cold nipped at your cheeks, but his presence kept you anchored, the warmth of his voice cutting through the bite of the wind.

“There’s a café just ahead,” he said, glancing over at you briefly. “If you ever need a break between classes, it’s a decent spot to hide out. Quiet enough most of the time, though it gets crowded around finals.”

The path wound past a small courtyard, snow blanketing the benches and casting a soft glow under the pale sunlight. You followed him, falling easily into step beside him, and for a moment, you let yourself settle into the calmness he seemed to carry.

“It sounds perfect,” you said, your voice lighter now, the tension in your chest easing with each step.

“It’s not bad,” Jeno replied, his tone casual. Then, as though letting you in on a secret, he added, “The hot chocolate’s better than the coffee, though. Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected confession, a quiet laugh slipping past your lips. “Noted. I’ll keep it between us.”

The café came into view, a cozy space nestled between two older campus buildings, its wide windows fogged with the warmth inside. Jeno held the door open for you again, his hand resting lightly against the frame as he gestured you in. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wrapped around you the moment you stepped inside, and the soft hum of conversation made the space feel alive but not overwhelming.

“This is probably my favorite spot,” he admitted as he followed you in, his voice dropping slightly, as though the quieter surroundings demanded it. “I usually come here before late lectures. Keeps me sane.”

The warmth of the space settled over you, and for the first time since arriving on campus, you felt yourself fully relax. You glanced around, noticing the mix of students tucked into booths and perched at small tables, their heads bent over laptops and textbooks. A few of them glanced up as you walked by, their eyes trailing not you, but Jeno.

At first, you thought they were curious about you—your unfamiliar face drawing attention in a space that likely had its regulars. But the looks lingered, darting to Jeno with recognition and, in some cases, something like admiration. You caught snippets of whispers as you passed, words you couldn’t quite make out but felt like they weren’t about you at all.

Jeno, however, seemed oblivious—or maybe just unaffected. He moved with the same easy confidence he’d shown since you first bumped into him, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders relaxed. If he noticed the way people looked at him, the way their conversations quieted as he passed, he didn’t let it show.

“Want to grab something?” he asked, nodding toward the counter.

You shook your head, still distracted by the way the atmosphere shifted around him. “No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

Jeno only gave you a faint glance, his brows lifting briefly as if to say sure you are, before turning toward the counter. A few quiet words exchanged with the barista, and he returned moments later with a pistachio muffin and a steaming cup of hot chocolate in hand. He held them out to you, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips when you hesitated.

“Take it,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for refusal. “Trust me—you don’t want to miss this.”

Flustered, you accepted the muffin, the warmth of the hot chocolate seeping through the paper cup as you cradled it in your hands. Your cheeks warmed as you tore off a piece of the muffin, the soft, nutty sweetness melting on your tongue.

“It’s good,” you admitted quietly, looking up at him as he leaned against a nearby table.

“Of course it is,” he said, taking the other half of the muffin and popping it into his mouth, chewing with a casualness that only added to the ease he carried. His gaze flicked to you briefly as you sipped the hot chocolate, your eyes widening slightly at the rich, velvety flavor.

“This is…” you trailed off, unable to find the right word, but the awe in your expression said enough.

He chuckled softly, his voice low as he leaned in just enough to make the moment feel conspiratorial. “Don’t tell anyone about this hot chocolate. It’s my secret weapon during finals, and if word gets out, I’ll know who to blame.”

You giggled, warmth curling in your chest at his tone. “I’ll treasure it, I promise,” you said, holding the cup up as though swearing allegiance to the drink.

His smile widened just slightly, a flicker of something warmer passing through his eyes before he straightened. “Good,” he said, gesturing toward the door.

The cold hit you again as you stepped back outside, the sharp air a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of the café. Jeno slipped his hands into his pockets, tilting his head toward another path.

“Next stop,” he said, his breath visible in the chill, “the engineering building. Probably the place you’ll end up hating most by the end of the semester.”

You followed him down a narrow walkway, the sleek glass exterior of the engineering labs coming into view ahead. Inside, the air was hushed, the long corridors lined with lecture halls and labs that hummed faintly with the buzz of equipment left running. Jeno’s voice softened as he showed you around, pointing out the key areas with an easy familiarity that made you feel less overwhelmed.

“That’s the main lab,” he said, gesturing through a glass panel at a sprawling space filled with machinery and workstations. “If you’re lucky, you’ll end up with a professor who doesn’t believe in piling on assignments over the weekend. If not…” He gave you a knowing glance, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’ll survive,” you said, smiling back.

“You will,” he agreed, his tone warmer now. “It’s not all bad. Once you get into a rhythm, it’s… almost fun. Almost.”

His dry humor caught you off guard again, and you found yourself laughing softly as he continued walking. The tension you’d felt earlier in the day had almost entirely faded, replaced by a quiet sense of ease you hadn’t expected.

Yet, as you passed by groups of students, you noticed the stares again—subtle at first, but growing more frequent. Heads turned as Jeno walked by, some students offering nods of acknowledgment, others sneaking glances that lingered just a second too long. You felt the weight of their gazes and assumed it was because you were new, someone unfamiliar walking through spaces they knew so well. But then you realized their focus wasn’t on you at all.

It was on Jeno.

He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t change his stride or posture, but the quiet magnetism he carried seemed to draw people in without him needing to say a word. The way he moved—confident but not cocky, approachable yet distant—held an effortless allure, and the attention he received seemed so natural, so ingrained in the fabric of who he was, that he didn’t even notice it anymore.

But you did. And it left you wondering just how much more there was to Jeno than what he was letting you see.

The thought lingered, settling into your chest like a spark waiting to catch. He slowed as you reached a fork in the path, turning toward you with that same effortless composure, his hands still tucked into his pockets. His gaze held yours briefly, steady but unreadable, and for a moment, the air between you felt heavier than the quiet around you.

“Do you need me to show you anything else? Or…?” he asked, his tone calm, neutral, yet carrying an undercurrent that made your stomach twist.

You shook your head quickly, not trusting yourself to say much. “No, I think I’m good,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.

“You sure?”

You nodded again, though the look in both of your eyes felt unreadable—something almost feral and dangerous simmering just beneath the surface. The intensity of it made your chest tighten, your breath catching slightly as you managed a soft hum of confirmation.

He smiled then, slow and deliberate, and something about the curve of his lips made the tension between you feel impossibly sharp.

You never imagined your first day at a new college would end like this—naked beneath a man whose body pressed so intimately against yours, his heat swallowing you whole.

Lee Jeno.

His bare skin was warm and firm against yours, the weight of his body grounding you as though he was the only thing tethering you to reality. His face hovered just above yours, dark eyes soft but intent, holding a depth that made your breath catch. He wasn’t just looking at you—he was taking you in, like every detail mattered. A faint smile played on his lips, teasing but tender, as though he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than either of you could admit.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” he murmured, his voice low, his breath brushing your lips. His words weren’t rushed or rehearsed—they spilled out like a confession, a secret meant only for you. “Since the second I saw you, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

The sound of his voice sent a soft shiver down your spine, your body arching slightly toward him before you could stop yourself. His gaze flicked to yours, his smile widening just enough to show he noticed. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentle at first, testing, like he was savoring every second. But as you pressed into him, your hands sliding up to his neck, fingers threading into his hair, the kiss deepened.

You moaned softly against his mouth, the sound escaping before you could stifle it, but Jeno didn’t hesitate. He tilted his head, kissing you deeper, slower, his lips moving against yours with a rhythm that felt intoxicating. His hands slid along your sides, his touch featherlight but warm, steadying you, grounding you in the heat building between you.

“I don’t do this,” you murmured, your words breaking softly against his lips as you pulled back just enough to speak.

His brows furrowed slightly, his expression shifting as his gaze locked onto yours. “Do what?” he asked, his voice quiet but filled with curiosity.

“This,” you whispered, your voice trembling, the weight of the admission sinking into the space between you.

Jeno’s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement breaking through his seriousness, but there was no mockery in his expression—only tenderness. “What are we doing?” he murmured, his tone dropping lower as he leaned closer, his forehead brushing yours. “I’m not even—fuck—I haven’t even been inside you yet. All we’re doing is kissing.”

“That still means a lot to me,” you admitted, your voice quiet but firm, your eyes meeting his with a vulnerability that left you feeling bare in a way his touch never could.

His smirk softened, his expression melting into something warmer, more open. “Me too,” he said softly, his voice brushing against your skin as his hand moved to cradle your jaw. His thumb swept along your cheek as he kissed you again, slower this time, pouring everything unspoken into the touch of his lips against yours.

You kissed him back, your hands slipping down to rest against his shoulders, tracing the curve of his muscles as your lips moved together. “Can we just… kiss for now?” you murmured between breaths, your voice tinged with hesitance but steady. “I’m not—I’m not ready for more yet.”

Jeno pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours as his hand slid down to rest against your waist. “Of course,” he said, his tone soft and filled with understanding, the words settling between you like a promise.

A faint laugh escaped his lips, the sound low and warm, as his forehead rested lightly against yours. You swallowed, your cheeks flushed as you took in the softness in his gaze, his warmth grounding you.

“I thought I was ready to fuck,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Your voice was quiet, trembling slightly, but the truth of it lingered heavily in the space between you. “But I’m not.”

Jeno paused, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that softened almost immediately into understanding. His thumb brushed gently against your jaw, his touch steady and comforting.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, “that’s okay.” His lips curved into a faint smile, and he leaned in, brushing the lightest kiss against your forehead before returning to hover just above your lips. “I get it. We’ll go slow. Whatever you want.”

The two of you melted into each other, the weight of your bodies pressed together as you kissed deeply. Jeno’s hands roamed lightly over your skin, not demanding, but exploring, each touch deliberate and careful. His fingertips grazed your sides, his palms warm against your waist as his lips moved against yours in a rhythm that felt unending.

Soft moans escaped both of you, the sounds mixing with the faint rustle of the sheets as you shifted closer, your bodies aligning instinctively. His lips traveled down to your jaw, brushing kisses along the curve before returning to your mouth, capturing you in another deep kiss that left your head spinning.

He pulled back slightly, his lips brushing yours as he smiled—a soft, almost shy smile that felt intimate in a way words couldn’t capture. And when you smiled back, his eyes flicked to your lips, his breath catching as though he couldn’t look away.

Time faded as you made out with him, your hands exploring the lines of his shoulders, the curve of his neck, while his touch mirrored yours with the same careful reverence. It wasn’t about rushing toward something more—it was about this, the closeness, the heat, the way his lips felt like they could drown out the rest of the world.

Between kisses, his lips brushed against yours in a pause, his voice soft and low. “I hope I’ve helped you settle in,” he murmured, the words carrying a quiet warmth that sent a shiver through you.

Your breath hitched, and you managed a faint, breathless laugh, leaning into him as your fingers tangled in his hair. “You have,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you kissed him again, pouring the weight of your gratitude and everything unspoken into the connection.

December 31st

The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the apartment’s sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You sat cross-legged on your bed, staring at the few clothes you’d pulled from your closet and thrown across the mattress. None of them felt right, and the familiar swirl of hesitation churned in your stomach.

Chaewon, your roommate, was perched on the arm of the couch in the corner, flipping through her phone but stealing occasional glances at you. She’d been patient—so sweet and supportive since you moved in—but her enthusiasm for the night ahead was clear.

“You know,” she began, her voice light and playful, “you’ve been staring at the same pile of clothes for the past ten minutes.”

You groaned softly, leaning back on your hands. “Nothing feels… right. I don’t know what to wear.”

Chaewon set her phone down and came over, her steps light against the hardwood floors. “It’s just a party,” she said, sitting at the edge of your bed and reaching for one of the sweaters you’d discarded. “You’re overthinking it.”

“I know,” you admitted, sighing. “I just—I don’t want to feel out of place.”

“You won’t,” she said, her tone reassuring but not dismissive. She pulled out a plaid skirt you hadn’t touched in months and held it up, eyeing it critically. “What about this? With that cardigan you wore last week—the cute one with the buttons?”

You tilted your head, considering it. “You think that’s okay?”

“More than okay,” she said, smiling as she laid the pieces next to each other. “It’s adorable, but not over the top. It’s perfect for New Year’s.”

You hesitated, your hands brushing over the fabric of the skirt. “I don’t know… it feels like a lot.”

“It’s not,” she insisted, her voice warm but firm. “It’s fun and cute and still very you. Trust me on this.”

Something about her tone made you relax a little. Chaewon had a way of making things seem easier, simpler, like the world didn’t have to feel so complicated all the time. You nodded, picking up the skirt and standing to hold it against yourself.

“Okay,” you said, glancing at her. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Good choice,” she said, grinning.

The next half hour passed in a calm, comfortable rhythm. You changed into the outfit she’d suggested, smoothing the hem of the skirt and adjusting the cardigan over your shoulders. The warmth of the wool felt grounding, and when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you didn’t hate what you saw.

Chaewon was busy slipping into her own dress, a sleek black number that hugged her frame perfectly. She paired it with boots that gave her just enough height to make her stride commanding but not intimidating.

“You look amazing,” you said without thinking, and Chaewon laughed, a soft, genuine sound.

“Thanks,” she said, running her hands over the fabric. “You do too, by the way.”

You smiled, fiddling with the buttons on your cardigan. “I don’t know if I feel ready for this.”

“You don’t have to be ready,” she said, her voice gentle as she stepped closer. “You just have to go. Try to have fun. That’s all that matters tonight.”

The simplicity of her words made you pause. She wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding anything of you—just encouraging you to take a small step out of your comfort zone.

“Thanks, Chaewon,” you said softly, your voice carrying more gratitude than you could put into words.

She shrugged, her smile easy and warm. “That’s what roommates are for.”

You both finished getting ready in companionable silence, the occasional murmur of shared thoughts filling the space. When you sat on the edge of your bed to lace up your boots, Chaewon glanced over at you again.

“Okay, be honest,” she said, tilting her head as she studied you. “Do you feel good?”

You thought about it, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your skirt. “Yeah,” you said after a moment, surprised by how true it felt. “I think I do.”

“Good,” she said, her grin widening. She grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair and threw it on. “Because tonight is going to be fun. I promise.”

Her optimism was infectious, and as you grabbed your own coat and followed her to the door, you found yourself starting to believe her. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You needed optimism. You needed something to distract you from the quiet storm that had been swirling in your mind ever since that night. You hadn’t told Chaewon about Jeno, about how he’d stayed at your apartment, how the two of you had crossed boundaries you hadn’t even known you were capable of crossing. It wasn’t something you did—hooking up with someone you’d barely met felt entirely too intimate, too raw, too unfamiliar.

And yet, it had happened. You could still feel the weight of his hands on your hips, the way his lips moved against yours like he was trying to memorize every second. It had been so much more than you expected��charged, overwhelming, and impossibly tender.

Maybe that was why you hadn’t reached out to him. The feelings it stirred in you were too intense, too complicated to sort through. You didn’t even know where you would begin if you tried to explain it to Chaewon. So, you’d kept it to yourself, burying it under the routine of settling into your new life here.

But as you walked out the door into the crisp evening air, you couldn’t help but wonder if the memory of him would follow you tonight. Would the warmth of his voice, the heat of his gaze, creep back in when you least expected it? You shook the thought away, determined to focus on the present, to let Chaewon’s easy laughter and excitement pull you into something lighter, something that didn’t weigh so heavily on your chest.

For now, you just needed to keep moving forward.

The Uber ride was quiet except for Chaewon humming softly to her playlist, tapping her fingers against her thigh to the beat. You stared out the window, the dim city lights reflecting faintly in the glass, a small pit of nervousness forming in your stomach. Chaewon had been so excited about tonight, her enthusiasm almost contagious, but as you neared the house, the faint pulse of music vibrating through the cold air made you grip your coat tighter.

“You’ll be fine,” Chaewon said suddenly, breaking the silence. She turned to you with a knowing smile, as if she could read your thoughts.

“I didn’t say anything,” you replied, glancing at her.

“Your face did,” she shot back, her tone light but laced with warmth. “Look, it’s just a party. You don’t have to love it, but you do have to at least pretend to try.”

You sighed, sinking back into your seat. “You sound like my mom,” you muttered, earning a laugh from her.

“Good. Then maybe you’ll listen,” she teased, nudging your arm gently.

By the time the car pulled up in front of the house, the music was pounding, loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Chaewon opened her door eagerly, stepping out and holding it open for you as she gestured toward the sprawling house.

“Here we go,” she said brightly.

The house was chaos. People spilled out onto the lawn, some holding red cups, others perched on the porch steps laughing or smoking. Inside, the energy was even more overwhelming—music thumped from every corner, the floor vibrating with the bass as a sea of bodies danced, talked, or hovered around the kitchen counters stacked with bottles.

“This is insane,” you murmured, your eyes darting around the packed living room.

Chaewon grabbed your arm gently, steering you through the crowd. “It’s college. Welcome to your first real party.”

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and faint traces of weed. Every corner seemed occupied—people were dancing with abandon in the middle of the room, making out in the dimly lit hallway, or lounging on the staircase like they owned the place.

You felt entirely out of place, gripping the plastic cup Chaewon had handed you so tightly that your knuckles whitened. She, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, weaving through the crowd like she belonged there, greeting people with quick hugs and easy smiles.

“Relax,” she said over her shoulder, noticing your stiff posture. “You’re not going to bite anyone.”

You tried to force a smile, the knot in your stomach tightening as you glanced around again. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted.

“Of course, you can,” she replied, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “Just breathe. Parties are about letting loose—not thinking too much. You’ve got this.”

“Whose party is this, anyway?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the music.

“Lee Jeno’s,” she said casually, but her grin widened as she saw your expression shift.

“Jeno,” you both said at the same time, though your voice was softer, more disbelieving.

Your eyes scanned the room again, and then you saw him.

Jeno stood near the staircase, his presence commanding without even trying. His dark hair was effortlessly tousled, framing sharp features that seemed almost unfairly perfect under the dim lighting. He wore a plain white shirt, the fabric clinging slightly to the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, the faint outline of muscle visible every time he shifted. His black trousers hung low on his hips, loose but just fitted enough to hint at the lean strength of his frame, his entire demeanor radiating a casual confidence that made it impossible to look away.

He was surrounded by people, their laughter too loud, their smiles too eager, as though just being near him was enough. And yet, his gaze seemed distant, uninterested in the crowd orbiting him like moths to a flame, making his magnetism even harder to ignore.

The room around you seemed to dissolve the moment his gaze found yours, the faintest flicker of recognition sparking in his dark eyes. His smile pulled at the corner of his lips slowly, as if he was savoring the moment, deliberate and laced with something you couldn’t name. He leaned closer to the group he was with, murmuring a few words that had them nodding, though his focus didn’t waver from you.

Each step he took in your direction felt unhurried yet purposeful, his frame cutting through the crowd with an ease that drew glances and whispers. His shirt clung lightly to the defined curve of his chest, his shoulders moving fluidly under the fabric. When he stopped in front of you, his eyes lingered, sweeping over your face in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Hi,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, yet his lips twitched, like he’d heard every syllable.

“Hi,” he replied, his tone soft, the single word brushing the air between you like a touch. His gaze flicked to your mouth for a brief second before returning to your eyes, a question hanging unspoken.

He tilted his head, his expression calm but intent, the faintest crease forming between his brows. His voice dipped lower, quieter, as he spoke. “You haven’t answered any of my messages.”

Your heart jumped, the guilt bubbling up before you could stop it. “I know,” you murmured, looking down at your drink. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know what to say.”

Jeno’s expression softened, though the intensity of his gaze didn’t waver. “You could’ve started with ‘hi,’” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You let out a shaky laugh, lifting your eyes to meet his again. “I guess I could have,” you admitted quietly.

His eyes moved over you slowly, unhurried but purposeful, as though he was trying to memorize every detail. When his gaze finally met yours again, his teeth caught his bottom lip, a subtle movement that only emphasized the tension etched into his expression. There was no smirk, no teasing glint in his eyes—just something raw and unfiltered that made your heart lurch.

“You look pretty,” he said, his voice low and steady, each word carrying a quiet conviction that left no room for doubt. His lips parted slightly as though he might say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he held your gaze, his eyes locked on yours like he was waiting for your reaction, waiting for you to understand just how much he meant it.

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the compliment. “Mmm, you look good too,” you said, your tone soft and unsteady as your eyes roamed over him.

He smiled, the corner of his mouth tugging upward just enough to reveal a hint of mischief. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice quiet but deliberate.

“Me too,” you replied, though the words felt heavy on your tongue.

He chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “You sure? Doesn’t sound like you’re having fun.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “This party isn’t really… my thing,” you admitted.

Jeno placed a hand over his chest, feigning a dramatic wince. “Ouch.”

“No!” you said quickly, laughing nervously. “I’m sure your parties are great. I just—I’m not a party person.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his tone light, teasing.

“Yeah,” you said firmly, though your voice still wavered.

He studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “Stay here, okay?” he said finally, his tone gentler now. “I’ll be back. Give me five minutes.”

You nodded, your breath catching as you watched him disappear into the crowd. The space he left behind felt stark, like the absence of him created a vacuum you couldn’t ignore. The buzz of the party pressed back in slowly, but the air felt different now—charged with the weight of unspoken questions and quiet murmurs that seemed to ripple outward.

You became hyperaware of the stares. People’s gazes flicked between you and the direction Jeno had gone, their whispers barely audible over the music but unmistakable. Girls leaned into one another, exchanging quick glances and hushed words, their eyes darting toward you before quickly looking away. The weight of their attention made your chest tighten, heat rising to your cheeks as you struggled to process the shift.

“Y/N.”

Chaewon’s hand closed around your arm, her grip firm but not harsh as she turned you to face her. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and something that bordered on awe, her eyes wide as she searched your face.

“What just happened?” she demanded, her voice louder than you expected, cutting through the noise of the party.

You hesitated, your chest tightening as you struggled to find the right words. “Me and Jeno met before,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper, almost drowned out by the thumping bass.

Chaewon blinked, her jaw slackening as she processed your words. “You what?” she asked, the pitch of her voice rising slightly. “When? Did you—did you sleep with him?”

Your face flushed, the heat spreading down your neck as you shook your head quickly. “No, we only made out,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. “It was after I met him on campus, and he showed me around.”

Chaewon stared at you like you’d just confessed to something outrageous, her mouth opening and closing as though she couldn’t decide what to say first. Her grip on your arm loosened slightly, but her expression only grew more incredulous.

“Y/N,” she said finally, her tone slow, deliberate, like she needed to make sure you understood the gravity of what you’d just said. “Do you even know who Lee Jeno is?”

You gave her a blank look, unsure where she was going with this. “What do you mean?”

She let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, rolling her eyes dramatically before leaning in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s, like, the most well-known guy on campus. Everyone knows him. He’s smart, he’s hot, he’s on the basketball team, and he’s practically impossible to get close to. People talk about him like he’s some kind of campus legend. And you’re telling me you just… made out with him?”

Her words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking into your chest as you replayed that night in your head. Jeno had been all of those things—charming, confident, and entirely out of your league—but in the quiet of your apartment, he hadn’t felt untouchable. He’d felt real, grounded, like he wasn’t the larger-than-life figure Chaewon was describing but just… Jeno.

“I didn’t know,” you admitted, your voice small, almost drowned out by the pounding music.

Chaewon shook her head in disbelief, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. “Of course you didn’t. That’s why this is insane. You’re just sitting here like it’s no big deal when half the girls in this room would kill to be you right now.”

You looked away, your gaze drifting to the crowd as the whispers continued to ripple around you. The weight of their attention was suffocating, but it wasn’t their stares or even Chaewon’s words that lingered. It was Jeno—his calm, deliberate presence, the way his voice dipped when he spoke to you, the way his eyes lingered like he was seeing something no one else could.

Before you could respond, Jeno reappeared, a black jacket now draped over his shoulders, zipped halfway up to combat the chill of the night. The stark contrast of the dark fabric against the white of his shirt only made him look more striking, the clean lines of his lean frame framed perfectly. A bag was slung casually over one shoulder, his fingers curled loosely around the strap. His dark eyes, calm yet intent, settled on you with an ease that made your stomach flip.

“Wanna come?” he asked, his voice low, the casual tone of his question at odds with the intensity of his gaze.

You blinked, startled by the suddenness of his words. “What?”

“You think that the party’s dead,” he said simply, his lips curving into a faint smirk that felt more intimate than playful. “So let’s leave.”

Your heart raced as you stared at him, the heat of his attention making it hard to focus. The room around you seemed to blur, the noise fading into the background as his hand extended toward you, steady and certain. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers slipping into his warm grasp.

You didn’t question it. Instead, you smiled softly, the corners of your lips twitching upward as you let him pull you closer. The smell of his cologne—a faint, woodsy scent with an edge of something sharp—lingered as he leaned in, his lips brushing so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, the words barely audible over the thrum of the party, but they landed squarely in your chest, making your breath catch.

Your eyes darted around quickly, taking in the crowd of people that still lingered nearby, their whispers and glances now tinged with curiosity. You bit your lip, your gaze flicking back to his as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Later,” you promised softly, your voice trembling just slightly, though the smile you gave him was steady.

Jeno’s lips twitched into a knowing grin, his dark eyes holding yours for a moment longer before he nodded. He tightened his grip on your hand gently, leading you toward the door with a quiet confidence that felt impossible to resist.

As the two of you weaved through the crowd, the whispers grew louder, people openly staring now as they watched him leave—watched you leave with him. The thrum of the music seemed almost muffled compared to the pounding in your chest, and as you reached the door, the cool night air washed over you like a sharp inhale.

“Wait,” you said suddenly, a gasp slipping past your lips. “You’re leaving your own party?”

Jeno glanced back at you, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he said easily, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s my party. I can do what I want.”

His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge of sincerity in the way he looked at you—like he meant every word. And before you could question it further, he squeezed your hand, pulling you closer as the two of you stepped into the night.

Jeno had taken you to a secluded spot along the riverbank, where the city lights shimmered faintly on the water and the distant hum of the party was little more than a memory. The air was crisp, the faint scent of the river mingling with the promise of snow, but Jeno seemed entirely unbothered by the chill. He led you to a cozy bench overlooking the river, the kind of spot that felt impossibly picturesque, where a blanket and a small bag of snacks were waiting.

“I told you, best view of the fireworks,” he said, his voice calm yet confident, as if the quiet intimacy of the moment had been crafted just for you.

You smiled at the gesture, settling onto the blanket he’d spread over the bench. Before you could fully take in the setting, Jeno’s attention shifted to a nearby vendor, where a small cart steamed with the rich scent of hot chocolate. Without asking, he stood and wandered over, returning moments later with two cups in hand.

“Here,” he said, handing one to you, his hand brushing yours in a way that made your breath hitch. The warmth of the cup seeped through your gloves, but it was his quiet, thoughtful gesture that really sent a shiver down your spine.

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing up at him as he settled back beside you.

He smiled, soft and easy, before taking a sip of his own. “Hot chocolate always makes the cold easier to deal with,” he said lightly, the nonchalance in his tone almost making you laugh.

You took a tentative sip, the rich, velvety taste warming you from the inside out. “You’re right,” you admitted, nodding slightly as you turned to look at him, your breath visible in the cold night air.

Jeno’s gaze lingered on you, dark and steady, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Told you,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something softer, quieter, as though the space between you had just shrunk.

Conversation had come easily after that, the hot chocolate warming your hands while Jeno’s presence seemed to settle the nerves that had been simmering since the night began. You talked about the most mundane things—classes, favorite foods, what New Year’s resolutions you’d already broken—and yet, the simplicity of it all felt impossibly intimate.

Still, it wasn’t long before the conversation gave way to something quieter, something heavier. Jeno’s hand brushed yours as he set his cup down, and the warmth of his touch lingered, sparking a need for closeness that you hadn’t anticipated.

His lips found yours in a kiss that was as gentle as the snow beginning to fall around you. At first, it was soft, exploratory, his hand cupping your cheek as though he was afraid to break you. But as you leaned into him, your fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, the kiss deepened, his lips pressing firmer against yours with a hunger that felt both cautious and consuming.

The fireworks began to crackle faintly in the distance, but you hardly noticed, your focus completely on the way Jeno’s mouth moved against yours. His breath hitched as you tilted your head, your lips parting just slightly, and he took the opportunity to pull you closer, his hands settling on your waist with a confidence that made your heart race.

Every time you tried to pull back, his gaze would catch yours, his eyes dark and intense, as though he couldn’t let you go even for a moment. And when he kissed you again, it wasn’t rushed—it was deliberate, a quiet exploration that left you dizzy and clinging to him.

“Jeno,” you murmured against his lips, though you weren’t even sure what you wanted to say.

He smiled into the kiss, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck. “Yeah?” he whispered, his tone playful but weighted, like he already knew the answer.

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping as your fingers tightened slightly on his jacket. “Nothing,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, unwilling to let the moment break.

The fireworks continued overhead, lighting the sky in bursts of color, but neither of you paid them much attention. Every touch, every kiss, every soft sigh seemed to pull you deeper into the warmth of each other, the cold night air fading into irrelevance.

The plan had been to stay here until midnight, to watch the fireworks and celebrate the New Year together. But somewhere in the middle of his kisses, his hands sliding carefully along your sides, his breath warm against your cheek, your resolve shifted.

You didn’t want to wait for midnight.

You wanted him.

And now, somehow, you were here, pressed beneath him on his bed, your body trembling as his warmth consumed you.

The soft cotton of his sheets grounded you, but it was Jeno’s weight above you that anchored you completely, his warmth pressing into every inch of your body like it was made to fit against him. His broad shoulders framed the space above you, his lean, muscled frame draped over yours with a control that made every inch of your skin hyperaware of him. The planes of his chest, taut and warm, brushed against your trembling hands as you clung to him, your fingers curling instinctively into his skin.

His dark eyes stayed locked on yours, a quiet intensity softening into something tender, something that left you breathless and uncertain. His lips hovered close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath, each exhale ghosting across your cheek as his forehead dipped closer, brushing yours with infinite care.

“You need to ease up for me, okay, pretty girl?” he murmured, the gravel in his voice softened by the steady, soothing cadence of his words.

A soft whimper escaped your lips, trembling and unsure, as the stretch of his cock forced a fresh wave of shivers through you. Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips, your body tensing despite his careful pace. Each inch he gave you felt impossibly overwhelming, the fullness of him a constant, steady ache that bordered on too much.

Your chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, the weight of him pushing the air from your lungs with each shift of his hips. A tear slipped free before you could stop it, the overwhelmed sniffle that followed breaking the stillness between you.

“Hey, hey,” Jeno cooed, his hand finding your cheek like it belonged there, cradling you with infinite care. His thumb brushed the tear away before it could roll any further, his gaze softening even as his own breaths grew heavier. “I know, baby. I know it’s a lot.”

His words were gentle but steady, his tone so unwavering it felt like a tether, something to hold onto as your body struggled to adjust. He leaned closer, brushing his lips over the corner of your mouth in a kiss so soft it made your chest ache.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, the heat of his breath grazing your trembling lips. “Just trust me, yeah? I just want to make you feel good. That’s all I want, pretty girl.”

Your breath hitched again, the sound breaking unevenly as you tried to steady yourself beneath him. The weight of his words, the tenderness in his tone, melted into the vulnerability pressing heavy on your chest. You nodded hesitantly, your fingers tightening against the curve of his shoulders as though you needed to anchor yourself to him.

But when you glanced away, embarrassed by the flush of heat crawling up your neck, his hand caught your chin gently, tilting your face back toward him.

“Hey,” he whispered, the warmth in his voice curling around you like a blanket, quiet but unyielding. “Talk to me, baby. I need to know you’re okay.”

Your lips trembled, the words caught somewhere between the lump in your throat and the butterflies swarming in your stomach. “It’s… it’s my first time,” you finally admitted, the words barely audible, your voice breaking under the weight of them.

Jeno’s movements stilled immediately, his broad frame freezing over you as the confession settled between you. His jaw clenched briefly, but the flicker of surprise in his eyes was fleeting, replaced almost instantly by something warmer, softer.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, the reverence in his voice making your chest tighten. His thumb stroked along your cheekbone, his touch steady and patient as though he was trying to tell you everything he felt without saying a word. “I’m so lucky.”

The way he said it, low and aching with sincerity, sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching toward him before you could stop yourself. He kissed you then, his lips capturing yours in a kiss so slow, so deep, it felt like time itself had slowed to accommodate it.

When he pulled back, his breath was heavier, a faint tremor running through him as he studied you. “How are you a virgin?” he asked softly, his voice dipping low enough to send heat curling through your stomach. “If I’d met you sooner… I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off you.”

His words sent a flush of warmth cascading over your skin, your breath stuttering as you tried to respond. But the sincerity in his gaze held you, steadying you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

“Until now,” you whispered, your fingers curling into his shoulders like you needed to hold on to something solid.

His breath hitched, his lips brushing against your temple in a kiss so tender it made your chest ache. “Until now,” he echoed, the reverence in his tone making your stomach flip.

He shifted slightly above you, his hips tilting forward just enough to press deeper, and the stretch sent a sharp gasp tumbling from your lips. His movements stilled instantly, his hand sliding to your waist to steady you as his lips hovered close to your ear.

“Too much?” he asked softly, his voice so gentle it nearly undid you.

You shook your head, your breath catching as you murmured, “Just… just go slow.”

The corners of his lips tugged upward, a faint smile breaking through the intensity of his expression. “I’ll go as slow as you need, baby,” he murmured, his tone steady and sure. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

His lips found yours again, capturing the soft sniffle that escaped as he began to move, each thrust measured and deliberate, his cock dragging against every sensitive part of you. His hands roamed gently over your body, his touch light but grounding as he whispered praises that melted into your skin.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. “Taking me so perfectly. My good girl, always.”

The tenderness in his tone, the heat in his gaze, the deliberate care in every movement—it all combined into something overwhelming and impossibly sweet, a connection that felt far too intimate to put into words. Your walls fluttered around him, the stretch easing as pleasure began to bloom low in your stomach, each gentle thrust coaxing you further into the rhythm of his body.

His forehead pressed to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he murmured, “You’re mine, baby. All mine. No one else gets to see you like this.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach, your hips shifting tentatively against him as the ache dulled into something deeper, sweeter. His hand slid down to cup your hip, guiding you gently as his movements grew slightly more deliberate, the drag of his cock drawing soft whimpers from your throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice cracking as his lips trailed along your jaw. “You feel so good. So perfect for me.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your breath catching as his words melted into your skin, the heat of him overwhelming in the best way. Every inch of him, every touch, every whisper felt like a steady hum of electricity coursing through your veins, and as his lips found yours again, you felt yourself melting into him completely. But the burn was still there—sharp and all-consuming—and before you could stop yourself, your teeth pressed into the curve of his shoulder, a desperate attempt to muffle the whimper that escaped you. Tears slid down your cheeks, your breath trembling as you sniffled, your body shaking beneath him.

Jeno stilled instantly, his voice soft as he cooed at you, the words a balm against the ache. “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing over your temple, your cheek, catching the tears as they fell. “You’re doing so good for me, angel. I’ll go slow, okay? Just the tip, just for you. You’ve got this.”

His thumb swept across your jaw, tipping your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze, dark and molten, filled with nothing but care. “I’ll take care of you,” he promised again, the words dripping with reverence. “You’re my girl. Whatever you need, I’ve got you.”

Your breath hitched as he began to move again, slow and deliberate, every inch of him dragging against the tender stretch inside you. Your hands fumbled for purchase on his shoulders, sliding up to his neck, your touch shaky and desperate. “Jeno,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible, trembling with every word. “You—you feel so good.”

His lips curved into a soft smile, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice thick with warmth, his hips tilting forward in a way that made you gasp.

“So good,” you whispered, your words tumbling out unbidden as heat flushed through your body. “You’re so big—so perfect. God, you fit inside me so well. I don’t—” You broke off, blinking up at him, your lips trembling as your thoughts scattered into a mess of heat and pleasure. “I don’t ever want you to leave. Jeno, your cock—it’s so good. You’re stretching me so perfectly. I can feel every part of you.”

A whimper caught in your throat as you babbled on, your head tipping back against the pillow. “I love it, Jeno. I love how you feel inside me. You’re so deep, so thick—I don’t want it to stop.”

His chuckle was low and rough, vibrating through your chest as he leaned in to press a kiss to your nose. “You’re such a sweet thing,” he murmured, his voice teasing but tender. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. So perfect. I’ll take care of you.”

Your thighs tightened around his waist as he shifted, the motion deliberate, deep, coaxing another broken cry from your lips. His hand slid along your side, pausing to cup your cheek as he brushed his thumb across your skin. “Look at you,” he said softly, his tone filled with awe. “Fucking perfect.”

The words melted into you, your chest tightening as you whimpered again, the sensation of him overwhelming and grounding all at once. “Please don’t stop,” you whispered, blinking up at him with glassy eyes. “Please, Jeno.”

“Never,” he murmured, his lips finding yours in a kiss so soft it made your stomach flutter. “I’ve got you, angel. Always.”

The promise in his words, in his tone, wrapped around you like silk, but even as you nodded, sniffling softly, you could feel the deliberate way his cock edged deeper, the fullness stretching you beyond what you thought possible. It was slow, so slow you could feel every ridge, every vein, and it made your breath hitch, a soft cry escaping your lips as tears slipped free.

“Shh,” he cooed, his forehead pressing harder against yours. “You’ve got this, angel. You’re so fucking perfect.” He shifted his weight slightly, tilting his hips in a way that made the stretch just bearable enough to keep going. “Fuck,” he groaned, the sound low and guttural as he bottomed out, his cock buried to the hilt. “Baby, you feel so fucking good. Like heaven.”

Your walls fluttered around him instinctively, the sensation pulling a soft, broken moan from your lips. “I—it’s so much,” you whimpered, your thighs trembling as you gripped him tighter, your nails digging crescents into his skin.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, kissing the tears from your cheeks, his lips impossibly soft. “I know it’s a lot, but look at you—look how well you’re taking me. God, you’re so good for me.”

Your breath hitched as his hand cradled your face, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek, wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. His gaze stayed locked on yours, warm and consuming, his expression so unguarded it made your chest ache. “Let me see those pretty eyes,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, each word dripping with reverence. “I want to see you, baby. Every part of you.”

You sniffled softly, blinking up at him, your lashes wet, your lips trembling as you melted further into his touch. His thumb lingered against your cheek, slow and gentle, before he leaned in and kissed your temple, soft and lingering.

“There she is,” he murmured, his voice warm and filled with awe. “That’s my girl. So beautiful. So perfect for me.”

When he moved again, it was torturously slow, his cock dragging against every inch of you, the stretch deep and unforgiving, yet impossibly good. Your nails dug into his back, desperate for an anchor as his hips rocked forward, every motion deliberate and controlled. It burned, but the way he filled you, the way his body molded perfectly against yours, had your breath catching.

A soft whimper escaped, your lips parting on a shaky moan. “Jeno…” you breathed, the words trailing off as heat flooded your body, the fullness overwhelming but addictive.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. His hips rolled deeper, and he gritted his teeth, the sound low and guttural. “You’re so tight—so perfect. Like you were made for me.”

Your laugh was light, bubbling out unbidden, and his gaze flicked up, curious but amused, his lips curving into the smallest smile. “What’s funny, huh?” he teased, his tone playful, his hand shifting to cradle the back of your neck.

You shook your head, breathless and flushed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Nothing—nothing. You’re just… God, you’re so sexy.” Your voice cracked on the last word, your thoughts spilling in a soft, frantic rush. “The way you feel, the way you fuck me—it’s so good. You’re so good, Jeno.”

His smile widened, his eyes darkening as his hand slid up to catch yours, lacing your fingers together. “Yeah?” he murmured, kissing you with quiet intensity before guiding your joined hands above your head, pinning them against the pillow. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice dipping lower, filled with something possessive and raw. “I want you to be mine.”

Your breath hitched as he kissed your knuckles, slow and reverent, his other hand tracing your side, holding you steady as he pushed deeper. “I’ll never let go,” he promised, his gaze locked on yours, unwavering. “I’ll always take care of you, angel.”

His hips rolled again, a deliberate press that made you gasp, your head tipping back against the pillow as tears spilled freely. “You feel so good,” you whimpered, your voice breaking, your chest tightening with every drag of his cock. “You’re so perfect. So thick—fuck, you stretch me so good, Jeno.”

He groaned softly, his lips brushing yours in a fleeting kiss. “You love how I feel inside you, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice rough, teasing, but tender all the same.

“I love it,” you admitted, the words slipping out in a trembling rush. “I love your cock—it’s so big, so perfect. I never want you to stop.”

His grip on your hands tightened, his forehead dropping to yours as his lips curved into a smile. “You’re something else,” he murmured, chuckling softly, his breath fanning across your lips. “You’re incredible, baby.”

Your body trembled beneath him, every motion, every word sending a ripple of warmth through you. The intimacy of it, the way his hands never left yours, the way his eyes held yours, made you feel like you were falling deeper into him with every passing second.

“You’re everything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth before his lips trailed to your jaw, his hips moving in a slow, devastating rhythm. “So fucking perfect, angel. My perfect girl. You’re all I’ll ever need.”

And when his gaze found yours again, dark and filled with unspoken promises, you knew he meant it. His movements stayed soft, measured, every drag of him a reminder of just how much he wanted you—how much he adored you. His hand never left yours, his grip steady and unwavering, as if to say he’d never let go. You believed him. In every touch, every word, every breath, you believed him completely.

The rhythm of his thrusts slowed, each one deliberate, the deep press of him inside you stealing the breath from your lungs. Your body arched against his, desperate to meet every movement, and the sound of his name fell from your lips in broken cries that only seemed to spur him on. His cock dragged against every sensitive part of you, and the stretch—sharp at first, now addictively sweet—had your thighs trembling around his waist.

“Fuck,” Jeno groaned, his forehead pressed to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every ragged breath. His hand slid along your side, tracing the curve of your waist as if he needed to feel every part of you. His other hand tangled with yours, pinning it above your head, his grip steady and possessive. “You’re so perfect, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “So tight, so warm. God, you feel like heaven.”

Your fingers curled around his, clutching onto him like he was your lifeline. “Jeno,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the words. “You—oh my God—you feel so good. So deep. I never—” Your breath hitched, your head tipping back as his hips rolled again, deeper this time, hitting a spot that sent white-hot pleasure spiraling through your body.

“Never what?” he teased softly, his lips brushing over your jaw, his tongue flicking against your skin in a way that made you shiver. “Tell me, baby. Never what?”

“Never felt like this,” you admitted, your voice cracking as a moan slipped free. “Never had anyone… like you. Fuck, you’re so perfect, Jeno. You fit so good—so big. I don’t ever want you to leave.”

He groaned, the sound vibrating through your chest as he captured your lips in a kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in slow, languid strokes. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “You’re mine, angel. Always.”

The intimacy of it, the way his body moved against yours, the way his eyes never left yours, made your chest ache with something deeper than desire. His movements were slow but devastating, every thrust deliberate, his cock dragging against your walls with a precision that had you clinging to him, your nails scraping along his back.

“Jeno,” you whimpered again, your voice a desperate plea as the pressure built low in your stomach, coiling tighter with every second.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips brushing over yours. “Let go for me, baby. I’ll catch you. Always.”

And then, just as the tension inside you reached its breaking point, the faint sound of fireworks filtered through the room, muffled but distinct, a symphony of crackles and booms that seemed to echo the chaos in your body.

Jeno chuckled softly, the sound warm and low in your ear. “Happy New Year, beautiful,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

You giggled, the sound mixing with a soft, breathless moan as your body tightened around him, the pleasure too much to contain. “Happy New Year,” you managed to whisper back, your voice trembling with affection and something deeper, something bigger than either of you.

His hips rolled again, the deep, steady rhythm pushing you over the edge, and when your release hit, it came in a wave that left you trembling beneath him. Your walls clenched around him, pulling a guttural groan from his throat as his movements faltered, his body shuddering with his own release. He buried himself deep, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer as you clung to him, your arms tightening around his neck.

The fireworks outside crackled louder, their light seeping faintly through the curtains as his lips found yours again, soft and lingering. His hand stayed wrapped around yours, his grip firm, as his other hand smoothed over your side, grounding you with the warmth of his touch.

“You’re everything,” he murmured against your lips, his voice steady now, filled with quiet reverence. “Everything I’ve ever wanted.”

And in that moment, as his warmth surrounded you, his touch anchoring you in a way no one else ever had, you knew you’d never forget this. The way he fit against you, the way he held you like he never wanted to let go, the way he made you feel like you were everything.

[hwnglx]

pick a pile - you in your own eyes vs. you in your fs' eyes

welcome lovely reader! let's take a peak into how you view yourself, compared to how your future lover will view you. breathe slowly, take your time and use your intuition to go with the pile that speaks to you the most. remember to take what resonates, and leave what doesn't. 𓆩♡𓆪

°❀⋆.pile 1ೃ࿔*:･

you in your own eyes

you see yourself as someone who isn't very easily impressed or satisfied. you might struggle with chronic pessimism and seeing the brighter side of things sometimes and seem aware of it. you are manifesting a better life for yourself.

you might lack substantial belief and trust in yourself to do well, and see yourself as someone who's more of capable of hoping and wishful thinking, rather than courageously taking the initiative and acting on your desires.

you believe you don't have the needed tools to follow your dreams just yet (financially, mentally or in terms of maturity) you also might be afraid of change; this could result in a habit of just staying in your comfort zone in the end.

you might see yourself as someone who's still too immature and inexperienced. not sure why this came through, but some of you might even think that you just aren't overly smart. (spirit is telling me you're wrong!) you might feel like a late bloomer who's been a little stagnant in their life or slower in your growth compared to others. a lot of comparing yourself to other people here.

i heard “dreamer with a heavy heart” from the song cruel world by faye. perhaps you could connect to that song; it talks about feeling like the world just challenges you continuously, but the dreamer inside of you remaining alive despite the hurt.

you might think that you're quite alone in this world. someone who's just used to being on your own, doing things on your own. you see yourself as a person who tries lighting their own path instead of relying on anyone else.

you see yourself as someone who's constantly wishing to learn from the things that life throws at you, and turning every life lesson into something that helps you grow.

you might experience fomo sometimes; fear of missing out.

it does seem as if you're still trying your best to hold on to this glimmer of hope within you.. you're aware that you're someone who could make it happen, if only they took a leap of faith.

you're very humble, dedicated and eager to learn at heart, so deep down you acknowledge that the potential and desire is there. you just aren't sure how to translate it into reality.

i think you're in the midst of slowly healing from negative experiences, which have had a profound impact on you. you're trying to practice self-forgiveness and letting go of the past, but still might struggle with self-doubts and insecurities.

you in your fs' eyes

your fs will see you as someone resilient with a strong personality, who's had to endure a lot of challenges and conquer many obstacles in their life. this gave you thick skin.

they might look at you as a person who wasn't as easy to get to, because you do have your walls up at first, and people need to prove themselves to you before they can get past them. they look at you as someone who's protective of their own space, and doesn't allow people to access them as easily.

their first impression might consist of seeing you in snappy defensive mode, where you had to stand up for yourself.

they'll think that you're someone independent who challenges the status quo; focused on first and foremost, going after what you set yourself up to, unafraid to stand out and be different. a person who's more interested in following their own rules, instead of joining the crowd or blending in.

your fs looks at you as a person who's determined to build their own financial stability and independence before relying on anyone else to do it.

which is interesting, because i do think this person could be relatively well off and wanting to provide you, but you don't seem very interested in basking in anyone else's money.

they could see you as marriage material quite quickly and think about building a future together, but soon after might realize you're not someone eager to jump into a commitment as such, if you don't feel secure in yourself first.

this has the potential to humble them quite a bit, and awaken the realization that you're someone more self-sufficient; and if anyone feels the desire to be with you, they gotta remain patient and consistent in their efforts.

you seem like a person who can make people work for your attention in order to understand the value of it, which your fs is likely to take notice of and feel even more intrigued by.

it's possible your fs isn't really used to people playing hard to get with them, which is why you might stand out a lot.

°❀⋆.pile 2ೃ࿔*:･

you in your own eyes

you see yourself as artistic, creative, passionate and warm.

you might believe that you're the type of person who's quite sure of what they want in material or financial terms, ready to realize your ambitions and goals in a bold manner; but with a soft spot when it comes to their emotional world.

like you usually have a strong character, but some sappy little things might still get you all sensitive, teary-eyed and emotional. some of you might be a little embarrassed about this too. (don't be, it's very endearing)

i feel like some of you might have fire suns with water moons

you might see yourself as a dreamy person, who's in love with the concept and idea of being in love. someone who often finds themselves seeking romance and everything it entails.

you look at yourself as a person who tries to find beauty in everything they do; just loving to romanticise life and its little things. you might love and identify a lot with art, music, etc.

at the same time, you seem to be aware of how you definitely are not as easy as you appear to be, and for sure find yourself cautious of people trying to take advantage of you.

like i see you as a person who can be willingly delusional sometimes just to beautify life a little bit, but absolutely not as a person who's easily fooled or played with.

it's almost like the more people get to know you, the easier it is for them to spot your more sensitive and soft side. the rest might see more of your more fiery and strong sides, since that's usually how you present yourself to the outside.

it seems like as time went on, you've learnt to be more wary of people's motives and intentions, and understood the importance of cultivating clear boundaries in terms of how closely you connect to others, and how much you let them in.

you can have your outgoing and social moments, but it's likely you've become good at keeping a healthy inner distance to a lot of people you're surrounded by; almost like making them believe they're your friend, when in your eyes they're not really.

you also might see yourself as someone who's not afraid to fight when necessary; a person who will not allow others to step all over them. you'll step over them twice as hard.

i see a lot of this inner fierceness inside of you coming from potential trust issues; not always feeling like everyone has your best interests at heart. you might have been betrayed a few times, which has taught you to be more cautious, and just keeping certain, more personal things to yourself.

you in your fs' eyes

your fs sees you as a vibrant and charismatic person, who has this very radiant and captivating presence to them.

they might feel like the world stops whenever they look at you; you make everyone and everything else feel less important.

their first impression is likely to consist of you being this attractive, charming and confident person, who has an inspiring and intriguing effect on them.

similarly to pile 3, they're likely to look at you as a person who's quite different to them in a variety of ways; whether that's your ethnicity, culture, views, beliefs, lifestyle, upbringing.

your fs sees in you, someone who can pull this spark of energy and motivation out of situations others would feel sad about.

like the type of person who's just eager to gets the spirits up if the mood ever gets too gloomy and negative.

they look at you as a bright and powerful person, who doesn't like dwelling on the past and isn't easily beat down by their losses, but on the contrary, sees them as an opportunity for a new and potentially even better start.

example, they might watch you go through a break up and wonder how much it'd affect you emotionally, just for you to get back up and appear as confident and vibrant as ever.

you're giving a person who has the best break-up glow ups.

like you wanna prove to whoever lost out on you, that it in no way is your loss, but definitely is theirs. it's giving princess diana black revenge dress.

as the connection progresses, it's likely for your fs to see you more and more as someone they'd want to settle down and start a family with.

for my girls out there; your fs might quite literally, want you to be the mother of their children. they're likely to look at you as someone who has great potential to be a mother, because you're so multi-facetted and wellrounded.

in your fs eyes', not only are you a strong, independent and self-sufficient character who's capable of confidently taking charge of situations, but you're also immensely nurturing, caring and kind towards the people dearest to you.

they think that you hold a lot of empathy and genuine love for the special people in your life, and have this natural ability to make them feel understood, and taken care of.

i thought of this moment when justin bieber talked about seeing hailey bieber with a baby and thinking “she is the one.”

also, this keeps coming through; they just think you're beautiful. like.. so so pretty. they might stare at you a lot.

“i could look at you all day and never get sick of the sight.”

°❀⋆.pile 3ೃ࿔*:･

you in your own eyes

you see yourself as a bit of a lone-wolf, someone who doesn't feel understood by many people, and doesn't really feel like they always fit into too many places.

a person who's in continuous search of their true belonging, and their spot where they feel safe and comfortable.

you think of yourself as a deep, reflective and introspective person who seeks profound understanding of yourself and life. you might be aware of how you need alone-time, as well as times of peace and quiet to recharge.

you long to find your own identity and true purpose, outside of what other people want or expect from you.

some of you might even feel the desire to move overseas in hopes that the change of environment could help you step into your power and strength more. there's some feelings of.. feeling like you're not where you should be, and believing that your current environment doesn't serve you. this isn't where you see your best self thriving and blossoming.

some of you might be using your spirituality to manifest a better life, and spend a lot of time on the internet trying to find guidance and ways to manifest your dream life.

you simply do not see yourself as a person, who's okay with just allowing others to take control of what you do, or your life.

you see yourself as a very driven person, who once they set their mind to something, absolutely have to get it done. like tunnel vision, this is what i want and nothing else.

while at the same time, you usually aren't someone who acts on a completely impulsive whim; you try your best to make all your decisions based on logic and reason.

you might recognize yourself as being a fairminded person, who's eager to balance your focus on your goals and your strong determination, with the importance to remain responsible and just in the way you get there.

there might be a struggle in you, between following the path you deem as best for yourself, while also making sure the people around you don't have to suffer because of it.

this dilemma between serving yourself, and serving others.

the dilemma between standing out, and fitting in.

you're strong, pile 3.. i know the road here wasn't easy, but you're persevering and doing an absolutely applaudable job.

you in your fs' eyes

your fs will view you as someone who's quite different to them. a person who's like a breath of fresh air.

they might notice that you hold beliefs different to them, proceed with things differently or approach certain situations differently, and therefore intrigue them majorly.

they'll look at you as a person who can transform them. someone who has the potential to change their life in a significant and impactful manner.

they also could see you as someone quite unpredictable, who always brings something new and fresh to the table.

your fs could be someone with masculine energy, potential earth sign. they're someone who's work-oriented, mature, possibly older than you in age, good with money and has a strong sense of responsibility.

they will see you as a person who's much more in tune with their emotions than them, and has this beautiful sense of empathy, and compassion for the people around them.

a loving person who supports others in a gentle and caring manner, and has a comforting and warm effect on them.

they will like how you bring this new sense of affection into their environment.

you could help them steer their gaze away from work work work, and make them believe in the beauty of love again.

like this person will literally have their fantasies awakened because of you. you will make them believe that soulmates are real, and that they finally found their person in you.

the puzzle piece they didn't know was missing in their lives.

it's almost like “how am i so attracted to pile 3.. when they're so different to me?” you'll quite literally have them wrapped around your finger.

this person might be someone who's usually quite stubborn and stuck in their ways, but something about your unique existence will change that; they'll want to understand someone else's opinions for a change.

they'll truly feel this desire to put themselves into your shoes and look at things from your point of view. you might quite literally teach them what empathy means.

both of you give the vibe of someone more independent, but are likely to change that for each other.

like you will make your fs want to be alone together with someone; that person will be you. and vice versa.

you'll find home in each other.

oh i could go on & on about this pile, the energy is so sweet

even as i started shuffling, i already began going into full on dreamy lovey-dovey 🥰 mode

[athenalvss]

ITS ALL GOOD MISS

summary: Dick has a lot of fun creating awkward moments when social services come to check on him at Wayne Manor.

a/n: I was reading Batman and Robin Year One and well, I'm a little obsessed with the dynamic that Bruce and Dick had.

pairing: Bruce wayne x civil! fem reader; Dick grayson x batmom

open request - batmom masterlist

It had only been a couple of weeks since Dick had arrived at his new life at Wayne Manor, the young boy had entered that home like a ray of sunshine, determined to move forward with his life despite the traumatic loss of his parents right before his eyes.

Dick Grayson was a special boy, with an energy that was too much for his small body, eager to help and be a part of anything offered to him, as long as it wasn't homework or school stuff.

Dick's arrival at the mansion had been something positive for Bruce, on more than one occasion Alfred had been surprised to see him smile, or when he was busy in the kitchen laughter could be heard echoing off the large walls of the Batcave, he was beginning to believe that it was a good idea for Bruce to decide to bring the boy.

But there were many people who weren't so happy about this. At the child protection services offices, they were a little surprised, and not in a good way. They were waiting for the day when they could take the child out of their hands.

Why would a billionaire, living his prime as a playboy, adopt an orphaned child who would be traumatized for life by the murder of his parents?

For that very reason, everyone at the mansion was more than attentive to Miss Lyn's imminent visit.

Well...,actually just you and Alfred were attentive to it, Bruce and Dick were very busy training, going out at night and returning in the early hours of the morning taking advantage of the fact that Dick was still on vacation.

Your relationship with Bruce was private, not to use the word secret since you weren't hiding from anyone, but keeping a lower profile would avoid certain harassment from Gotham's pesky prey.

You weren't interested in being on the cover of a tabloid or being named Woman of the Month in venomous columns. You knew what you had with Bruce, and he was more than happy to keep him out of the spotlight. There would be time to take pictures of you together once them found out you were getting married.

"Do you think she's going to give us trouble?"

"I don't doubt it," Alfred said, pouring the tea. "But this family has seen worse, miss."

Just then, hurried footsteps were heard. Dick was coming down the stairs, his training uniform half-buttoned and wearing a huge smile, while Bruce followed him with a calmness that could only be feigned.

"Is the paper lady here yet?" Dick asked, stopping in front of you.

"Not yet," you replied, lowering yourself to his level to straighten his shirt. "But she'll be here any moment. Are you ready to act like an angel?"

Dick nodded enthusiastically, and you smiled. He was a sweet boy, one who deserved to stay. One who was finding a way to move on with his life and have a better future.

And when the bell rang, everyone looked at each other for a second.

"Dick, go to the study and sit there, don't make a fuss and behave yourself," Bruce ordered the boy and turned his body to continue down the hallway.

Bruce walked down the long hallway, reaching the mansion's front door. Meanwhile, you stood with Alfred in the kitchen, your hands slightly shaky as you arranged the homemade cookies on a small porcelain platter. As if that could change anything. As if the scent of butter and vanilla could soften the judgment in the caseworker's eyes.

"It won't help if you bite your nails," Alfred told you without even looking at you, while he poured the tea with his usual precision.

"I'm not eating them," you said, even though you had already brought your thumb to your lips three times without realizing it.

"You can tell from your face, miss," Alfred added with a half smile. It was his way of comforting you.

You tried to take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on what you could control. You'd been there since Dick arrived. You'd seen him wake up from nightmares, heard him laugh himself silly in the backyard, and helped him understand that his life hadn't ended with that jump without a net in the circus.

And if that woman came with the intention of taking him away, you would have something to say.

On the other side of the mansion, Miss Lyn presented herself with exactly the air you had expected: professional, impassive, and with a clipboard in her hand that seemed to weigh more than any sentence.

"Mr. Wayne," she greeted in a high, measured voice. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Come in" was all Bruce said, moving aside for her to enter.

In the kitchen, you cleared the tray of cookies and tea, feeling your heart pounding. Alfred glanced at you and nodded gently, as if to say, "It's your turn now."

Because even though your name wasn't on any document, even though the press didn't know who you were, within those walls you were also part of that family.

You were just entering the living room when you heard Miss Lyn's voice speaking to Bruce. "Bruce, you're the one who provoked all this questioning by presenting yourself as a tutor, even though you're single and have a reputation for... too much socializing."

Your eyebrow rose without being able to help it. Too much socializing. What a polite way of saying irresponsible playboy, you thought as you took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open with your hip, walking in with the tray in hand.

"Tea?" you asked with a calm smile, interrupting the awkward moment. Alfred would be proud of your punctuality.

The woman looked up, clearly surprised by your presence. Her eyes dropped to the tray and then back to you, assessing you as if you were part of her report.

"I didn't know Mr. Wayne had company," he commented neutrally.

"Not many people know that," you said, placing the tray on the table. "And that's how we like it."

Bruce didn't even flinch. He just crossed his arms, letting you handle the situation as only you knew how.

"And you are…?"

"She's my fiancée, Miss Lyn."

Miss Lyn blinked, barely for a second, trying to maintain her composure.

“Oh… I see. Congratulations, then,” she said, though her voice didn’t quite manage to sound natural.

You nodded with a gentle smile, pouring the tea with measured movements, as if the scene didn't intimidate you at all. Bruce, beside you, remained silent, but his posture relaxed slightly.

The conversation continued for a few more minutes, with questions about Dick's routine, his study habits, his emotional state. Bruce answered in short but clear sentences. You added details when necessary, with the same calmness with which you served the cookies.

"I hope you don't mind if I want to talk to the boy alone. I want to make sure he's safe."

"You have my word as Wayne and as a trauma survivor that the boy is safe in this house." Bruce looked at her seriously and showing great confidence in his words, he looked at the woman and guided her to the door. "Come with us, ask him yourself, he's waiting for you in the study."

The three of you stood in front of the large door of the study where Dick was, but as he had said before, Dick is a boy with great energy, and a little unconscious given his age.

When you opened the door, the first image you saw was Dick doing a somersault through the air, the large lamps in the room were in motion, revealing that he had grazed them when he jumped, leaving Bruce and you totally scared, not for him, but for Miss Lyn who looked at the whole situation with surprise and a look of horror.

"Hello," Dick greeted cheerfully. "Please hold your applause," as he stood grandly in the study chair.

You quickly gave him a reprimanding look and quickly walked over to his side. "Dick... for God's sake" you whispered as you guided him toward the door.

The woman looked at Bruce with disgust, who remained serious. "im upset as you are, and no, I don't approve."

── .✦

The next few times Miss Lyn approached Wayne Manor by surprise she got no response, of course someone was always in the mansion, but the people who mattered weren't, so to avoid even bigger problems, you and Alfred decided to go to the garden and enjoy the sunny day while ignoring the sound of the door being knocked.

But you couldn't escape any longer; if you continued ignoring these visits, even more problems would come, but you didn't expect the next visit to be on a Sunday at seven in the morning.

"Alfred, what the hell do we do now? They haven't arrived yet." You came out of the Batcave after hearing the door slam.

"Calm down, we have to stall for time. Take a deep breath, miss." Alfred walked firmly toward the door and opened it as usual. "Miss Lyn! What a surprise! We were expecting you?"

"No, Mr. Pennyworh, wasn't that one of the conditions in Mr. Wayne's contract? Occasional visits?"

"Of course, it's just too early," letting her into the mansion and guiding her to the living room as they continued their conversation.

You stayed there waiting in the living room until they arrived, if Bruce Wayne didn't arrive right now with that child you were going to kill him.

You settled into the armchair with a frown, arms crossed and a cup of coffee in your hands, trying to maintain your composure as Miss Lyn scanned the room, as if looking for dust in the corners or any evidence of neglect.

"Are you often alone with the boy, Miss…?" she asked, taking out her notebook in that inquisitive tone disguised as cordiality.

"That's right, I help him a lot with his homework, and we like to cook too" you replied with a friendly smile, although your eyes were already starting to stop hiding your impatience.

"Cooking?" Miss Lyn repeated, raising an eyebrow, as if it were a potentially dangerous activity. She jotted something down in her notebook. "And what kind of meals do you usually prepare?"

"Whatever he wants," you said, still smiling. "Although he's been obsessing over oatmeal and banana cookies lately."

"Umm, okay, I don't mean to be rude, but where's Mr. Wayne?" Lyn asked, just as a soft metallic sound was heard from the main hallway.

The front door opened with a soft creak, and you immediately turned your head. Bruce strode out, wearing his workout clothes and a towel draped over his shoulder.

"There's nothing like a good morning workout, dear! I..." Bruce stood in the doorway with a calm smile, the complete opposite of everything you were feeling. "Laura! We weren't expecting you here. Alfred, please get something for our guest."

"That won't be necessary Mr. Wayne, I'm just coming for a quick visit to see how Richard is." He looked at his watch.

"Alfred, would you ask Dick to come with us? He probably didn't hear the doorbell. He's quite a slouch."

"Why? What do you do at night when you can't rest?"

"He really likes watching movies. Sometimes we just stare and don't notice," you quickly replied. "My bad."

Then the sound of bare feet on marble broke the silence.

Dick appeared in the hallway, his hair disheveled, his eyes squinting, and his pajamas wrinkled as proof that he had at least tried to look asleep.

"Did someone say my name?" he asked hoarsely, rubbing his eye.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you smiled at him as he approached and hugged you confidently around the waist, resting his head against your side as if seeking comfort.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, gently stroking his hair, checking for any bruises from their nighttime adventures.

"Mmm-hmm. Can I have breakfast now?"

Miss Lyn watched carefully, but something about the way Dick snuggled up to you spoke volumes. There was no coldness in that house. There was no neglect. There were bonds.

"Sure, in a moment," you told him. "But first, Miss Lyn came to see you."

Dick sat up a little, smiling with that mixture of shyness and charm that only he knew how to manage. "Hello Dick! How have you been? What have you been doing?"

"I went swimming"

"And do you like being here at Mr. Wayne's house? What do you think of him?" she asked Dick as she got down to his level.

"I like it, and Bruce is a great teacher."

"Oh yeah? And what has he been teaching you?"

"A lot of things! Do you know what the crime rate is in Gotham?"

[hellowoolf]

something, somehow, someday

chapter 1: your takara | prev | next | series masterlist

series summary: you know you will love satoru for the rest of your life, but when you wake with his cursed energy in your navel there is no option but to flee. what future is there for a child of a god? at 18 satoru is without you, and you make off with a piece of him you hoped he'd never meet.

pairing: secret baby daddy!gojo x reader

tags: secret child trope, angst (lots), eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort (but like…no comfort yet), gojo terrorizing megumi, very very vague descriptions of giving birth (SO abstracted)

a/n: i cannot thank you enough for your love on the prologue i am simply jumping with joy. BOUNCING. thank you <3

ok another authors note?? i meant to schedule this for tomorrow but for some reason tumblr posted it now. i don’t care enough to fix it…so…enjoy :P

18+! minors dni <3

~~~~~~~

2006

the funny thing about pregnancy, YOU think, is that despite how axis-tilting the fact of it may feel, you have ample time to become accustomed. after the initial devastation—and it was nearly fatal to you—of leaving satoru and the rest behind, the shock of composing this godly thing in your body ebbs. you’d come to the conclusion that it would grow nonetheless, the wingspan of the color and the power and the life of them is ceaseless. this child would be born, you would be their mother. there isn’t much point in surprise, you determine, and so you let that sharp and startled feeling go. it leaves easily.

in the first few months, you begin to wonder whether you were fated for this. your technique being what it is—an ingestion of the earth’s natural cursed energy, a trail of trees and grasses under your feet and hands—has allowed you some familiarity with the act of being a creator. being cast out from your family in pursuit of your cursed technique, too, means you know how to survive somewhat on your own. the tangible particulars of what your life has become are not altogether new. you find a job at a cafe and an apartment close by, work yourself overtime while you only have to care for one body. 

there are moments when the tragedy of being 18 and pregnant and alone dawn on you, but when have you ever fret over the inevitable? and it is so hard, you find, to stay hateful when what you imagine is only a few clumps of cells exudes energy that looks so much like their father’s. 

of course, you miss satoru in a terminal way. that isn’t much of a surprise, either, and you cannot escape him. in the smell of sugar at the cafe, in the plants you grow in your apartment window sills, he is all over them, so potently in your life despite being so factually absent. but you know, too, that his traces remain on you for all the reasons you fell in love with him. he’s like ocean on your hands; dry and invisible but you can still smell the salt. and so much like everything else, you make peace with the constant reminders of the man you love, the father of your child, who is so far away by your own design. the first trimester passes that way, almost mindless, living in the decision you could not help but make, growing used to the growing.

only at your most weak, in the dead of night, do you allow yourself any thought of why this is necessary. an indulgent masochism you did not use to be prone to, you think of how much a target this child would be if the world knew whose it was. techniqueless, your baby would be essentially gone the moment they left you. insurmountably more petrifying, though, was knowing that this baby did have sorcery in them.

you think of this now, watching your ceiling fan spin and spreading your fingers across your stomach. this child, your child, would be tethered to jujutsu. there could be no running, not from this. 

your doctor told you today that your baby is a boy. you sat with your knees tipped inward on the floor, holding the phone to your face, and you’d laughed something waterlogged and conflicted when she said it. there was something terrible about knowing he would look like his father, but there was comfort, too. your love for satoru is unselfish and indiscriminate, even now; you cannot help some unbridled joy that this life you’ve made together will have echoes, like everything else in the scenery of your day-to-day, of him.

when you first ran away to learn jujutsu from your grandmother, she told you stories of her father, who mastered the technique before her. takara: a gift from god. laying in your bed now, thinking still of what your son is doomed to be, you hold your middle tighter, which steadily grows now into the unmissable signs of life. you smile, something soft and small, thinking that this baby is your gift from god, from your satoru. takara. yes, you think. your takara.

~~~~~~~

2007

SATORU has, at 19, felt a great deal. power and fear and hubris and devastation: he has been lost, he has been dead, he has been in love. he takes some level of pride in this disproportionality. it’s what makes him a good guardian to megumi and tsumiki, he thinks, despite how incompetent shoko and yaga seem to believe him to be. 

but nothing has ever felt like this. on the last day of january, stretched in front of a space heater with megumi as snow collects outside the window, satoru’s body straightens, folds, something inside him yawns open. he sits up.

megumi levels him with a stare. “what?”

satoru rubs a hand over his face. it feels like his heart is turning inside of him, like his soul is moving. something deep and fundamental is happening. he’s terrified, for a moment. his silence, unnatural as it is, draws megumi’s attention. he asks again, a little kinder, “what?”

satoru shakes his head. “i don’t know.” he looks at megumi’s little furrowed brow and schools his expression. “i’m fine, sorry. all good.” and for the sake of convincing, though it sounds even more desperate, he says again: “i’m fine.”

megumi only scoffs and turns back to watching the mounting blanket of ice outside, but satoru remains unwell. what the fuck is happening to me? he can only barely stop himself from clutching his chest, from clawing his hands into his body and pulling something out.

he looks around; there are no discernible perturbations in the energy on campus, no physical ailments on or in him. the space heater hums, but the warmth is almost stifling now. 

with a great deal of effort, he lays flat again and tries to calm his breathing. eyes closed, satoru thinks. the sensation beats behind his ribs, kicks from the inside. and as suddenly as it onset, satoru knows: it is familiar. or maybe familial. it feels, almost, like someone from his clan appeared in the area. this is impossible, he knows, but it’s almost unmistakable. he shoots to a standing position and pushes out of the room, disregards megumi’s discontented little “hey!” as he trudges towards shoko’s office.

the door flings open as shoko blows a puff of smoke from her lips. yaga allotted her an office space as soon as they graduated so she could begin healing sorcerers when they returned from missions; she leans both elbows on her desk, exasperated with him already.

“do you know how to knock?”

satoru can’t even rise to that quip, still heaving. “do i have any relatives coming to tokyo?” he asks.

shoko lifts a brow. “satoru why on earth would i know that?”

his eyes are wild as he asks again, breathless: “do i?”

shoko’s exhaustion begins to morph into something different, something like concern, and she puts her cigarette out in the ashtray by her hand. “no, i…no. i mean, i wouldn’t know,” she admits. satoru nods, trying to self soothe, but shoko presses on. “why?”

satoru shakes his head again like he’s trying to free something between his ears. “i don’t know, i’m so fucking freaked out, i was just with megumi and—and all of a sudden i felt….god, i don’t even know.” he looks shoko in the eye now, something fatally serious in his face, “someone related to me is in tokyo. i can feel it, i—i don’t know.”

shoko tilts her head a little to urge him on.

“if a gojo is here, one that i don’t know about, wouldn’t that be…like…bad? terrible?”

at last shoko laughs a little, comforted by the sense that satoru is returning to himself. “i guess. does it matter?”

“yes!” satoru throws his hands up.

“well what do you want from me? you want me to go and scalpel them? be serious.”

satoru scoffs, “no! jesus, i just need help figuring this out.” he’s quiet a moment. “please? help me find out who it is, if it’s anyone?”

shoko tips her head back in her chair and exhales slowly like there’s smoke to release, but her breath comes out clean. satoru is still buzzing, hands trembling at his sides, but the world is clarifying around him, slowly. shoko straightens herself. “if i say yes will you leave my office?”

“will you actually help me if you say yes?”

“yes.”

there’s a sigh shared between them. satoru’s shoulders slump, partially with the weight of this feeling and partially with relief. “okay…okay. thank you.”

he makes his way slowly to where he’d left megumi, dragging his feet a little. this is so uncomfortable. megumi is furious in that tiny way only he is capable of when satoru reenters the room.

“what was that?!”

satoru shrugs. “i don’t know, honestly.” megumi isn’t convinced, and satoru sighs for the thousandth time. “it’s adult stuff.”

megumi doesn’t miss a beat. “you are not an adult.”

“i am too!”

“nuh uh.”

“uh huh!”

megumi imitates him in a voice even squeakier than his real one: “uh huh!”

satoru almost gags on his gasp before smiling a little, despite himself. “you think you can take it, little man?” he asks, only joking halfway. megumi nods. “i thought i felt…i guess…almost like someone i’m related to is closeby. all of a sudden.” megumi remains stone faced. “and i don’t—well, if someone from my clan appeared without me knowing that would be bad, i guess. i think.”

megumi nods and crosses his arms. satoru wonders whether he’s trying to look adult, or if he just is. “aren’t you supposed to be the strongest?”

satoru can’t help but smile and tilt his head. “yes.”

“then what’s the problem? worst case, you fight with them. but you’d win.” satoru nods, pleased even now to be implicitly praised by his greatest critic. “best case, you have a brother. or a sister. or an uncle. i dunno. i like having a sister. why would it be bad?”

satoru can’t answer that. not immediately, anyway. maybe not ever. he decides to grin instead, wry and teasing. “aren’t you, like, three years old? do you even understand what you’re saying?”

megumi clearly doesn’t think very hard before picking up the closest pillow and throwing it at satoru’s head. he cackles, loud and delighted, as he lets it hit him. 

in the end, though, the truth remains; satoru does not know how to let go. not when you left, not when suguru defected, and not now. he is hopeless in the face of his remembering, and there is so much memory in him. mostly he has been as noble as his predispositions allow; he, at your request, has not looked for you, and he has extended the same courtesy to suguru. but this? something wiry and taut has coiled his arteries and snagged his breath, and with no one left to bar him, satoru resolves—engaged in fierce battle with his five-year-old charge—to find whoever tugs at the other end of the line. 

~~~~~~~

YOU cannot remember much from takara’s birth. you remember your own wailing, the sound of it more than the sensation, and you remember realizing you’ve been torn down the middle. you suspect it was the greatest pain you had ever been in, but the memory frays, fuzzy. 

you remember taking him in your arms, though. seeing his eyes squeeze as he screeched just as you had, seeing them open only to heave in air and sob harder, he looked so furious. you wept and laughed at him, the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, a tiny thing even though he came a week late. 

it was almost too obvious to think of it consciously: how much he looked like satoru, even from the first moment. the beginnings of his silver hair, the blue of his eyes, it was all there, your satoru, your takara, bellowing at you. your earlier sense of satoru’s memory as a salt on your hands expounded, made enormous by the life in your grasp, made new. undeniably yours, undeniably his, less like an ocean and more like the sun, even his anger at taking his first breaths gleamed, some invisible illumination. 

he was born january 31, snow pitching outside. all at once you are terrified, overjoyed, a mother, all of a sudden.

~~~~~~~

a/n: ok i know i said i would wait a week before posting the next part but i was excited :) i hope you enjoyed, and let me know if you want to be added to taglist <3<3

taglist: @emochosoluvr @por0u @vraiao

[retiredteabag]

I believe Nanami has always been a gentleman.

Due to the climate that exists, it can be hard to assume the best of people, knowing this, its not impossible to understand that in your time being a classmate of the man, you had previously been led you to figure the opposite of Nanami Kento.

Of course, you simply could not avoid the blatant roll of eyes when Nanami would bend down to retrieve a fallen pencil for his female classmate. Or when he would place an intentional hand on firm objects to protect from the possibility of future harm. And it would be remiss to not add that you had seen the men in your shared classes sigh anytime Nanami would defend a predominantly feminist sentiment in classroom discussions.

By no fault of your own, you had started to believe the masses that would perpetuate the rumor of his “white knight" status.

This assumption that Nanami was simply trying to get into a girls pants. By being kind and gentle with them, and by being a patient, learned, listener.

This idea all came to a front one day while you were on the train ride home.

Overfilled and uncomfortable, you had never felt so unsafe on your commute home than you had in that moment.

Call it hyper vigilance, but you had the intuition to locate a problem before it occurred. And even before the man, now plastered to your side, had weaseled his way into your proximity, you could smell the poor intentions from a mile away.

Fear sprung through you as you felt his body press against your own, you had a million thoughts flood your brain.

Should you shout at him? Make a scene? Would he accuse you of overreacting? Or perhaps you should simply try to move… but where to? You felt so terribly trapped that you couldn’t withhold the gasp that left you at the sudden ripping loss of his unwanted touch.

A commanding voice, unafraid of accusation, rang through the train car.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

You recognized the tall blond man immediately. He was in your ethics and rhetoric classes, and was notorious for being a real gentleman.

The typical assumption was, that this was for his own personal gain.

And, of course, being nice and being kind are not the same. He, to your knowledge, was being nice, instead of the latter.

Back to the moment at hand though, Nanami’s grasp never faltered on the perpetrators wrist, in fact, your classmate seemed to tighten his fist.

“I said. What the hell. Do you think. You’re doing.”

Real anger resounded from his tone. And every negative emotion from the situation seemed to echo in your brain.

Time passed slowly, all too slowly, and yet, before you could really understand the situation, you had ushered yourself onto your platform after your transport had come to a stop. And somehow, your classmate was staring down at you, asking if you were alright.

“I’m fine.” You force out.

You shouldn’t have to feel grateful nothing worse happened, you shouldn’t feel glad you weren’t physically harmed.

“I’m sorry. This must have been awful…” Nanami runs a hand through his hair and in that moment, all of your vitriol forces itself onto him as he finishes, “May I walk you home?”

Fury at his character, at this act, at everything that had happened today boiled the words out of your mouth, “Oh, for heaven sake, I’m not going to fuck you.”

“W-what?”

To his credit, he looks properly appalled. Stepping a wide margin away from you.

“I’m-I’m sorry, no.” He stutters, clears his throat, “that’s not what I- of course not-“

And he looks genuine in his fear at the thought.

“Right.” You sigh, “Well, thanks for all that, but I need to get home.”

He seems to wage a war within himself, to offer to bring you home, or to leave this be.

After a moment of consideration, he decides on the latter of the options. Solely because he knows now that you must not think of him as a trustworthy or safe individual. And rather than angry at this thought, he is sad. Worried about your past, and determined to be a safe option for you.

“Please get home safe.” And later you will wonder how he remembered you when recalling how he spoke out your name before saying, “I really am sorry, about all of this.”

You had walked home that night jumpy and cold.

—

It wouldn’t take but a week for you to begin questioning his intentions again after you watch your classmate deliver bagged lunches for the homeless outside of campus when he thought nobody was around.

When you had witnessed his genuine argument with another “one of the bros” after disagreeing with them in class.

And when you saw him offer to tutor any and all classmates that felt they might need a little help.

And while you were analyzing his motives, he started to develop his understanding of where you were coming from- eventually deciding that his goal would be to prove to you that he never had any ill will, and instead, cares for you as a human. Not for what you could offer him.

You don’t know yet, but he always has been a gentleman.

[thephantomsdream]

I just saw a tiktok about two girls laughing their ass off because some firefighters tried to enter their house through their balcony because someone called them thinking there was fire in their house. It was a bonfire youtube video on their flatscreen.

Imagine, though. Like for real. That's so fucking funny because I imagine firefighter!John being absolutely fucking determined on the job. Everything has to be done perfectly, so when they got the call, he grabbed Johnny by the collar and RUSHED. So when they placed the ladder to the floor where you were staying (after a helpful neighbor that he assumed was the caller pointed the balcony), he took no time to climb up, focused, Johnny behind him. Just as he placed his foot on the balcony, he narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but he had no time to turn around and say anything since a screetch startled him.

Just as you were leaving the shower, humming to yourself in a big fluffy towel that was still a little tight around your plump body, panties in hand while going to your living room to grab your phone, a man startled you. A whole man jumped onto your small balcony and you screamed your lungs out.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?!" You'd basically holler and since it wasn't cold outside, the door was opened for him to step up with his hands in the air. Of course, you did recognize the uniform, and as the man took a step closer to you, another head appeared behind him.

"Jeesus Chreist..." The second man said, and you scream again.

"GET OUT!" As instinct took over, you threw the first thing in your hand at him, seeing how a pair of (kinda ugly) panties landed on his head, the man stared startled at you before clearing his throat, yet he only spoke after his eyes gave you a whole one over, from toes to head, look on his face unmistakable.

"Ma'am, we've been alerted that there is fire in your apartment—"

"GET THE FUCK OUT!"

Silence followed, nobody moved. In the heat of the moment, you really didn't realize your proper state, nor what you threw at him, but looking at his gloved hands and realizing he was now holding your panties, you almost fainted on the spot. And why would everything go your way, though? Because as you got startled before, your towel moved, unhooking from how you placed it around your body, and with another screetch, you barely grasped at it as it started to fall.

A whistle was heard as you ran into your room, your flip-flops paddling and sounding like a drunk duck running away, adding a layer of embarrassment to the whole ordeal, yet you did catch the first man basically smack the second.

A few minutes later, kinda properly dressed, you come out to see the men aren't there anymore. You're fuming, understandably, and just about then, someone knocked at the door.

John had to apologize properly, didn't he? He couldn't have his future missus mad at him for long. He threw you a disarming smile, giving you a one over once again, your panties pocketed deep in his uniform's pants.

[taeyongdoyoung]

t-t-teach me

summary: college life sucks. but at least you get to study with the hottest guy on campus... pairing: soobin x reader genre: college au, slight angst, smut, colleagues to study buddies to lovers warnings: academic setting, studying, mild allusions to anxiety/insecurities, reader is older than soobin, kissing, praise kink, size kink, handjob, fingering, lots of touching, protected sex (gasp), manipulation if you squint but it's all consensual, some lyrics references as usual author's note: someone on social media commented that soobin's "t-t-teach me" part in love language lowkey sounds like "t-t-touch me" and i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are... word count: 2.2k

Your college life is pretty boring. Study, eat, study some more, eat again, sleep, repeat. So, when your most handsome colleague (in your humble opinion) asks you to help him study for the upcoming exams, you are tempted to agree.

"Pleaseee, Y/N," Soobin begs so cutely. The way his glasses are slightly tilted doesn't help your case. "I can even pay you!"

"I don't want your money, Soobin," you shake your head, determined to play with him a little longer. After all, it is not every day that such a hot guy acknowledges your existence.

"What do you want, then? I'd do anything, I really need to pass, my whole future depends on it."

"Well, shouldn't you have studied throughout the year?" you tease him. "Instead of, I don't know, partying or whatever it is you and your squad do."

"I don't even go to parties. I'm just in my dorm playing games all the time."

"Case in point," you tsk, pretending to be disappointed.

"Okay, I realize I should have taken the courses more seriously, but can you please consider it?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I told you already, the sky is the limit. Just t-t-teach me the material," he stammers sweetly. "When the professors do it, I literally can't focus and understand anything."

"You do realize this isn't an easy task, right? We have less than a month until finals. Even if I do help you study…I can't promise you'll pass."

"Where's your confidence, teacher?" Soobin pouts.

"I haven't agreed yet!"

"Oh, but you just did," Soobin is too adorable to say 'no' to.

So, this is how it starts. Every day, after your lectures end, you go to Soobin's dorm to study. You use every method that has been helpful for you throughout the years. Highlights, flashcards, quizzes, you try everything and anything in order to help Soobin understand the material. At the end of each week you prepare a short test that is meant to aid Soobin in revising the most important information. The first week, his results are disastrous. You honestly don't see any hope but you promised him you'd try your best so you keep modifying the material in order to improve his understanding. The second week, his results are still below average, but slightly better. By the third week, he has definitely reached the expected pass level.

"My God, Soobin, this is amazing progress!" you praise him honestly.

"Really? You think I'd be able to pass?" he asks, still worried about the upcoming exams.

"If you keep up the great work, you surely will," you are confident that he'll make it. "We have one more week until the first exam, I'm sure we'll manage to cover some more ground and revise the essentials."

"Yeah, I think there's still enough time to stick to the plan you made," Soobin nods thoughtfully.

"Here's an idea that might be motivational. If you pass all your exams, I'll reward you."

"Reward me how?" Soobin eyes you curiously.

"However you like."

"What about me paying you back?" Soobin reminds you of the original deal.

"You can just buy me dinner at that sushi place near the university," you suggest simply.

"Sounds good. I'll do my best to pass."

"I know you can do it!" at this point, you genuinely believe in him and are amazed to see how much he's improved.

The exam period starts sooner than you'd like and you now have less time for your study sessions with Soobin, prioritizing individual preparation instead. Honestly, you kind of miss seeing his pretty face every day and explaining things to him. Talking about the material out loud has been helpful for you, as well. The final exams pass by in a flash and now you only have to wait one more week for the results to come out.

"How do you think you did?" you ask Soobin on the phone.

"Ugh, don't ask," he complains. "Even though I felt like we covered all the material, having to explain it in my own words and provide examples was so draining. I have no idea how I did but don't get your hopes up."

"I see," you reply with a sigh.

"I'm not gonna ask how you did, because I'm pretty sure you nailed them," Soobin shuts down any possibility of boasting before it even started.

"Hey, the exams were pretty difficult for me, too," you mumble shyly.

"Yeah, yeah, talk to me again when you flaunt those 100 points."

"Just because I tend to get high results most of the time, doesn't mean I don't struggle," you express your feelings a little harsher than intended.

Soobin is stunned into silence.

"Sorry, that was insensitive of me to say. I guess I never realized how much effort you put into studying."

"It's okay, I'm used to being misunderstood," you answer sheepishly.

"Just because you're used to it, doesn't make it okay. Get some rest. You sure deserve it."

"You too, Soobin."

And with that, the phone call ends. Tensions run high as you anxiously check your email once every two hours for results. You probably care more about this than you should. Only this time your own results are not the only thing on your mind. You really want Soobin to be satisfied with the work he's done. Because you feel like you poured more energy into helping him and you would really hate to see him fail. Not only because you'd feel responsible for it, but because you genuinely like him and want to see him happy.

After what feels like forever, the results are out. Of course, you can only see your own due to privacy reasons. But you know Soobin has also received the same email as every other student. It is only the content that varies. You quickly check your stats and though you didn't get a 100 points everywhere, as Soobin jokingly suggested, you are still pretty proud of yourself. You eagerly grab your phone, meaning to call Soobin when you stop yourself in the last second.

What if he didn't pass all the exams? What if he doesn't want to talk about it? So, instead, you wait until he contacts you first. Luckily, you don't wait long.

"Come over" is the simple message he sends you.

You put on a jacket and practically sprint to his dorm. Is he okay? Is he inviting you over to celebrate or to drink his sorrows away? Your mind races and so do your legs as you near his room. A hesitant knock on his door. A quiet "It's open".

You cautiously enter and study Soobin's expressions in an attempt to read the room. He doesn't look depressed but he doesn't look ecstatic either. What's going on? You just need to know, the uncertainty is killing you.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Soobin asks you coldly.

"Uh…good news?" you mumble, feeling more nervous about whatever he has to say than about your own results.

"Good news is I passed all my exams. I got between 60 and 75 points on most of them."

"That's…incredible! Congratulations, Soobin!" you exclaim proudly. "I'm really happy for you! Wait…what are the bad news, then?"

"The bad news is…you promised me a reward," he whispers darkly.

"Why is that bad news?" you are utterly confused, as you sit down on the couch next to him. "You deserve to be rewarded, you worked so hard to accomplish this."

"That's true, but…I'm not sure you'll like the way I want to be rewarded."

"Anything is okay," you vow, not knowing what's in store for you. "I'll keep my word."

"Oh, I know you will," Soobin smirks and crashes his lips against yours, shocking you completely. Is this really happening? Did you just…both pass all your exams and are now kissing with the hottest guy in your university to celebrate?

"T-t-touch me," he begs so prettily who are you to reject him?

"Where do you want me to touch you?" you easily agree.

He grabs your hand and slides it under his shirt so that you are now caressing his abs. Fuck, his skin is so smooth and hard.

"You're so pretty," you mutter what you've been thinking every time you see him.

"I try to look my best for you," Soobin admits.

"Shut up," you shake your head in disbelief.

"Yes, teacher," he teases you.

"Don't call me that," you groan.

"What would you prefer? Ma'am?"

"Ugh, no, that makes me feel old," your eyes roll.

"Well, you are older than me. How about noona?" Soobin blinks cutely.

"Oh my God, do you ever shut up?"

"Touch me somewhere else," he doesn't ask this time, he demands. You don't even have the time to ask where he'd like to be touched before he's grabbed your wrist again and moves it right on top of his clothed cock. You're seriously gonna die. You're gonna die right in this moment and you won't even go to that cute sushi place. "Take my jeans off."

Your hands are shaking but you do your best to follow Soobin's orders. All your academic knowledge is completely useless in this moment. What you lack in practice, you try to make up for with enthusiasm. Stroking his length and licking him softly seem to do the trick and Soobin grows harder under your touch.

"Why are you so pretty?" you can't help but marvel.

"It's both a blessing and a curse," Soobin grunts loudly. "Wait, stop."

You immediately halt your movements, letting go of his cock.

"Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" you ask nervously, almost getting teary-eyed at the thought.

"What? No, you're doing amazing, I just…didn't want to come yet."

"Oh, I see," you reply, even though you can't see shit. "When do you want to come?"

"Wrong question, teacher," Soobin disregards your preference for not being called that. But in this moment, you no longer care. "Replace the wh-word with another wh-word."

"Hmm," you ponder out loud. "Where do you want to come?"

"Inside you. If you'd let me."

"Erm, I'm not sure…" you try to find a polite say that you are not really interested in getting pregnant at this point of your life.

"Relax, I've got condoms," Soobin laughs at you gently. "We can save the risky activities for after graduation."

He's already thinking that far into the future?

Soobin touches your folds gently, trying to ease your worries.

"Does it feel good?"

"So good, Soobin," you confess.

"Yeah?" he smirks proudly, as his long finger stretches you open. "Bet I can teach you a thing or two myself."

"I believe you," you sigh wistfully, as you near your high.

While Soobin puts on protection, you try to think of a logical solution as to how this will work. Honestly, you are too wet to care but his enormous size is still intimidating. Your brain seems incapable of coming up with a formula, so you give up entirely. Thinking only makes it worse.

When he slides inside of you, the feeling is so overwhelming you need something to keep you from falling apart.

"Talk to me," you beg.

"What do you want me to talk about?" Soobin asks.

"Anything."

"Linguistics is the scientific study of language. The areas of linguistic analysis are syntax, morphology, phonetics and-"

"Oh my God, really?" you scoff in disbelief. "Exams are over, let's put that behind us."

"What's your love language?" Soobin wants to know.

"Probably words of affirmation. What's yours?"

"Same. Quality time, as well," he responds.

"Oh yeah, definitely," you agree.

"You're taking me so well," Soobin immediately puts the newfound knowledge to use.

"You're fucking me so well," you whisper sincerely.

And this is all it takes for you two burst in each other's arms, experiencing pleasure like never before.

Once you've dutifully helped clean each other up and are cozied up underneath the sheets, the time for a more serious conversation arrives.

"I don't wanna lose this," Soobin gestures in the air between the two of you.

"We can keep studying together," you reply dumbly.

"That's not what I meant," Soobin chuckles. "Wanna spend time with you. We don't have to be studying, we can watch movies and I can teach you how to play games and…other stuff."

"I like the sound of that," you smile warmly.

"Actually, I have a confession to make," Soobin blurts out.

"Oh?"

"Deep down, I knew I'd pass the exams somehow," Soobin whispers. "I just couldn't be bothered to study. Needed an excuse to get close to you."

You can't even be mad at him.

"I have a confession, as well," you say in return. "I agreed to help you because I wanted to know more about you. I could tell you're smart."

"Is it the glasses?" Soobin pouts adorably, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah, you just give off that…sexy nerdy vibe. Glasses or no glasses."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is. From one nerd to another."

"I can live with that," Soobin flicks your nose playfully.

"You still owe me sushi, by the way. For helping you study."

"Oh, teacher. Sushi is not the only thing you'll be eating tonight."

The End

[mangooes]

To the past and the future, with you

(Name) lay sprawled across Sylus’s lap, her curls cascading over his arm. The soft glow of their bedroom lights cast a warm haze around them, the atmosphere intimate, quiet—dangerous in its own way.

Sylus absentmindedly traced patterns on her arm with his fingers, his crimson eyes half-lidded, his usual smirk playing at his lips.

Then, She tilted her head up and murmured, "Sysy, why don’t you ever use your right eye on me?"

Sylus stilled.

The air between them shifted.

His fingers paused against her skin before he resumed, slower this time. "And what would you want me to see, sweetie?" His tone was teasing, but there was something behind it. A hesitation.

She pursed her lips. "I don’t know… my past? My true intentions? My desires?" She smirked. "Aren’t you curious?"

Sylus chuckled, low and deep, his other hand gently cupping her chin. "I don’t need my Aether Core to know your desires, kitten," he whispered, brushing a thumb over her lower lip. "You tell me every time you moan my name."

She gasped, swatting his chest. "Sylus!"

He laughed, completely unrepentant, but the moment passed too quickly for her liking.

She frowned, studying him. "You always use it on others—why not me?"

Sylus exhaled through his nose, his smirk fading into something softer.

"I don’t need to see into your soul, Sweetie," he murmured. "Because I already know you."

She blinked.

His crimson eyes, always sharp and playful, held something gentler—warmer.

"I know your past doesn’t define you. I know your intentions are never cruel. And your desires?" His smirk returned as he leaned in, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I already fulfill those, don’t I?"

She felt heat rush to her face, but she wasn’t letting him dodge the question.

Still, something in his expression made her pause.

"...Are you afraid of what you might see?" she asked softly.

Sylus didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he sighed, his thumb brushing against her cheek, his gaze tracing her features like she was something delicate—something precious.

"If I look into your soul…" he admitted finally, voice quieter, "I might not be able to look away."

(Name)’s breath caught.

Sylus smirked at her stunned expression, but this time, it was softer—gentle, adoring.

"Why would I need to see the depths of your being," he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead, "when you already consume every part of mine?"

She had no comeback.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, warmth spreading through her chest like fire.

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against him. "You’re so dramatic," she mumbled, voice muffled.

Sylus chuckled, pressing his lips against her hair.

"Only for you, sweetie."

But (Name) wasn’t letting this go.

Sylus could see it in the stubborn glint in her eyes after the initial hug, the way she crossed her arms and stared at him with unwavering determination.

“I insist, Sylus,” she said, firm yet teasing. “Use your right eye on me.”

Sylus sighed, dragging a hand through his white hair before tilting his head with an amused smirk. “Sweetie, must I remind you that I’m your husband, not your fortune-teller?”

She rolled her eyes. “I know that. But don’t you think it’s unfair? You look into everyone else—reading them like an open book—but you refuse to even take a peek at me, when i even offered it willingly?”

Sylus hated when she had a point.

His red eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them.

Then, in an almost lazy manner, he leaned in, his lips nearly grazing hers.

"Are you truly ready for that, kitten?" he murmured, voice low. "To let me see every inch of your soul?"

She hesitated but still, she nodded. “I have nothing to hide from you, Sysy.”

Sylus studied her for a long moment.

Then, he sighed in defeat, running his fingers through his hair before cupping her face in his hands.

“Alright, sweetie,” he murmured. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His right eye began to glow, the Aether Core embedded within it pulsing faintly.

The moment their gazes locked—

The world shifted.

Memories. Desires. Past lives.

Sylus saw everything.

A girl with long hair, standing in the moonlit ruins of a forgotten world. A soft hand touching his monstrous scales, unafraid. A voice whispering, "You are no monster, Sylus."

A bond. A heart breaking. A promise made in the ashes of a past life.

And then—

His wife, in this lifetime, laughing as she baked in their kitchen. A soft smile as she curled up in bed, watching him pretend to be asleep so he could steal a moment longer with her. Her fingers trailing across his scars, accepting him for all that he was.

And finally—

Her true desire.

A future with him. Childrens, Grandchildrens, a life with him till they turn old. Always.

No matter what.

Then the connection severed.

His crimson eye dimmed, his breathing heavy.

She blinked up at him, confused. “Sylus?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he cupped her face again, staring at her as if she had just unraveled the entire universe.

“…You truly are mine, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice softer than she had ever heard before.

She blinked confused. “Of course, I am—”

He kissed her.

Hard. Desperate. As if he had loved her for lifetimes—and now knew, with absolute certainty, that she loved him just as much.

When they parted, Sylus pressed his forehead against hers, his grip on her tightening.

“I should have never looked,” he murmured, but he was smiling. “Now, I’ll never let you go, kitten.”

She laughed, breathless. “You weren’t planning on letting me go before this either, Sylus.”

He chuckled. “Fair point, sweetie.”

She gently tugged him downwards, whispering such words that made Sylus wanted to give her the whole world on a silver platter (not that he already had)

"I am always yours, in anyway and everyway."

And then—he kissed her again.

My take on angst semi fluff yk (i cant write ANGST AT ALL IM SO BAD AT THIS ASKJDNSAKJ) anyways i love sylus, i love dragon sylus too so im gonna start writting that too hehe (fluff ofc)